Free The Collective by Kenan Hillard Page A

his vantage
point adjacent to a short hill. He could pick off any pursuers from this
position if he was forced to retreat suddenly. Grabbing some fallen branches
and leaves, he covered up the vehicle; the jeep’s black paint mixed with the
foliage creating camouflage. His concern over the vehicle being discovered and
stolen was appeased. Holding the compass in his hands facing the wilderness,
with the arrow pointing northwest, Abel walked into the unknown.
    Abel yanked the machete from its sheath with his eyes
focused on the compass’s tiny north arrow. It was widely speculated that the
woods were two-hundred thousand acres of dense, undriveable terrain.  The area
was thick with greenery and covered by a solid canopy above. As Abel crossed
over birds shot into the sky. It was eerily silent beyond their flapping wings.
Dry leaves crunched under his feet as he cut a straight path through the
overgrown plants and tree limbs. For a land deprived of water, there seemed to
be no signs of deterioration in this place. The area where he hunted with his
father in Gravope was sparse in comparison. Coming to a clearing he wiped the
sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He had walked for an hour
straight, steadily pushing through the green barrier. He took out a bottle of
water, took a seat on a rock and gulped down the contents. Through the
thickness of the overhanging branches he could see the sun, but it appeared to
be dusk where he was standing. Out of the corner of his eye Abel saw the shadow
of a figure behind the trunk of the tree, watching him. He spun with his gun
aimed at the spot. Had his eyes deceived him? There was nothing as he moved
closer to the tree, with his gun extended. He could hear the leaves of the tree
limbs rustling overhead. Looking up he saw a pair of eyes, human eyes, watching
him through the branches. Impossible, he thought? Abel closed his eyes and
shook his head refocusing on the spot. Nothing. Were his nerves getting the
best of him? He had to be seeing things, he thought. Sliding his weapon into
the holster he concluded it was fatigue. Since he left Warden’s domain he had
been moving nonstop. Isnor and Keera’s faces flashed through his mind
strengthening his resolve. Grains and bread, compliments of Warden, were
wrapped in his backpack. He would have a quick snack before he continued.
Sitting back on the rock he held the machete flat across his legs while he ate.
His eyes may have lied to him, but his instincts told him he was being watched.
Draining the rest of the water from the bottle he discarded it onto the ground.
No sooner did the bottle hit the ground than a rush of wind poured through,
shaking the tress and causing the animals to scurry. Abel swirled around with
knife in hand looking in all directions. No one approached. Holding the machete
in his right hand he inched over to the bottle, still keeping his guard up, and
picked it up. The trees slowed to a sway and silence fell again. Abel took
note. Apparently, the Grazen Woods were active and alive. No wonder
unsuspecting explorers were consumed by it. Abel put up his hands to the trees
without unclasping his weapon. Speaking to the perceived spirit of the forest
in a low tone. “I’m looking for someone. When I find him I’ll be out of here. I
mean no harm.”
    Anyone passing by would have thought he was crazy, but like
his father was known to say, ‘Better safe than dead.’ Abel believed in spirits
and the Grazen Woods definitely possessed something. Grabbing his pack, he
started to head west when he glimpsed a small glow off to the north in the
distance. He had not noticed before, but it was starting to get dark. Was this
a sign?  He decided to take a chance and head for the light.
    High above the trees Tequil watched the intruder. He was
unlike the men who came before him. Alone, lightly armed and a little jumpy,
Tequil was skeptical of the outsider’s intentions. The forest was his people’s
home. Those that showed