Shattered sights ( temporarily on hold)

Listen for the birds

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Don't look back when walkin' through the woods, the paranoia gonna get you and ya won't be able to stop lookin' back.

It's too late for me, the paranoia that something's following me has set in. I ain't gonna risk the safety of the group even if it means abandoning them to keep 'em safe. Mateo can forgive me.

The marker poles are pale orange stakes standing knee height. At each camp we set 'em up at random distances in hidden areas. They serve as meeting points for anyone who gets lost or if the group gets separated for other reasons.

Now I can make out the marker between the thick rain breaking through the tree canopy. The whispers of camp members huddled around the first marker is almost impossible to hear through the roar of the storm. Four people, a mother and father, their son and Mateo. I quickly sprint into the clearing scooping Mateo up off the ground.

"Auntie D! Stop!" He wails in surprise. I quickly drop him to his feet whipping around to watch the bushes. The father, his name I ain't bothered to learn, pulls a silenced pistol from his coat. Tucking his family behind him. We cant be certain the rain will mask every sound.

When nothing growls, shuffles, shoots, or speaks we relax. I roll my shoulders attempting to ease the knot in my gut, my veins tingle with electricity. Something bad gonna happen.

"Sorry." I pat mateos shoulder gently. "We gotta go. We need to split up and head for the next markers we cant risk gettin' caught as a group."

"Why? What's wrong?" Mateo seems to take in my sense of unease and pulls his little hunting knife from his belt.

"Met a man on the highway, he was workin' with a large group of men and wanted me to take 'im to our camp. We gotta assume I was followed, the rain is gonna give decent cover but stay low, don't try to be fast. If ya spot anyone and can't make it to 'nouther marker, don't. Run like hell and forget bein' part of this group." I order, they all nod in understanding.

Mateo marches into the bushes heading straight for the second marker. The couple and their son walk away from the marker, they'll make a wider approach. I plan to head for the last marker instead. I can meet Mateo in the middle.

Drawing one machete I begin the trek. The forest is alive, the trees groan, the air vibrates and the ground shakes under the harsh rain. My boots are loud on the ground, my path wide open. I'm to obvious. Walking with sudden urges to veer off course I follow this gut instinct.

finally reaching the next marker pole I find it deserted. I pinch the bridge of my nose and yank the piece of wood from the ground. People need to learn to scatter honestly, it's not hard.

.:: auntie D? There is no one at the second marker::.

I reach backwards grabbing the walkie talkie from my belt.

.:: I'm clear at marker six. Keep goin', stay low, I'll meet ya in the middle ::.

I slide the walkie talkie back on to my belt and push on towards the fifth marker.

I shove my wet hair from my face as I creep between the trees.

Crack!

I spin in my heel, my grip on my machete tightening.

A lone skin walker shuffles through the trees, blindly lost. I watch it stick it's nose high in the air, searching for a food source. The rain is too heavy for scents to carry.

I jump up, slamming my machete into its head. It collapses with a squish and a thud. I wipe my blade off on its decaying shirt and continue ahead.

At the fifth marker I run into the same problem, no one is here. The leaves are trampled around the pole, in some places the ground has deep set impression of footprints. Several people were here but they fled, why?

I yank the walkie talkie off my belt again.

.:: Mateo? It's Me ::.

.:: auntie D? Where is everyone? ::.

I shake my head pinching my nose again.

.:: I don't know kid. I ain't found anybody and I've got the fifth marker. Mateo, ya better be fixin' to run, don't look back and wait until ya got a clear area before ya open yer mouth. Sumthin' ain't right::.

.:: I understand ::.

I stake the first pole again leaving it behind. It ain't worth carrying. I pick up the pace, this time I dive back deeper into the trees, something is picking us off like flies.

Above thunder rumbles startling thirteen crows from the trees. I watch their black wings wick the water off their bodies and vanish into the soulless sky. I shiver tightening my wet jacket around myself as I push on.

.:: auntie D. There's someone out there::.

The whisper startles me. I rip my walkie off my hip. Mateos voice quivers with terrified realization.

.:: Mateo? Whats wrong?::.

.:: the third marker, there's still stuff. But everyone's gone. I can hear someone in the distance. Their whistling ::.

I hear it too, a distant whistle, a bird that should not be in these forests. It echoes off the trees from everywhere. It gets trapped in the rain and smashes on the ground.

.:: Mateo, run ::.

Instinct kicks in and I break into a sprint weaving between trees towards the third marker pole. Only my boots dig into the ground dragging me to a stop. I crouch, rolling into the brush as the whistle begins to reverberate from my left. My heart drums in my throat, my blood roars in my ears. Everything begins to steadily build in volume. Making everything impossible to hear.

Two men walk past, both heavily armed with large guns. they whistle as they pass, the bird call echos off the trees and in my ears. The whistle echoes around and around in my head.

I recognize these people, they're men from the greasers group. He followed me.