Northwoods

Chapter 8

            The troupe of exhausted teens passed through several small, winding loops before they discovered the reason for Arrowhead Campground to be here at all.  They came to a boat landing on what could barely be called a small lake.  What passed for a shore was thick with vegetation.  The lake must have been small even in its peak; now it was largely a swamp.  What free water remained was dark and murky, and Jake could see swarms of gnats floating over various spots.  The brown water gave off ripples as fish fed on small bugs near the surface.  Every so often, he still got the sensation that he was being watched, but he told himself he was being paranoid.  And, there was something oddly familiar about the place.

            A pair of thin, blue dragonflies buzzed into Frank’s face and he swatted them away.  They tumbled wildly and recovered three inches from Jake’s nose.  Wings buzzing, they hovered there, seeming to stare at him with their compound eyes for a moment, and then swooped clumsily away towards the swamp. 

Any other time Jake might have been amused, but they'd reached the end of the road and had seen no discernible trails leading out of the campground.  His heart pounded under his ribcage as fears played tricks on his imagination.  And he had an exceptionally good imagination, fueled by his recent disturbing encounters.  Though it was still early in the morning, he could very well picture them spending another night in the woods.  He loathed the idea for multiple reasons.  If given the choice, though, he’d rather sleep in the middle of the woods than here.  This placed gave him the creeps.

            He felt anger surge up within him and he turned to walk back up the road.  He found a sufficiently thick Jack pine to lean against.  He had to find some way to diffuse his anger, or else he’d have a meltdown like Katie.  He was all out of ideas, and the looks on his friends’ faces told him the same thing.  Frustrated and exhausted, he let his head fall back against the tree trunk harder than he had intended to.  It sent a dull ache through his already-pounding head, but a moment later, a bolt of sharp pain lanced across his scalp and down his neck.  His yelp of surprise brought the others to him, and he restrained himself from kicking the tree as he moved away from it.  His head throbbed more powerfully than before, and along with it sharper pains speared his brain from a source on his scalp.  He felt the back of his head and, sure enough, there was blood on his fingers when he withdrew them.

Katie saw this and her eyes went wide as she ran to him.  She gasped and fresh tears came to her eyes.  She seemed a good deal more upset about this than he was.  Jake wondered if he should be flattered or worried that she was this worked up over him for a simple injury.  Then he looked down at his hands and panic shot through him at the amount of blood he saw.

A strong, reassuring hand clasped onto his shoulder.  He felt fingers brushing through his hair and another spear of pain as they made contact with his injured flesh.  He heard Frank's voice behind him, calming him.  “It’s just a little puncture, not as bad as it looks.  Remember, head wounds bleed a lot, even the small ones, ‘cause there’s more blood vessels.  You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, buddy.”  Jake sighed and closed his eyes.  His patience was starting to wear very thin.

Ben reached under the sweatshirt he was wearing and tore off a piece of his old T-shirt.  He offered it to Jake.  “You might get whatever weird disease I have, but at least it’ll stop the bleeding.”

Jake accepted it thankfully and pressed it against his injury.  He winced as sharp pain flared up again and then ebbed to a dull sting.  He turned back to examine the guilty tree, silently rebuking it.  There must be a branch stub sticking out somewhere, he thought angrily.  What he found was a small metal square nailed into it, right at what would be an average adult’s line of sight.  His mind, though distracted by the slowly dulling pain, screamed the obvious when he made out what was barely visible on the weathered surface of the metal plate:  A stick person in a walking stance.  He looked beyond the tree at the thick forest, the forest into which an ill-defined trail plunged.  A trail they had apparently failed to notice.  Across the road, it continued in the opposite direction.  His anger ebbed away completely and hope returned with a new surge of energy.  “We have a trail!”