Learning
The nameless young man now walked alone through the forest. Through the thickly crossing branches above, he saw the night sky. Stars could be seen through intermittent breaks in the cloud cover overhead. The smell of rain was thick on the wind, and there was a breeze building from the west. There was a change in the air coming. He had walked through this woodland realm for a day now since leaving the hidden research compound. He still carried the briefcase filled with documents, and was still dressed for the most part. However, an entanglement with an angry bear and a tall pine had cost him an overcoat. Not that it mattered really, since the days were rather warm and the nights not so chilling. Along the way, he had seen little animal life. The bear he had somehow ticked off was an exception, as was a pack of wolves that he had seen as the sun set, on a ridge not far away. The pack leader's silhouette had been majestic against the crescent moon that had framed him in the sky.
Now, he followed a stream downhill, through the descending slopes of the foothills of the mountain he had exited a day ago. Somehow, he felt that if he kept going in this direction, he would eventually find a road, or something that would lead him to a town or a city. He hoped he did soon, because he was ravenously hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since waking up. He realized earlier that a sort of nutrient rich liquid must have also been pumped into him when he had been hooked up to the machinery back at the compound, feeding him while he was kept under. Now, starved of that liquid, his body went back to natural means. It ached with hunger, making loud rumbling and gurgling sounds. He needed to eat, and soon. He began to feel weak. A few steps more, and he stopped beside a tree to rest, sitting atop an upraised root. Sitting back against the rough bark of the tree's trunk, he began to think to himself. What if he didn't find a way to civilization for a while? How would he survive then? He didn't know how to hunt, or what natural things were good to eat. What was he going to do.
Suddenly, he caught a scent on the air. A smell that set off bells in his head. Smoke! The smell of a wood fire blazing. But, what had set this fire? Was it natural, a wild fire? No, he knew it was too damp and cool for such a thing. Perhaps it was set by a camper, a fire to cook by? That sounded more logical. His stomach rumbled again and reminded him about his dire need for food. He got up and decided to follow the scent of the fire to its source, at the very least appeasing his curiosity and perhaps, if he were lucky, scoring a meal from a friendly woods person. He walked ahead, winding his way, all the while heading in the direction he thought the scent drifted from. Soon, he came to the edge of a grassy clearing. A tent and fire pit had been prepared, and bags of gear and provisions had been tossed down in a heap nearby. However, there was signs of a struggle, a violent confrontation. Not far away, a body lay face down on the ground. He waited, a curious feeling building inside. Whoever had hurt that person was nearby. He had to be careful. He circled around till he could approach the campsite from the shortest distance, and have cover nearby in case he needed it. Then, he approached the unmoving form.
Upon closer inspection, it was a middle aged man. He was dressed in wilderness gear, but had been stabbed in the back. He had bled for some time. The nameless young man carefully placed a hand on the man's back. There was a flash in his vision, and suddenly, he could hear the man's dying heartbeat. He was still alive! Elated, but still wary of the situation, he decided to do a little experiment. If he could heal grievous wounds upon his own body, could he possibly project his healing ability into the bodies of others? It was worth a try, he decided. He set his briefcase beside him on the grass. Carefully, he took a hold of the offending blade and slowly pulled it out. It came out with a sickening slurping sound. Tossing the soiled blade away in disgust, the young man then applied his hands to the wound. Ignoring the warm, vicious blood sticking to his palms and swelling up between his fingers, he began to concentrate. In his mind, he willed for the injury to heal, and the man to be well again. Slowly, it worked, much to his satisfaction and relief. The wound closed, the blood dried, and with a sudden sucking gasp, the man awoke as if from sleeping beneath water. He flailed about, until his bulging eyes and crazed gaze fell upon the young man kneeling beside him.
"Y-you! You... you... you healed me? How is that possible! I should have been dead Wait, how do I know that!" the man rambled, practically hyperventilating. His hands shook, and it seemed that he was experiencing a sort of shock. The young man sat back and watched warily, wondering if perhaps this was a side-affect of his miraculous healing ability. Slowly though, over the next five minutes, the man calmed.
The young man helped him to his feet. "Are you okay, now? What happened, why were you so gravely injured?"
