The Glaciermen #33: Predator

Early access prepublication manuscripts of "The Glaciermen"

Hello Dear Readers,

It is very notably not Tuesday, so apologies. Airport terminals and breakout sessions filled the last two days as I have been away at a conference for work, and I’ve finally sat myself down to do the posting of this next segment. Should I have wrapped it up and pre-scheduled the email drop?

Absolutely. But that’s for next time. As for this time: here’s the latest…

(Here’s the previous segment if you missed it, and the first chapter and index, if you’re new).

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Recap: Lee relived the experience of the pre-hunt blood ritual, but saw it with the eyes of a man instead of a child. He avoided tarnishing himself with full participation, but could not avoid a healthy dose of the godseye as the tunlaq prepared for their hunt, and an old friend made a new appearance.

Predator

A nylon tent roiled in flames, casting streaking shadows across the campsite as screams rose up into the crisp night air. Tunlaq darted about, throwing torches as they went until every tent was ablaze in a frenzy of madness. Caustic black smoke filled the air.

Lee ran among the tunlaq, dodging this way and that, making sure he was never around the same group for too long. He still held his own torch, and was searching desperately for a tent that was already abandoned. While the effect of the godseye was less potent with crowberry juice instead of blood, it certainly still packed a punch. Here and there in his vision, blips of sparkling color burst in and out of existence, and more often than not, the edges of things appeared to wobble in an invisible breeze.

“There! Empty tent. On your left,” said the sweet matronly voice of the polar bear spirit. It was becoming apparent that the spirit—or whatever it really was—would be Lee’s constant companion whenever he used the godseye.

Lee followed, sprinting across a gap between tents. He sidestepped past two tunlaq who were wrestling a bearded man to the ground, working to bind him with rope. The tent the voice had pointed out was already ablaze, but the flap was blowing in the wind and Lee could see that the interior was thankfully unoccupied. He paused in front of the entrance to release an exaggerated war cry, making sure the two tunlaq nearby had ample opportunity to witness him throw the torch into the opening before running off in another direction.

The plan had fallen to pieces. He was never supposed to be part of the hunt. Aguta had been clear: any active participation in the ritual or the hunt would inevitably corrupt Lee with evil, and could even tempt him to give into the allure of the godseye and join the tunlaq permanently. Instead, Lee would fake an injury the day of the hunt, making him unable to participate. He would be judged as a weakling, unworthy of a place among the tunlaq, then be consigned to carry on as a servant, eventually rejoining the Aguta and the Sikanuk upon his return.

The issue lay with the godseye—something about its rousing effect made him appalled at the prospect of taking what felt like a coward’s way out. A strong instinct moved him to believe he was meant to be on the hunt, that there was something he was supposed to do. At first he thought it was his chance to kill the shaman, but the caribou-mask-wearing old man had a perpetual posse of four to six tunlaq with him, making any attempt a fool’s errand. Lee presumed his purpose on the hunt must lay elsewhere.

But he hadn’t figured that part out yet, so here he was, faking it among the tents and hoping none of the tunlaq would notice was purposely contributing nothing of substance to the hunt whatsoever. As long as he did not kill anyone, Lee assured himself that it would not count as active participation, and his soul would remain pure. The voice of the bear spirit had agreed that the logic seemed sound, for whatever that was worth.

The plan was going well enough until Lee heard a new cry, the piercing scream of a young woman cutting through the night air. A surge of purpose swelled in him, and he sprinted in the direction of the scream.

Without warning, a burly blond man appeared out of the smoke and threw himself at Lee. He tried to dodge the tackle, but his moccasin slipped in the melting snow and the man slammed into his side, taking them both to the ground. Lee’s head bounced hard against the snow-covered ice, and for a moment his vision exploded in fireworks of swirling colors and his ears rang with crackling static.

