Javin crouched on the floor of the crevice and waited. He hoped his tormentor would grow bored like the ghost cat and go away. Javin could try waiting him out to escape from the top, or he leave the way he came in. Whichever he chose, he needed a foolproof trick just in case.
He tiptoed quietly to the entrance and carefully squeezed through the narrow corridor. It reminded him of The Hobbit and Bilbo’s lost buttons as he sucked his stomach in. Before he stepped outside, he peaked, but saw no trace of the Paleskin. It took him a while more to work up the courage to move forward. He took slow, quiet breaths.
“You can do this. You outsmart your school principal. You can outsmart this dummy.” He peeked out from the crevice again, looking right, then left as quickly as he could, like a mouse looking for a cat. He took a step and looked again. No one as far as he could see.
“All Clear,” he whispered. Then he looked up, just to be sure, and a shadow fell across his face. A hand with sharp nails reached down and grabbed his entire head. He felt pressure on his skull as the hand squeezed and lifted him off his feet.
A disorienting moment later he realized he hung over the shoulder of the Paleskin. It climbed higher. They reached a flat spot where a lone dead tree stood crooked from the ground. Its two largest branches splayed out and turned towards the sky as though it were praying.
The Paleskins flipped Javin off his shoulder and pinned him against the tree with a single hand. “I can hear your heart beating.” It pressed Javin’s head against the dead bark. The grooves scratched against his cheek. The pressure was great enough that the striations imprinted on his face the way a pair of tight pants leaves marks around a waist.
Javin watched Butcher bring up his knife and flip it in several directions like a carnival trickster. He hoped the monster would drop it while showing off and impale his own foot. The killer pressed the knife against the side of Javin’s throat. It felt sharp against his neck. The light pressure didn’t go deep enough to find his artery, but an immediate burning sensation burrowed deep into his nerves and Javin screamed.
“Oh come now, I’m not hurting you that badly. In fact, I’ll make this go very easy for you. This was more fun than I expected.” Butcher lowered his mouth towards Javin’s neck. Javin kicked out with his leg hard and struck Butcher’s body multiple times, but the undead creature remained unaffected.
“Good, fight until the end.” Javin felt the creature’s breath on his face. He smelled like the dead squirrel he found under his trailer. Its lips were on him and a soft sensation briefly broke through the burning from the cut before subsiding. Butcher Briggs roared in pain, dropping his hold on Javin and letting go of his knife. He fell to his knees and put both hands to his face, trying to rub away the pain.
Javin’s trick worked! “That is called X-X-X Ghost Pepper Mash” Javin annunciated each X loudly. He reveled, stupidly, at his temporary victory when he should have run. He had rubbed the pepper sauce around his neck. He taunted the creature, “You’re not going to eat me today.” Javin kicked at the knife on the ground, sending it over the edge and he ran from the writhing, screaming Paleskin.
Javin ran across the jagged plateau, unable to find a way to the floor of the canyon. He had room to run, but how far? He continually looked over the edge. At its shallowest, he guessed he’d drop at least thirty feet down. He’d break his legs and more from that height. He kept running, hoping to find another way. He heard Butcher’s frenzied, guttural roar. Javin knew the Paleskin wouldn’t be as lenient this time.
Javin approached another ledge before being forced to turn left. Walls closed in around him as the high plateau narrowed. He stuck along the edge, hoping there would be a way to jump down but the way led only to a high ledge. He could not climb it because of his injured shoulder.
“Now I’m going to torture you,” the Paleskin said. He was pure rage. His words echoed for miles.
“Go away,” Javin yelled. The ledge above sat a few feet higher than his reach. He took a running start and reached with both hands like they do in American Ninja Warrior. His fingertips caught the lip, but he wasn’t strong enough. He slipped backwards. He backed up and took another running start and tried again. This time he jumped higher, but his weak arm kept him from pulling himself up.
He panicked and tried to clear his mind. Butcher Briggs ran towards him. One more chance. He turned and ran towards the wall once again and came to a stop before he reached it. Above him stood men, armed with bows and clubs. He counted six or seven. They held up their bows and aimed above him and released their strings. The man at the camp hadn’t lied to him. He had found help.
The arrows whistled through the air. Their stone heads ripped towards their target, with fletching made of thin shale. Butcher halted. He shielded himself using his arms, protecting his eyes from being punctured. He twisted so his side faced the onslaught. The arrows bit into him, burying deeply into his arm, his back, and his shoulder. One protruded from his head. He tore it out and threw it aside. Another volley came in. He sprang forward, dodging under them.
A hand reached down towards Javin.
“Hurry,” a man yelled.
