Hugh The Hunter Part II

She says the world ended, that the veils fractured and almost everything is gone. She’s in my head. She tells me her name is Saraphim but I can’t remember mine. I can only remember bits. I ask her who, and where I am. She explains that I was backed up, and she is restoring me, like I’m supposed to know what that means. My restorer says she doesn’t know my name either, I’m HU-3501 in the system, and there was some degradation. She wants me to report any problems I have once I’m out of the chair.

I can finally see. I’m in the Wellness Center. I remember my boss giving us certificates for Christmas but can’t recall her name or where I worked. I step out of the machine but there’s no clothes. Saraphim directs me to a locker that is supposed to be filled with complimentary clothing. I see a problem immediately. There’s nothing in here but flowered shirts, those weird looking fishing hats, and cargo pants. I tell her I find it hard to believe that she has the technology to rebuild someone from scratch, but can’t come up with clothing that doesn’t make me look like a 1980’s tourist. She says that there aren’t many survivors, but they all wear stuff like this now. I get dressed and go outside. I don’t believe what I see.

It’s all gone. Everything is in ruin. Saraphim tries to keep me calm, and tells me I need to go out and tell her what I see. I try to remember where home is. I feel like it’s close, but everything is like snapshots of a movie. She starts talking again about degradation, and something about my parietal lobe. I stop listening because coming up the street is a group of about a dozen people. The first thing I notice is that none of them are wearing flowered shirts or floppy hats, contrary to what I was told. Next, I notice how big they are, and that none of them are smiling. They’re all carrying weapons and the biggest one looks at me, yells something, and raises a huge shark-toothed club above his head. I assume I won’t want to hear whatever it is they are going to tell me, and I sprint towards the ruins in front of me. Then, things get crazy.

I hit something with my shin as I start to jump onto a piece of concrete, and there is an explosion behind me. I feel the hot air lift me up, and I land on a piece of flooring jutting out between the second and third floor. I turn around and see another group of people, also not wearing flowered shirts, scrambling out of the rubble around me. My head is ringing. They start climbing. One has an old rusted pistol and takes a shot at me. I see an opening in the adjoining building, and try to make the leap to get away. As I start to push off the ledge, the whole thing comes crashing down. Somehow, I stay upright, and the debris covers up the people who were hiding in the rubble. I’m in shock about what just happened, and that I’m still standing. Their cheers bring me to my senses. Before I know it, I’m surrounded, getting slaps on my back, and big hugs. It’s like I had just won the lava sledding championships for the Blue Wolves. I try to ask who they are, but nothing comes out. I don’t understand everything they’re saying either, but they’re all smiling now. Saraphim says she’ll keep working on it, but my condition might be permanent. They motion for me to follow, and since they are the first people I’ve met who haven’t tried to kill me, I go with them. The big one with the club says his name is Kanaka.

It turns out that the whole group is called the Kanaka, not just the big guy. Their village is amazing. It’s set along the ocean and has everything you need. The one thing that I can’t find no matter how hard I look, is anyone wearing one of these stupid hats. I soon realize that we won’t be able to communicate with words. With Saraphim’s help I manage to scribble my number, HU-3501, in the sand to see if anyone knows what it is. Nobody does, but they all start calling me Hugh.

They seem to think that I’m some sort of avenging spirit, and I do absolutely nothing to convince them otherwise. We spend days practicing with spears, machetes, and clubs. They have a couple shotguns too, but we don’t use them. I assume ammo is hard to come by. Maybe it’s something about my new implant, but I feel like I’m getting pretty good with a machete after only a few days. Everyone treats me with reverence and respect. I have all the poke and pineapple I can eat, and I get to play with weapons in the surf whenever I want. I can’t fully remember what I used to do, but I’m sure it was nowhere near as cool as this. However, nothing lasts forever and about a week into my new awesome life, a group of well armed people arrive.

Things are tense between the Kanaka and these new people for a few minutes. I think they might be what’s left of the military but they’re not wearing uniforms, or anything that remotely resemble my tourist clothing. They’re all very well armed. Maybe they’re a bunch of preppers. I guess my crazy cousin Ted was right after all. I wonder how many years of liquor he had stored up in his Duracave bunker when civilization collapsed, just like he always knew it would. They want help with something, and my friends agree. Everyone grabs some gear, and they hand me a machete before we head out into the forest.

