SEPTEMBER 31st: A Bad Day in Shine Valley

CHAOS COMING

Carey Muldoc opened his eyes. The forest around him was quiet. A breeze brushed softly through the nests of pine needles above him. A few dried leaves on the gnarled branches of nearby brush rattled and scraped against each other. For the moment, Carey didn't hear anything else. He felt alone on the false flat of the mountainside.

Unfortunately, that moment didn't last.

His body jerked. A loud, violent SNAP ripped through the shadowy stillness all too close to the spot Carey was laying. The mossy salad of dried leaves and loose soil underneath him rustled noisily as he sat up then shuffled backward in a panic. The exposed rock of the tall bluff was cold against his sweat-soaked shirt. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath racing in and out of his lungs. Above him, a commotion of sounds quickly grew louder. A dry, breathless voice tried to shout something.

Carey's eyes watched a figure appear over the edge of the bluff. They were running. Their speed was too fast to stop when they realized, too late, they had run out of ground. The flailing mass of dirt and ash-stained clothes eclipsed the pale, morning light shining weakly through the evergreen canopy for a fraction of a second. The heavy body landed with heavy PLOP and a loud grunt right in front of the frightened Carey Muldoc.

With wide eyes, Carey stared at the groaning mass on the ground. A voice inside of himself told him to speak up, to ask if they were okay. But a paralyzing fear strangled Carey's voice. All he could do was watch the stranger laying in the dirt.

It was an older man. He suddenly raised his head, as if waking from a nightmare. His round cheeks were dirty, his gray stubble matted by sweat, soil, and what looked like blood to Carey. There was a small, wet gash above the man's left eye and another on his swollen, quivering lip. Carey thought the man might have been someone from the mine, but he wasn't sure. He definitely didn't know the old-timer's name.

"Wh...where is it," the old man asked loudly, groaning from the pain that was coursing through his body as he tried to move. "It was followin' me! I saw it! Damned demon thing!"

Carey's eyes immediately looked upward to the moss and leaf-covered ridge of the bluff. The dust the old man had kicked up was still settling back toward the rocks. But there was nothing else there.

"Ohh...my word," the old man groaned as he tried to move a little more. His voice was still loud. It was making Carey nervous. "What hell?! What hell are we in..."

Carey glimpsed upward again. All he could see was the rim of the bluff and the looming trees that stretched toward the hazy sky. He looked down at the old man struggling to sit upright. Carey's expression was a silent plea to the stranger to move and speak more quietly. The old man either didn't notice or didn't care about the frightened glare Carey was giving him.

"My ribs! By Sam, I'm too old for this!"

"Shh," Carey finally tried, meekly. He could barely hear himself.

"That thing...those others...they're going to kill us all!"

"Shh," Carey tried again, slightly louder. "Please."

The old man stretched, his joints snapping. His breath wheezed. "I...I can't keep running. I'm too old. I...where's the town? That's where I need to be. I'm lost on this damned mountain!"

"Please, be quiet."

The old man squinted, noticing Carey-maybe for the first time. "Huh? What'd ya say?"

"Be quiet," Carey said at no more than a loud whisper. "You're too loud."

The old man blinked. He tried to consider what Carey had said, then furrowed his dirty brow. "It ain't got hearin', stupid. Just eyes! I seen the eyes! But I ain't seen no ears!

Carey shook his head. It was the only response he knew how to give just then.

The old man barely noticed. He started to collapse back to the dirt. He caught himself, his sweating palms flat and tense in the loose soil, his elbows wobbling. "I...I need help. I ain't got the strength. I need help gettin' upright. Don't ya be hearin'? I need help here!"

Carey watched him wordlessly, his knees pulled against his chest. He shook his head slowly.

"Boy," the old man wheezed loudly, "come on, now! Be helpin' me up before-"

Carey couldn't help but scream.

A massive boulder slammed into the wide, flat ledge. An ear-splitting shock wave pushed out from the impact, spraying a stinging cloud of debris in every direction. The deafening whip-crack of energy and noise had muted his dry voice almost entirely. Carey's eyes were clamped shut as the ringing in his ears persisted. The last thing he had glimpsed was the old man disappearing under the crushing stone. The image repeated over and over in Carey's mind. He finally had to open his eyes just to make it stop.

The massive rock was as tall as a house. The ruddy, slick-looking surface was as wide as three men standing shoulder to shoulder. Small bits of dirt trickled out of tiny divots and cracks all along the bulbous shape. Carey thought he saw the giant rock moving just a little. Pebbles shattered and turned to dust as the life-ending boulder pivoted subtly left and then right. Is that the sound of bones being ground, of flesh tearing? Carey didn't want to imagine that. But where else was the old man? The giant rock continued to move just enough to be noticed. What is it doing, Carey wondered anxiously. Was it looking for something?

Was it looking for him?

Carey rose to his feet one slow and silent inch at a time. Once he was upright, he shifted a quiet step to his right. The boulder didn't seem to react. Without taking his eyes off the bizarre stone, Carey balled his trembling fists. He took a deep, painful breath. Then, he was moving. He pushed off from the dirty, rock wall of the tall ledge behind him. The slope was steep under his feet as he ran for dear life. Each panicked step came faster and faster. He was running harder than he could ever remember.

The forest behind him was alive with the sound of destruction. A giant boulder was plowing through every tree and bush in its unstoppable path toward the fleeing Carey Muldoc.