The Dark Under The Trees Ch.35

The brush on the northwest side of Butler Creek grew thick among the trees, grouped in small copses. The scent of aromatic bay trees filled the hot, humid air, which hummed with winged insects going about their daily business in the blazing morning sun. Wild flowering dogwood trees added colorful beauty to the rugged, untamed landscape and willow withies marched in profusion down to the very marge of the wide, flowing stream.1

“Fuck this shit!” exploded Zachary Jones. The tall thin black man leaned against a tree and took his helmet off. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a camo covered arm and removed his canteen from its holder. He unscrewed the top and drank deeply before speaking again. 2

“I’ve had it with this heat and beatin’ through this God damned bush. Let’s call it and go on back. We ain’t gonna find them hairy bastards anyway. They’re probably fifty miles out in the wilderness by now.”3

“Aye lad, I could fancy a clearer path meself,” said his companion, Seamus Fitzsimmons. His own perspiration soaked shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and clung wetly to the tall man's back. He was sandy haired, with a complexion as light as the other man’s was dark. “And what you say may be true, but we’ve still another hour left on this patrol and yer bitchin’ won’t make the time pass any faster. So, pull yer skirt down and let’s get on with it.”4

“Fuck you Fitz,” Jones said. He smiled, shook his head and pushed away from the tree to follow in the other man’s wake.5

“And to be sure lad, you’d never go back to wimmin’,” Fitzsimmons said, with a chuckle, as he pushed his way back into the thick brush.6

Nearly an hour later and little more than two miles farther down the southward course of the stream, Fitzsimmons halted.7

“Well, there’s an end to it, me laddie buck,” he said and looked toward the crowns of the trees some distance away on their right. “What say we try inland a wee bit for a clearer path back?” He smiled broadly at his companion, his deep blue eyes glittering with mirth. “Sure and we might be back in time for breakfast.”8

“I wouldn’t count on that,” said a voice from behind the two military men. Another man materialized from the brush before them, as if by magic. He covered them with an assault rifle as the unseen man quickly stripped them of their rifles and side arms.9

“You fellas are interferin’ with a military operation,” Fitzsimmons said. “And to be sure, they’ll be dire consequences if ya don’t leave off and let us get on with our business.”10

The man before them remained stony faced and took a step to the side motioning them forward with the muzzle of his weapon.11

“Get moving,” the man behind them said and urged them on, none too gently, with his rifle. “Straight ahead.”12

The small group had covered little more than a few hundred feet, when the dense brush gave way to the relatively clear land under the forests canopy. 13

“Hold it right here and lay on your bellies!” the unseen voice commanded, when they reached a small clearing dotted with tall seed grass and wild flowers.14

“This is some shit man,” Jones said and turned to face their captors. “I ain’t...”15

He never saw the rifle butt that clipped him on the point of the chin and sent him sprawling to the ground. Fitzsimmons took a step toward the attacker, but the other man shoved the barrel of his rifle into the military man’s mid-section hard. With the wind knocked out of him Fitzsimmons slowly collapsed to the ground. 16

The nearly unconscious men were turned unceremoniously onto their stomachs and their hands were tied behind their backs. Each was then dragged to a good-sized sapling and further secured with a rawhide strap around their neck and knotted behind the trunk of the tree.17

“You keep an eye on them and I’ll go get Bear,” the unseen voice said. 18

Sometime later a group of fifteen men ghosted through the trees. Their leader was the largest man either captive had ever seen. Nearly seven feet from the ground his well-shaped head rested atop a bull neck, supported by wide, massively muscled shoulders. His thick-corded arms swung easily to each side of his deep chest and legs the size of tree trunks carried him with the grace of a mountain cat. 19

He squatted before the captives and his dark intelligent eyes glinted in the dappled sunlight like twin chips of obsidian. The reddish tint of his skin, high, pronounced cheekbones and the hawk like nose proclaimed his Indian heritage.20

“Names Willie Epperson,” he said, his voice a deep rumbling baritone. “I’m the chief of the Tribal Police. Who are you boys and what’s the army doing out here on tribal land?” 21

“It’s pleased I am to meet ya sir. I’m Sergeant Seamus Fitzsimmons and this here is Private Zachariah Jones. As I was tellin’ yer lads a bit earlier, when they first introduced themselves,” he added dryly. “We’re involved in a military operation, the details of which we’re not at liberty to discuss. So if you’d be kind enough to untie us, we’ll be on our way and forget this wee bit of unpleasantness. To be sure, that’ll avoid any unnecessary government involvement.”22

