A Cold Black Wave by Timothy H. Scott Page A

minutes away.  After drinking some water , Josh noticed something crawling along his glove.  A bug.
     
    He gently brought his arm up to examine it closer.  It crawled steadily to the edge of his finger when he flipped his hand so it could continue.  It was some type of black beetle, maybe a black turpentine, but it had a colored design on its back, a camouflage that wasn’t supposed to be there.  Not from what he knew of them from his studies, anyway.
     
    Josh put the bug down on the log and continued hiking.  His muscles were not at full strength, but he had plenty of energy.  His body felt heavy and cumbersome as he clamored up hills and through tangled foliage.  He pressed forward though as the thought of going back, accomplishing nothing, would not sit well with his ego in the company of Leah.
     
    Besides, the shuttle was a temporary shelter and he had little time to waste assessing their surroundings.  They would need to relocate soon and set up a more permanent camp.  He hadn’t done his celestial readings yet, but right now he was going on the assumption that winter in this region was just beginning as there was no trace of snow yet.
     
    Josh ran into his first major obstacle, a deep gully that cut through the forest like a scar.  From its eroded edges, the exposed roots of trees stuck out in every direction like petrified snakes.  What would have been a bubbly creek in warmer climes now stretched along the bottom of the gully as a thin icy trail.  It was a good fifty feet down, maybe thirty feet across and the soil appeared loose and unstable along the edges.  He checked the length of the gully to his left and right to see for any fallen trees that would let him walk over.  No luck.
     
    He didn’t want to waste any more time by wandering one way or the other for a place to cross.  The thought of slipping down and breaking a leg didn’t seem too useful either, but he didn’t want to spend any more time out here than necessary.  Besides, maybe he’d get lucky and break his neck in a fall and not have to worry about anything.
     
    Josh pulled out a rope from his pack and tied the end as a slipknot, found a strong looking branch overhanging the gully and took a good angle at tossing the loop until it latched on.
     
    “This is pretty fucking stupid,” he muttered as he secured the pack and rifle tight to his body.  He wrapped the end of the rope around his right hand until it was taut above his head.  He gave it a few hard yanks and then shoved hard off the base of a tree, and the branch complained under the newfound weight, swinging like a pendulum underneath it.
     
    He swung fast, and he felt the branch bend with his weight as he crossed over the chasm.  Just as he reached the other side there was a sharp crack, and he went into free fall.  He slammed hard against the side of the gully and reached for something to grasp as he slid down.  The soft soil gave away under him like sand and he began to slip.  The loss of control over his body and his sudden realization that he might not be able to prevent himself from careening down to the rocks below sent a surge of fear up from the pit of his stomach.
     
    His hand struck out in desperation to arrest his slide, and he grabbed onto an exposed root.  Rocks and soil tumbled down below him, and he could taste blood and dirt in his mouth.  At the bottom of the gully his rope was strewn out like a snake with the broken tree limb still attached.
     
    He gripped the root with both hands and pulled his entire weight up until he could reach another root, and in this way he ascended until he rolled over onto solid ground.  He lay there to catch his breath and let the stupidity of that decision wash over him.  How the hell am I going to get back over?
     
    He’d figure that out when the time came.  He checked his tablet and according to his mapping estimates, he wasn’t far from his destination.  From here on he walked carefully, pausing,