We end up at a big building that looks like a Halloween nightmare. There’s skulls everywhere outside. Some whispering and pointing begins. I’m not sure what there is to talk about. We better not be….of course we’re going inside. Why wouldn’t we? I feel like we’re the group in the horror movie who decides to go investigate the basement when we should clearly just go home. The inside is worse. There’s heads mounted on the walls, it’s dark, and I can’t think of one good reason why we should be in here. Then monsters come running towards us, honest to god, real monsters. Gunfire starts and the Kanaka start hacking away. I look at the stairs to the left, and run up. I’ve only been back a little over a week, and there is no way that I’m going to get killed fighting monsters this soon.

I find a nice desk to hide under with a view below. My buddies are really slicing through them, and the people with guns are mowing them down almost as fast as the monsters are springing up, almost. Pretty soon they are surrounded, and start pulling back. I stand up to meet the team at the bottom of the stairs, when I see a really big creature knock a desk in front of the door, and block the Kanaka’s exit. I can see they’re scared. That makes me scared. If this thing kills them, I’ll be trapped in here. I think about how good I’ve gotten with my machete, and ask Saraphim if she could bring me back again if something were to happen to me.

She says she probably could, but advises against doing anything stupid. I tell her stupid choices are the only ones I have right now. I jump from my hiding spot with the machete above my head. I swing down as hard as I can when I land, and it almost takes the things leg off. I tumble in front of it, and scramble to my feet facing my friends. The look of amazement on their faces is priceless. I give them a thumbs up, and turn around to look at my handiwork. The last thing I remember is seeing the thing lurch up on its ruined leg, grab my head and twist.

It was not a painless death. Saraphim is not happy with my decision. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the materials to bring you back? These bodies aren’t exactly easy to make.” I get out of the machine and start getting dressed. I guess the flowered shirts aren’t that bad. Besides, it’s like my costume now. I can’t wait to see what they’re going to do when Hugh The Hunter returns from the dead. I start walking back to the village, and Saraphim says, “Please, try a little harder to not lose your head this time.”

Hugh The Hunter Part I

There are many legends on the island and many mysterious events every day, but one of the most recent is the appearance of strangers dressed in the clothing of the old. The Kanaka have come to call them “The Tourists,” because of their brightly colored shirts and their large old-style hats. Many of my people believe that they are the spirits of those lost in the great fracture, returned to help the brave and warn the trustworthy of danger. However, I now suspect their presence has a much more technological basis than a mystical one.

The Kanaka had no stories of The Tourists and I personally did not believe the reports until a group of hunters in my village brought one back. We call him Hugh, and many of our bravest owe their lives to his reckless courage. We still know little about his life before, or where he comes from, but he has become an important ally and guardian of my village.

For weeks we had heard the stories. Strangers with strange clothing were appearing across the island. While there are few pleasant surprises anymore, stories of encounters with the Tourists were wonderful. Tales of their courage and deeds spread quickly. Kanaka talked of Tourists emerging from the forest and shooting enemies. A village to the North claimed that one jumped from a hill to attack a herd of boars, who were menacing a group of children collecting shells. There was even a tale of a Tourist who took up residence with a group of Thrivers and made items from the days of old.

It is with these stories fresh in their minds that our hunters went out one day to look for supplies. They planned on targeting the area around the old wellness center, because of the many untouched buildings buried in the rubble. When they arrived, they got quite a shock. Standing in front of the center was a man in a flowered shirt, wearing a bucket hat, with a bag across his shoulder. It was a Tourist.

The hunters stopped and called out. They raised their weapons above their heads and shouted a greeting, as is our custom. Instead of shouting back a greeting, the Tourist ran quickly to a collapsed building to the North. At first, the hunters were confused, this did not appear to be one of the brave and mystical warriors of the past they had heard about. Then the explosions went off.

They had almost walked into a bandit trap, but the Tourist had tripped the mines hidden alongside the road. He jumped just at the right time, and the force of the detonation lifted him up onto a piece of flooring jutting out of the side of the building. The bandits poured out like angry ants and tried to scramble up towards the colorfully dressed man above them. The Tourist walked to the edge of the flooring and the whole thing came down. He rode the wave of debris like he was Layla Kalani herself, drowning the bandits in rubble and exposing an opening in the building.

