THE NIMERIGAR

By

Jonathan L. Keene

June 22, 2009

Nightmares now haunt even my waking hours. The images of the past are far to present in my mind. I must do something to satiate my guilt. So I will write

down the horrors of this infected consciousness in a hope to purge the putrescent memories. Maybe then there will be peace. I haven't properly grieved for him and it has been over ten years. The guilt is welling up within my soul. It is a wonder madness has not overcome this week spirit. It must be saidall of it. We promised never to tell, never to reveal the truth about his death. We knew that if we did we would be labeled as liars, maybe even murderers, at the very least kooks. I must go back. I must dredge the muddy waters of my mind. I must exhume the corpse of rotting memories that arises to haunt me relentlessly. I must put it to sleep properly, with care and reverence. *** It was the summer before my sophomore year of college. It was a sultry August full of pleasant evenings and scorching days. Bruce, Kirkemo, and I had arrived in Nampa early in order to get jobs before the '94 Fall term started. Northwest Nazarene College was and is not cheap. It was a necessity for me to work in order to reduce the tuition costs. I had worked delivering pizza the year before and vowed to get out of the fast food industry for the rest of my life. We were all successful in getting jobs our first week back due to the fact that we had arrived a month earlier than most of the other college students. I got an inside sales position at a local paint store. It wasn't the most glamorous job to be sure, but at least it was greasy. Since the dorms were not open to students yet we were staying with two other friends, Mallis and Steiner. They lived in the area and the plan was to stay at their parent's houses for a month and work. That plan never came to fruition however. Since we had gotten jobs sooner than expected we decided to celebrate a little and take it easy for the rest of the week. None of our employers wanted us to start before Monday, so we had a full weekend to kill. What better way to kill a weekend as poor college students than by going on a cheap hiking trip? Mallis worked at a local sporting goods store and had an employee discount on everything a budding hiker could want. We already had almost everything we needed, but we did buy some energy bars, dehydrated meals, and a good water filter. We decided to go to Jennie Lake. It's a five-mile hike into the lake but the elevation only increases about 1200 feet and it is all a very gradual incline. It's a hike that a trough hiker would laugh at, but as I said we were out to take it easy not to set distance records. Steiner, Mallis, Kirkemo, Bruce and myself would hike in on Friday August 19th, rest and relax all day Saturday the 20th , and hike out on Sunday the 21st in time to be ready for work on Monday. It was going to be a full moon on Sunday night, which would provide lots of light all weekend. I preferred to be in the outdoors with a full moon. It illuminates the trepidation of a foreign environment. It was a grand plan, a weekend itinerary many other people have made over the past century with the advent of convenient and speedy travel, go on Friday, come back on Sunday. It should have been just that simple, but it wasn't. In fact if I could erase that weekend from History I would. If I could bring him back I would. But I can't and the heinous recollection of that sole hiking trip has driven me to the brink of madness. ***

We met for the trip at Millis' place. We had our packs stocked with clothes, flashlights, fire starter and gas stoves, we had enough food for a couple of days, and any thing else we though we needed we crammed in. Our packs were way to heavy, but we weren't about to tell each other that. We loaded all our stuff into Kirkemo's Blazer and Mallis' big old primer gray pickup truck. I rode with Mallis, Bruce and Steiner rode with Kirkemo. We left early for college students at about 8am. Our hope was to get to the trail before the hottest part of the day. It took us about two and a half hours to drive past Boise up the road through Idaho City to the dirt road that would take us to the trail head. I do not remember how long it took us to reach the trail head once we hit the dirt because I was too preoccupied with nervously holding onto the seat. Kirkemo and Mallis took it upon themselves to see how fast they could drive on dry, dusty, and wash-boarded roads. It was a journey that could only be described as being reminiscent of Mister Toads Wild Ride in Disneyland. After nearly careening off into the trees a few times and narrowly missing some vehicles coming the other direction and while driving like maniacs cutting corners short we thankfully arrived at the parking area for Jennie Lake. It was not much of a parking area, more of a turn out really at a wide bend in the road. A gentle breeze was blowing as we stepped out of the vehicles and unpacked our gear. It was a beautiful day. The sky was blue and clear. As the heat of the day approached the pungent earth sighed it's loamy breath. The scents of wild flowers and pine mingled validating the area with mountainous authority. Being enveloped with high country summer air is intoxication. It is one of the strongest factors that had caused us to fall in love with the outdoors the year before, although no one ever articulated our passion in such a way. We stood our backpacks up on the tailgate of Mallis's old primer gray Dodge truck and slipped them onto our shoulders. Snapping our chest and belt clips we tested each other's loads for security and balance. We made sure our water was easily accessible as well as our weapon. That's right I said weapon. When traveling in the backcountry you can never be too safe. Mallis had brought along his .22 caliber revolver. You never know when you may need to scare off a mountain lion, bear, wolf or the occasional survivalist nut job. It would have been useless to try to kill a lion or bear with it but the sound is usually enough to frighten them off, where as a bullet wound would just piss them off. Steiner and I had our 35mm cameras slung around our necks for easy access just in case we came across a photo op. We were geared up and ready to start our trek up the meandering trail to our destination. We made sure to lock the vehicles and we were off. The trail followed a valley that gradually inclined until it reached Jennie Lake. It meandered back and forth, not in switchback fashion, but lazily as if the designers of the trail could have gone straight, but decided to make the journey more a dance than a race. Of the five of us, Steiner was the fittest. He was of medium height and build with brown hair and eyes. His face was always ready to smile warmth that was disarmingly seductive with friendship and acceptance. I think his passion and attitude drove him more than physical strength. He is the type of guy that runs hot or cold and is enthusiastic with both. He is mostly good tempered but I can see him having a dangerous disposition in the right situations. He has a lust for life that pushed the bounds of what most people would think to be normal. It was

awesome to be on the trail with him because there was always something new to behold. His excitement was contagious and soon we were all enjoying the surroundings, the mountain Blue Jay sitting in the ponderosa pine, the gentle breeze causing the trees to clap their hands in harmony as the valley exhaled it's pungent breath. Through Steiner's eyes these things became obvious and the rhythm of the forest was evident. Mallis was a hunter, and his eye was continually on the trail scanning for animal sign of one sort or another. He was the tallest one of us. I would guess six foot three inches. He was strikingly handsome with a powerful jaw, sandy blond close cropped hair, and gentle blue eyes. His attitude was one of peace and patience. His friendship runs deep and is not given lightly. Mallis would give his life to save a friend's without even thinking of the consequences to himself. Because of him on the trail I can now identify elk, deer, mountain lion, bear, and wolf droppings. Kirkemo as I had already mentioned was from California and he reflected just about everything you would expect from a Californian. He was about 5 foot 10 inches tall, also with sandy blond fine hair that receded a little too far up his forehead for a sophomore in college. He was a surfer in San Diego and had fallen in love with snow boarding at Bogus Basin in the mountains above Boise. He had a cool beach bum way about him, yet he never betrayed intelligence with stoner reasoning. He wanted to be a History professor at a university and worked hard towards that goal. He was somewhat quite with a scorching sense of humor. Throughout a conversation he would silently listen and when the opportunity presented itself to get a burn in he took it. He was not malicious, just on his toes, ready to pounce on an opportunity to whip out a scathing remark. His friendship and loyalty were never in question as long as he was prodding you. It was a sign of acceptance and affection for him. Bruce being from the Northwest was familiar with the Mountains. He grew up on a wooded lot outside of Seattle's greater metropolitan area. He was a computer whiz and was one of the only people I knew our freshman year with a personal computer in his room. Please remember that personal computers hadn't really caught on yet by 1994. In fact I remember that they, whoever they are, were making predictions that within 5-10 years every house in America would have a P.C. It turns out "they" were right. Bruce had a body style best suited to desk work and devoting hours upon hours staring at an illuminated screen making more money than I could dream of. His body style however did not slow him down on the trail. I had a hard time keeping up with him even though he was probably twice my weight. He powered on with a smile that was effectual and determined. He was always jovial and eager to hear a good story as well as to tell one. His hair was already peppered with gray, which lent a certain dignity to his soft features, a faade of wisdom on a face of innocence. His kindly joyful eyes were the color of blue gray heather and his face was lightly dotted with freckles. I was glad he was there. The strenuous walk up the trail was peaceful and most welcome to five college guys about to return to another year of scholastic debauchery. On the trail all you have to think of is putting one foot in front of the other, taking in the wonders and mysteries of nature, and longing for the next rest stop. Our stops were frequent but short. We would find a fallen tree to sit on or just stand in one

