The territory was sparse. The few lone pines wanted nothing to do with each other. It was hardly a forest, not quite a plain. Though, shade was to be found if the finder searched hard enough. That was my mission as the heat filled my worn out lungs. Just a moment out of this wretched sun was enough and a sip of water was desperately needed by the entire party. There were only three of us. Bound together by uncertain terms, unfamiliar with the landscape as well as each other. I had never been picked to join the lookout party before. All of this was new to me, everything was new to me. I was greener than the tundra that engulfed us.
I turned sixteen just last week. I was told my role was going to change drastically. All the men in our community had special jobs to do. Now that I had joined their ranks, I was fearful of what was to come. I was placed in the lookout party. Our job was to travel ahead and identify the most accessible route. This job had high turn over. Sometimes, when they left, they never returned. Lost is what they said when I asked. I sure didn’t want to get lost.
But, it was my duty. We all had our roles to play and if I didn’t contribute, I’m sure they would have left me behind. We were heading west. They said it was better out there. The further along we went, I did not see how it could be better. But, the promise of opportunity hung over my head. More money to be made, more resources to be had and life is hard where I come from. I had nothing, no one. Family was foreign vernacular and when you have nothing to lose, life feels cheap. I didn’t care if I made it, I just knew even the possibility of something filled the chasmal hole of emptiness I felt. That is why I had to leave.
We found a tall withered pine that provided enough shade for the three of us and we settled in. Even a few moments of rest would do. Our last canteen was running low. John blamed me. He said he knew of a stream that was good for drinking just over yonder(his word not mine). He was the leader and since I was the one who forgot to fill all the canteens, he said I had to take the empties to be refilled. I asked Bruce if he would join me. He was around my age but this wasn't his first run as a lookout and he had the scars to prove it. He disliked the idea of going with me. We were all tired and wanted to plant ourselves in the shade until dusk. But John said I had to go, with or without Bruce.
My mouth was too dry to argue. I turned to Bruce one final time. His hat’s brim was low, blocking the sun and me. He snored, loudly. So, I set off, alone. My only company was a big cleaver I had used to chop the wood. That was my old job back at camp. I missed it.
I made my way to the stream. The sun made my skin sizzle. It was hotter than hot. The air felt dense, breathing burned but thirst motivated me. Each step was a chore and the empty canteens felt heavy and full. Minutes masqueraded as hours. Thankfully John was right, the stream was close. I had never been so excited to see the crystal clear liquid runoff from the mountains that seemed so far away. That is what we crawled towards. The mountains. Beyond them was that new and prosperous land. The West.
I fell to my knees. The water tasted better than anything I had tasted before. I almost drowned myself in it. When I took a break to catch my breath, my eyes caught sight of something sitting in the mud. Tracks.
They were subtle but I saw them clear as the sun saw me. Hard to describe, but grotesque is a start. They came not from a man or a beast. It was something else. The stories I’ve heard from others in the party call them ghouls or spirits. Hunters of the night. One foot in our world and one foot in another. Alive, only enough to drag unwilling martyrs to the depths of their eternal hell scape. I had seen them before, I thought, but these were bigger. They weren't suppose to be out here, it was not the right time of year and this stretch of the country was too barren. At least, that’s what I was told.
I hurried through filling the rest of the canteens and raced back to John and Bruce. My heart beat out of my chest. The sun changed position. There was less shade now. Bruce still snored, his hat covered his face. John was loading his rifle. I told him what I saw. The words poured out of my mouth. He was indifferent. “Did you hear me?”, I remember asking it so seriously. It was a matter of life or death, I knew it. By the look on John’s face, he didn’t seem to agree. He told me, “you’re lying”. That was news to me. “ Don’t worry, we’re safe out here”, he said so surely. “Besides, they’re not even real. It’s just something we tell the youngsters so they don’t wonder too far from camp. You’re old enough now to know”. This was also news to me.
John’s words had no effect at easing my nervous system. I was panicked. “I’m going hunting for dinner”, John stood. “You two stay here”, he kicked Bruce. “You hear me?”. Bruce woke abruptly, then nodded. It wasn’t safe. John had the only rifle. But what was I to say, I was green.
John slinked off. Dusk was coming. It didn’t feel right. But, what did I know, I was green.
Bruce finally sat up. He wanted a fire. I agreed then I was on it. I gathered the driest brush I could find nearby and cracked some of the deader branches off of our pine. I only had a pack of matches. That was better than most. The flame rose high and burned hot. Dusk fell upon us.
Bruce and I waited. Time passed slowly. I felt fear cloak me.
