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The Tunnel Folk:

By Markus Thyme

November 6. 2006:

In the Appalachian chain, East of the Great Smoky Mountains, the Pigeon River meanders through a deep valley. Decades before this story, when men ruled the earth, the river was paralleled by a concrete thoroughfare designated Interstate 40. This highway connected the city of Wilmington, on the Atlantic seaboard to Barstow, California near the Pacific coast.

Now the highway is overgrown. Slabs of concrete rear up and sit askew amongst the trees and brush. Moss and vines obscure much of the evidence of the previous civilization. In these mountains, what remains of the highway are two tunnels carved through the Appalachian hills near the ruins of Asheville. These tunnels, about three miles apart, are the dwelling places of several groups of human survivors of the invasion from space.

The people of the surrounding hills and cities fled in terror as the invaders systematically destroyed the human civilization. The humans quickly discovered that they could not live in the open, as any evidence of human population was ruthlessly attacked and destroyed. They could neither build on, nor cultivate the earth. Many of them found refuge in these tunnels where they learned to survive in a primitive culture.

Much like the American Indian before them, they learned to harvest whatever nature provided without leaving evidence of their presence. They added to their dwelling places by carving out additional tunnels and caves using whatever hand tools they could find or fashion. Thus, they survived beneath the very eyes of the occupying invaders.

The folk, as they called themselves, were grouped into cooperating houses, usually named according to the locations of their original homes. Strongest among these houses, and acknowledged leader of the settlements, was the House of Bravard. Head of this house was Bruce the Elder of Bravard.

Just outside the Southern entrance of the south most tunnel, Donna, mate of Bruce the Younger of Bravard, sat upon a fallen log with her back to the tunnel. Two youngsters sat in the grass near her, playing a child’s game of stones. Donna’s eyes were partly on the youngsters who were her offspring. Most of her attention, however, was on a space in the shadowed forest where she knew the invisible trail lie. By looking intently, she could also see an open spot on a distant ridge. She knew the trail also passed through there. It was all a matter of knowledge, for there was no evidence for the eyes of the invaders.

She did not turn when she heard the step behind her. She knew it was Bruce the Elder, the father of her mate. He was as anxious as she. He stood close behind her.

“I have seen nothing yet,” she said.

“I fear for him,” replied the Elder. “He left before first light one day ago. He should have returned before the evening sup.”

“And now the second sun is full-high and still no sign. I fear too, father.”

“We must continue to watch and hope.”

“Aye, watch and hope, father.” Her voice revealed the depth of her fear.

The Elder put a hand on her shoulder.

“Do not despair, child. I have raised a good son. He is strong and resourceful.”

“Indeed, father. Well I know, and yet...”

“You fear, as do I.”

“So much can happen out there.”

“Aye, and we control little of it.”

“I am sorry, father. I burden you with my fear, babbling the truths you know too well.”

“You shall never be a burden, child. You are as my own, a treasure.”

She reached up to her shoulder and curled gentle fingers over his gnarled hand.

“Thank you, father. As always, your words comfort me.”

“Keep the watch, child. Call me out when you see him.”

“I will, father.”

Just as the elder turned away, Donna saw a shadow of a movement on the ridge.

“Hold, father,” she blurted.

“You saw?”

“Aye. for an instant, on the ridge.”

The old man raised a hand to shield his eyes and peered toward the ridge.

“I see nothing,” he muttered.

“One finger below and to the left is where he next will appear, be it him.”

The old man continued to stare. Then, there was just a hint of motion.

“Yes! Yes, I see,” he exulted. “There is something.”

“I saw too, father. Oh, oh! My heart thunders with hope.”

“As does mine.”

A moment later, the Elder said, “I see, it is a man, but he walks not like my Bruce.”

“Perhaps he carries a burden,” offered Donna.

“Yes, that, or perhaps he is injured.”

“Oh, please no.”

The Elder turned toward the tunnel.

“I will send a runner,” he said. “No! I will send two runners.”

“There is a danger in that,” she warned, wishing she need not say it.

“I think not much. I have never seen an invader afoot, and the dogs have given no warning.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Please send the runners.”

The Elder hustled into the tunnel. A moment later, two young men trotted out. They were of her father’s house, Jack and Randolph of Willets. They carried crossbows and long knives. They smiled and waved as they passed.

