UNKNOWN

IV

Dale sat upright, pressed both his elbows against his shaking thighs and squeezed his temples with his left thumb and forefinger. First, there was the hangover. Now, this. Great, Dale thought. Just what I've needed. Extra mysteries in my already-mysterious life. More like miserable, a voice shouted back. Shut up, Dale replied.

Dale switched his gaze unto Caleb, who was minding his own business. "Hey there, sport," Dale called out. Caleb gave no response. "hey. Caleb." Still no response, it was as though he was in another world. His OWN world. Dale gave up and sighed. Caleb has always been a queer child to Dale. Up to this day, Dale could not forget his first encounter with Caleb. It was as dark as the Boogieman himself.

It was about three years back(when Olivia and Miley was still around), Dale was hiking with a fellow colleague. Back then Dale had a job(can you believe that?)as a factory worker.The only agenda of the day was to inspect and box third grade toys from 9 a.m. up to 6-sometimes 7 in the evening. Dale could still remember the stench of his boss, that sour, salty taste in the air whenever he walks past. Speed up, lads, his boss would chant. speed up if you're not all that bads. Dale disliked his boss. No, wait. More like despised  Yeah, that's a better word. He hated the fact that his boss was a stuffed up walking talking elephant toy whom was expected to have type 2 diabetes by the age of 40. Maybe even coronary heart disease, or perhaps high blood pressure. Dale also loathed the fact that his boss would utter the most ridiculous phrases just so they can rhyme. Work faster ladies, and later enjoy the candies. Dale wanted to tell his boss that there were in actuality no candies; no shit on a stick or stinking carpet candy; just a bunch of pathetic middle-aged men working for a pathetic boss in a pathetic factory. All these thoughts almost crushed Dale's desire of wanting to hike on that day.

It was around 5 in the evening when Dale's colleague, Michael first suggested that they increase their pace. Dale looked up and squinted at the radiant beam of the sun above. The strong, yellowish glare had already turned into a mild orange blanket of light. Soon, they reached the summit. It was a rather satisfying feeling, to be honest. Dale stood by the edge of the hill and looked into the skies while Michael pitched the tent.The twilight beam was warm as Dale enjoyed the evening air. The ambience was magnificent. Flocks of birds glided across the orange sky, chirping merrily along the way. The breeze was also cool and soothing. It was worth the time, Dale thought. A thousand times better than that old fart's factory.

"Come sit down, Dil. You ought to give them legs a rest, ya knuh?" Michael suggested. He was american but with a thick, native British accent. "Give it a little more and it will sound Scottish, ya know?" Dale would sometimes tell Michael. Michael handed Dale a can of sizzling hot tuna, freshly cooked by the camp fire. "Thanks, bud." Dale dug into the can of cooked fish with a metal fork with full enthusiasm. "Eh, dun mention it pal. What ya did back there was a saver, ya knuh?" Michael was referring to the 600 dollars that Dale had lent Michael. It was for a family matter, it seemed. "My wife is really really grateful. Thanks Dil." Dale slurped through the remnants of the tuna and nodded. "Don't mention it. A friends gotta do what a friends gotta-burp-do!" Michael looked at Dale and Dale squeezed out another belch. They both laughed.

By 10 p.m., Dale and Michael was already sleeping in the tent. Their fire was still on, but not as strong as before. Bits and pieces of charred firewood cracked and hissed as puffs of smoke rose to the air.

Dale heard a sound. Was it the snapping of a tree branch? Nah, probably my own imaginations. Spurred by the hordes of angry, dead tuna swimming in my tummy. Dale smiled at the idea and went back to sleep, this time clutching his own belly.

SNAP

There it is again. This time louder. NEARER. Seconds later Dale gasped. His body was stiff. Out from the corner of his right eye, a figure was moving towards their camp fire  It was crouching. No, more like crawling. Dale's mouth gaped open for what seemed to be forever.

There it was. A silhouette so clear and bold that Dale could almost make out the length of the limbs. The figure sat there silently. It seemed to Dale that the figure was facing their tent. What scared Dale most wasn't the stealthiness of the shadow, but something else.

Dale was afraid because the silhouette was that of a small child.