Encounter by Flavor Sterlot

Chapter 1 - Around the Campfire

Morbid Ink is adding in the short stories you can discover in the upcoming issues.

The campfire flickered in the dusk as the small party gathered around it tried to make sense of their day. An acute uneasiness filled the air while one man smoked a cigar watching the two women sitting between two other men. The glow from the fire revealed glances of concern as they nibbled on high-energy bars from the emergency backpack. A splashing murmur from a nearby creek sounded over the snips and cracks of the campfire.

“A week, damn it! We’ve spent a week out here. So we’ve run into trouble. I don’t see what there was in a mere circular print on a rock-ledge to make your men behave like that,” said Doctor Bashar in a voice as dry as his entire personality.

“You might have noticed the condition of the bodies,” Andersen, the lead guide and hunter, replied sarcastically.

Bashar glared at him, then picked up a twig, then made a crude map on the ground.

“As I understand it, we only have about fifteen miles to go. Since I have thirty days to complete the contract with Mr. Yoo, I say we continue. Those men are your responsibility and we’ve got too much…”

“Quit your bitch’in,” Andersen’s anger grew. “You can draw a map, but it’s not telling you we’re in the middle of nowhere. My men stumbled into something that ain’t natural. We’re just damn lucky your wife wanted to hang around by the creek so her sister could take more photographs. Otherwise, we’d be in the same condition as those corpses.”

Bashar’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, perhaps, but we don’t know, do we? We only have your assurances. Which reminds me, you shouldn’t have exposed the women to that scene,” he said.

“Next time, you can cover their eyes. Death comes to everyone. You can’t hide it just because you think they’re weaker.” Andersen glanced at the women. “Anyway, let’s get back to a plan. We lost three good men. Worse, our ATVs are now worthless hunks of metal. That means we’re walking out of here.”

“Are you sure we can’t fix those vehicles?” Bashar asked.

Laughter from Jones caused the two men to look at him. The young man, who called himself a cultural journalist, shook his head.

“Are you crazy? Mechanics in a shop couldn’t fix those ATVs and we’ve got no spare parts. Must have been a grizzly to rip off those gas tanks like that. That’s why our food is mostly gone.”

Jones nodded at Andersen, who nodded back at the sudden support. What Andersen didn’t point out was that fact no animals touched the food. Nothing on earth would turn MREs into blackened lumps of what looked like frozen coal.

“Everyone saw the supplies that were left in our backpacks. The way I figure it, we’ve got about a week’s worth of food. The good news is that we can hunt for game. Still, we — well, we’re at least twenty-five miles back to the nearest road. If we continue on to your destination. Your experiment at the mine will have to wait unless you want to die before you arrive.”

“I don’t see why you can’t call in for more supplies. Our contract stated you’d guide us to the Sink Creek experimental station. Also, the contract stipulates emergency protocols. We’ve trusted…”

“Christ, check your damn cell phone. Do you see any signal?” the hunter reached into his pocket, pulling out chewing tobacco. “Our emergency Sat phone was in the destroyed supplies, so we’re not getting any help here. Maybe we’ll find help…”

He pulled open the pouch and stuffed a wad of the black leaves into his mouth.

“I really hope it’s not what I think!” Andersen muttered, mostly to himself.