What used to be Arkansas Chapter 1

with audio

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The black-haired teenage boy climbed hand over hand up the wooden slats nailed into the giant white oak tree. Once he reached the high platform, above the surrounding treetops, he hauled himself over its lip to stand on top of it.

He scanned the tall pines, oaks, cypress, and hickory trees around him for any unexplained movement. In front of him lay a river, twisting like a writhing snake through the tall forest. Its formal name was The Red River of the South, but most people just called it the Red.

The teen held a hand above his gray-blue eyes to shield them from the bright sun as he looked toward the west over the lowlands the river ran through. Not for the first time, he wondered if the land on the other side of the river was the state of Texas.

He hoped it was.

Wicked men and women preyed on others out there—all around his beloved forest. The sooner you saw ‘em coming, the better your chances of survival.

It’s why his small group had lugged all the wood over here to build this look-out. 

Of course, no one got much company out this way. This part of the state had always been sparse when it came to people—now it was even more so.

The boy smiled. Another reason why they’d staked this little piece of paradise as theirs. It had everything they needed. Tall trees for cabins and fires. A deep river full of catfish, crappie, and large-mouth bass. And, if they got the notion, a forest full of wildlife to hunt.

And no people—or almost none.

He looked to his right. About a fourth of a mile away sat a ring of small wooden cabins that were almost invisible unless you knew where to look.

The well-built structures were an example of how far his group had come since The Fall. They’d started with crude brush lean-tos with little food and water.

Now they lived in proper homes. They kept several large caches of food, and barrels of clean water at all times.

The boy’s chest puffed. They might not be the largest or strongest group, but they owned their side of the river.

And he’d die before he let anyone take it from them.

He moved to the other side of the platform to scope out their southern side, talking to himself as he did so.

“My name is Axel Ash. And I live in what used to be Arkansas.”

He said the words out loud, as if a mantra—like he repeated them every day.

He did.

As Axel ran a hand through his hair, the corner of his lip twisted downward. No matter how many times he repeated those words, it was still hard to believe them—even after five and a half years.

Well, not the words exactly.

His name was Axel Ash—at least it had been for  a while now. And he did live in what used to be Arkansas. 

What he still couldn’t believe was that he had survived that terrifying night everyone now called The Fall. And it continued to surprise him that he and his group of orphans had survived every day since then.

It hadn’t been easy. Once the normal world went down the tubes, it seemed everything had been against them. Without adults, and the things adults have, they were the clear underdogs.

Then again, you wouldn't find a grittier kind of people than a bunch of kids nobody wanted—and that most thought less of than the spit they sent their way.

Yet, here he and the orphans were—and most of those spitters? Well, they were gone.

Axel spread his arms wide, letting the slight wind wash over him. Yep, he was alive all right, even if he did need to remind himself every day just how lucky he was.

Below him came the scuff of moccasins on the wooden slats of their ladder. A moment later, Wolf’s head popped over the edge of the platform and he scrambled up over the edge.

One year younger than Axel, the boy was a good friend and a knowledgeable advisor. 

Wolf had the notion that he carried some Native American blood. Everyone agreed his features hinted at it, and the foster care agency had given him his unusual name. But with the world the way it was now, Wolf would never know for sure.

It hadn’t been but two days before The Fall when Wolf had borrowed a dozen books from the library about the local native people.

Their foster parents had taught them a lot of survival skills, but Wolf poured over those books from the library learning about a way of life that was long gone. And that had saved this group’s butt more times than not.

Axel looked down at his own buckskin pants. Wolf’s knowledge of tanning allowed their community more variety, self-sufficiency, and even sturdier garments than the old leftover clothes many people wore, most of them no better than rags. As a result, most in the group dressed more tribal than anything else.

Wolf put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Don’t know why you’re up here again.”

Axel rolled his eyes at this ongoing disagreement. “And why is that?”

“Because a strong leader holds a position of power. He assigns minor tasks to others.”

Axel shook his head. “A strong leader leads by example, encouraging others to follow his path. He doesn’t push them along.”

Wolf shrugged and glanced at the river. “Maybe.” 

Axel was sure this wouldn’t be the end of it. Knowing his friend, he’d bring it up again tomorrow.

Wolf walked to the edge of the floor, so close his toes were probably curled over the lip.

“Have you seen it this morning?” he asked as he stared at the slow-moving reddish water below.

“Nope.”

“That’s good. Last thing we need is a shark swimming around us on fishing day.” The corner of Wolf’s mouth turned up.

Axel almost chuckled. So that was the way it was going to be. 

“Ain’t no way it’s a shark,” he replied as he had many times before.

“It is a shark. I tell you that every time. I saw it on Facebook, way back when. They said a semi full of sharks overturned, and now Arkansas has bull sharks.”

“Ain’t no way.”

Wolf huffed. “You always say that.” 

“Yep, and I’ll stick to it till the day I die.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not even seventeen. You dying is a long way off. You should reconsider your position on the topic. I’d hate for you to go your entire life bein’ so wrong about the matter.”

Axel crossed his arms, looking away to hide his smile. “You don’t know nothin’.”

Which was actually not true at all. Wolf knew a lot. 

But what neither of them wanted to say out loud was what the thing might actually be.

It was way, way bigger than an adult bull shark—which could grow to eleven feet. 

Axel narrowed his eyes as he stared at the wide, dark red river. He knew what lurked beneath there. And so did Wolf.

Something unnatural. Something terrifying even to the bravest of them.

A monster. A monster lived in the deep waters of the Red.