"I... I don't remember, rightly... My daughter, Sharleen, and I, we were camping on our vacation... when... OH MY GOD! Sharleen! That, that monster took her!" the man cried out, going from mostly mystified to stark raving frantic in about a second.
"Monster?" the young man echoed, not sure if he had heard right. The man suddenly grasped him about the shoulders, "Yes! A... a criminal, or something! He came upon us as we slept. I felt his eyes on us, and I awoke to find him standing over my daughter... with a horrible hunger in his eyes! I attacked him, tried to scare him off, but it was no use! He pulled that big, serrated hunting knife on me, and stabbed me..."
"And... now, thinking your dead, he kidnapped your daughter?" the young man said. The poor man nodded, his eyes tearing up. The sight of this unfortunate soul so distraught, and the tale of such heartless brutality performed upon such unsuspecting innocence, it moved something inside the young man. His face took on a grim resolve, his eyes steely. "I'll get her back."
"What! Are you INSANE!" the man screeched, "That bloodthirsty goon would eviscerate you both! Listen, son, I really appreciate your selflessness, but..."
The young man turned and started for the far edge of the clearing, and said over his shoulder, "Don't worry, I'm much more than I appear to be!"
Alone, the man stared after the strange young man who had mysteriously saved his life. "You had better hope so."
The young man tramped once more into the brush. He wasn't sure where to begin. A murderer living out in the hinterlands, preying on campers and such, wouldn't likely hang around the camps he hit for very long. Logic dictated that such an individual would have a hideout, a camp of his own, somewhere. And, such an individual would be well versed in how to survive in the forest, far from civilization. That was two strikes against the young man, two disadvantages he had to overcome. His one saving grace, the strange abilities that he had discovered in his two days of consciousness since waking up in the secret lab. He could heal, very fast, instanteously if he really thought about it. He would have to use such a power to its fullest affect, as it was his only advantage. So, as he walked, he tried to think about what people leave in their passing in a place like the forest. Footprints in the soil, threads of cloth and fabric in the bark of trees, broken twigs, bent grass, disturbed fallen leaves. He looked to the ground before him and searched for these things. For a while, he just saw the forest floor as a chaotic whole. Then, suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown behind his eyes, in his mind, things began to change. He was at once able to discern minute environmental details. A path, once hidden, now became visible to him. A footprint loomed up from the dirt. Feeling compelled by some strange feeling, he bent down and touched it...
FLASH!
A blurred image coalesces in the darkened vision of the young man. A tall, burly figure dressed in hunter's camouflaged gear hurried along through the forest undergrowth. Behind him, he had left a innocent man bleeding to death from a fatal knife wound. With him, he drags a sobbing, struggling girl, fifteen or sixteen years of age...
FLASH!
Another image forms, this time of a hidden den amidst a certain copse of trees. The pattern of leaves and branches that enshroud the lair from outside view reeks of unnatural design. The taint of malice and indifference permeates the surroundings...
FLASH!
With a sudden gasp of breathe, the young man jerks upright, eyes fluttering as he nearly falls over. He leaned against a nearby tree, feeling very uneasy with himself. What had just happened? Was that some sort of... vision? Yes, that was exactly what it was! A vision! A vision of the murdering son of a bitch who knifed that nice man, back there, and took off with his daughter to do Lord knows what! Again, the young man felt something inside him, a certain angry stirring. A furious buzz had begun in his head, which he didn't really take notice of until now. He didn't know what was going on, not really. But, he was thankful that his... gifts... allowed him such insights. Empowered with the knowledge of his quarry, he took off at a sprint. He followed the path left by the offender, and it wasn't long before he saw the killer's hideout ahead of him. The sounds of cruel laughter and wretched sobbing wafted on the breeze. The young man swallowed, his fists tightening, eyes narrowing. He screwed up his courage and stalked forward. Moving carefully, avoiding dried leaves and fallen twigs that might give him away, he approached the expertly crafted lair and peeked into the interior.
