Chapter 55 - Still Lost in the Hole
Canyon strolled along a meadow path in his dream, and the female was there with him.
He couldn’t see her, only hear her. She had run across the grass to a grove of trees and was talking to someone, which was strange, because they were the only two people in the meadow.
He picked up his pace, meaning to catch up with her, but the meadow dissolved and he found himself in another dream.
He and Timber were in a cave, and they were fighting a big-ass bug.
Shouts and curses and inhuman hisses echoed all around.
Timber was a wolf, riding on the bug’s back, biting it.
Canyon was a man. He had a stick in his hand, and he tried to hit the bug, but he missed.
He swung again, as hard as he could, and he missed again.
Wake up, Canyon! Timber was shouting again and again.
I’m trying! Canyon shouted back in ruhi, whacking at the bug. I can’t hit it!
Wake up! Wake up!
Wake up?
Canyon wrenched his eyes open, hoisting himself out of sleep with sheer willpower.
The night was still dark but in the light of Wulf’s screen he saw a walking nightmare—a dark-colored spider, flat like a tick, the size of an elephant, colored an unnatural silver and gray.
Wulf was zooming around underneath it, poking it with his mechanical arm, while it chased Timber in wolf form.
Timber ran up a rock outcropping and jumped on the spider’s back, growling, snarling, and snapping.
The spider ran up a group of trees, then spun around, scraping Timber off of its back with a tree branch, then turned and pounced on him, hissing and roaring.
Canyon jumped up and launched himself into the fray with a fierce howl. He grabbed a spider leg, chewing, yanking, tearing.
Timber howled in pain. Fuck, it got me, he said in ruhi.
Canyon raced for his brother. Timber was fighting for his life, his teeth buried in the underside of the spider, while his legs dug for guts, except for his front left foreleg, which hung limply.
:CANYON, TIMBER, GET CLEAR OF THE BUG, NOW—Wulf commanded in ruhi.
Canyon jumped for his brother, hearing the finality in Wulf’s tone.
:10, 9, 8, 7, 6—
Canyon shifted into a man, rolled under the spider, grabbed his brother around the middle, telling him, let go, we’re clearing this spider, then rolling out the other side, with his brother in his arms.
:5, 4, 3—
He stood and hoisted his brother behind a tree, then threw him on the ground and shielded him with his body.
:2, 1—
brRRRZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRTTTTT
The night lit up like lightning. Electricity flashed all around, crackling and zapping. Canyon’s hair stood on end, and the smell of burnt bug surrounded them, and then it was quiet. Timber lay panting in wolf form at the base of the tree, with Canyon splayed naked on top of him.
Get off me, man, Timber said.
Canyon shifted into wolf form and rolled off his brother.
He peeked around the tree. The spider lay flat and motionless as if dead, with Wulf also motionless, on top of him.
Wulf lay on his side, his screen dark, his mechanical arm buried in the spider’s back.
One of his tires spun lazily, then stopped.
Timber shifted from wolf to man, then man to wolf again and again, his left arm held out in front of him, a nasty gash across the forearm.
Head low, nostrils flaring, Canyon headed for the spider, wanting to make sure it was dead.
It stirred, then got up and moved so fast it made Canyon’s stomach flip.
The bug grabbed hold of two trees next to each other, then climbed up to the treetops, making the leaves rustle, Wulf dangling limply from its back.
Canyon craned his neck but soon couldn’t see it anymore.
Damn. Wulf, he said.
“Little buddy saved our bacon,” Timber said.
Fuckin’ hero.
“Like Reynard.”
Just like Reynard. How’s your arm?
“Not healing.”
Damn.
“Damn.”
We’re in trouble, bro.
“Nah, we got this.”
Canyon sat quietly for a second, then loped off to camp. His rucksack was sitting where he left it, unharmed. Near it, a silky mass of something covered the ground.
What the hell is this shit?
“Spider webbing, I guess. The thing snuck up on me. One minute I had a fire going and a lantern, the next minute my fire was out, my lantern was dark, and the thing was dropping on me from above. Me and Wulf managed to scramble before it got us, but we were no match for it.”
He was quiet for a beat, then he said, “You slept through that shit, bro.”
I don’t know how.
“Fuck. Me neither.”
No more sleep tonight.
“Good plan. If we haven’t found the way out by daylight, we’ll sleep then.”
Canyon pointed himself north, then pulled a compass out of his pack to check. He was spot on.
They took off.
***
Hours later, Canyon trudged along after his brother, who was holding his injured arm tight to his side and taking lefts and rights on the forest trails seemingly at random.
Eventually, the first streaks of morning light shone in the sky. The forest trail ended, dumping them out in a meadow. Timber followed a slim deer trail through the grass until they were far from any trees.
“We camp here,” he said.
Canyon dropped his rucksack to the ground and turned around, surveying the meadow in the early morning light.
No trees, he said, so it can’t drop on us from above, and we should be able to see it coming through the grass.
But Timber was already curled up as a wolf in the grass, sleeping, tangled up in his clothes.
His boots lay in the grass next to him, still laced up tight.
The gash in his left foreleg weeped fluid.
Canyon pulled an old T-shirt out of his pack and ripped it into strips, then bandaged Timber’s leg while he slept. Timber didn’t move.
Canyon built a shelter. He gathered sticks and sharpened them like spears.
After he had twenty of them, he went to eat.
He dug a military MRE out of his pack and tore into it, laying each pouch of food in front of him.
He ate it methodically, mostly while standing and watching the forest. Tiredness crept up on him, then pounced, making his eyes feel like lead weights.
