Tales From The Woods #10

It had been two years since I'd been on Site 9, the result of concerted effort on my part, and some luck. It took forever to get here, the roads were little better than goat tracks, and it was easy to get lost. All in all, a miserable experience I'd hoped never to endure again. So naturally, the trail lead to Site 9.

"Let's hurry up and find her," I muttered. It looked to be mid-afternoon, though it should have taken longer to walk here. And how hadn't I noticed us passing under the river along the way? As we set out, Site 9 immediately began working on my nerves. The rocks and leaves were slick, making climbing hills difficult, and the thorny vines kept catching my boots, or my arms. The insects seemed thicker than they ought to be for this time of year.

I stopped abruptly as I spied the spectral form of a past employee of the project, being buried under an onslaught of equally spectral salamanders. He was frantically tossing them away, but they kept swarming.

"I don't remember anyone dying on the project," I mused.

CAP turned to look, the remarked offhandedly, "He's not that kind of spirit. That's a place someone experienced strong emotions, and the surrounding area stored an impression of it."

"How do you know this stuff?"

"I did a lot of extra credit assignments on the paranormal. It's really neat. Anyway, he's no threat." The panda said that blithely, but I was certain the specter turned to watch it pass even as he was being buried. I hurried to catch up.

It quickly became apparent Site 9 wasn't just home to ghosts. The trail gradually lead in the direction of sounds of labor. Earth being moved. Trees toppling and rolling down hills. That was sometimes followed by groans, then the digging would resume. We climbed a rise and found ourselves at the edge of a trail. It overlooked a valley on the opposite, one which looked as though someone had shaved the scalp of the earth, and that was where the noise came from.

There were dozens of people of varied ages. Most were trying to dig trenches. Larger figures stood nearby. Periodically, one would start a chainsaw and drop a tree on some group's trench. The diggers would wail, the guys with chainsaws would clank them together triumphantly. The diggers would have to clear the tree out of the way by hand, but only enough to make room for the trench. Move it too much, and they were lashed with what looked like old chains that had gone mostly dull. I say "mostly", because they still drew blood. I could tell by how CAP's nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. Pandas don't like bullies.

'Let me guess: The trail goes right through this early scene from The Ten Commandments." CAP's head swiveled sharply in my direction. OK, attempt at levity not appreciated.

"We can't just do nothing," Cap stated adamantly.

I kind of wanted to do nothing. This was a lot more than I bargained for, but the idealistic youngster was right. "So what do we do? Attack the chainsaw guys and hope the diggers rally behind us before we're overwhelmed? Or we could maybe find the boss and -"

"No, the first plan. AAAAAAH!" And the panda charged into the open, attracting much attention. I didn't understand the point. Were we a distraction? A rallying cry? Or maybe just to intimidate.

It did none of those. Some of the diggers glanced up, most with dull eyes I'm not certain even registered anything. Others didn't even do that much, just kept swinging them picks and them shovels. The blokes with chainsaws seemed confused at first, but opted to meet CAP's advance with one of their own. In this, their own handiwork helped us. All the downed trees served as obstacles, forcing them to meet us in smaller groups until they could mass into one force. It wasn't always easy for me, but CAP was bounding and flipping over trees like they weren't even there. Which quickly brought the first chainsawer into range. A kick to the face was thwarted by a protective face screen. The clumsy side swipe with the chainsaw was easily flipped over. Landing smoothly, CAP launched forward and landed a solid punch to the liver.

As another advanced on the furry dervish, chainsaw roaring, I came in from the side, swinging a hefty branch down on his arms, driving the 'saw towards his leg. The chain tangled in the fabric of his chaps. I'd been hoping for something more debilitating, but his struggles to disentangle left him open to a hit in the throat with the branch. What should have felt like a promising turn of events, instead left me feeling uneasy. This feeling wasn't helped when I got a better looked past the face screen. I turned to yell to CAP, and saw my friend busy with two more of these guys, one attacking, the other covering his buddy's exposed areas. Between them, CAP was steadily being forced to retreat. Engrossed in that, I almost didn't hear the next one coming at me. All the chainsaws revving made it hard for me to concentrate on the one being swung at me. I held up the stick to block before remembering, oh yes, chainsaws cut wood. I dropped the stick and stumbled back just in time for the 'saw to scythe through the empty air, instead of my skull (which only appears empty from a distance).

The workers still made no move to help. We were about to wind up dead, or worse, stuck digging trenches. I felt the black-and-white berserker who got me into this land on my shoulders. "Get ready to go limp," it whispered as it drew something out of the pack and threw it at all the advancing foes. There was a flash, and my body felt locked up, even as sharp little teeth grabbed my collar (and part of my neck) and dragged me at high speed away from there. I thought I saw the closest enemies dissipate, and several others seemed to waver, like an image on a TV with bad reception, but it could have just been my eyes were locked up, too. Eventually we'd gotten far enough away the sound of saws faded and CAP stopped running. It was then I recalled what I'd seen.

