Xeno Sapiens (24 page)

“
Ingrid,”
he grunted softly. What was it? What
did it mean?

“
Did you hear something,” Walt asked.
He stared into the winter dark woods. For a few seconds his eyes
met Seth’s. After a bit, Walt looked away.

“
What is it, pap,” Wayne
asked.

“
Nothin’,” Walt answered. “Sounded
like somebody talkin’.”

“
Shit, pap. There’s nobody around for
miles.”

“
I just tole you it was nothin’,” Walt
repeated patiently. He looked at the fish Wayne had brought with
him. “You check all the lines?”

“
Except for the trot
lines.”

“
More nights like this I could use,”
the old man grinned. “We’d have a fish fry everyday.”

“
Pap, you sound just like an old
sharecropper when you say that.”

“
I
am
an old sharecropper,” Walt said, unperturbed. “And
the Lawd brought me through that. I got the Lawd on my side. And if
you got the Lawd, who can hurt you?”

“
The Lord’s always brought you
through, pap?”

“
Always. He’s my Friend.”

Seth listened to the two men. The old
man smiled as he talked, the fire reflecting orange off of his
teeth. Images of the flames flickered in the old man’s eyes. His
ruff of black and gray hair glinted in the glow. The younger man
wore a baseball cap with an “X” on it, though Seth had no idea what
it meant. He squatted next to the fire, one hand extended toward
it.

One of the words the old man had spoken
sounded very pleasant. Seth tried it, careful to say it
quietly.

“
Lawd,”
he whispered. The fire beckoned as Seth
sat among the trees listening to its crackle, watching the heat
burn away the mist in a hazy halo above it, smelling its strong,
hickory scent. He sensed the incalculable mass of the river flowing
heavily in its banks.

Walt began skinning the catfish with a
practiced hand. He deftly peeled the skin from the flesh with his
filleting knife, slicing open its belly and scooping out the guts
with the knife. He flung the entrails into the woods with one quick
motion. They plopped near Seth and the fishy aroma virtually leaped
into his nostrils. His stomach seized in a painful hunger cramp.
With the utmost stealth, Seth felt around until he found the fish
guts. He brought them to his nose, then began to eat. The skin was
too tough to chew, but the entrails were wonderful. He waited for
the old man to sling more.

“
You gonna check the rest of the
lines,” Walt asked.

“
Sure, pap.” He smiled at his
father.

Walt grunted, but he was pleased. He
never looked up from his fish cleaning.

“
Go on. Get outta here.”

Wayne tramped off down the river bank.
The old man stayed at his task, slinging the guts in Seth’s
direction. Seth downed them greedily, never minding the cold, slimy
way they slipped through his gullet.

Walt finished and sat back, looking at
the stars. He thought he heard a voice in the woods to his left. He
turned his head and strained to hear it again. As he listened, he
heard the first birds of the day and was surprised to see the sky
was not inky black anymore. Though there was no trace of pink on
the horizon, the sky itself was a shade lighter than deep purple.
An hour til sunrise, then. He lapsed into his boyish stargazing. He
was nearly in a doze when he heard the word again. It was clear and
left no room for imagination. It sounded like a very tired child
had said “Lawd.”

Walt stood up and stared into the near
distance, placing his left palm over his brow as if shading his
eyes. He held the knife in his right hand.

“
Wayne,” he called gently. “Is that
you?”

His only response was the chirping
birds. A bullfrog groaned on the river and somewhere he heard a
splash as a fish jumped. The night which just a short time ago had
seemed so calming and near end was now menacing and filled with
noises he didn’t recognize. Something moved in the woods behind him
and he turned quickly.

Seth watched the old man turn around
and around. The man’s state of awareness had changed. Some new
emotion that hadn’t been there before came from him.

The man turned again. Seth dropped with
catlike quickness, not so much as cracking a twig. He stayed rock
still, hidden in the shadows. The man moved towards him, his
skinning knife held slightly aloft. The gutted fish lay on a board
next to his feet.

There was someone in the woods other
than Wayne. He had heard the voice. The way it mocked the name of
God chilled him. Some crazy white sonofabitch with an ax, or a
member of the Klan, or some spaced out brother jealously guarding a
moonshine still. Walt stared into the woods, looking into its
depths, seeking the comforting glow of a light in the
darkness.

Quiet as an Indian, Walt edged towards
the woods. Seth sat in a crouch, ready to spring at a second’s
notice. The old man continued to close the distance until he was
bare inches from discovering Seth. The quaking emotion of fear
swelled like a cloud from the old man, enveloping both of them in
its choking weight.

The power of the man’s fear was too
much for Seth to bear and he sprang to his feet to run away. Walt
cried out. Cringing terror blazed through his body like red hot
steel as he looked into the face of the monster. The monster was
eight feet tall and built like a bear. Walt caught a frightful
glimpse of two obsidian eyes reflecting cold firelight and boring
into him from an impossible height. White teeth gleamed in a
lipless circle.

Without thinking, Walt slashed his
knife upward at the hideous face. The blade bit solidly into flesh,
slicing effortlessly until it hit bone, then screeching to a stop
with the squeal of fingernails scratching a blackboard. An enraged
scream like something from the horror of a late night creature
feature spilled from the monster’s open mouth and rolled through
the hills like a shot. The flesh of Seth’s cheek split from his
cheekbone to the corner of his mouth.

Seth staggered backward in fear and
pain. The old man stared at him with a terrible, white-eyed fear.
With no effort that he was aware of, a piercing bolt of energy
ripped itself from somewhere deep in Seth’s chest. The unseen force
rocketed into the night toward the old man, seeking him out in
blind defensiveness.