Within, a small campfire had been banked in a central firepit. The scraps and bones of several animals littered one side of the enclosure, along with a makeshift sleeping area. It was there that the young girl had been unceremoniously tossed, her clothing soiled and torn by her rough passage through the woods. The murderer stood over her, smiling maliciously. The young man took appraisal of him. He stood at least six foot one, and seemed to be made of all muscle. He guessed that the man must have weighed somewhere around two hundred, maybe two hundred ten. He wore camouflaged pants, a camouflaged jacket without a shirt, and a pair of work boots. Most importantly, he didn't seem to have another weapon. He had left his hunting knife back at the other campsite. But, was he completely unarmed? A funny feeling told the young man that a dangerous individual like this would never deprive himself of a means of inflicting harm, or potentially saving his skin in a tight spot. Still, he thought, he had to do something. Plus, he had his special gift of accelerated healing. So, he straightened himself up, and made himself known. "Hello there, stranger."
The murderer whirled around with a foul curse. To the young man's utter disappointment, he pulled a rather large handgun out from a holster on his far hip and aimed it squarely at his center of mass. "Just who the fuck are you! How the flaming hell did you find me!"
Taking a light breathe, the young man replied, "I found a man not too far away who had been badly injured. I helped him, and he told me a monster somewhat like you attacked him and dragged off his daughter. I came to get her back."
The murderer laughed, grinning impertinently, "Yeah, and so what? That old fogey is probably dead by now, no matter whatever help you gave him, punk! Plus, when you are forced to live out here with little to no contact with the civilized world, you tend to get lonely! So, I took her, yes... and here she stays! That is, unless... heheheh... you can do something about it."
"Well, if you won't be reasonable, I will do something about it." the nameless young man replied, and readied himself. He judged the distance between the two of them, his eyes locked on the weapon held by the big brute. He estimated at least one shot would be fired before he could grapple with his foe. One shot could be potentially fatal. But, if he could move fast enough and get that gun away from him, then he'd might have a chance. He knew it was probably a long shot, but he realized it was probably worth a try. He decided all of that inside of a couple seconds, before throwing himself into a lunging dash forward. There was a scream from somewhere on his right, an ear-shattering explosion that deafened him, the sound of something rushing by his ear incredibly fast, and then the solid impact of his charging frame into the form of his enemy. Surprisingly, he had enough momentum to carry the murderer backwards a few steps, until he rammed him up against a nearby tree trunk. The tackle must have been enough to wind his foe, because he gasped for breathe while the young man grabbed the wrist of the hand with the gun and slammed it savagely against the tree trunk with all the strength he could muster, thinking of disarming his foe quickly while he had a chance. There was a sickening crack, and the murderer howled in pain as the gun fell from his now limp grasp.
With an enraged growl, he head butted the young man and then shoved him back., causing him to trip and fall. "Ugh! You... you little FUCK!" he grunted, his voice tinged with agonizing pain as he cradled his freshly , but still more filled with rage. He marched forward, lifted a boot, and swung with all his strength. The young man rolled, avoided the kick aimed for his ribs, and got back to his feet. He darted in and threw a punch, catching the murderer in the belly. He threw another, higher, into the solar plexus. But, his enemy was cunning, and turned as the blow connected and avoided most of the affect of the attack. His other arm with the good wrist shot out and socked the young man square in the face. He felt something crumple, and then realized his nose had been broken. The pain was bad, but the blood pouring down like water out of a fawcett was worse. Growling, the young man ignored the pain and struck back, a quick snap kick to the groin. With a strangled yelp, the murderer was on his knees, his good hand clasping his aching anatomy. The young man took a step back, a hand to his throbbing nose. Taking the momentary lapse in the melee, he focused on his pain and began to envision it healing. There was a curious feeling as the cartilage and bone straightened and mended, but the pain melted away soon after. Wiping the remnants of blood from his newly repaired nose, the young man focused again on his enemy, who still squirmed on the ground in genital discomfort. "Had enough yet, or do you want to add another broken limb to your list of injuries?"
"Nnnggh... t-think your so tough, huh? Well... I'll show you! No little punk is going to take me down after all this time, no way!" the murderer shouted. With that, he sprung from his seemingly compromised position on the ground and tackled the young man to the ground. The young man was slammed down against the hard earth, his head striking a large stone embedded in the ground. The jarring blow to his cranium dazed him, giving his enemy enough of an opportunity to wrap his good arm around the young man's neck tightly. With a triumphant cackle, the murderer began to pull up and back, bending the young man's neck in a way nature did not intend. The lack of oxygen and the increasing tension on his neck snapped the nameless youth out of his stupor. Desperately, he thrashed, trying to work his way out of the man's deadly choke hold. In the midst of his thrashing, he drove his elbow sharply into the solar plexus of the man. The blow was strong enough to forcibly break the hold on his neck and was completely unexpected, driving the murderer backwards to a pile of pre-cut wood pieces.
