Ice Cold - Part One: The Dark Zone

Summer, 2008

The Adirondacks, New York

“the Dark Zone”

One does not navigate through the Appalachian Mountains with ease if he does not belong there, especially in the dead of night. The glow of a single propane lantern is hardly enough to illuminate the darkness while surrounded by the great clusters of tall trees.

In the pitch blackness of night, a group of young men slowly made their way through the woods. Two of them were leading the way; one holding a small propane lantern in front of him while the other stood by his side, wielding a rough-edged stone shortsword. Following just behind them, a third man was carrying a wounded figure around his shoulders. At the rear of the group a second swordsman was standing guard. They had been lumbering through the woods for a couple of miles, senses on edge as if waiting for something to jump out at them from the trees. The light emitted from the lantern slightly illuminated the holder’s face, revealing a large, dark bruise on his temple. Similar marks were shared among the entire group. 

Only hours before, they had been assaulted while resting by unseen intruders. The attackers swooped in so fast and so stealthily that none of them had known what hit them until long after it was over. They hadn't had time to grab their weapons before they were all knocked unconscious by blunt objects. Some of them woke to find their old, battered clothes covered in dried blood, but what concerned the man holding the lantern the most was that before the attack there were twelve of them. Now there were only five, and the most unfortunate of them was lying slumped over the shoulders of his comrade.

The man leading the group suddenly stopped and raised his hand to signal the others to be still. He set the lantern down and vigilantly scoped around the dark woods for a moment before leaning over toward the man standing just beside him.

“Go check it out," he said, pointing straight ahead. Without hesitation, the young tyro cautiously walked into the dark treeline. As he watched his guard disappear, the man hazily considered the reason they were even out here in this dreary, wooded desolation in the first place. So much had changed in the past few years, and he and the others hardly had an idea of what was going on anymore; stuck neck deep in the mountains, hunting around for any sign of people they weren't sure were even still here, but maybe tonight they had finally gotten their answer. Despite what he sometimes thought of their leaders, everyone knew they had no choice but to trust them. What else could they do other than be left for dead in the middle of the cold wilderness?

In the midst of his deep thoughts, the man was disturbed by a sudden, awful moaning sound. He turned around to see his cohort setting the wounded figure on the ground as he writhed slowly and painfully, letting out a series of loud, anguished groans. 

The man leading the group held his lantern over toward his unsettled party. The maimed character continued to moan and gripe in pain.

He shook his head in annoyance. “Would you shut him up?” he growled under his breath.

The one who had been carrying him glared back. “What the hell do want me to do, knock him out?” The injured wretch hissed in discomfort, his veins bulging in his hands as he twisted and turned on the ground to blot out the pain.

The rear guard turned his attention to the group and planted his foot on the disturbed figure’s head. He stopped squirming instantly. “Keep quiet! They’re still out there," he whispered loudly. He looked up at the trees and glanced around in caution. “They could be watching us right now. Waiting. Just waiting to swoop down from the trees and deliver the final blow.” Slowly beginning to panic, he grasped his stone blade with both hands and held it in front of him.

The leader of the group flicked his hand to signal the panicking rear guard to back off of the wounded victim. “Would you calm down already?" he hissed at his comrade. “If they wanted to kill us they would have done it by now.”

The paranoid man lifted his foot off of the poor victim and stepped back. He took a quick glance up into the darkness of the wooded canopy and then glared at their ringleader with a huff. “I’m tired of this,” he growled, pointing his finger. “I’m tired of putting my life and everything I have in the hands of that bastard child and his brother! I'm sick of sleeping out here night after night, just waiting to be killed while they lounge around in the safety of their own camps!”

“What do you mean everything you have?” another of them scoffed. “What do you think you have waiting for you out in the real world?”

The rear sentinel suddenly shifted his attention to his jeerer and clenched his fists. “Don’t make me put this steel-toe boot up your ass. My patience is running thin right now.”

    “Come at me then," he said, placing a hand on his sheathed sword. "See how far you get!"    

The rear guard lost his cool and lunged toward his comrade. The other ripped the sword from his belt but before either of them could make a decisive move their leader had swiftly drawn his own blade and thrust it between their paths. “Both of you stop it!” he commanded out loud. “Any more infighting and we'll just be doing those animals out there a favor.”

The rear guard growled at his comrade before backing away. They both knew he was right. It had been many months since anyone had heard any news from their leaders; the ones most of them simply knew as the Morenno brothers. For the last few years, they had isolated themselves in a small fortress camp they had set up in a valley trough somewhere in the eastern region of the mountains. 

These territories that sat deep in the heart of the Adirondacks were known ominously as the Dark Zone. It was a massive region of tall hills and small valleys completely perimetered by miles of Appalachian mountain ranges. The area was given this nickname by locals who resided around the base of the mountains for one particular reason: nobody who ventured in ever came out.

Most people simply accepted the territory as dangerous and thought nothing else of it, preferring not to dwell on the multitude of rumors that emerged from the dark enclave. However, there were others who found the Dark Zone highly interesting and constantly spoke of the rumors and whispers regarding its hazard. Some believed the area to simply be a natural labyrinth of trees and creeks and hills so confounding and difficult to navigate that those who dared to enter its borders would become lost forever. Despite the most popular belief, no one, not even any trained rescue teams, would dare to cross into this perilous, off-the-grid territory. So some others figured that the area was completely populated by untame wild animals. One of the craziest rumors was that there was some sort of secret government organization somewhere in the central regions of the Dark Zone who did not want anyone stumbling upon what they might be working on.

Whatever the reasons, this much was clear; the Dark Zone was literally ‘dark.’ If one searched its coordinates through a satellite, its image was intentionally blurred at all times. Commercial airlines and other aircraft always avoided flying too close to its boundaries. Even the domestic animals of the residences nearest to its borders stayed away, sensing that there was something uninviting about it. But as the rumors behind the Dark Zone’s mysteries began to grow and spread, more and more variations started rising as the media unhesitantly took hold of the intriguing story. Some people - very few, but some - who lived closest to the shadows of the mountains spoke softly of a mysterious warrior race; some sort of hidden, secret society dwelling in the vast territories of the Dark Zone.

In the early 1990s, word was spread of a sizable group of people leading an expedition straight into the eastern borders of the Dark Zone. No one ever knew of their exact intentions or what kind of nerve they had mustered, but after almost twenty years, nobody among the expedition was seen coming out. Although with every month that passed recently, more and more forlorn characters were spotted traveling into the mountains, always never to come back out. And so even to this day the Dark Zone remains ever mysterious and avoided by the citizens who dwell in its innocuous shadow.

The man leading the small, distressed party had heard all of the tales and horror stories about the mountains but little was known even to him about the Morenno brothers' business in these parts. He and his comrades were not part of the original expedition. They traveled to the Dark Zone about two years prior to this night when they had heard whispers of the Morennos' presence in the mountains, but the majority of their time here was spent performing reconnaissance routes in the wilderness for weeks, sometimes even months at a time. Who or what it was they were dealing with out here, or even why, remained as much of a question to them as the cloud that surrounded their leaders.