He poured the powdered coffee from the MRE into half a bottle of water and chugged it, then bounced around on the balls of his feet, getting some blood flow going and doing everything possible to stay awake.
***
Four hours later, he shook Timber.
Timber opened his eyes. His face was swollen, and he winced when he moved, curling his injured arm into his chest.
“What?” he croaked, his voice sounding strained.
I have to sleep.
“How long was I out?”
Five hours
Timber jumped up, holding his arm. “I’m up, it's your turn.”
There’s an MRE for you in my pack, Canyon said. He dropped his pants and kicked off his boots. He shifted and dropped to the ground. He circled three times, laid down, on the warm spot where Timber had been, and was asleep immediately.
Timber woke him up in late afternoon, looking even worse.
“Give me two hours,” he said.
Canyon jumped to his feet, forcing his mind awake, while Timber shed his clothes and shifted into a wolf. He lay down in the rustling grass and fell asleep.
Canyon patrolled the area. After three hours, he woke Timber up.
It’s dusk. We gotta get moving, he said in ruhi.
Timber rolled away from Canyon and shifted to a human. He slowly pulled on his clothes without saying a word. His eyes were dark and droopy, and the injured arm hung mostly uselessly at his side.
“What…” Timber looked around. “What are we doing here again?”
Giant spider ring any bells? Canyon said, watching Timber carefully, not liking what he saw.
“Giant spider. That’s right.”
Timber stood there, arms hanging limply, saying nothing more.
This way, Canyon said, walking backward, motioning to his big bro. Timber followed, slowly, with weak, tentative steps. Canyon looked away to the darkening sky. He said a silent prayer to Rhen, asking for help for his brother, and for Wulf, too.
They had to get the fuck out of this hole.
Canyon led Timber through thick forest, down ravines, over and around boulders for hours, and when the moon was high in the sky, they found a stream.
Canyon pulled fishing line and a hook out of his ruck and fished while they walked. He caught several good-sized catfish, and they stopped long enough to clean, cook, and eat them, well-seasoned with some Old Bay seasoning from his pack.
Timber perked up a little when he had food in his belly. He walked faster, and he even started a conversation.
“Think Trevor’s looking for us?”
Maybe not. We don’t check in like we’re supposed to.
“You’re right. He probably thinks we’re fucking off somewhere.”
I don’t think we’re getting anywhere.
“You got any ideas?”
None.
“Walk till we get some.”
Canyon grunted agreement. Stay ahead of the bug.
***
When the sky lightened, they stopped in another meadow.
You sleep first, Canyon said.
Timber didn’t argue. He shifted and laid down, falling asleep quickly, while Canyon set up camp. Four hours passed slowly, with no threats, except Canyon’s constant worry, especially when Timber started to pant in his sleep.
Still, Canyon had to wake Timber. If he hadn’t needed sleep so badly himself, he wouldn’t have. He shook him awake. Timber got up slowly, but he dressed and ate the last of their food—some beef jerky.
Canyon lay down and fell asleep quickly, finding himself in a dream.
The dream female was there, far ahead of him, beckoning to him.
She stood next to a giant boulder that had one pointy protrusion.
She circled it, and then she beckoned to him again.
Stalks of purple, bell-shaped flowers surrounded her.
She picked an entire stalk out of the ground and held it out to him.
The dream dissolved and Canyon woke up. He got to his feet and found Timber already passed out, sprawled on the ground nearby.
Bro, Canyon whispered in ruhi. Hang in there. We’re getting out of this fucked-up hole, today.
Canyon shifted into a man and dressed quickly. He’d recognized the plant the dream female had held up as Foxglove, and he knew enough about how dreams worked that he was hot to search for some Foxglove, and maybe a big-ass, pointy boulder.
He stalked through the meadow grasses, looking for Foxglove, one ear attuned in his brother’s direction. Since it was late September, the flowers would be dead, but he found a seed stalk easily. He pulled it out of the ground and took it back to prepare it.
He didn’t know what he was doing, so he let his wolf guide him.
He pulled the seed pods off the stalk, then emptied the tiny seeds out onto a rock and smashed them with another rock until he had a dark paste.
He pulled a t-shirt from his rucksack and cut it in strips, then gathered up all the paste with one of them.
Barely touching it, it still made his fingers tingle, telling him he was dealing with something potent, possibly deadly.
He took it to Timber and pressed the paste onto Timber’s injury, then tied it on with more rags.
The reaction was quick. Timber’d been sleeping as a man, the left arm flung out away from his body, panting heavily, but now his breathing eased, and he curled the arm into his body, cradling it with his other arm.
After a minute, he shifted into a wolf and curled up inside his clothes, no longer panting. Canyon was glad to see it.
Canyon let Timber sleep until dusk, then woke him. Timber shifted into a man and picked up his clothes, using his left arm normally. His face still looked swollen, but not like the day before.
Timber held up his arm and peeked inside the bandage. “What is it? Feels like menthol.”
It’s Foxglove seed paste.
“Cool. You getting us outta here today?”
Canyon shouldered his ruck. You know it. Follow me.
He didn’t head north, but rather west, because he was letting his wolf lead the way.
As soon as they entered the forest, Canyon saw it—the boulder with the protrusion from his dream.
He walked around it, eyes peeled, and once he was on the other side he found a hidden path.
They followed it, and within an hour, they saw remnants of a campfire.
Timber grunted and pointed at a tree with a saw-trimmed branch. “Civilization.”
Canyon grunted and picked up speed.