place and drink some water. We tackled a couple of bags of sun flower seeds along the way and left a Hansel and Gretel trail of saliva soaked shells. Many a chipmunk was probably cursing his luck, so many shells and no seeds. The Jennie Lake trail parallels Bear Creek and heads due north. The creek is the trial's regular companion at 50 feet to the east. Its golden gravel bed was the ballroom for a chorus of ardent silvery nymphs who extol the praises of liquid exhilaration. We roamed through wide forest glens of pine between grassy emerald meadows. Lupine filled our senses with wonder and the embraced us with the joy of a late violet bloom. The trail got lost at times in emerald meadows dotted with sage. Stone cairns raised by hikers from recent history guide us to the right path. Eventually the track turns to the south crosses the mouth of the canyon and arrives at Jennie Lake. The main event on the sojourn during our ascension was the bear. As we walked along the trail in a forested glen closer to the lake than to the cars we saw a bear in the trail. It was a medium to large black bear with it's back turned towards us. It was preoccupied with something and had not caught sent of us. We were winded and were simply walking along instead of cutting up and joking boisterously as we were when we first mounted the trail. Mike, not wanting to waste any ammunition, suggested we bang some pots and pans together. Luckily he had an old non-stick frying pan strapped to the outside of his blue nylon external frame pack. Steiner unstrapped it and beat an aluminum pot from my pack against it. The bear immediately was aware of us. It turned to the left and ran straight up a 30-degree hill at a speed that was frightening. Bears look quite cumbersome, but can move surprisingly fast. I was glad he decided to run instead of charge. If only our whole trip would have been dotted with one benign incident of a bear meeting men on a trail After a leisurely five-hour walk we arrived at the lake about mid afternoon. Jennie Lake is bordered on the south and east by a jagged granite ridge. It was still covered with snow on the north side in the shadow of the peak. It is this snow that feeds Jennie Lake with a perpetual supply of cold crystalline water. The lake overflows at its outlet to create Bear Creek, aptly named of course since it seems there are bear around there. It is a typical mountain lake surrounded by pine and aspen trees that have had their trunks rubbed smooth by generations of elk, deer, and probably bear coming to this peaceful jade watering hole. There was no underbrush around the lake and the forest floor that forms the bank was tawny earth with patches of short grass. The mountain lake's smooth surface expresses it's God given grace in reflecting its surroundings with mirror like perfection. When gazing past the looking glass into the clear depths of new water rainbow trout can be seen gliding effortlessly through liquid ether in a bowl of flaxen jewels. We circled the east bank until we found a suitable campsite on the south shore. It had a log at the edge of a depression that would be a great sitting area and the depression would become our fire pit. We assisted each other with the removal of our packs and went to work immediately at making a home for ourselves in the wilderness. We set up our dome tents with the doors facing the lake and filled them with sleeping pads and sleeping bags. Kirkemo's tent had a vestibule to put backpacks into but mine didn't. Mallis and I claimed my tent and put our backpacks inside the tent. Since Kirkemo had vestibule he could fit the

rest of our party in his tent. We were pretty tired by the time we were done setting up camp so we decided to take a bit of a nap. Well, all of us except Steiner. He has boundless amounts of energy and wanted to explore the area a bit. We gave him the chore of waking us up in about an hour so we could prepare for dinner. *** Steiner woke us up later than expected. We laid down at about four-thirty in the afternoon and he woke us up at six o'clock. It wasn't that much of an issue however because the late summer sun was still moving slowly on its course across the sky. It was about ready to hide its face behind the gneiss peaks, which would bathe our little valley in shadow for a few hours until it finally set at ninethirty or so. Steiner and I grabbed our 35mm cameras and went on a picture safari for whatever we could capture on film. Kirkemo grabbed his fishing pole in order to catch us some dinner from the pristine lake. Mallis and Bruce set themselves to gathering firewood for the night. Steiner and I documented our campsite on film and managed to get everyone present to hold still for a mug shot. Then we tried to capture images of the depths of the lake with polarized filters. Kirkemo was bathed in late afternoon light as he fished the calm waters of Jennie Lake, which made for a great photo opportunity. He looked like a surfer turned Huckleberry Finn. He wore faded blue jeans, a blue and white plaid shirt, and his feet were clad in short suede boots. He sat on a rock by the waters edge in a spot where there was no shore and the bowl of the lake was at a steep angle creating a deep sheltered pool. After taking a few candid shots of Kirkemo we turned our lenses to the area as a whole, and took landscape photos of the granite peaks that shelter Jennie Lake from southwesterly weather. After a couple of what we hoped were good shots we went back to the campsite to help with dinner preparation. Bruce and Mallis had a great pile of firewood gathered and were still gathering more. We put or cameras away and Steiner set off to help Mallis and Bruce. I pulled out a fire starter stick that I had purchased at Mallis's place of employment and began arranging the twigs and branches on top in the depression by the log. The sun had already dipped behind the ancient granite guardians of the valley and it began to get cold immediately. Kirkemo returned from the lake empty handed and was a little put out. I lit off the fire starter and our campfire began to crackle and pop as the dry wood began to smolder. Bending over the immature fire I blew until the flames licked the twigs and branches with a hunger that would never be satisfied. We fixed our dinner of canned beef stew over single burner camp stoves, and ate it with a side of canned fruit. It was welcome sustenance after a day of hard play. Dinner was spent with us commenting on how everything tasted better in the outdoors. We concluded that it is either the lack of smog and other pollutants or the fact that your meal is the only thing between you and starvation at the hands of a harsh wilderness. We boiled hot water for tea and cocoa after dinner and retired to the makeshift hearth of the campfire. There we sat staring at the burning embers as the sun's corona finally faded from the firmament and stars shone like diamonds in the cool August evening. We sipped our various hot drinks and talked about girls, work, college, and eventually broached the subject of campfire ghost stories.

I never have been a fan of the ghost story or any other story that has a freighting twinge to it. You know, alien abduction, Big Foot, and man eating bear stories are all rather taboo for me, especially when I am in the middle of nowhere. My imagination is just too vivid to let the mental images retire when it is time for me to go to sleep. And besides I think that a lot of ghost stories are real to some extent and that just freaks me out. But in order to save face with the guys I played along like nothing was wrong. In fact I even relayed a story of my own that I had read about when searching for an appropriate hike for us to take. It had to do with Jennie Lake. It was an old Indian Legend about some caves in the area around Jennie Lake. The story was that inside the caves there lived what the Indians called Pygmy Demons. They were two or three-foot tall cannibals and would come out of the caves at night and capture braves and squaws alike. They would drag them into their caves never to be seen again. The legend stated that eventually the Indians would not venture close to Jennie Lake if the sun were anywhere near setting; ultimately they abandoned the area all together because of the evil spirits. The guys rolled their eyes and laughed as your supposed to do around a campfire when it is ghost story time to show that the information didn't bother you. As the night progressed we became more and more drowsy, even a little rummy. Our bellies were warmed by tea and cocoa, our legs tingled from a day of strenuous adventure and we had stopped the ghost story talk long enough to give our minds a break before we retired to our tents. It was nearly midnight when the moon rose over the granite peaks and bathed our little valley in pale ardent light. It was a welcome sight, yet almost immediately something strange began to happen. A breeze came up from canyon and on the wind we could hear music. It was not so much audible as it was the idea of music, which was planted in our heads by the whispering air. It was faint even in our minds like a premonition or a shadow of wind instruments. The wind shifted and settled and the music left with it. We sat staring at each other in hushed silence. None of us wanted to say the obvious. I finally opened my mouth and asked, "Did you hear that?" Chills ran through us as we all agreed that we had heard or felt something. Nothing was said for a while until Kirkemo blurted, "It was probably just some reeds and branches being blown by the wind." Steiner added, "We have had a long day and Kirkemo is probably right." We conceded to this thought and chucked at ourselves for being so spooked by our ghost stories that we were now making music out of the wind. We kicked the fire down to embers, threw some dirt over it and went to bed. It was always hard for me to get to sleep in the woods. Every noise I heard from outside the tent became a prowling cougar or a famished bear. I learned from the restless nights of the past that in order to get a good night sleep I needed a little help. On this trip I decided to try something new to get to sleep. I brought with me a package of nighttime cold medicine. I popped a couple of pills and in no time I was wrapped in the warm embrace of deep slumber. No midnight twigs snapping or leaves rustling could ruin my medically induced eight-hour coma. *** I awoke to the sound of the fire popping and the hushed voices of Steiner and Kirkemo conversing. The sun had risen but had not yet penetrated the little valley that cradled Jennie Lake. The early morning was pale and as I lay in the