Javin reached up and they pulled him up. “Now run, boy, ” another said. They kept pace with him. Butcher Briggs leaped without effort on to the ledge.
“All of you die today,” he growled. This would be an enjoyable day. He would feed well by the end and when he returned to the Sisters, they would reward him for tracking down the rebel band that had plagued them for years. The Seven Elders and a living boy with real blood would be his best hunt. He would save the boy for last and force him to watch his rescuers perish, one by one.
As the men ran with Javin, some turned, nocked arrows and let them fly, hoping for a crippling shot. Butcher closed on them, shielding himself from each incoming arrow. His reflexes were quick enough that he could catch them in midair, but no need to take the risk. Better to let them hit his less vulnerable spots. He only had to protect his eyes and his heart.
One of the warriors made the first error. He tried to get a second shot off before escaping. Butcher pounced on him and broke the man’s back in a giant bear hug. He would come back for him to feed. The violent Paleskin continued the pursuit.
“Keep running,” one of the men ordered. He and another broke off, bravely standing their ground. The biggest of them, he untied a club from his waist and raised it. The other pulled two daggers.
After several steps, Javin glanced back to look at the fight. It was over quickly. Butcher crouched above the man with daggers. The one with the club lay on the ground, knocked unconscious. Javin stopped running and let his pack slide off his back. He felt a dread rise in him, but he had to help. The four other rescuers stopped with him.
“Keep running, don’t stop,” one ordered. Javin, having long practice of ignoring his teachers and mom ignored them too.
He reached into his backpack, feeling for the hard glass. It remained intact. Fear nearly held him back. “You can do this,” he said.
He ran towards the struggling man and the killer. Butcher Briggs’ sharp nails pushed their way into the man’s chest, aiming towards his heart. The trapped man stabbed wildly at Briggs, slicing into his shoulder and chest. The slashes stopped as Butcher’s hand squeezed deeper. Javin watched a bright orb rise out of the now dead warrior before it dissipated. His spirit released. It floated upwards.
Pleasure ran across Butcher’s face. His reverie only broken by the telltale living glow around Javin as he approached. It flared up like fire. Butcher reached forward with his arm to grab the stupid boy running straight towards him. Javin swung his good arm forward in a cutting motion like he held a sword. The pepper sauce struck across Butcher’s face. Javin slashed with the bottle again. Long lines of brownish-red liquid struck Butcher in his eyes and mouth. He fell off the body underneath him.
Butcher, blinded, felt the worst pain since his first death in the living world. He rolled and floundered across the ground. He cursed and wiped at his eyes before rolling off the edge into the canyon below. Javin and two men ran to the edge. Fifty feet below lay the broken and battered body of Butcher Briggs. They watched for a long while. It did not twitch.
“He’s dead,” Javin announced.
“They don’t die so easily,” the warrior answered. Javin hadn’t thought that to be easy.
Two of the other warriors grabbed the man armed with the club and held a small bundle under his nose. He woke and quickly came to his feet. They lifted their two fallen companions and carried them away from the mayhem.
“We will give them a proper burial.”
Javin watched the others collecting unbroken arrows and he helped. The man with the club, their leader, greeted Javin. “I am Rising Bison.”
“I am Javin Johnson.” He reached out to shake his hand, then remembered the pepper sauce, and he waved instead. “Who are all of you?”
“We were the Seven Elders. Now only five remain,” spat out one angrily.
The leader hushed the gruff man in his own language. “We will take you to a safe place. It’s in the shroud. A hiding place.” Javin had several questions, but they didn’t give him time to speak before they marched him off. He didn’t even have time to ask about Seal.
The gruff man put himself in charge of the boy and prodded him along. “You should have run as you were told.” Every time Javin tried to speak, the man hushed him and poked him with the long edge of a stone axe.
Javin thought he should be more grateful. He had killed the Paleskin after all. Instead, he felt like a prisoner. He held up the empty bottle of pepper sauce. “You know I saved us. Ghost peppers. I burned his eyes out. I would expect better treatment, saving the day and…”
The angry Elder slapped Javin with the axe again, knocking the bottle out of his hand. It broke on the ground. He looked down at Javin.
“Stupid boy. Paleskins do not feel physical pain. Little peppers would not hurt one. All you had was dumb luck.”
Javin stopped and inspected the bottle, it’s label held broken pieces of glass together. Obviously, the gruff man didn’t know anything. He read the ingredients aloud. “Vinegar. Dried Ghost Pepper. Salt.” He paused. “Hmmmm, and garlic.” That made sense. He left the shattered bottle behind and continued to march with the five remaining warriors.
“Luck is better than nothing.” He felt the sting again as the man hushed him with a painful poke.