When the sparkling colors began to fade, he was staring up at the man's face, and there was a strange pressure on his throat. The man was white-skinned, which was the strangest surprise to Lee’s addled mind, and he was shouting in a language Lee had never heard before. It sounded like the bad guys in old World War II movies he used to watch with his grandmother.

Another starburst of color splotched across Lee’s vision, and the man’s shouts morphed into a splatter of spittle as he leaned forward with the whole force of his body. The pressure on Lee’s neck increased, so he tried to find its source, his eyes scanning down from the man’s face to his shoulders and arms, then down his arms to his hands, which Lee could barely see by craning his chin downward.

Ohhh, Lee thought, as the gears of his mind began to turn again, but not quite all the way right, He’s trying to choke me to death… because I look like a tunlaq. I better tell him I’m not.

Lee tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was raspy incoherence. 

“Honey, he is gonna kill you if you don’t do something.”

At the bear spirit’s prodding, Lee’s mind snapped back to full function. He clamped his hands on the blond man’s wrists, then began to pry them off, aided by the strength of the godseye. The man’s eyes went wide with fear as Lee lifted him off with what appeared to be little effort. Then he yanked the man’s arms to the side, sweeping him down and rolling with the movement to end up on top of him.

Lee felt a sudden urge to smash the man's face with his fists, but he resisted, remembering the young woman’s scream, and he left the man in the wet snow.

The flames from the burning tents saw sweltering, and the smoke was thick and claggy, blocking his view and sticking in his throat. Lee was unsure of his bearings until a second scream told him he was close. He turned around and around in the disarray. For a moment, he was brought back to the day nine years before, when the tunlaq raided the cave he and the other airline passengers were trapped within—the smoke, the screams, the streaking silhouettes in the chaos. An anxiety gripped him, and it refused to allow him to move. The contradiction of his actions, the traitorous transition from prey to predator, becoming one among those he had sworn to sabotage. The lying to himself, allowing himself to be drawn onward in this evil game, letting himself believe inaction was anything but lackluster cooperation.

Lee’s heart was torn, battened down by guilt, confusion, and even grief. The flames and smoke continued to roll around him. Another scream pierced his reverie, freeing him from the cage of his disorientation. This was his purpose. He began to move toward the scream, peering into the smoke and scanning for movement or the silhouette of a person.

I will not go on like this. Lee thought. No more neutrality. No more waiting to make a move. That changes now… but I still gotta be smart. Getting killed does nothing for those who deserve retribution.

“Careful kid,” the bear spirit chimed, “You might get hurt doing what you’re thinking about doing.”

I know. Lee responded with a thought. But I’m gonna make them hurt a whole lot first.

“I suppose you are going to do what you are going to do,” the voice said, “You might as well start by saving that girl who keeps making a ruckus. She’s right over there by the way.” 

Lee turned to where the spirit had wordlessly pointed. Three figures were writhing in the snow a short distance off from the campsite, barely visible through the clouds of smoke. Lee sprinted toward them, taking in the situation in an instant. There were two tunlaq holding down a young woman, apparently too eager to wait until the hunt was finished to enjoy their spoils. One was holding her down by the shoulders, and the other was struggling with her snow pants. 

The burning anger returned, fueled in part by the godseye, but planted firmly in something much deeper, something cold and calculating that allowed Lee to think with a sharpened mind. Without slowing down, Lee tossed his spear aside and unsheathed the knife in his belt. Then he dropped into a fast slide on his knees across the slick snow, coming in fast to grab hold of the first tunlaq from behind, then sliced across his throat with a forceful slash. The other tunlaq, still holding the woman down by her shoulders, gaped in surprise, but before he could respond, Lee deftly maneuvered forward and drove the knife up under his chin. Both tunlaq hit the ground at the same time, one gurgling and drowning in his own blood, and the other twitching as his pierced brain short-circuited and spasmed his muscles.