tent the interior was aglow with orange canvas filtered light. I lay there enjoying the cool air on my face contrasted with the warmth I felt from within the mummy bag. My pleasure was cut short however by Mallis yelling "Steamroller" and then rolling over me like a, well, a steamroller in his sleeping bag. I yelled and grunted and turned on my side just in time to protect my vitals from a stalled steamroller, which kicked and flailed on the summit of the lump it was trying to grind into the tent floor. With every kicking bounce I was able to get out, "getoffmeyou dork." Mallis kindly obliged as he tossed himself onto his sleeping pad laughing triumphantly. Kirkemo added from outside the tent, "I have some coffee brewing. If you to lovers are done screwing around you can have some." To which I replied, "Shut up!" Mallis just laughed as if he hadn't heard Kirkemo, and maybe he hadn't. We got up and put on some fresh cloths and donned our campfire-scented jackets. We unzipped the tent and entered into a fresh new day of outdoor enjoyment. The birds were singing sweetly in the trees, the campfire popped and hissed with burning tannin, the sun had begun to creep down the far side of the canyon, and there was no breeze to contend with. It was a perfect camp morning. Kirkemo had a pot of coffee percolating on his one burner stove and was good enough to share it with us. We fried up some bacon on another stove and cooked eggs in the grease. Bruce had not gotten out of bed yet so we all yelled at him to get up or miss his breakfast. He groggily responded with an affirmative grunt of sorts and began to rustle around inside the tent. He soon emerged with a smile and a good morning to all. As we sat around the fire sipping coffee and finishing up our eggs and bacon our thoughts turned to the day at hand. What were we going to do? There were granite peaks to be explored, fish to catch, water to swim and bathe in, but we could not agree on any one thing. We came to the conclusion that we would do it all! Bruce was not real excited about climbing more hills and so he decided to stay behind. That would not do at all so we tried to convince him to come with us, but he refused politely. Steiner, always ready for an adventure blurted, "Hey Jon, you said that there were Indian legends about some caves around here right?" "Yeah." I replied. "Well, how about we try to find them!" he cried. "That would be sweet." Kirkemo said. "How 'bout that Bruce? Would you go if we tried to hunt down those haunted caves?" Mallis asked. "Sure that would be awesome, as long as I don't have to climb those mountains there." Bruce said as he nodded his head towards the peaks surrounding the lake. We decided to go on an expedition to find the legendary Pygmy Demon caves. We planned ahead a bit and packed our day packs with enough snacks, water and flashlights to make it through lunch and then some. We decided to explore the base of the granite peaks for openings. Strapping on our satchels we made off for the southwestern corner of the valley. Our plan was to go down the trail a little ways and cut South through the forest to the base of the crags and work our way South and East around the lake then North and West along the valley floor until we came back to approximately the spot we cut off the trail at.

All went as planned. We cut over to the base of the steep granite hillside and worked our way along it to the South around the lake. No sign of any caves there, but numerous boulders and rock has dislodged themselves from the hill to create a skirt of loose rubble at the base. It was possible that the caves had since been covered up. We continued on our way East and rounded to the south of our campsite and still no openings. We trudged out of site of the lake and kept heading east till the wall turned gradually to the North, nothing yet. We walked at a leisurely pace as not to exhaust ourselves. The sun had since bathed our little valley in warm August rays and it began to get hot. Away from the lake and next to the granite slopes the sun caused us to sweat. We stopped for a little break. We had been trudging along for about two hours and it was about 11:30. We laid ourselves out on the granite boulders and let a light breeze, gently dry the sweat from our shirts. After about five minutes we were sufficiently rested to keep going. We plugged along and only about twenty minutes later Steiner said, "Hey, look at that!" and pointed up the slope ahead of us a bit. We all looked and there on the granite hillside was a boulder with another boulder resting on top of it creating a roof between the aforementioned boulder and the hillside. There was a small opening under the top boulder and behind the bottom boulder, which looked almost like a doorway into the hill. Steiner scaled the hillside up about ten feet and exclaimed, "There is a game trail here that leads to those rocks." We followed him up and sure enough there was a little trail leading to the dark depression behind the boulders. We followed the trail that was obviously too small to have been made by people to the boulders. There behind the boulder was an opening that was just big enough for us to squeeze into one by one. There was a rush of air escaping the cave that moaned like a dying man. It was unsettling to say the least, but we all screwed up the courage and pressed forward. We had to duck only a little to make it into the cave, but once inside it opened up and we all gathered in the mouth and let our eyes adjust to dark light. The inside of the cave had a smooth dusty floor, which was littered with rodent bones and feathers. It appeared a bobcat had taken up residence in the cave for a while judging by the amount of small animal remains. We fished around in our day packs for our flashlights and turned them toward the interior of the cave. The cave descended into the depths of the hillside with a gradual slope and there was cool air rushing up from the depths of the cave like an exhalation of exhumed breath. We couldn't help but exclaim in hushed tones how big it was. The caves meager opening didn't betray the size of it's interior. The cave became a hallway that was wide enough that we could all stand shoulder to shoulder easily. The floor maintained its smooth appearance with the exception of an occasional rock with had fallen from the rough ceiling or walls. It was apparently well used because many small animal feet had tossed about the dust coating the floor. Mallis looked intently at the floor trying to make out what kind of animal had made the markings, but it was too jumbled to make out any prints clearly. We started forward together flashlights scanning the walls and floor like spotlights in the city announcing the grand opening of some new attraction. As we traveled deeper into the cave it became evident that the interior of this cave was much different than caves I had been in prior. I had only been in old lave tubes around Bend Oregon mostly. This cave differed in the fact that the proportions of the cave became more angular and even as we descended into the

bowels of the mountain in fact if we didn't know better we would have said that it had been cut out of the mountain and was not a natural feature at all. The deeper we went the cooler the air got. We pulled out our windbreakers from our day packs and slipped them on to shield our bare arms from the icy air. The air also became more and more pungent. It dampened and smelt of wet earth. We commented on the caves uniformity and hall like aspects for a while and began to realize that we could hear a faint roar. We stopped and let the echoes of our movement die and listened pointedly. It was the unmistakable sound of rushing water. We became excited at the prospect of finding an underground river and pressed on with eagerness. I glanced at my watch and saw that we had been in the cave for about an hour. We pressed onward and the sound of the water became clearer. Soon the cave opened up into a large cavernous room. At one end of the room a waterfall spilled out of solid rock about thirty feet up and came crashing into a river that cut the room in two. The river pooled violently at the base of the fall and then gathered itself together in a calm meandering flow. The bank we stood on was sandy and the stone floor of the passage ended abruptly at the end of the hallway itself. Funny though the animal prints were evident on the shore right down to the waters edge. We didn't think much about it at the time, but in hindsight we should have taken that as our warning. It was the end of the trail for us. The river flowed to our right and continued into the dark mouth of a cave that led to who knows where. There was no way to get across to the other bank without the use of a boat. The water looking calm may have had a dreadful undertow and it was probably too deep to wade through. Besides that it didn't look as if the cave continued on the far side of the water and none of us wanted to get wet. We stood in astonishment at the grand vista. Our flashlights reflected off the surface of the water and cast shimmers onto the walls and ceiling of the great room. Everything was gray and colorless in the mountains depth, but a quit beauty graced the place. It was foreboding though at the same time. The cave into which the water flowed was a mouth of never ending hunger. It was the source of the wind that continually washer over our bodies as we descended the corridor. Somewhere deeper into the interior of the earth was source of that windy blast. It smelled of nothing but wet rock, but it was evident that the water never fully reached the top of the cave otherwise the air would have been blocked. It was an endless dance the river and the air joined in, the river flowed into the abyss and the air flowed out of the abyss, nothing standing in the way of either. We motioned each other out of the room and back up the cave toward its entrance. Once we were far enough from the incredible din of the falls for conversation we all blurted our surprise and admiration of such an incredible adventure. The trip back to camp was spent talking about the underground river and wondering where it went. We stopped on our way at the mouth of the cave and ate a satisfying lunch. Then we returned to camp. In our absence a man and his son were keeping our little lake company by fishing for the day. They had set up operations on the opposite bank from our campsite. We watched as they pulled fish after fish out of the water. They had a small fire going on the forest floor just off the shore of the lake nestled between the trees. Once they had caught about 4 fish they took them off their stringer, gutted them, and cooked them over their fire. Kirkemo's demeanor was one of consternation. It was obvious that he was put out by their success after his lack

