Carolina Burning

Rich Mallone hoisted his canvas pack a little higher on his shoulder and carefully stepped past a barely visible piece of ash log. It was a beautiful night for star gazing; not a cloud in the sky for miles in any direction, a sharply defined waxing half-moon slipping past the western horizon, the humid air warm and inviting. Rich couldn’t wait. The Pleiades were supposed to be especially bright tonight, and the little bluff he had found when he first relocated to the Pisgah Forest was clear of any trees that might obstruct his view.

Hiking up the bluff wasn’t easy. The dense leaf litter made for a treacherous climb, even with heavy boots, but Rich had been making this particular trek for a couple of years now. He knew to step carefully and tread lightly. A wolf howl sounded in the distance, almost immediately joined by more. Rich smiled, pleased to hear the local pack.

A sudden breeze ruffled his curly red hair and picked at his shirt, bringing the acrid scent of burning wood. Shit. An uncontrolled burn, if that’s what it was, could easily turn into a full blown forest fire despite the summer’s thick humidity. Camping was popular this time of year, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. He turned away from his path, decision made, and followed his nose until he could see a dark trail rising above the tree line.

About a quarter mile later, he saw firelight through the trees. It appeared to be a large camp fire, but there were strange shadows moving in and out, distorting its actual nature. Curious, he continued to press forward through the trees.

He quietly moved in, stopping short when the clearing came into view. “What the hell?”

The small clearing was crowded with equipment and people. There was at least half a dozen of them gathered between the large fire pit and a huge wooden table. It was the table that concerned him the most, however. His dark green eyes widened with shock.

Seriously, what the hell?

Made out of fresh split logs and a few stumps, the damn thing was a haphazard danger at best. Certainly not safe enough to hold up the young man strewn across it.

Taking a chance, Rich stealthily moved a little closer, using an enormous pine tree as cover. Nope, he wasn’t seeing things. A young man, no more than twenty-five, was bound hand and foot with jute twine to the rough surface of the impromptu table. Naked. The table was uncomfortably close the flames, which cast a gold-red glow over the man’s jet black hair and dark skin. As beautiful as the prone figure was, it was the shallow cuts littering his body that drew Rich’s attention. Blood oozed from the man’s wounds and trailed over his flushed skin, staining the table beneath him. His eyes were tightly closed and his labored, panting breaths spoke of obvious pain and fear.

Rich became aware of the other five people circling within the tiny clearing. All five wore masks and togas, quietly muttering something he couldn’t hear, dancing clockwise around the fire and what Rich was starting to suspect was a sacrificial altar. This couldn’t end well. He knew leaving the man there would end up with him seriously hurt at the very least and…Rich refused to think about the more extreme possibilities.

Sliding his bowie knife out of its sheath at his waist, Rich started tracking the group, just barely checking his need to act. He certainly wasn’t the violent type, but he damn sure wasn’t going to leave the stranger to those whackos’ mercy either.

A couple of minutes passed before the group did what he’d silently wished for, and twirled themselves away from the table. Rich gripped his knife a little tighter and went for it, bursting from his cover with a feral shout. He ran for the fire first, kicking at it hard as he passed, sending sparks and smoldering chunks flying toward the dancers. For an improvised distraction, it sure as hell worked, if the yelling was any indication. Rich didn’t stop to marvel at his luck and bounded over to the stranger, cursing under his breath as he got a better look at the set-up. The twine was wound around the captive several times at both his chest and thighs. The first set parted easily under his blade.

Hard hands pulling at his shoulder stilted his progress, and he blindly jammed his elbow back, connecting with something soft that grunted. The hands let go immediately, and Rich sliced through the second set of bindings, heart wrenching the slightest bit when the young man cringed away from him. More hands started pulling at Rich again, trying to spin him around, but Rich twisted out, scooping up the stranger.