“Just wait until you see around the corner.”
Inching back to the trail, I glass the area ahead but don’t see anything out of place. That is if you can call skulls posted along a trail not being out of place. Stowing the binoculars, I wave Gonzalez and McCafferty forward and slip around the corner.
“What the fuck, sir?” Gonzalez whispers.
“Punji traps and skulls? Are we continuing on?” she asks quietly.
“What do you mean? It just got interesting,” I reply.
“Anyone ever tell you that you are fucking crazy…sir?”
“I’ve heard that a time or two,” I respond.
“Lead on then, sir.”
Some of the skulls still have a bit of hair attached to them which adds to the creep factor. I’m just glad that whoever put these out cleaned them for the most part. Having bits of tendon and tissue clinging to them would be a bit much. Passing the first ones, I don’t see any obvious injuries. You know, other than being dead. One has an “X” painted on the forehead. In the past, any marking on trees, sticks placed in branches or laid out in a pattern, or other similar signs were warnings of traps or areas to be aware of. Not for opposing forces obviously, but for friendlies to know that they need to watch out for traps.
I pause just prior to the marked skull. A few inches off the ground, a string of fishing lines runs across the trail. I follow it with my eyes. It wraps around a nearby tree and, tracing it, I find where it is attached to a pole in the ground which is connected to another notched stick. The notched stick is tied to a stretched tree branch lined with sharpened sticks. Yep, another trap. Pull on the line and the pole driven into the ground moves, releasing the branch, which then swings out into the path. Yeah, this is becoming more interesting by the minute.
Oddly enough, this is an environment I’m more familiar and comfortable with. Well, that’s not the honest truth. The environment I’m most comfortable with is swinging gently in a hammock on a white-sand beach. However, it’s infinitely more comfortable than being in command of the entire survival group. Yeah, it sounds odd but it’s true nonetheless. I almost — almost mind you — wish I had brought Robert and Bri so they could see this for themselves.
“Watch for marks on the trees or on the ground. We have traps across the trail. Watch for the line by the marked skull,” I whisper over the radio, receiving a double click of acknowledgement from both Gonzalez and McCafferty.
I stalk past the skulls. A trail opens off the main path to the right leading to a small, open area. In the middle is another ash pile considerably smaller than the one we found in the bottom of the pit. I would investigate it but I have the feeling I’d find much the same as we did at the previous one and I’m experiencing enough weirdness for the moment. Stepping across the path so I don’t leave an imprint, I creep a few more feet before pausing.
Something hanging in the trees lining the path catches my eye — dolls hanging from pieces of cord from the branches.
They reach my position and I point out the hanging dolls.
“Seriously? Are those really dolls hanging in the trees?” Gonzalez asks, whispering.
“Still interesting enough for you, sir?” McCafferty asks.
“No. Interest level gone. I think the banjos are playing a little too loud for me,” I answer. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“I’m right behind you, sir, if not in front,” Gonzalez says.
“Greg. We’re on our way back,” I say.
“Whatcha have going on?” he asks.
“You wouldn’t believe it if you saw it for yourself,” I reply.
“Alright. See ya soon.”
We reverse and begin tracing our route back, avoiding the trap across the path. Passing the skulls once again, I hear something moving off in the woods to the side. Crouching, I look and see a flash of movement. I pick up sounds to the other side. Someone is trying to be furtive with their passage but failing miserably.
“We have company on both sides,” I radio.
“What do you want to do, sir?” Gonzalez asks.
“Keep moving. If we’re fired upon, engage and move. Gonzalez, you empty a mag left, McCafferty, to the right. We fire then make a break for the Stryker. Clear?” I again hear the double clicks of acknowledgment.
“Are you okay, Jack?” Greg asks.
“For now,” I reply. “We’ve just gained some interested followers.”
We creep down the trail in formation. I keep an eye ahead in case they’ve set up behind us while Gonzalez and McCafferty keep an eye on their sectors. I continue to hear sounds of passage on both sides.
“I have movement to the left paralleling us,” Gonzalez calls.
“Same on the right,” McCafferty says.
“Keep moving,” I reply, hoping we haven’t kicked up a hornet’s nest.
The trail entrance opens ahead and the movement on both sides cease. I don’t know if this is a good or bad sign. My experience has been that when sounds of movement stop, it’s because the opposing force has set up and are gearing for an attack. I really hope that’s not the case here.
“Almost there. Stay alert,” I say.
“We see you on the trail,” Greg states.
“Roger that. Do you see anything in the tree line?”
“Negative, Jack. It’s all clear that we can see,” he answers.
“Okay. Break. Gonzalez, McCafferty, keep it steady.”
“Copy that, sir,” Gonzalez replies. McCafferty answers with a double click.
Keeping low, with gray skies above and tension filling the hard-packed trail, we edge inch by inch toward the path’s entrance. The feeling is one of having the end in sight but thinking that it’s just an illusion of safety and all hell’s going to break lose prior to reaching it. I want to pause and ascertain the situation prior to moving out, but I know that we need to keep going. The longer we’re here, the more time whoever is off to the sides will have to get into a position against us.
The apprehension is such that I want to toss a grenade to either side and make a break for it. However, we haven’t been fired on and I don’t know if their intentions are harmless or not. The dolls in the trees really upped the creep factor. I mean, fucking dolls…hanging in the trees!
I reach the entrance to the trail and crouch by a tree. Gonzalez and McCafferty are behind and pause with me.
“Gonzalez, McCafferty. Go. Beat cheeks to Stryker. I’ll cover and follow.”
This time, the acknowledgment is in the form of both women rising and streaking past as they sprint for the waiting teams. Gonzalez and McCafferty spread out as they exit the trees. I rise as they pass and follow.
The others of both teams are spread in a line behind what cover they can find. I sprint to the rear of the Stryker where I meet Gonzalez, McCafferty, and Greg. I’m winded from the sprint across the open terrain and lean with my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
“That was seriously fucking creepy!” Gonzalez says, catching her breath as well.
“No fucking shit!” McCafferty agrees.
“So. What was it that made you come back?” Greg asks.
With my hands still on my knees, breathing hard, I shake my head slowly. “Dolls, man. There were dolls hanging in the trees. Lots of them.”
“Noooo shit,” Greg says.
“Seriously?! There are dolls in the trees?” Robert asks from nearby. “That’s all kinds of fucked up.”
“No shit. I took one look at that and I was done.”
“Sounds like we are dealing with kids that have watched too many movies,” Bri states.
“Could be, but that’s all I cared to see,” I say.
“Still want to investigate?” Greg asks.