of success the day before. It was getting to be late afternoon by the time the man and his son departed. They had hiked in for a day of quality father son time and put Kirkemo to shame then left. Kirkemo tried his hand at fishing and did much better that time. We dined on fish for supper. Nothing says camping better than eating lightly seasoned freshly caught rainbow trout cooked over a fire in aluminum foil. Side dishes of instant rice pilaf and fresh fruit accompanied our fish. We chased it all down with Kool-Aid and for desert we had Little Debbie oatmeal cream cookies. Why do I tell you what we had for dinner? It was quite memorable because it would be the last real dinner we would have for a very long time and for one of us our last dinner ever. *** As darkness approached we gathered more firewood to last us well into the night. A hush came over the forest as the sun set that evening. Its bright shining face slipped behind the stone cold granite peaks, it's orange and red rays clinging to the azure sky as the terminator swept over us. Then the stars began to appear one by one. Dazzling points of ancient light traveling to us through time and space to reach our eyes from eons before our conception. No gentle breeze greeted us that night to cause the pines to dance in worship of the God that made them, to cause the aspen to clap their hands in thanksgiving for a day of beauty. The days heat radiated up from the ground and slid over us as it raced into space. The sky was clear and the moon would soon reveal it pale face to us. We talked in hushed tones not wanting to disrespect the attitude of nature's evening. We heated our water for tea and cocoa and sipped gingerly as the air cooled rapidly. There was an atmosphere of reverence that came over our little valley. A feeling that we had just walked into church late during the ministers benediction. A prompting of shut up and sit down and be absolutely quite as you do so. We sat in silence and stared at the fire as it consumed the wood we had offered it as if we were watching a sacrifice to a god being consumed on an alter of burnt offering. In return for our offering of wood it gave us warmth and light. We sat in silence mesmerized. The twilight gave way to night as we approached the witching hour. Our fire was dwindling as was our wakefulness when we caught hollow notes being carried on the wind. The airy music was more than an idea this time as it was the night before, it was an absolute reality. Faint in the distance the notes rose out of the stillness like ghosts wafting out of a thin fog. The spectral tones slipping out of the gloom to dance around our heads unseen but obviously present. It made my skin crawl with apprehension, if only we would have listened to our instincts and bolted right then and there when we still had the chance. As we sat there in stunned silence looking at each other with wide eyes the music slowly calmed our nerves. It was melodious, comforting, enchanting and hypnotic. I looked around the fire and noticed the music had a calming effect on all of us. The faces of my companions melted from apprehension and fear to sleepiness and relaxation, and finally settled into blank gazes. Kirkemo broke the silence and in our altered state he said with slack eyes, "Dude, maybe we should check out where that noise is coming from...It could be a bunch of hotties dancin' around a bonfire." Mike responded, voice monotone and distant. "Hey, that is an awesome

idea. I bet they need some company." Steiner dreamily piped in, "I'm engaged but that doesn't mean I can't help you guys find some chicks." Bruce said from a distant plain in his mesmerized head, "Yeah, chicks." I don't know what it was, maybe the music, or the behavior of my friends, or the suggestion of female bodies gyrating in the firelight, but I had an overwhelming urge for sex, primal and heavy. It clouded my mind and distorted my thoughts. No longer did I want to run from the music. Flee as if the very clutches of Hell were wrapping around my ankles. I wanted to run to the music, bound into that inevitable clearing and watch glistening skin reflect fire. I heard myself say without actually meaning to, "We can't keep the babes waiting." My voice echoed hollow in my brain and every instinct in my body was not in 'fright and flight' mode but in 'getting some' mode. We rose as one and left the comfort of our firelight as we passed out of the boundary of our campsite. We took nothing with us, no gun, no food, nothing. We all thought we were going to get lucky but as we slowly walked with arms slack at our sides we were unwittingly trudging along the march of the damned. We passed through the forest with nothing but the light of the moon to guide us. The moonlight slid between branches and landed on trunks in silver geometric patterns. We could hear nothing except the music which steadily grew louder, more substantial, and matched our enthusiasm as we approached what we were certain were glistening beauties dancing in fire and moon light. We marched abreast not talking to each other. In recollection I am not sure we could have talked even if we'd tried. We were on cruise control and someone else was at the wheel. I can't remember how long our little march lasted, but I do remember how it ended. There it was ahead of us. The firelight that somehow we all knew would be there. Shining orange like a beacon it called to us from between the silhouetted boles. As we neared we saw figures break the firelight as they passed between it and us. They blocked the light from us for only a second as they hurried across the face of the febrile glow. Nearer we approached not slowing, not rushing, abreast in the sunless woods being drawn by an unseen tendril of primal lust for those sleek female forms we were confident would greet us. The fire seemed small in the distance, the music continued to grow louder, woodwinds and then drums beckoned us, lithe forms glided in the distance, we could almost hear giggles of delight trickle to us over the music. We strode up a little rise and stepped out into a clearing with a bonfire in it's center. The flames licked greedily at something that we assumed was the bear we encountered on our way up the trail. To our total shock the the lithe figures swooping gracefully around the fire were of females but they were miniature. They were only about 2 feet tall and showed no signs of dwarfism, they were perfectly proportional. We stopped short at the edge of the clearing gaping wide eyed at the tiny women who seemed to be oblivious to us. They wore their hair long, and in a single braid or ponytail. They were dressed in thin flowing dresses with straps instead of sleeves. As they passed in front of the fire their thin forms were revealed in silhouette. We were amazed. Thoughts of fairy tales swirled in my head. I had read a lot of supposedly real accounts of men meeting fairies and to the best of my recollection few of the stories if any ever ended well.

I started to shake myself out of the musically induced stupor we were in and tried to say, "We need to get out of here," but my mouth was not listening to me. I only groaned. The overpowering primal lust was waning and was allowing me to think more clearly. The music continued to play from an unknown source and succeeded in breaking my concentration. We needed to run, but I couldn't form the speech to warn my friends! The dread from earlier was creeping back into my mind and made my spine tingle. The dancers began to fade or more appropriately began to dematerialize like a fog dissipating before a strong wind. The fire was still there, the carcass was still roasting, the music had stopped with a hard pounding of deep drums, and the women were now men. Little warrior men stood as statues facing our direction with bows and arrows trained on us. They were dressed in loin cloths, their faces were dark, and their black eyes caught the minimal light and held it. Their posture was precipitous of an attack and all their hatred was focused in our direction. All was silent except the fire which raged, crackled, and reached up to slide across the meat. Then fear gripped me in a bear hug that threatened to steel by breath away. The lustful tendrils had been cut loose and my eyes were clear as if a veil had fallen from my face. No words were spoken, no warning given, no shouts made, but as one all five of us turned and bolted for the cover of the trees. *** Blind panic urged us on, branches tore at us, roots reached for our feet and trees stood in our way. I could hear the trashing of my friends as we fled and then I heard someone yell. It was a sound of surprise and pain. There was no word it was merely, "Aagh!" Then another, "aagh," and another. Then I understood the reason for their surprised screams as I fell headlong into a recently dug trench. It was only about three feet deep but it slowed me down enough for the little warriors to cascade over the lip and attack me with obsidian blades. I yelled out as they pricked my panicked forearms with their tiny knives and almost instantly I collapsed asleep. The last thing I remembered was the face of one of the creatures. He had glowing eyes and his lips were stretched thin over clenched teeth in an aggressive smile of victory. I awoke in the night with my arms and legs bound from ankle to knee and from wrist to elbow. The thin ropes were twisted so tightly on my limbs they nearly cut the circulation off to my hands and feet. I looked around as I lay on the ground and was able to see my companions in the same predicament. That is all except for Bruce. He was laying unconscious on a flat spot near the fire with only his wrists and ankles bound. In my prone position I could see Bruce without having to careen my neck. The carcass that was roasted over the fire had been removed and I noticed a number of the tiny men eating meat from the bones of that woe begotten creature. Some of the men were eating casually while sitting on logs and rocks around the fire. Some were at the edge of the clearing stripping branches from young aspen trees and making poles and a few were circling Bruce. My attention rested firmly on the disgusting little creatures who eyed Bruce. They were talking among themselves using hand gestures toward Bruce in words that sounded very guttural and harsh. I had a German quality with the flair and inflection of Klingon from Star Trek. Not at all pleasant. It was a language built on hate with a history of domination. They agreed on something then took