In nature, life exists at night. The plains lived that night. “You think he will be back soon?” I asked. Bruce just shrugged. “You think he got lost or taken?”, again, I was serious. Bruce, having so far been void of emotion, lost it. His laugh rang through the darkness. “I heard you before, don’t tell me you really believe that. You really think people just get snatched up out here? You think ghouls exist?” He laughed until it hurt and he clutched his side. Before that moment, I did believe it. That’s what I had been told.
Bruce stood. He placed his hand close to the flame and listened. “ He can’t be too far, I’ll go find him”. I didn’t like that idea and Bruce knew it. My protests fell on deaf ears. “Give me your cleaver, you’ll be safe by the fire. It will keep away the spirits”. He patronized me. I really didn’t like that idea. “No”, my fear spoke through me. “I’m tired of you, grow up”. In the darkness, I couldn't see it coming. I felt a swift smack. Dirt filled my nose when I hit the ground.
Bruce ripped the cleaver away. “If I’m not back by morning, go straight to camp. Just follow the river east — if you can manage that”. I nodded. My face stung and tears fell but it was dark and he didn’t notice. “Good luck”, his voice cracked. He fled the fire and was swallowed by the night.
I was alone now. I was familiar with that. The cool, dark blanket of night left plenty of room for imagination. My mind played tricks on me. But I was familiar with that too.
Beyond the safety of the fire lived the unknown. It was a scene occupied by silhouettes and hallucinations. My eyes didn’t work well in the dark, but I could hear. The wind was symphonic and pleasant enough, but I was hungry. My stomach panged and I was eager to see the sun but time passed slow. I waited, just like they told me to.
I don’t know how long it had been. I heard a rustle nearby, beyond the reach of the light’s grasp. It woke me from my daze. “John?” I said it softly. I didn’t want to wake the trees. The darkness responded with silence. I hugged the fire. I was close enough for it to hurt. “Bruce?”, the darkness answered with the crunch of a branch. It was loud and startling and sounded close. My canteen was made from scrap metal welded together by a blacksmith who took pride in his work. It was heavy and in the event of a fight, it was my only chance. I clutched it hard, my fingers turned white. I felt green.
Light was scarce, clouds covered the sky and I hadn’t seen the stars in a long long time. I was lost in an endless abyss of black. In that moment I had a thought, “was the light from my fire for protection or was it a beacon?” . It never bothered me before but now it did. I felt eyes on me. Footsteps found their way to my ear. I heard more than one pair. The tree was too brittle to climb. I needed distance from the fire, quickly. I felt the footsteps closed in. The ground trembled all at once. I swallowed my throat and fled.
I picked a direction based on no preliminary thought and stayed true. I turned back to check in on my old safe haven just once but by the time I did, the fire was a pinpoint of light in a sea of darkness. I covered ground in such a way only feasible through the heavy influence of adrenaline. As it pumped through me, the fear left. Survival was all there was. So much so, when my toe clipped a rock buried underneath the ill begotten soil, my meeting with the dense earth felt almost flocculent. I felt nothing but my heart and a dry breeze. I scanned the abyss for the fire, it was gone. I was truly alone now.
My lungs heaved and pleaded with me. The wind dried my sweat before it could travel too far from my pores. It left me with a salty exoskeleton. I was used to being dirty though, bathing was a luxury. As my body calmed, I heard voices. Faint and far away, I thought, but voices nonetheless. Friend or foe, I could not tell. I held my ear in their direction. The wind’s ruckus blurred their syllables and clarity did not reach me. Then, like thunder, words ruptured the stillness. “Hey kid, where did you go?”. The voice was deep. Too deep to recognize. I wanted it to be John, I convinced myself it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
I held my tongue. His tone felt off. “Kid, I know you’re hungry. I got some food here. Where are you at?” The voice bellowed out of the abyss. It sounded like no man I'd ever heard. To my knowledge, no one had ever faced a ghoul and lived. Could I be the first? Bruce’s condescending words filled my mind and bounced around like a metronome. Fear filled my heart, but fear could not control me anymore. I was green but this was my chance to change.
I needed to get closer. I crawled toward the voice. I was careful. Dawn was coming. The sun bled through the haze of the early morning mirages. I could make out the shadow figure crouched at the base of the old withered pine. It was next to a black hole of ash. It swallowed the flames. I clutched my canteen and convinced myself I was ready.
The shadow did not waver, it stood tall. My heart pumped adrenaline not fear. It was grotesque and menacing. I flew towards it. Swinging violently, my canteen made contact again and again. Thud after thud. Silhouettes, black and red. It did not matter. The colors congealed. “Stop!” Bruce was far and I did not hear him. My madness halted by the heat of the sun on my back. Early morning brilliance illuminated the scene. John. He laid before me, sleeping. Sunken deep in the dirt, driven there by my persistent flailing. He did not move. He would never move again thanks to me.
The sun shone brighter, each minute that passed. It became clear, I was no longer green.