“Hear that boys?” Epperson asked. “Let them go and we can avoid any unnecessary government involvement.” He lowered his eyes to the ground, shook his head and chuckled. He brought his gaze up and held Fitzsimmons' eyes for a moment before he continued.23

“Most of us have been dealing with unnecessary government involvement all our lives,” he said. “Tribal land is autonomous and I represent the government out here, so answer my question. Why is the army on tribal land?”24

“And sure now, haven’t I answered ya as best I can? And ain’t it a courts martial if I tell ya more?” Fitzsimmons said.25

“Why don’t you take a little walk Bear?” Herbert Eaglerock suggested with an evil looking grin. “And let me talk to these fellas for a few minutes.” He produced a large hunting knife and directed a beam of sunlight off the blade, blindingly across the captive’s eyes.26

“Now you know I can’t allow that Moatokni,” Epperson said. “After all, we ain’t a bunch of wild Indians anymore.” The remark was followed by chuckles and outright laughter by some of the others. 27

“I did work up a powerful thirst coming down here though.” Epperson said and stood up. “Maybe I’ll mosey over to the stream and get a drink.”28

As the big man started walking slowly toward Butler Creek, two more men came to stand beside Herbert.29

“What technique are you gonna’ use Moatokni?” the younger of the two asked excitedly.30

“I would recommend the Thousand Cuts,” the older one said, his tone was conversational, as if discussing the weather. “It’s always got good results every time I used it.” He squatted down and ripped open Jones’ khaki shirt.31

“Hey Mr. Government!” Jones called loudly. “Call off your boys and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”32

“Keep yer bleedin’ trap shut ya bloody great ape,” Fitzsimmons growled. “And show some God damned spine.”33

“I didn’t sign on for none of this shit,” Jones said angrily. “Bunch of crazy backwoods mother fuckers ain’t cutting on me. You and Ivanskaya can both kiss my black ass.” 34

Herbert squatted down before Jones the keen, bright blade held menacingly in his fist. His brown eyes betrayed no emotion as he held the captive’s wary gaze.35

“So what’s the army doing out here?” Epperson asked as he came to stand next to Herbert.36

Some minutes later Jones was nearing the end of his fantastic tale, and finally came to the part the Indians were waiting for.37

“So a couple of days ago the chopper crew intercepts a transmission when they were conducting the search for the escapees," Jones continued his tale. "It turned out to be some civilians that were under attack by the big hairy suckers. The crew ran the Manoids off with the chopper and took the civilians into custody. It's probably the guys you're looking for. They’re being held at the facility right now and I can take you there. But I don't think you've got enough people to get them out.”38

"You let us worry about the numbers," Epperson said. "Cut him loose so we can get started.39

Before they left the leader had a few final words for the uncooperative Fitzsimmons who was left tied to a tree and was shouting derogatory epitaphs at Jones. 40

“The big critters around here are curious and hungry most of the time,” Epperson said. He looked pointedly at the surrounding forest. “If I was you I’d be real quiet, keep a low profile.” He stood up and took a few steps before turning back to add. “Don’t worry, I’ll send someone to pick you up on the way back.” 41

Some thirty minutes later, Epperson and his men were following Jones as he led the way to the underground installation and the chief’s radio crackled to life.42

“Roger that ground rescue. Towerton rescue flight one standing by.” 43

"Hold it you guys," Epperson said and grabbed his radio. “Rescue flight one, this is Chief Epperson of the Tribal Police. Do you copy?”44

“Roger that, I copy. What can I do for you Chief?”45

“Are you out here looking for Sheriff Johnson and the the others?”46

“That’s affirmative, Chief.”47

“I know where they are. If you and your ground crew could meet me at the old Crow Canyon quarry, we could coordinate our efforts.”48

“Copy that Chief. Stand by and I’ll relay the message.”49

“Chief Epperson, this is rescue flight one. Do you copy?”50

“Epperson here, go ahead rescue flight one.”51

“Ground crew answers affirmative. Will meet you old Crow Canyon quarry, ETA four hours. Flight One ETA fifteen minutes. See you when you get there. Flight One out.”52