large obsidian blades and began cutting Bruce's clothes to shreds. My heart began to race and my breathing increased as I saw where this was going. In a vain effort I tried to get up on my feet and hop toward Bruce to wake him. Hopefully he could free himself from his meager bonds and fight off the creepy little freaks. He didn't stir at all as I yelled at him. I stood bound about where I had risen and fell over. The men eating the meat just kept eating and laughed at me while a few formed some guttural words that dripped heavy with derision. The men with the large obsidian blades kept cutting until he was totally stripped. They gathered all the scraps of clothing together and stuffed them into a satchel nearby. The only things that remained on Bruce were his hiking boots. They rolled Bruce over on his side facing the fire with his back to me. The man who appeared to be the leader of their "hunting" party stepped up to Bruce's head tilted it back and plunged his long obsidian blade into Bruce's neck and tore the blade forward. The wound was opposite where I sat but I didn't need to see it to know its purpose. They were letting Bruce's life, past and future, spill into the earth. They were going to eat us. In revulsion, fear, and anguish I began to sob and scream at the same time. One of the men attending to Bruce, their freshest quarry, was now creating a jagged cut from Bruce's throat to groin. Bruce's body jiggled with the sawing motion of the obsidian blade. As I kept screaming and sobbing another one gave me an annoyed look and strode over to me. He plucked a small obsidian blade from its sheath on the belt of his loin cloth and plunged it into my arm above the elbow. Sleep fell like a ton of bricks and I plummited into a dreamless void. *** When I awoke next it was to the sound of rushing water. It pounded thunderously in my ears as if a mighty wave hovered over me waiting for me to wake so it could snuff the life out of me while I was aware of it. I open my eyes and realized we were on the shore of the subterranean river at the base of the waterfall from the cave we'd discovered earlier that day. Obviously the old Indian legends were right and we had found the cave of the Pygmy Demons. The little men were busy loading their cargo onto aspen rafts that were tethered to large rocks on the shore. Their cargo consisted of myself, the remainder of my friends and what I can only assume were chunks of Bruce wrapped in waxy leaves. I was being loaded on a raft with the other guys. They all appeared unconscious and we were hoisted up on the shoulders of the miniature men with aspen poles that were slid between our bound legs and arms. I pretended to be incapacitated so I could watch for a means of escape. The cuts in my arms where their blades had pierced me throbbed and it was all I could do not to make a noise loud enough to be heard over the din of the waterfall. The decks of the rafts were dry and at the corner of each raft a three foot hight torch had been affixed to provide light for our dark voyage. We were laid on our sides and the poles that were used to move us were anchored down at each end to the deck of the raft, effectively locking us in place. The men went back on shore to gather more bundles. Once the miniature warriors had left the raft I was on I ventured to look around as much as I could in my locked down position. Mallis was on my raft in his locked down position just above me. Upstream toward the waterfall I could see another raft with Steiner and Kirkemo locked down as well. There was a third body locked down too! For a moment I believed it was

Bruce and I had been dreaming before. My mind cartwheeled with hope, but I soon realized the form was too small to be Bruce. Somehow these little monsters had captured another person along with us, poor guy. I could not see anything that could be used to free me. I tried to wriggle my arm but the rope was wound so tight I was barely able to move my hands. I still had all my cloths on. I could feel that my pockets were still full of their regular items. My wallet, lip balm, keys and pocket knife were still in place. These pygmy freaks obviously didn't know about pockets or didn't care to check them. If only I could get to my knife maybe I could cut the rope that held my arms. I need to move quick however, they were almost done loading the rafts with their supplies. I was at a loss as to how to devise a plan to get my knife out and into my hands. As I mentioned earlier, my arms were wound tightly from elbow to wrist. The pole was slid between my elbows and my hands came together at the end of the rope in a palm to palm prayerful pose. I scooted my arms down the length of the pole towards my waist but my elbows couldn't go any farther than my knees. It was impossible to get my hands anywhere near my pockets. I tried budging the aspen pole that anchored me to the deck but it was secured with more rope, and also wouldn't budge. My moving must have been noticed because out of the corner of my eye I saw a small dark shape jab me in the arm and all went black. When I came too the din of the waterfall was no longer audible. We were rocking gently on a smooth and fast current. I could see the walls of the cave speeding past our raft as we floated onward deeper into the mountains. A warm breeze was wafting over us from downstream. The pygmy's were humming a sailing tune together and used aspen poles to direct the rafts away from collisions with the walls. I had no idea as to the time or day. My watch was still on my arm but it was covered with the ropes. The torch light reflected off the cavern walls and lit our three raft procession. I peered through slitted eyes to spy where the tiny men were perched on my raft. There were two in my line of sight. One at the two corners of the raft of the side I was laying towards. I just lay there trying not to let on I was conscious. My arms still ached from the glassy cuts I had already received. As I played possum, the walls of the cave slid past and I heard one of the tiny men from the raft ahead yell a word. Almost instantly the walls abruptly ended and we shot out into a huge space. The light cast by the torches seemed to have been all but snuffed out as we went from the enclosed tunnel into an area so large that the light could not reach the ceiling or walls. I watched the light play on the water and warriors set their poles down at the edge of the raft. The current was still incredibly fast and my sense of motion did not diminish in the least. There was a quite roar as if there were waterfalls or distant wave beaten shores far away in the imperceptible blackness. One of the warriors saw that I was moving my head as I tried to look around. He went to the edge of the raft and scooped some water from the current into a wooden cup and slapped my face to let me know I needed to drink. My eyes shot open and I cursed myself for letting him see me move. He held the cup to my mouth and I drank the cool subterranean water. It was refreshing and I emptied his small cup three or four times. The water tasted very fresh and pure with just a hint of minerals. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until he made me drink the first cup and the following cups I drank greedily like a child drinking from a water

fountain on a hot summer day of hard play. I had a chance to observe the man very closely during this watering time. Being only about twenty four inches tall his features were perfectly proportional. His limbs and torso were heavily muscled not in an Schwarzenegger sort of way but in a Shaka Zulu sort of way. His skin was the color of rich loamy soil. His hair was jet black and bowl cut. He wore a loin cloth like the others that appeared to be made from some sort of leather with designs like rock drawings carved into it. It had a wide belt and both the front and back came down to his knees. He had a small obsidian knife with a bone handle which I had come to be familiar with sheathed to that belt. On his feet he wore nothing. His face was wide with high cheek bones, thin lips and blunt nose. His eyes however were the most interesting aspect of his appearance other than his diminutive size. They were black and glossy with no white sclera. The torch light caught in these depthless pools and collected in the center giving them a light of their own. They were as dark and soulless as the obsidian blade that once again pricked my arm. I must have been out longer that time because I had dreams. They were not so much dreams as nightmares. In my dreams I saw fairies dancing around a fire. They swarmed and swooped around the column of smoke as they danced each little body glowing with a light of its own. On the ground were Red Caps and Leprechauns doing their particular jigs. Everyone laughed and clapped to the music being played on pan pipes by fauns sitting on stumps at the edge of the firelight. They beckoned me to join them around the fire and I was consumed with need. I went and tried my best to jig the jigs and keep time with the music. They laughed and clasped me by the hands and we formed a circle around the fire, dancing as one. Then as one they abruptly ended their dance and turned on me with gluttony in their eyes. They set a table with white linen, fine china, and crystal goblets. They brought a cauldron and set it up over the fire and threw me in. The broth began to boil and roll around my legs and body. I tried desperately to get out but each time I made the attempt I was shoved down by the fairies that swarmed around my head like gnats. They just kept laughing and singing and dancing, dancing, dancing, pushing me down laughing and dancing and singing. Oddly enough there was no sensation of pain in my dream and I hoped that was true for Bruce as well when he was divided up into so many satchels of meat. I cried out for God to save me from these demonic entities, from the boiling roil of the cauldron of my dreams. That damnable cauldron has followed me these past ten years, waiting for me to sleep so that once again the fairy folk can boil me down and sip gingerly from my remains. Maybe God heard me from within my dreams, because when I awoke we were no longer in the darkness of underground caverns but we were in a warm red orange light. It was not the light of fire but of a comforting twilight. We were above ground once again on the shore of a river. The rafts had been pulled onto a sandy bar near a bend in the flow and their cargo unloaded on the beach. A massive forest lined the banks of the river and if it were not for the wide bend in the river we would have been in the perpetual shade of the canopy. By massive I mean the actual objects of the forest were gigantic. Everything, trees, bushes, and ferns were all huge. We were comparatively as small to these trees and bushes as the pygmy demon men were to the trees around Jennie Lake. The trees which looked like pine trees were the size of giant sequoias, maybe even bigger.