"Did you notice they don't have faces?" It was true. No facial features at all, not even a hint of them. Just a dark space on the front of their head.

"Yeah, there's something really odd about them," CAP agreed. My body felt like it was listening to me again, so I got to a standing position as the wind picked up. "Some of the workers hardly broke their swings through all of it!" I had to raise my voice over the howling wind.

"I'm not sure they were workers!" CAP shouted back. "More psychic impressions!"

By this time, the intensity of the wind had forced us to a kneeling position. Looking back the way we'd came, I saw a few of the foremen on the far side of the valley. The wind had neatly whipped the sound of their weapons away from us, but by dropping to our knees, we seemed to be out of sight. Standing upright at the top of a cleared hill had left us rather exposed. I pointed out our pursuers to CAP, and we slunk down the opposite slope.

"I assume you'll want to try again to free everyone?" I asked as we walked.

"You bet. I'm sure we can handle them."

"I'd feel better if we got some help. We were outmatched by a handful of them, and we still haven't figured out what they're up to, or who they're up to it for."

"I guess you're right," responded CAP glumly. "I don't like leaving those folks, though."

"I get that," I answered gently. "But if the goal is to free them, so better to do it right the first time."

"Agreed."

"Can you follow her trail back to that shack?"

Shake of the monochrome head. "I didn't really follow it when we ran. I think we're way off from it."

I shrugged in response. "I think the main gate is west of here. We can get out that way." I grabbed the compass from my pack, took a bearing and off we went. Things went south quickly, including us, as the compass couldn't make up its mind. Reach a landmark, check the bearing, and it says we've been heading southeast, or north. Eventually, the needle gave up entirely in frustration and settled for spinning madly.

"Well that's out," I said as I stuffed it back in the pack. "Ideas?"

"I can navigate by the sun," CAP proclaimed.

"Good show. Then west, Jeeves." This too, failed to produce desired results. We stopped to catch our breath and drink some water, and I noticed our shadows moving slowly ahead of us. "It's afternoon. If we're going west, why are our shadows leading us?"

"Huh?" CAP looked up from munching a bamboo shoot. "That's impossible! We were definitely heading west."

"Then the Sun is definitely moving backwards. Or, more accurately, the Earth is." I added that second part the instant I saw the smarty-pants panda open its mouth. Sure enough, the mouth quickly closed in a frustrated pout. Which was quickly replaced with a concerned look.

"What's going on?" CAP asked with a hint of worry.

"It's Site 9," I sighed. "This is a little severe, even by its standards, but it earned its rep as the place dreams die and hopes are shattered."

"That's comforting," came the grumbled response.

"Look, you just have to take a grounded approach. Don't expect anything to come easy, focus on overcoming obstacles as they present themselves, rather than worrying about what might come next."

Pregnant pause. "OK. I can do that." Just like that, worry gone. Be nice if I could trust myself as readily as the little one does. "What's our first step in dealing with our current obstacle?"

"Find a trail road. Those can lead us west."

CAP glanced about thoughtfully, then pointed what I think was north. "Let's try that ridge."

As we started up, we were greeted by me, running in terror down the hill.

"What the?!" CAP exclaimed.

I was lost for comment myself, until I saw an angry snake bouncing after the phantom me. "This is where I almost stepped on a rattlesnake."

"And it bounced after you?" was the incredulous response.

"No, but I'm sure I was terrified I hadn't leapt far enough away." By this time the other me had reached us. He skidded to a halt, surprised to see us. I looked over his shoulder and remarked, "It's still chasing you."

Psychic Imprint Me shouldered past us and resumed fleeing in panic. We gave the snake a wide path to use between us. "C'mon," I said, "there's definitely a trail up there."

At the top we were greeted by. . . another version of me. This one stood before a truck with a crumpled front end. He was highly agitated, pacing and pulling his hair. "I had the worst luck here," I mused. "A problem that persists to this day. West is that way."

Before long we reached an intersection. There was also an old silver trailer sitting, where bothered me for two reasons. One, I remembered it sitting east of where we'd met the road, though that was two years ago. More immediately, it had seen better days. The outside was covered in slashes and tears, as if it'd been hit by a tornado made of buzzsaws. The inside wasn't much better. The furnishings had been sparse - a foldout bed, a table, two chairs - but it had all been destroyed. That bull in the china shop would have been proud.

"There's nothing here. We'd better getting moving." I was pretty sure we'd lost our pursuers, but being on a trail made it more likely we'd run into someone. Maybe friendly, but maybe not. Besides, the way the wind moved through those slashes made being in here like standing in a giant, evil harmonica. It was creeping me out.

"Calvin, we aren't alone." CAP was looking back at the door to the trailer. I heard the humming now. In the doorway stood the Lady in Orange.

See? I knew we'd run into someone.