Walt was lifted from the ground and
thrown backward fifteen feet like a tissue in a tornado. He landed
in the outer ring of the fire. Burning red coals exploded upward.
Disturbed sparks boiled toward the sky in the searing draft,
whirling like a swarm of glowing insects. Walt’s clothes caught
fire and he rolled madly from the flames, trying to extinguish his
blazing garments.

Seth reeled away, faint with pain. He
clutched his lacerated face. Warm blood bubbled through his
fingers. He cast one hateful glance at the old man rolling on the
ground with his clothes aflame. His first impulse was to finish the
job. For a second his mind was filled with the clear resolve to
break and crush. But his pain reared its Cobra’s head and his
resolve weakened in the face of his agony.

He retreated into the woods, slipping
and sliding on mud-slicked leaves as he scurried up a steep slope.
The slash in his face burned like fire, as only the deep wound
caused by a razor-sharp blade can. He reached the top of the slope
and, unable to check his balance, tumbled forward, a rolling
pinwheel of arms and legs down the opposite side. Oak roots, spread
over the ground like petrified fingers, stubbed and broke his toes
and abraded his naked body. He flailed his hands and caught hold of
a wild rose vine. The briars broke off in his palms and fingers as
his momentum carried him forward. He slammed a glancing blow into a
huge boulder. The bones in his shoulder bent past the loads which
they were designed to bear. The sudden G- Force whipped him around
like a pole vaulter. He sailed through the air, smelling stagnant
water.

He landed in the swamp with a loud
splash. The fetid, filthy water filled his mouth through the hole
in his cheek. The edges of the cut screamed in even greater agony,
as if the nerve endings had been prodded with needles.

He jerked his head up, sputtering and
spitting out the foul water. Some of it exited in a spray though
the hole in his face.

Swamp creatures disturbed from their
business swam, floated, or hopped away from the intruder. Leeches
clamped onto Seth’s legs, sucking his blood like aquatic
vampires.

Stinking mud plastered his limbs as he
struggled to his feet in the shin deep water. Bright, quicksilver
flashes shimmered before his eyes as his blood pressure suddenly
dropped. His head felt as though it had been struck with a
sledgehammer and his shins burned.

He plodded, staggering, out of the
swamp, splashing water and struggling for every step. He collapsed
on the verge of the swamp, his breath coming in sharp gasps that
whistled across the hole in his cheek. His tongue explored the
wound. It tasted like the swamp water smelled. He scraped the mud
from his arms and smeared it on the raw edges of the wound. The
cold mud backed the pain off until it was only a throb that
intensified each time his heart beat. He lay on his back, staring
through the endless maze of branches above him. Faint starlight
trickled through occasionally. He closed his eyes and repeated the
only words he knew in a painful, sorrowful gasp.

“
Ingrid....Lawd...Ingrid...Lawd...”
he panted out again and again until
he felt strong enough to stand. He made his way cautiously through
the unfamiliar woods, barely noticing the smells that assailed him
through his fog of pain. He climbed up and up, closer to the sky.
The first, fine pink ribbon had wrapped across the eastern skyline
before Seth found a welcoming den in the mountainside.

He discovered the cavern seven miles
from the Alamo. He walked into it, threading his way deeper into
its heart, away from those who wished to hurt him. He felt his way
along the damp walls, noting their rugged texture, seeing details
normal men could not see in the complete absence of light. Blind
trout swam in the underground stream by his feet, his only
companions save the infrequent dripping of water.

He found a dark, natural chamber big
enough for him to stretch out in. He lay down and slept on the cold
stone floor, beginning to shiver as a fever built. He stayed that
way until the sun had settled almost to the western horizon and
those pursuing him were very close.

1

From the Winfield Tribune,
special edition, March 8, 2003.

Local Man Victim of
Assault.

Ronnie Walton.

Walter Cagle of 2101 Shady Grove Lane
was viciously attacked early this morning by an unknown assailant.
He is presently listed in satisfactory condition at Memorial
Hospital.

Cagle and his son, Wayne, 24, of
Winfield, were fishing on the Coosa river around five am when the
attack occurred. The younger Cagle told police he had been checking
trot lines when he heard a loud commotion coming from the area
where his father had remained. Upon arriving at the scene, Cagle
saw his father rolling on the ground, attempting to smother the
flames engulfing his body.

After treatment for second degree
burns, the elder Cagle told police he had heard a noise in the
woods and had stood up to investigate. The attacker, described as a
white male of apparently mixed race, eight feet tall (sic),
extremely strong, and stark naked, sneaked up behind Cagle. Cagle
stated he was able to fend off his attacker with a knife he had
been using to clean fish, but the attacker still managed to shove
him into the fire he had built earlier. The attacker then fled into
the forest.

Police had earlier been alerted that a
large, white male had escaped from the infirmary of the Winfield
Alamo, a private facility that manufactures drugs for the army and
various federal agencies.

Jon Merrifield, head of operations,
told police that Jackson Scoggins, an employee at the plant, and
cancer patient, had accidentally inhaled a poisonous gas used as a
catalyst in the manufacture of a cancer curing drug. In sufficient
quantities, Merrifield said, the gas can induce hallucinations and
delirium. Scoggins was undergoing treatment at the Alamo infirmary
when he escaped. No-one at the facility was injured.

Winfield Police Chief Jason Lewis
believes the attack on Cagle may have been perpetrated by Scoggins
in a state of delirium. State Troopers and National Guardsmen have
been called in to canvass the area for Scoggins. Merrifield says
Scoggins is unarmed, but should be considered dangerous because of
his large size (Six feet, ten inches) and state of
delirium.

Under no circumstances, Chief Lewis
says, should any civilian attempt to apprehend Scoggins, but should
report any sightings to the police at once...

From the same edition of the Tribune,
page 9.