They towered over us like sky scrapers. The air was warm and a little humid and smelled of a pungent rain forest. I looked about me and noticed the others from my camping trip and the other young man still intact. In the light I recognized the young man as the younger of the two men who were fishing at the lake. They were laying on the soft sand around me and appeared to be awake now too. We exchanged glances and they all had a perplexed expression which asked many questions. Where were we? What kind of forest was this? Who is that kid? But I could tell the main question was that of Bruce's whereabouts. I noticed all of us had numerous slashes on our exposed arms. We dared not speak and incur the obsidian prick that would cause us to black out again. The pygmy demon men were busy strapping bundles wrapped in large waxy leaves to their backs. They paid no attention to us and from the woods at the edge of the sandy bar more pygmy demon men approached. They hallooed to the men on the beach and greeted them with large grins as they glanced at us in what could only be hungry appreciation. Obviously the hunt went well and our captors had returned triumphant with food enough to feed their people for who knows how long. After their greeting and ejaculations in their course guttural tongue the new men approached us. They came and looked at each of us in turn and poked our various meaty parts nodding in agreement over each of us as they continued to jabber. We apparently were a splendid catch. The men then heaved the poles that carried us onto their shoulders and began towards the woods. As we entered into the darkness of the canopy I watched my life slowly slip before my eyes as one who is on his way to the chopping block. I lamented my life that seemed so short and unproductive. I had done nothing to help anyone. I had left no mark on the world as a sign that I had been here. No deeds of greatness, or even not-so-greatness to be appreciated by others who would be left in the wake of my passing. I imagine the others had similar thoughts pass through their heads as we were carried deeper and deeper into the forest. As I began to focus on my surroundings once again I realized the men were singing a chant that was probably a hunting song. I sadistically began to put words to it to pass the time. "Here we bring down the two legged antelope." "We braved dark and deep waters." "Home we go with our two legged antelope." "Food for our sons and daughters." It was not by any means helpful to do this because I soon began to fall into a depression which made me draw into myself and simply give up like a cow on the ramp into the slaughterhouse. My eyes glazed over and gazed at nothing. I let my head swing limply with the sway of the tiny men's purposeful gait. Bushes tore at my arms and cheeks but I was oblivious, the pain only adding to my depression. I wished the hateful little creatures would once again slash my arms with their poison tipped obsidian blades and cause me to fall asleep that I might wake up dead. Suddenly hopelessly cut off from escape, from any world that was familiar, and from life itself I slipped into a languid repose. As I hung there despairing, the whole company stopped abruptly and fell into silence. The sudden cessation of movement brought me out of my abjection

and I once again began to focus on the extroverted. The pygmy demons were sniffing the air and cocking their heads trying to listen intently to something. It was beyond our ability to hear whatever it was, but it caused the men to almost panic. They slowly began their march again while being as noiseless a possible. My nerves already being on edge were near the breaking point. I felt as if I were on the verge of a breakdown. All sanity would be lost to me, all vestiges of intelligence gone, or had that already happened. I was being held captive by pygmy demons in a primeval forest while being hunted by some unknown creature. My companions and I were comparable to toddlers in those woods. What chance does a toddler have against a bear or mountain lion while in the woods. Then to tie the toddler to a pole, the outcome is definite. Either I was already insane or was about to be killed by pygmy demons or some horrendous monstrosity which made its home in that gigantic forest. Then we heard it. It wasn't much, but it was enough to let us all know something was stalking us, all of us. It was the sound of a branch snapping underfoot off to the right in the dense underbrush. The underbrush itself was a forest to us. It may have been the only sanctuary to the pygmy demon men judging by the way they unceremoniously dropped us on the trail and fled for its cover opposite the sound that had startled them. All of us lying bound in a relatively open spot on the trail would be an easy meal for our predator. The ground gave a slight shudder under us as if a heavy foot had been laid down. Then another and another. They were reverberations from the footsteps of some gigantic animal! In my mind I saw the water shake in that famous cup from Jurassic Park. And I believed my fate to be similar but without the heroic escape. The thud landed softly again, again, and again. The pygmy men were nowhere to be seen. The branches to the side of the trail began to quiver and three gigantic shadows loomed in the gloom of the forest on the other side of them. The shadows sprung through the brush and landed on the trail and there bending down over us to grab the poles on which we were tied were three huge men. They grasped the poles we were suspended on, one in each hand and picked us up together like suitcases. As they stood erect the pygmy demons jumped out of their hiding places with bows and arrows drawn. They began to fire on the giants and scream curses at them. Our new captors ran down the trail away from the hail of arrows. They ran at a great speed and we were slashed by leaves like sheets of construction paper and pine needles the size of pencils. The yells of venom quickly faded into the distance, but their rage and frenzy could still be heard in my mind. We were jerked around horribly and I was afraid my arms and legs would be torn from their sockets and my quadriplegic mass would hurdle to the ground in a gushing mess. After about ten minutes of hard running the giants slowed and turned to the right plunging into the woods and in about ten giant paces we were brought out onto a treeless plain. As far as the eye could see there was grass that reached to the giants knees. They continued to walk briskly, but the jerking had stopped. I began to imagine that we were going to become dinner for these giants instead of the pygmy demons and as the one that carried Kirkemo and I looked into my face his soft gaze clouded with concern. He turned to his companions and said a few words in a foreign tongue that sounded like Hebrew. They quickened their pace and in about five more minutes we were at least a mile and a half from the forest. The giants who by all

appearances were more civilized than the Pygmy Demons brought us to a clearing in the tall grass in which a camp had been set up. They laid us down and two of them removed the aspen poles and began to untie our arm and legs. The third giant attended his fellows as they worked by pulling and brushing arrows off of their backs and hair. The pygmy arrows had no more effect on their clothing than cheetgrass would have on my pants. The kindness in their large faces was evident enough that my fears melted and I began to weep for my newfound freedom. They continued to untie us and one of the men went into a Bedouin looking tent and came back with a pitcher, washcloth and basin. Kirkemo was untied and lay on his back next to me with shock written on his face. He looked around and mouthed words without sound. He then looked at me and recognition settled on his gaze and his gaunt face smiled feebly. As our arms were untied by one giant, the next would rub our limbs gingerly, then the next would wash the wounds on our face and arms. I felt swollen and tight. My joints ached, my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth and my clothing felt constrictive. I felt like I was bloating like a dead animal in the sun. But the soothing care we received from our gargantuan nurses eased my pains and a natural carefree sleepiness washed over me and would not be ignored. I slept right there on the grass knowing I was protected. My salty tear streaked face washed clean by giant hands of healing. Surely God had heard my cries. *** I awoke in a bed of huge proportions. It was soft and comfortable. For a few second I had forgotten where I was and looked about me in the filtered rosy light. Kirkemo, myself and the fishing kid were all in this bed together. We had been stripped and laid horizontal to the length of the bed. There was enough room between us that it was like having a queen bed all to ourselves. The others were still asleep. I threw off the blanket that covered me and scooted naked toward the side of the bed that was not against the wall of the tent. I felt refreshed and very hungry. As I swung my legs over the side of the bed my bare feet came to rest on the floor of the tent which was bare ground with Persian style area rugs scattered about. Their kaleidescope of colors and geometric patterns lent a air of quite dignity to the tent and the woolen texture beneath my feet massaged my soles gingerly. My clothes had been folded at he foot of my particular portion of the bed alongside my shoes and socks. I picked them up and was surprised to find they had been laundered, smelling fresh like they had been line dried by a spring breeze. I put them on and was pleased to see that they were not torn or ripped at all which was very surprising considering all the abuse they had seen. My usual items were even all back in their appropriate pockets. I looked about me with the tent's ceiling towering over me about two stories high. Everything was gigantic. I felt like an infant thrust from the womb in a brand new world where nothing fit my size. The only things in the tent were beds and rugs. Three beds in all two of which were occupied by my companions and one that must have been reserved for our hosts. I noticed I was the only one who was awake yet and slowly made my way to the slit of reddish light which I assumed was the door. The fabric of the tent was heavy and woolen and smelled of campfire and as I peered out of the slit I could see the giants gathered around a fire roasting something that looked like meat. A big chunk of meat. Fear sprang

up in me again at the sight of meat over an open flame. I saw Bruce jiggling in the firelight. Then I crept back to the beds to make sure all my companions were still intact. They were. I calmed my nerves then asked myself, Why would the giants save our lives, wash our clothes, and let us sleep in their beds in order to kill and eat us? My paranoia subsided and I made for the door and this time I pushed my way through and walked cautiously toward the giants. I could now plainly see the animal roasting was a deer or gazelle of some sort. The giants saw me and beckoned me over with hand motions. I obliged and went over to them. I was a head taller than they were at their knees. One of them stood up and walked over to a tarped kitchen area and took a saucer from large basket and proceeded to prepare a meal for me. He cut a chunk of yellow cheese from a block the size of my torso, he cubed some fruit that I didn't recognize and then sliced me a piece of gazelle from the roast over the fire. He set me down on a rock by the fire then handed me a glass the size of a pitcher with a pink fluid in it. It smelled of sweet fresh fruit juice. The glass was some sort of shot glass in the giants hand but I had to use both of my Lilliputian hands to heave it to my mouth. I ate greedily with my hands and pocket knife. Nothing ever tasted so good. I felt invigorated. I noticed a headache that I had start to dissipate and my arms and legs were feeling strong again. The gashes on my arms had been cleaned and dressed while I was asleep and felt okay. One by one my companions awoke and came out of the tent, dressed and a little groggy. They were given the same meal as myself and were set next to me. They ate ravenously as if it were the first food they had in days. Then it occurred to me that I had no idea what time it was or what day it was. I was just happy to be alive. I then took note of my watch that was still on my arm and had been there the entire time tied up under the pygmy's ropes. I dared to look at it and the day was August 26th, we had been in captivity for at least five days. That was only the half of it. What really threw me for a loop was the time. The time registered 2:31am. It was broad twilight yet my watch said otherwise. I looked at it to see if it had gotten damaged, but it looked fine. I assumed then that the ropes had depressed the time change button. I glanced at Kirkemo who was wolfishly devouring his gazelle and asked, Hey, what time does your watch say? He glanced quickly at me then his watch and replied with mouth full, About 2:30. Is that am or pm? I responded. He said, I don't know, analog. while holding up his watch in my direction for me to see the face. What is the date? I pressed. Shaking his head in disbelief he retorted, Twenty sixth. I wasn't completely satisfied so I turned to Steiner who was engaged in draining the juice from his glass. What time and date does yours say? Wiping his mouth he said, August 26th, 2:32am. He gave his watch a double take and glanced at the sun. Wow, look at that! he said with such wonder that all of us stopped eating and craned our necks to look at the fiery orb directly above. But instead of a fiery orb we were introduced to a smoky, cloudy illumination. It reminded me of the Milky Way with light at its center diffused and hidden by dust but instead of white light it was a rosy peach and instead of an

