Hatchet Logic: Part 1

Flash Fiction #42

Bury me deep, bury me good, bury me under a blanket of velvet red, bury me covered by dried veins of the fallen, deep inside the forgotten forest, in sacred earth unspoiled by man. There I shall slumber until the day of reckoning hath come.

Ezekiel read the passage again and again, tracing the writing on the brittle paper, which contained letters in dark red, almost black, shivering as his finger brushed past them. He was alone in the wooden hut at the edge of the forest, that very forest mentioned in the parchment—the forgotten forest.

The air was cold. The shutters slammed against the wooden planks, announcing the coming storm. He tossed another log into the fire and sat down at the heavy oak table, spreading the parchment and inspecting the map scrawled in haste at the bottom, half torn and incomplete.

Ezekiel was the last of his kind, descendent of an ancient line of forest wardens, warding the world from the evil that lurks in places where no man should venture, where none must go, and yet, foolish as mortals are, many have done so and continue to do so to this very day.

He sighed. He knew this was the night. The stars were aligned for the first time in over a thousand years. Tonight, he would serve his purpose, his final purpose, the very reason he existed, the only reason. The reason he was alone in this hut tonight was to keep the evil spirits at bay, to drive them back, to banish them for another thousand years.

The forest whispered with every breeze that shook countless leaves, a moving maze of branches on mighty trees older than time. The breeze mounted to a storm, bent trunks to the point of breaking, gnarling as the earth shook and shivered.

It was time. He rose. A reckoning was upon them, unlike any the world has ever seen, and all he had was half a map to guide him, lead him to where it was buried: the hatchet, its blade forged by the first warden, made from stellar steel, harder than diamond and sharper than anything known to man. A blade that never dulls, a blade that splits time itself. Hatchet Logic.

Thunder boomed, and lightning flashed across the sky. The storm culminated, beating across the forest’s canopy. Under the silent watch of a blood-red moon, the earth cracked open deep inside the heart of the forest, releasing what he had vowed to keep imprisoned.

The storm subsided as quickly as it had risen, and in its wake, a sickly silence fell across the land, muting all sound, crawling forth from the cursed grounds, where it had lain since the dawn of time, finally free to spread, to inflict its vile vermillion far and wide.

Ezekiel, where are you?

A voice whispered through the ether, calling him by name. Ylanda, his spirit mate, far from him on the other side of the world, sensed the danger he was in, her voice thin and worried.

He closed his eyes, focussed on her face, and smiled. Do not worry, my love. I shall return to you. Kiss our son and tell him I love him. —I must go now.

As soon as he had sent these thoughts, the smell of mercury invaded his nostrils. A quick glance outside confirmed what he knew was the beginning of the end—a crimson shimmer deep within the forest, intensifying with every heartbeat.

He grabbed the parchment, stuffed it inside the many folds of his hooded cloak, took his long wooden staff, and hastened out into the night to find Logic, to end the spread, to save the world.

***

Unaware of their impending doom, Penny and Trevor were fooling around in his car as images of The Blob were flickering across the open-air screen of the drive-in cinema, the local choice location for any self-respecting teenage couple in love: Cult classics, popcorn, and the privacy of a comfy car.

“Oh, Trevor,” Penny shivered as the sound of Meat Loaf drowned out their moans.

“Oh, Penny, you took the words right out of my mouth,” Trevor sang along and drew her closer. Their bodies pressed hot against each other; the windscreen fogged, and the blob outside devoured people unnoticed.

A loud metallic crash filled the momentary silence between songs.

What was that?” asked Penny, craning her head, unable to see anything through the fogged windows.

Trevor shrugged, his hands eager to explore lands of absolute pleasure beneath her delicate satin blouse. Penny pinched his shoulder.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, but instantly yielding to Penny’s commanding look, and obediently, he cleared a circular spot on the windshield with his hand to peek outside.

“P…P…Penny…” he stammered.

“What is it?” she drew her blouse close around her and sat up.

Outside, the big screen flickered with static, a crimson blob frozen on celluloid, cars covered in the same crimson, its passengers frozen the same as the blob, their faces distorted in silent screams, and with a whispering crawl, the red living carpet spread, moving towards them.

Penny screamed.

“What is that?” Trevor whispered as they stared in terror.

“Get us the hell out of here!” shrieked Penny.

Trevor gulped and reached for the ignition, but the engine defiantly sputtered and whined. The cassette tape slowed to a warble, and the lights dimmed with each key turn.

“Come on! It’s almost here!” Penny gripped his arm tight.

“It won’t start.” Trevor wailed, pale as ash.

The red carpet kept crawling towards them.

A shotgun sounded from the far side of the lot—the owner firing at the thing that had dared to ruin movie night.

“Bloody commie bastard! Eat lead!” he shouted, his last words before the fluid mass devoured him.

Penny kicked the door of the Vauxhall Carlton open, screamed again, and ran. With eyes fixed on the frozen red man with the shotgun, Trevor suddenly felt his primal instincts kick in. He squealed, scrambled after Penny, and ran like “a bat out of hell” from the red menace.

They ran, never looking back, through thickets into the forest; thorns tore at their clothes and skin. Still, they ran, the scent of mercury close at their heels. They ran until they could run no more.

When they finally stopped, breathless, sweat-soaked, and covered in brambles, in the middle of a clearing deep inside the woods, they had lost all sense of direction. A blood moon shone down upon them, and exhausted, they sat down on a slab of grey stone, shivering, looking like deer about to be slaughtered.

“This isn’t happening,” stammered Penny. “This can’t be happening!”

“I think we’re safe,” Trevor tried to calm her.