The girl inhaled to scream again, but Lee leaned away, holding out open hands to signal he was not a threat, then bringing a finger across his lips in the universal sign for shushing. The woman did not scream again, but she did not let down her guard, either, and scooted backward a foot or two. Smoke rolled around them for a handful of seconds as they stared at each other, neither sure what to do next. The woman was young, a teenage girl more aptly, with bright blond hair and clothed in modern winter gear. On the shoulder of her coat was a flag patch of a white cross over a red field. It was definitely European, but Lee had no idea which country it belonged to.

“It’s okay,” Lee finally said, switching to English, a language he hoped the fair-skinned girl would recognize over Kalaallisut, “I’m not going to hurt you, but I have to pretend to capture you or else the other blue guys will hurt you.”

Confused surprise showed on the girl’s face, then suspicion. Lee was not sure if she had understood him, but he had no choice but to proceed. Any delay risked being spotted by the others. He retrieved a length of rope from the belt of one of the dead tunlaq, then gestured for the girl to offer her wrists. She stayed still, doing nothing besides giving Lee a cold stare.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for real,” Lee said, less sure now that she could understand him, but hoping more talking would help the situation, “I’m not really going to tie it tight, it’s just for looks.”

As he leaned forward, the girl started skittering backward, then turned and tried to dash away, but Lee pounced on her back before she could go anywhere.

“Hold on!” he cried out, “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you. Stop wriggling—agh!”

An elbow jammed just below Lee’s ribcage. He took the opening, snaking his hand around the girl’s arm to grab hold of her wrist, then jerked it behind her back and planted his knee on her spine while applying twisting force to her arm. He kept the pressure light, not wanting to damage the shoulder joint, but enough to maintain firm control.

“I said stop, dammit! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if that’s what it takes to keep you still. There’s no other way out of this for you.”

She squirmed under him, but Lee’s hold was secure and she was not going anywhere. He applied a slight extra pressure to her arm, gently twisting it back and up. The woman became instantly still as she recognized the amount of damage Lee could impart at a moment’s notice.

“Nice and easy now,” Lee said, “I promise I’m not the bad guy here, but you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up, so I’m tying you up for real.”

Lee kept pressure on the woman’s arm as he used his free hand to bring her other wrist around and began to tie them together behind her back. She was compliant, but still gave just enough resistance to show defiance. Once her hands were tied, Lee grabbed another length of rope and tied it between her ankles, leaving enough slack for her to walk, but not to run.

“I’ve got to parade you back now and pretend to be one of the bad guys again. You’re not gonna like it, but you’ll just have to go with it… actually, it’ll probably look better if you struggle, so just do whatever.”

Lee paused, realizing how insane he must sound to this girl, if she could understand him at all. As he pulled her to her feet, the shouts and screams wafting over from the main campside were beginning to quiet down. The hunt was coming to a close. It was time to rejoin the others with his prize.

“This is quite the plan, honey,” the bear spirit said, “I’m really quite curious to see how it turns out for you. Do you even know what you’re going to do next?”

Lee turned his head to respond, speaking to the empty air, “Hey, I don’t see you coming up with something better.”

The girl looked at Lee with a quizzical, disturbed expression.

Great, Lee thought, Now she’s definitely not going to trust me.

With no other brilliant ideas, Lee led the girl around to the other side of the campsite, where the rest of the hunters were gathering with their own spoils: a dozen or so survivors from the camp huddled together under guard. Most looked like the girl, with blond hair and modern clothing bearing the red flag patch. A few were dressed in the garb of the indigenous tribe native to that region of Greenland, the Kalaallit, who often served as guides for expeditions such as the one the hunt had targeted. A growing pile of the dead was nearby, and a large sled was being brought down from the ridge above to be loaded up.

One of the tunlaq saw Lee approaching and announced it to the others.

“Oh my,” the bear spirit said, “This is going to be interesting.”

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And that’s it for now folks

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– Xavier Macfarlane
Author, The Glaciermen

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