oblong shape like the Milky Way it was spherical. Where were we! We all stared at the the illumination and one of the giants said something mater of factly in a language we did not understand. Then he began to say something I did understand. He asked in German, Do you speak German? I replied, Nein. He asked the same question in French, Spanish, and some other language I didn't recognize. To each language we each said, No. Finally in a very heavy almost aribic accent he asked, Do you speak English? We all replied, Yes! The giant who had been speaking said, My name is Abdon Piraton, and these are my friends, indicating each in turn, Ibtzan Lechem and Elon Z'vulun. We came out here for a camping trip and while wondering in the woods we heard the Nimerigar chanting a victory chant over some unhappy men. We know the Nimerigar to be cannibals and went to investigate. That is when we came upon you and devised a plan for your rescue. You know the rest. Abdon, like the other giants wore a full beard. He had black hair and beard with a few sprinkles of gray. He had kind gray eyes and olive skin. Ibtzan was brown haired with a black beard and had brown eyes and his skin was a little fairer than Aldon's. Elon was nearly blond with a reddish tint to his beard and hair. His skin was the lightest and he had blue eyes. They all had fairly modern looking clothes on. Their pants were made of a thick felt type material and their shirts looked like cotton. They had coats of the same thick felt. On their feet they wore leather boots. Steiner spoke up very formerly, We are very grateful for your hospitality, your kindness, and for saving our lives. As you can see there are five of us here. Was there not another with us? Ibtzan spoke up, There were no others. I replied softly, Bruce didn't make it. Mallis looked my way and said, What do you mean he didn't make it? I slowly, reluctantly told the horrible story of the night at the fireside five days earlier. Not wanting to give the details I left out specifics, but the other guys prodded me until I had retold the story in enough detail to give an accurate account. Their faces registered shock, horror, and loss. It did feel good to get that terrible secret out of me, no longer having to carry the burden alone. After I finished relating the tale Elon spoke, We are very sorry for your loss. It has been generations since the Nimerigar were reported taking their quarry from the outer worlds. We thought we had sealed all the ways that were known to them. My friends and I sat in silence and did not eat after the news of Bruce. I'd already had enough time to digest the situation but I didn't eat because I didn't want my friends to think I was callous. The young man who was also a victim of the Nimerigar began to sob saying over and over, Dad, Dad, Dad. He doubled over rocking and clutching his stomach as if he were either hugging himself or about to puke. I put my platter sized saucer down and strode over to him and placed my arm around his shoulders. I now knew what was cooking over the fire on our initial encounter with the Pygmy Demons. He hesitated in his rocking as if I had invaded his space

and then submitted to my compassion, putting his head on my shoulder I comforted him as best I could. The giants looked on with understanding eyes. Come, said Elon, the day is just getting started. We need to pack up camp and head home. Home? Mallis inquired, Your taking us home? Yes, responded Elon, you are to come home with us. You didn't think we were going to save you from the Nimerigar just to let you fend for yourselves in the wild did you? It is too big a place for you. That last bit was said with a faint jest. I guess I thought you were going to help us get back to our homes. Mallis said forlornly. In good time, in good time. replied Elon. The giants stood up and began to disassemble camp. We watched not knowing what else to do. After a while the young man on my shoulder calmed down and simply stared at the fire with a keen since of loss written on his face. He then straightened up and said, My name is Scott Robinson. We made our introductions and learned from him that he and his father had gone up to Jennie Lake for some Father Son time and on their way home down the trail were accosted by the Pygmy Demons. He didn't remember anything after the attack until he woke up in the cave and then was put back to sleep with those poison blades. In fact all the guys had similar stories of waking, looking around, and being put back to sleep. While collaborating on the subject as the giants broke down camp we were able to put together a time line of events. We were captured and carried into the Pygmy Demon cave. We were placed on rafts and followed the subterranean river to an immense underground sea. The current carried us to the opposite side of the sea and another river's mouth opened on that side. The Pygmies then used the poles to propel us upstream to the light of this strange Fairyland. Then we were unloaded on the beach and we were all awake for the rest of our adventure. But where were we? We were not on Earth, or anywhere I had heard of on Earth. Had we crossed some invisible barrier that lead to another dimension, the fabled Fairy Kingdom of legends? Or were we deep within the earth on some inverted sphere of existence that is totally unknown to the outside world. We noticed it getting lighter and the smoky spherical illumination began to loose it's clouded appearance. The dusty blockage seemed to be sliding off to the left and appeared to wrap around behind and disappeared in full daylight. It was the transition from dawn to morning and the 'sun's' warmth felt good to our cave cold bones. We finished our meal and gave our dishes to Ibtzan who was packing up the kitchen area. Is there anything I can do to help? I asked. No, you rest. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. We must get to the station before the Glide gets there. He replied. We need you men, I assume you are men even though you are very small, to be ready to keep up with us. How far is it? I inquired. About a two hour walk for us, It will take twice that long with you along because your strides cover less ground. The glide comes at zenith and that is

only about four and a half hours away. What is a glide? It is our ride back to our home. He turned and hurried packing everything into square baskets. The other two giants, Elon and Abdon, were busy breaking down the tent and rolling up the bed rolls and rugs. Once everything was broken down and packed into neat bundles Abdon went to the center of the clearing and lifted up what appeared to be a section of the ground. It was a door to a cellar type pit that was dry and well hidden. They packed everything except the perishable food into this pit and lowered the lid back down. It blended once again into the floor of the plain. We all wondered at it but said nothing. The giants had also packed three rucksacks and loaded them onto their backs. Are you ready? Abdon inquired. We responded affirmatively. Then they began walking single file out of the clearing. We followed at a fast walk. I don't know what direction we headed because the celestial light never moved from it's high noon position. The air was cool and a little humid and from my guess it was probably about eight in the morning when we set off. We walked through the grasslands away from the forest of the Nimerigar. The grass was as tall as we were so it limited our view to the sky and to the back of the giants before us. Whats that? I said peering into the sky. Elon who was at the rear of the two other giants looked up and said over his shoulder, Visitors like yourselves. What I saw looked like a rod of orange light that hummed with and electrical crackle. Steiner interjected after looking at the rapidly moving rod in the sky, What do you mean visitors 'like us'? Visitors from outside, from the Lower World. Elon said. We glanced at each other and Mallis piped in, Are there men in that ship, what kind of ship is it? I don't know if there are men on that one or not. Those ships come to us from the stars. The owners of those ships are not like us, I mean, looking like men. They are smaller than you, they come to trade. I replied, What do they trade? They come here for our seed and give us their technology. Your seed? I asked. Our seed. They are a dying race and require new genetic material. We supply them with genetic material from males and females and they give us medical and domestic technology that they know will improve our lives. They are a strange race, but a fair one. Elon finished. We watched as the cigar shaped craft slid smoothly across the sky. Soon we reached an area that was sparsely wooded and reminded me of pictures I had seen of tropical areas where there were wide lush grasslands dotted with tall umbrella trees. Their canopy stretched out and touched in places. There were birds singing and the hum of insects was a constant white noise. The giants stepped around one of the banyan like boles and began to ascend a large open staircase made from perforated metal sheets. We clamored up the steps after them. The steps were about chest high and it was quite a climb to get to the