“Fear not,” smiled Jack. “If it be him, we will bring him back to you.”

“If it be him,” she whispered. “Oh, let it be him — and well.”

An hour later, Bruce the Elder stood beside Donna, waiting. Then, out of the shadowed canopy came Randolph carrying the carcass of a doe. Behind him, came Jack, supporting an exhausted Bruce. Donna saw his shoulder, red and swollen. She put a hand to her mouth and rushed forward.

“My husband, you are injured,” she cried.

Bruce reached out to her and grimaced as he did so. Still he managed to smile as she took his hand.

“What happened?” she begged.

“I encountered a cat,” he replied. “A very hungry and determine cat.”

“How came that to be,” asked his father.

“An error on my part father. I wounded the doe with a bad shot.”

“You, a bad shot?” queried The Elder.

“Aye, father. I got careless. I caused the doe a great deal of unnecessary pain and terror. What resulted was, no doubt, my penalty for the doe’s suffering.”

“Your debt is paid then?”

“To be sure, father, else I would not be home.”

“You can tell us that story another time. Now, you have a grievous wound,” said Bruce the Elder.

“Aye, father. It is bad, but the cat fared worse than I.”

“Bring him into the main hall,” said Bruce the Elder. “Tend him Donna. I will fetch elder Harold the Healer.”

“First the meat,” said Bruce. “It cost me dearly. It must be dressed and preserved. It has been dead too long afore now.”

“I will see to it,” replied Randolph with a grin. “You have paid enough.”

Bruce was laid on a mat of straw in the main hall, which was a large cavern cut out of the earth and rock off the old tunnel. This hall was not a trap. It had acquired many exits over time. Smaller tunnels led off in many directions.

Harold knelt over Bruce. His fingers gently probed the gash. Bruce strove mightily to avoid wincing. The healer smiled.

“It is good to be brave in the forest. Here, it serves no purpose.”

Still Bruce held his chin and mouth firm.

“Very well,” sighed the healer. “You are wounded, but you saved yourself from the worst by your own treatment. It is inflamed, but not gravely. You will heal.”

Harold put herbal ointment in the wound. He wrapped the shoulder and torso with cloth made from animal hair. It was rough, but adequate.

Later, Randolph came in. He carried a crossbow.

“Your doe is dressed and preserved,” he said.

“My thanks,” sighed Bruce. “I owe you a large share.”

“A haunch will do, for your mate’s house.”

“Let it be so, my dear kin by mating. Let it be so. Even with my fourth part to the common store, we will still fair well.”

“And you will hunt again,” said Randolph.

“Indeed. I will heal and hunt again, soon.”

Randolph smiled, nodded, and fingered his crossbow.

“Had you thoughts, as you tracked the hapless doe, I would that I had a crossbow?”

Bruce smiled. “I had thought of that at other times.”

“Yet, you insist on the longbow.”

“Aye. In the forest, where I hunt, the longbow is part of me. It can go anywhere. I fear the crossbow, with its shape and weight, would impede my actions.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Randolph. “Still, it is a fearsome tool.”

“Aye, but better suited to hunting in the open, should we dare.”

“Aye, should we dare dear kin. Should we dare.”

Randolph lifted his chin and listened intently.

“Do you hear it?” he demanded.

“What should I be hearing?” countered Bruce.

“The dogs! The damned dogs.”

“They bark?”

“Aye.”

“Invaders!” shouted Bruce. He tried to rise and fell back.

Randolph’s eyes grew large.

“What?” demanded Bruce.

“The children!”

“Children?”

“Many went with Jack’s mate to gather peach in the valley, east.”

Randolph turned and ran from the hall.

Bruce began to struggle. He managed to roll over and get to his hands and knees. He crawled to a table and lifted himself painfully. On tottering legs, he staggered from the hall. In his own cave, he found his mate and children.

“You are safe,” he whispered.

Donna stood with the children behind her.

“What is it?” she begged with white face.

“I know not. The dogs bark.”

“Be it invaders?”

“I know not. Get with our children to the main hall. There is escape from there if needs be.”

“What of you, my husband?”

“I go with the men of my house.”

“You are wounded.”

“Aye, be it what I fear, many may be wounded today. Many may die.”

“Please, no!”

“Do as I say, mate. There is no time for dispute. Some of the young are out with Jack’s mate.”