Gasping for breathe, the young man got up to his knees, a hand rubbing the soreness out of his neck as he glared at his foe. The big man was getting up again, malice and angry fire in his eyes. He picked up a hatchet that had been left at the stack of wood, and charged the young man without warning. Caught of guard this time, the young man was knocked to the ground, and kicked under the chin to stun him. Laughing darkly, the murderer ran a finger along the razor sharp hatchet blade. "Well, kid... that fight wasn't so bad! Too bad your still so weak and pathetic, or else you would have had me back there. I'm not going to give you a second chance. Now, lay still, so that I can make your passing from this world all the quicker!" The flash of the fire on metal as the hatchet was raised up broke the stunning affect on the young man. He turned and saw the gun laying just out of reach. He stretched out a hand and thought hard and fast. The gun obeyed the unseen summons given to it and hopped into his outstretched hand. The murderer shouted as he swung down. The young man shouted as he whirled face-up on the ground, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. Another deafening explosion stole the sound out of the air in the little enclosure.
The murderer had frozen in mid-swing, his mouth open and eyes bugging wide in horrified disbelief. He staggered back a couple of steps, his good hand opening limply to drop his hatchet as he moved to touch the neatly drilled hole through his chest, leaking his lifeblood down his front and onto the ground. He looked at the young man, lips quivering feebly, before the light left his eyes and he collapsed like falling timber into a dead heap, a pool of crimson gathering underneath him. The young man grit his teeth and tossed the hot gun from his grasp, somewhere in the brush. He got up an dusted himself off and then and went over to the fallen criminal. He kicked the man in the ribs lightly, and the body fell over on its side. He nodded to himself, certain the man was dead and not faking. A curious thing, he thought to himself. I just killed this man. Should I feel badly? I took a life, did I not? He went and knelt by the unmoving form of the girl. She had passed out, he realized. Probably when the fight had begun, he surmised. But I killed in self defense. If I had not, I would be dead now... And so would this innocent soul. I couldn't have just beat him and expected him to run off into the forest, never to seek vengeance. He nodded to himself again, Yes, I did the right thing.
The girl showed no signs of coming to any time soon. The young man didn't know what he should do. Eventually, he decided to get her as far away from the corpse as possible, lest she awake and become even more distraught upon observing it. Carefully, he picked her up in his arms, and went back the way he had come.
The middle aged man sat at his camp's firepit amidst the forest clearing, staring into the flames. He looked up, hearing the rustling of the brush. His heart leapt with joy and his mind reeled with disbelief as he saw who was coming out of the forest. "Sharleen! You found Sharleen, oh God bless you!"
The young man smiled as he laid Sharleen down on a sleeping bag laid out for her by her father. "Is she okay?"
"She fainted, and is shaken, but otherwise should be fine." the young man replied. The older man got up with a snap of his fingers and rushed off to rummage through the tent nearby. "The first aid kit! It has smelling salts just for an occasion like this."
He came back with a white box with a red cross painted boldly on all sides. Opening it, he took out small plastic packets. Opening them, he pulled out cloth bags that gave off a strong scent. Then, he wafting them under his daughter's nose. A few moments later, she stirs, and stretches, and opens her eyes.
"Daddy!" she lunges into the arms of her father, who hugs her back fervently. The young man smiles and gives them a moment together. He walks over to the briefcase that had been left in he grass and picks it up, looks it over. It was still intact. He looks back and sees the man and his daughter standing now, together, looking at him with grateful smiles. "Listen, kid, I don't know how to thank you enough for getting my daughter back."
"Yeah, thanks for saving me from that wacko forest-freak!" Sharleen added, smiling radiantly. The young man smiled back, "Well, there really is not need for..."
As if on cue, his stomach issues forth the loudest rumbling gurgle yet, and he remembers he still hadn't had anything to eat. He chuckles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. "Um... I guess there is one thing..."