“Safe? How do you know? You don’t know that! And where the hell are we? Look around, listen? Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Trevor’s eyes glistened in the moonlight.

“Exactly. Nothing! Absolutely nothing.” Penny stood, fists clenched, briskly marching back and forth through a heap of red leaves, muttering, “I’m going to die a virgin…”

“Uh… what?” Trevor scratched his head, scared about the prospect of dying, whichever state his virginity was in.

“Trevor, you’re cute and all, but you’re utterly useless when it comes to surviving what obviously is an alien invasion!” Penny glared at him, kicking up dead leaves.

“But… but… what? Alien? Come on. I’m sure there’s an explanation for whatever happened back there. It’s probably a gas leak or something. I bet it’s all over by now,” a weak smile crossed Trevor’s lips, not believing his own words.

Penny blew a raspberry, shook her head, kicked up more leaves, and cursed in pain as her foot hit something hard.

“Owww. Bloody rotten, stinking leaves,” Penny cursed, sitting back down and rubbing her foot.

A sliver of silver gleaming amidst the red carpet of fallen leaves caught Trevor’s eye.

“Look!” he exclaimed, jumped to his feet, dove into the leaves, parting them frantically, uncovering its secret.

They stared at the object buried inside a shallow hole for some time before Penny spoke. “A hatchet? What the hell?”

Trevor didn’t hear her. Transfixed by its silver shimmer, all he could think of was taking the hatchet. It seemed logical.

“What you want with that useless thing? We don’t need a hatchet. We need to get out of here. Now!” Penny protested.

Trevor knelt, his eyes fixed on the hatchet. His hand reached for the hilt, and he felt the veining of the wood. It curled ever so slightly under his touch, warm, as if it were alive.

Take me. I am yours.

A lone tear trickled down his cheek as he raised the hatchet into the night sky, its blade shining crimson in the pale moonlight. A lone wolf howled in the distance.

“OK, so now what?” Penny stood, hands on her hips. Her long hair was in wild disarray, and he could not help but notice her half-buttoned blouse exposing what he had been so eager to explore not so long ago. “Quit staring like a lunatic. We need to get out of here.”

“Uh, this… this hatchet… I don’t know how to explain it. I think it’s special,” said Trevor.

“Oh, your little hatchet will save us from this gigantic flesh-eating alien thing? Where’s the logic in that?” Penny rolled her eyes.

For Trevor, it sounded more than logical, so much so that he was ready to bet his life on it.

They left the clearing, walked all night, and made their way out of the woods on the other side, far from town and near the mountains. There, they came upon a small hut, a light shining inside.

They knocked on the door. It opened with a deep groan, and they stumbled inside. A fire was crackling in the hearth, but no one was home. Trevor sank into the chair by the fire. Hatchet on his lap, he gazed into the flames. Images of blood and bone raced through his mind, of times long forgotten: a mound, a cross, a raven, eyes black as night.

In the warmth of the hut, lulled by the crackling of the fire, exhaustion soon overcame them, and after a few yawns, they could no longer keep their eyes open.

The door flew open with a thud, and beams of the first morning light painted the enormous frame of a man, filling their blurred vision as they awoke from their deep slumber. Penny gasped, and Trevor blinked, his hands firm around the hilt of his hatchet.

“S…sorry, Sir, we didn’t mean to intrude. The door was open, and we were tired…” he started.

“And you felt it only logical to rest,” the voice was deep and warm.

“Yes… logical,” Penny echoed, slowly getting to her feet. “We better get going now. We don’t want to be a bother.”

Trevor rose, too, but did not move from his spot. He held the hatchet tight.

We belong together.

“This belongs to you, doesn’t it?” Trevor managed, holding up the hatchet.

The man said nothing. He inclined his head ever so slightly.

They stood in silence for longer than was comfortable until the man finally spoke.

“It did not speak to me. No. The Hatchet belongs to you.”

“What is it with you guys and this hatchet? There’s a murdering alien carpet thing out there. The hatchet won’t cut it! Who the hell are you?” Penny had enough and was not in the mood for mystery hatchet men to get her turned into a red salt statue.

“I am Ezekiel, the last warden, and I have failed my watch. That which you fear is not of this world and will devour all if it is not banished back to whence it came. Only he who wields the Hatchet Logic can vanquish this evil.”

Ezekiel stepped into the hut, his face beset with lines of millennia. With eyes of molten amber, he looked upon Penny. She held his gaze for a moment, and at this moment, she saw a lifetime unfold. A shiver ran down her spine. She held her breath and lowered her head in reverence of this ancient being.

“Trevor Dunning, will you bear this burden? Will you wield Logic to defeat Chaos?”

“I, uh, I mean… I’ve got a chemistry exam coming up…” Trevor stammered, not knowing what to say.

Ezekiel smiled with a slight nod. “The good news? You won’t have to do the exam. The bad… the world is about to end, unless—”

“I’m going to hatchet that thing back to hell?” Trevor gulped.

“Together. I have much to teach you,” Ezekiel said, holding out his hand.

Trevor did not want to let go of the hatchet, and when he finally handed it to Ezekiel, he felt relieved, as if a great weight was lifted from him.

“Do not worry. I will hold on to it until you are ready,” Ezekiel said calmly.

“What about me? Do I get one of those hatchet things? Penny had overcome her initial reverence, keen on taking matters into her own hands.

“Penny Faraday, with your boundless courage and sharp wit, sharper than any hatchet, you need no weapon. Yes, I see it now. Together, you both shall wield Logic as one. Together, you will banish the Red Pest; together, you, Trevor, and you, Penny, will be the Last Wardens.”

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