For a few seconds, nobody moved or said a thing. The Tourist brushed off his clothing and looked at the Kanaka who began to cheer. It was one of the most amazing things they had ever seen. Not only had the stranger saved them from an ambush, he had done it without a weapon, and had opened a way into a building that had been buried since the fracture. The stories about the Tourists were true!

He was unable to speak but seemed to understand us. The only communication he was capable of was scribbling, “HU-3501” in the sand. We called him Hugh. The elders debated what his scribblings meant as the hunters tried to learn what they could from him, but Hugh was clever. He pretended to know nothing about fighting. Like all great teachers, he let his students show him what they knew by teaching him.

So it went for almost a week, when a group of Thriver guards came to the village and announced that they had found Mea ‘ohi, the great trophy collector, using the old train station as a lair. For decades the King of the trophy collectors and his court had terrorized the island and collected the heads of many. In addition to his remarkable strength, Mea ‘ohi was very cunning for his kind and never stayed in one place for long. While it was extremely dangerous, the Thrivers thought that together we had a chance to finally rid the island of the horror of the great collector, and avenge all those he had killed. We looked at Hugh and knew we had more than a good chance with his help. Our best hunters and Hugh gathered weapons and set off with the Thriver guards.

The hunters could tell right away that the Thrivers were right. Skulls littered the steps leading into the station. Inside the walls were adorned with heads of all types. Bear, boar, wolf, and shrig were mixed in amongst the human head decorations. The inside of the station had been rearranged. Chest-high barricades of tables, desks, and chairs filled the lobby. A pair of trophy collectors rushed forward towards the group incredibly fast. The Thrivers got off what shots they could before the Kanaka engaged the monstrosities, while Hugh ran up the stairs.

The hunters dispatched one of their opponents quickly and gave chase to the other, with the Thrivers covering their back. More monsters poured in and the fighting became fierce. Teeth and claws tearing, as clubs swung and bullets rained out. Soon there were so many that even the Thrivers were forced to fight hand to hand. The hunter’s weapons were covered in the vile blood of the beasts, and their arms began to burn, but still, the creatures came, and Hugh was nowhere in sight. The Thrivers screamed that they should pull back and the hunters begrudgingly agreed, but as they tried to make their way, Mea ‘ohi finally appeared.

The hulking terror knocked over a wall of tables by the doors and stood before the remaining heroes. His cracked lips curled into a huge toothy grin knowing that the hunters were trapped inside, and he would soon have more decorations. At that moment, the Thrivers and hunters knew that they would never see their homes again. They had underestimated the creature. It was over. Just as the last of their hope was draining from them, they saw something miraculous. It was Hugh.

He lept from the floor above, digging his machete deep into Mea ‘ohi’s thigh, and tumbled as he hit the floor. The beast fell to his knees behind him, and Hugh sprung to his feet smiling. The other trophy hunters screamed and ran into the depths of the station. Hugh turned just in time to see the monster reach out. Mea ‘ohi grabbed him, and twisted off his head in one quick motion, screaming in fury and pain. Hugh’s sacrifice rallied the heroes. They could not let him die in vain. The Thrivers filled the beast’s chest with bullets and the Kanaka surged forward finishing him off.

Hugh had saved them again, even though it cost him his life. The group decided to leave before the rest of the creatures regrouped, but took Mea ‘ohi’s head as a trophy of their own. The Thrivers thanked the hunters for their help and left to return to their outpost.

While the village was excited that such a terrible danger had been removed, it had cost the lives of many, including Hugh. They gave them all a ceremony fitting for heroes and loaded their remains into a canoe together so that they could continue to protect each other in the next world. As custom, the village stayed up all night sharing stories about the ones they lost, and they wondered what would happen to Hugh. Would his spirit continue to travel with the Kanaka he fell protecting? We got our answer this morning just before dawn.

We were all very tired when he walked up to the fire and sat down. Many rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Hugh just sat smiling and pointed out towards the train station, made a chopping motion, and gave a thumbs up. I’m not sure how or why Hugh is back, but I’m glad that he is. I have a feeling we will have many more adventures