Three more switchbacks and I gained the top of the hill. The trail continued along a ridge, then swung into the trees. I decided to make a stand. I didn't think I could outrun the thing and the dash up the hill had taxed me. Getting off the trail would be a good idea. If the thing were big it might have trouble following me through the underbrush. I hoped.
The trail swung right and ran along the narrow crest of the hill. The underbrush grew thickly on either slope. Something big lay across the path ahead―a fallen treetrunk. I drew my pistol, took cover behind the trunk and took aim up the path. It was coming. I couldn't see anything yet, but it was coming. It didn't slow, didn't hesitate, kept running full tilt, drooling in anticipation, its feet whumping against the mossy softness of the trail. It growled, it giggled, it heaved and panted. It made one hell of a lot of noise. All around, the forest screamed in a mounting crescendo of terror. Flocks of panic-stricken creatures took wing into the night. Unseen things in the shadows burbled and greeped and went bleu! Voices in the trees shrieked their dismay. Thousands of tiny things stampeded through the brush. The beast shambled toward me, its breath like blasts of steam. I still couldn't make it out. No good; I'd have to be able to see it to shoot it.
I got up and ran like hell. I didn't really want to shoot it. You can never tell with a completely unknown creature. It might eat slugs for breakfast. Maybe its vital organs were in its feet. Maybe it had armor plating ten centimeters thick. What do you do when the thing shrugs off your best shot? As a rule, shooting at an alien unknown is a last resort. But I was up against it. If I ducked into the brush first I might never get another chance for a clear shot. I was sure it would follow, thick underbrush or not. My heart pounded against my breastbone with enough force to crack it. Starriggers sit too much to keep in shape. I was going on pure adrenaline; I didn't think my lungs were working at all.
Light up ahead―moonbeams falling across the path. I ran on through into the shadows on the other side. I skidded to a stop, turned, crouched, and aimed.
The thing slowed. It stopped just at the edge of the pool of light. It stood there panting and snarling. And I still couldn't see it.
I aimed for the probable center of the source of all that nonsense and emptied the clip of the machine-pistol at it. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrruppp! Four seconds to unleash a hail of superdense metal pellets. My best shot. I leaped off the path into the brush, thrashed my way through a clump of broad-leafed weeds, stumbled, tripped, broke through the other side, and rolled down a steep incline. Thorny tendrils snagged at my jacket, twigs whipped my face, rocks bruised my ribs. I rolled and rolled until I finally got to my feet, letting momentum carry me up. I jogged down to level ground, slipped, fell and crawled behind a tree. I listened.
All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.
Silence. Everyone had shut up real suddenlike.
The hush continued for what seemed several minutes. It probably wasn't that long. At some point I decided I could start breathing again. I gasped, wheezed, and choked for a while, then got my breath. I kept listening. Nothing moved, nothing spoke. Then…
"Bork?" something to my left said tentatively.
I sighed, listened for a while longer.
"Bork?" it asked again.
I levered myself to my feet and leaned against the treetrunk. I took a deep breath. "Yeah," I said. "Bork." I wiped grit off my face, brushed dirt from my jacket. "Definitely bork."
Another voice borked up ahead, then others took the cry, glad the question was all settled.
Slowly, the forest came back to life, but the mood now was subdued.
I rested, squatting at the base of the tree for a few minutes. Then I walked along the bottom of the hill searching for a clear way up. There wasn't one. I wasn't really interested in going back up there. The thing might only be wounded, lying there in the path. Or maybe I had missed the damn thing. I didn't know and didn't particularly care to find out.
About fifteen minutes later, I had to admit to myself that I was lost. I had thought that picking up the trail again would be easy―just walk a little way along the base of the hill, then push through the underbrush until I came out on top. I did that, with some difficulty, and found what I thought was the trail I had been on, but it couldn't possibly have been because I followed it in the direction I'd come from and everything was unfamiliar. No switchback trail up the slope, no stream, nothing. I had walked a good distance along the bottom of the hill, wanting to pick the path up at a point well away from where the wounded creature could have been, but I must have gone a bit too far. The terrain had proven more complex than I had thought. I had chanced upon a completely different trail running along the same ridge, maybe a branch of the original one.
But it wasn't. I doubled back along it but didn't find another path intersecting it. In fact, the trail petered out completely. I was completely disoriented and totally lost.
I wandered for over an hour. I was calm now. The forest was familiar territory even though I didn't know which way was out. It seemed merely magical, not menacing. I heard music, or thought I did. It was just on the edge of audibility. Haunting music. At first I thought I might be near the Bandersnatch, but it was like no music I had ever heard. What sounded like a female voice sang with it. She was calling to me, I thought.
I sat on a stump and rubbed my temples. Let's not fall for that old routine. No siren voices luring me onto the rocks, please; or, more appropriately, no hamadryads to lure me up a tree. What was wrong with me? I felt high. I was high. On what, I didn't know. Certainly not beer―my God, that was hours ago. My hangover was completely gone. I was fine physically, maybe a little sore along the ribs and back. I looked up. I was sitting on the edge of a clearing on the slope of a gentle grade. In the middle of the clearing was a low mound of moss and ferns. It looked pretty. I looked up. The sky was spattered with a million stars. I gazed upward for a long while; then movement below caught my eye.
Something on two legs―a pale figure in the moonglow―shot into the clearing, made a quarter turn around the mound, and shot out again. It happened so fast I couldn't get a clear impression of what the creature had looked like. It hadn't made a sound. I shook my head and shrugged. I got up and came out into the clearing to the edge of the fairy ring of moss. I looked up again. Stars. No matter where you go in the universe, the stars look the same. I considered that thought. Profound. I rubbed my forehead. I was still high.
Something was moving against the stars. A meteorite.
No, it was traveling up. Strange angle… couldn't be.
It exploded, blossoming into starbursts of red, white, and blue. At once, I came down from my high. The strange dream I had been walking through evaporated.
Sam's signal flare! And he was close!
I took off like a deer through the clearing and plunged into the trees. The gradual slope continued down to a sharp dip, at the bottom of which was a logging road. I drew the torch from my pocket, flicked it on and ran to the left. I was going home.