large platform half way up the tree. There was a red illuminated button at the edge of the platform on the top of a pole waist hight to the giants. Abdon pushed the button and said, Now we wait. We mulled about looking over the edge of the platform and up at the tree above us. We figured it was getting close to mid-day when the glide arrived. It came silently and the only indicator that was given to it's arrival was a loud beeping that came from the button which had now turned green. The glide looked like a monorail without the track. It was white, segmented, streamlined, and had tinted windows down the front and sides. It was waiting for us at the edge of the platform with a door that was slowly opening like a clam to accept us. The bottom of the door came to rest on the platform and formed a ramp that lead into the cabin of the machine. The giants went inside and we followed. The light was dim and the windows filtered the noonday light into a warm amber color that soothed the burgundy upholstered interior. The giants fell onto deep soft seats that lined the walls of the cabin. They gestured for us to do the same and we obliged. As we sat the door sighed to a close behind us and the craft began to move, snaking its way through the trees silently. The glide moved with a mind of its own and increased speed until we were cruising so fast the surroundings became a blur. There were no other giants on the glide. "It this public transportation, can anyone ride it," I asked? "No it is not public," Abdon said. "It belongs to the University." "The University?" Steiner interjected. "Yes we are students and were out for a holiday. We chose to go camping at one of our favorite spots which we have well stocked, as you saw." Dumbfounded at the revelation I said, "We are students of a university too and we also chose to go camping before class started for the Fall. That is where the Nimerigar found us." "How is the Outside World?" Asked Elon. "Is it still troubled by war?" "Which war?" I asked. "When are your people not warring with each other?" He replied. "Yes, we still have wars." I said and then explained my rudimentary understanding of the last century. World War I, World War II, Vietnam, Korea, Desert Storm were all included along with an explanation of the Cold War and the fall of the Soviet Union and the Berlin Wall. In retrospect our Outside World was very inhospitable. Elon said, "There is a legend among our people that when the outside world ceases their wars and embraces peace we will make ourselves known to them. It used to be that we lived among the people of the Outside World. Perhaps you have heard of the giants of old? But when one of our greatest was slain by a single stone we retreated north and found passage beyond the edge of the world. We found this place and swore never to war again. The futility of death at a single stone caused our people to reflect and realize peace was the only way to truly survive. Someday it is said the Outer World will join us in peace." My curiosity took over, "So we are in the middle of the Earth?" "Yes, about five hundred miles of crust separate us from the surface. We experience no winter, no hot, no cold. We are kept in perfect comfort by our perpetual sun. We call it Gehenna the residence of Baal. In ancient days we

worshiped it, but we have given up our animism since we were found by the visitors from the stars. They gave us technology and now we realize the sun at the center of the Earth is a huge ball of plasma that is stationary and as the Earth rotates it gives a night and day." Elon looked impressed with himself as he spoke. "It is cooler on one side and the plasma is covered with dark spots, that is the night side. The other side is brighter and the plasma is white hot. The whole thing is suspended by the equal pull of gravity from the shell of the Earth." "Amazing," I said. I continued to ponder the information for the rest of the glide trip. The other guys fell asleep in the soft burgundy chairs and snored lazily. The exterior was a constant blur as the world rushed past, but after about thirty minutes the world slowed and I could see buildings outside. They were of an architecture that is unique to the Underworld the likes of which I cannot describe well enough to do them justice. We slowed to a stop and the guys woke at the sigh of the door. We clambered down and followed the giants out onto a platform above a grassy park like area with beautiful buildings circling it facing in toward it's center. The university, I suspected correctly. That evening we met with a university professor. He wanted us to stay on at the university for a while so he could learn more about the Outside World. My friends and I politely refused but Scott agreed to. Scott's father was the only family he had. So with his father dead he did not see any reason to go home. He said he preferred to continue on with the professor instead of going back to the doldrums of a life without family. He was an adventurous person. The professor was pleased and wished us a safe journey home. I don't know if Scott ever made it out of the Underworld, but I suspect he is living a pleasant life down there even to this day. The giants took us to their second floor apartment in campus buildings that looked a lot like San Francisco row houses. We were surprised to see that they lived a modern life by any standards. They had running water, electricity, something like a television. It was like any bachelor pad, not very well decorated and a little unkempt. They fed us dinner on their back patio that overlooked the park like university campus. As we ate, Gehenna started to wane. We watched in fascination as the noonday light slid into twilight. Shaving cream clouds turned to pink cotton candy and the sky slid into something purple, then navy. Once again we felt a hallowed hush creep over us, and our giant hosts were sensitive to the serenity that bewitched us. If only Bruce had been there to see this amazing land. I felt so guilty by my fascination of the place so soon after his death that I have never forgiven myself. Then the most beautiful thing happened in that twilight inner world. As Gehenna turned its back on us it's face illuminated the opposite side of the globe. Instead of a tapestry of stars looking down on us from above, a living map of blue, gold, silver, green, and white glowed faintly above made soft and dim by the thousands of miles of atmosphere between the concave lands. I have never seen any sight to compare with the beauty of that inverted worlds night sky. Silvery ribbons of water swam with blue, golden deserts, dancing clouds, lush forests and plains all created a filigree of ever shifting earthshine. We talked into the middle of the night and enjoyed a life altering sky but finally sleep demanded us. The precious sky caressed me to sleep with promises of peace and I hated myself for enjoying something so spectacular when Bruce could not. The next day, Abdon agreed to take us to the surface.

I don't know exactly where this passage will put you out, but it is in the desert, in a canyon. I hope you can find your way home from there. he said. It is a long drive, but I have the time. Ibtzan and Elon have classes they must attend. We packed as much food and water as we could carry in sacks and bottles. It wasn't much because the size of everything made it very difficult to manage. We said farewell to Scott and he left with Ibtzan. Again we were surprised by the conveyance we were to take. By all accounts it was a car without wheels. We piled into the huge seats and Abdon got in behind the driver's controls. There was no steering wheel but a couple of grips that could be turned, pulled, or pushed in order to get the car to respond to Abdon's desires. We chatted about our adventures and began to laugh once again as we glided noiselessly out of the university campus. The university seemed to stand alone in the middle of nowhere. No town surrounded it and when I asked Abdon about it he simply told me that it was a private and secret university for the study of the Outside World. It was to help prepare the people of the inner earth to transition to a life with those on the outside. It's sole purpose was to train up people who could lead their world out peacefully into relationship with us. The drive was uneventful, which was just fine with us. Eventually we came to a great cliff and Abdon stopped the car and went to a steel door that was at the cliff base. He opened a hidden panel and punched in a code on a key pad and the door slid to the side. He returned to the car and before us ran a tunnel that was cut into the rock. It was lighted and round. Once we were inside the door slid closed behind us and Abdon took his hands from the controls and the car continued to move of its own accord. We increased in speed until once again everything was a blur. In about two hours we began to slow and finally stopped in a square room with a door at the opposite end. Abdon motioned us out. This is the door that will lead you to the surface. It is not far. Once you get to the end you will find another door. The controls are simple. Push the square rock that is to the right of the door and it will open. Farewell, and may you find home quickly. Thank you. we all said. We shook hands and he left getting into his car and turning around in mid air he shot back into the tunnel. We entered into the hallway beyond the door Abdon had opened and began our ascent. The hall slowly went from smooth and well cut to rough and cave like. The lights continued up into the cave and we followed them. Eventually we came to the end. There before us was a stone door that looked as if it were cut from the living rock. We had Steiner sit on Mallis' shoulder and he depressed the square rock. There was a sound of stone grinding on stone and the two large stones that formed the door slid aside. Cool air that smelled of sage rushed in and caressed our exposed limbs. It was dark. We passed out of the lighted hall and into the darkness. The stones ground to a close behind us. Once our eyes adjusted we saw that we were crowded in a shallow cave that opened out onto a regolith covered slope. We stepped out into the desert night and the stars shone brightly as we found our footing on the loose slope. We were at the base of a cliff with the cave opening to our back. I got the uncanny feeling that I had been there before. I looked around and then behind me at the cliff and then I realized I had.

"Guys," I said, "I think I have been here before." "No way," they said almost in unison. "Yeah, I think I was here last year with Todd. This is Zeno Canyon! I recognize the confluence of those two canyons right over there," I said pointing, "there should be a waterfall fed by some springs from above." It was so. What luck, we could hardly believe it. We hiked out of the canyon and walked wests toward the Highway that lead to Nevada. We found a dirt road that took us all the way to highway. Shortly after dawn we flagged down a trucker and he took us into Bruno. We called our friends from a pay phone at the local gas station and they came to get us. They were very excited to see us. They thought we were dead. It turned out that our unattended campfire had cause a forest fire. Searchers found the remained of Bruce and another man, but our remains had not been found. We had been presumed dead. We told everyone that we had gotten away from the fire and were picked up by some gang bangers who took us out into the desert to kill us for their initiation of new members. Supposedly they got scared and let us go after a week. No one seemed to question our weak story. How else would we have gone hundreds of miles to the South without our vehicles which were found burned out at the trail head. It has been ten years. I have finally told the truth. I don't feel any better about the situation. I can still feel the nightmares in my head writhing like a nest of centipedes. Perhaps the only way to be rid of them is to cut them out. Yeah, thats what I'll do. I'll cut them out.