Absolution River by Aaron Mach

for chainsaw wounds and closed it around the worker’s leg just below the knee.
    “You and you,” as Fred was pointing to some of the workers, “take him to the truck and get him the hell out of here. Take his leg with.”
    The workers just kind of stared at each other, then at the wounded worker, then at the leg still in the trap, in a state of shock.
    “Now!” screamed Fred.
    One of them picked up the wounded worker and wrapped his arm around his neck and they began to hobble to the truck. The other moved to the trap and looked at the mangled body part. He put his forearm over his mouth to somehow hold the vomit in and it seemed to work. He saw the leg still in the teeth of the bear trap. He put both hands on the boot still attached to the leg and gave it a good tug. The bone in the leg was still gripped by the trap and he had to tug a couple more times before it was released. On the last tug he gave everything he had and the trap released, sending him flying backwards, the leg ending up on his chest. He pushed it off of him frantically while some of the workers stood and watched. Some horrified, others trying to keep the laughter in. He got up, snatched the leg with one hand and dragged it through the woods to catch up with the leg’s owner. Fred walked over to the bear trap to get a better look and noticed something peculiar. The traps’ teeth were filed down to a razor’s edge. Fred was no trapper, but he knew the teeth needed to be dull to keep the animal alive and fresh. Someone had done something to this trap, and it didn’t seem meant for animals.
    Fred and the remaining crew went up to the cabin, with significantly more caution than before. They huddled around the front discussing what to do, not wanting to disappoint Arch. A few moments later, an old man, maybe in his sixties, came through the woods on an old path. He was very disheveled and looked like he had been out there a very long time. His beard was long and white, and his gray-white hair was in a ponytail halfway down his back. He wore animal skin clothing from head to toe. In one hand he carried an old flintlock rifle and a blade made from animal bone in the other.
    “Look alive guys”, said Fred quietly. “Hello sir! Excuse me, sir?”
    Eli came within a few feet of the men and, without any acknowledgment, walked past them to bring his fresh trappings into the cabin. He emerged moments later with the furs and hung them up on a string near the entrance. He had his head down. He grabbed his pipe from a pouch he wore and pulled some tobacco out. After he loaded the pipe he drew a match. He struck the match on the cabin exterior and slowly and meticulously lit it. Eli took a deep breath of the sweet tobacco and savored it for a moment. He looked up and in the calmest manner asked, “Can I help you gentlemen?”
    “Yeah man, you fucking almost killed one of my guys with your fucking trap!” yelled Fred.
    “I see,” replied Eli taking another puff from his pipe. His eyes barely visible below the brim of his animal skin prospector hat.
    “You fucking see, well I guess everything is okay then!” screamed Fred.
    “Is there something I can help you with, gentlemen?” Eli again asked in a manner unfamiliar to the other men. There was a quiet way about him. As if he had figured everything out and was content with the way the world was, or the way it had to be.
    “So I guess you live here huh?” Fred stated with frustration and a mild case of disbelief.
    “Yes sir, I do,” replied Eli.
    “Well, hate to say it bud, but you won’t for long,” Fred said with some pleasure.
    “I see,” replied Eli without an ounce of reaction.
    “So like uh, you gotta pack up, okay?” Fred queried.
    There was no response from Eli. He simply stood there and puffed away on his pipe. He looked up into the trees and admired the sun shining through the leaves. He looked back down at the men. “Rain’s coming, you better pack up if ya don’t want to get