Run, Forest, Run

Run, Forest, Run

I blink. Once, twice, three times. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, hold for a moment or two before opening and rubbing them with clenched fists. But to no use. It is still before me. Have I been asleep? Am I dreaming? No, I am sure I have not been. Had to fight the urge to sleep but I have stayed awake.

I turn on my flashlight to dispel the pitch blackness. Nothing there. I flick the light off again because the last thing I want is to lose all the battery charge. There it, or he or she, is again. Large as life. Clear as--- well, clear as an apparition can be.

I am not crazy or losing my mind--yet. Someone suggested I may after working here long enough. But I have only been here a few weeks. Surely, they meant it would take longer than that. Am I that feeble minded?

What should a lowly watch person do when confronted with a... an apparition? Report it to the superiors? Investigate why it is here? Scream? That last option is my immediate inclination but what good would it do? No one is on this lower level to hear a wild woman watch person screaming. And I would be labeled crazy. Maybe crazy enough to lose my job. And I need this job.

This job pays more than the four jobs I had pieced together to pay the bills since my ex-husband deserted me and our four kids. Yes, I have to be away during the crucial evening hours. At least I have my mom to help out there. I had pursued this position all summer and spent weeks in training. I can't afford to throw that all out the window because some ghost-like apparition is crawling around among the two-foot pipes and three-foot wide vent boxes in the lower bowels of this gigantic energy plant.

It is an energy plant. One would think they would have a few light bulbs spaced around in these forgotten places. Oh, maybe they do but that is why I am sitting in front of this non-functioning door guarding sensitive areas replacing the alarm. Maybe the lights are out for the same reason the alarm is not working. I hope maintenance will show up soon. Its totally too dark down here for comfort.

Maybe those workers would know this guy. Looks like someone is holding up the peace sign above his head. I stand up from my folding chair and inch my way towards the phenomenon.

No, wait. Those are feathers. His muscular arms are crossed over his chest and he has a cape or a robe on. I startle myself. I recognize that stance. It is the same as the fifty-foot statue overlooking the picturesque view a few miles down the river from here. That's Chief Black Hawk, the Eternal Chief. Well, maybe a younger version when his hair was in feathers instead of braids. He was trying to win back his favorite hunting grounds here along the Rock River back in the 1830's. He was totally misunderstood and it started a famous war. The first skirmish won by the tribe was in close-by modern day Stillman Valley. A militia leader, Isaiah Stillman, had led the attack on the encampment then fled. The site was called Stillman Run.

Language was a barrier that led to the unfortunate encounter. Um, I wonder?

“Good evening, Chief.”

“Humph.”

“Do you understand me?”

“Umph.”

“My name is Mary. How do you do?”

“How.”

“I mean you no harm. I hope you mean me no harm, also.”

“Aa ee okee a.”

Oops. This is not going to be easy. What little I know about the Sauk native tribes of this area their language consisted of a few vowels and a handful of consonants. I don't know the interpretation. I may say the wrong thing and lose my scalp.

“Sorry for your loss.”

After many skirmishes in the region the chief had tried to send his non-combative women, children and elderly back across the Mississippi but they had nearly been annihilated by an armed steamboat. In the five month war 77 settlers, Illinois volunteer militia and regular U.S. Military had been killed but Black Hawk had lost more than half of his band of 1500 followers. It was all part of the effort to relocate the natives west of the mighty river. It was soon followed by The Trail of Tears caused by the Indian Removal Act when even more tribes from the east were pushed west with inadequate provisions and so many perished.

The defeat of this proud Native American Chief jump-started the political careers of several prominent men in history including twenty-three-year-old Abraham Lincoln part of the Illinois militia.

At this time I was sorry I didn't remember more of the history. My futile attempts of communicating with the iconic figure were ineffectual. I wanted to convey I sympathized with his plight and could understand his reluctance to move on from this place. He was still standing watch over the river and on this hallowed ground where this plant was planted.

Suddenly a light beamed in my face. I bring my arm up over my eyes as a shield.

“Mary, it is 'Mary' isn't it? Are you okay down here in the dark? You haven't been sleeping have you? If a sergeant catches you doing that you would lose your job. Lucky I am only a security officer and I won't tell.”

“Oh, oh no. Mary is correct. You're...?”

“Forest. Forest Stillman.”

“Nice to meet you. I wasn't asleep. Daydreaming maybe, or imagining things. One's mind can play tricks stuck down here in the dark for two hours, I think. Nice to see another human being.”

“I need to double check the door alarm. And Sergeant Atkinson should be along sometime soon checking on you so stay lively.”

“I was just up pacing around. Say, has anyone ever reported strange sightings while posted in these dark areas?”

“Not that I know of. Like what?”

“I don't want to sound crazy...”

Even though the flashlight beam had dispelled most of the blackness a misty form was floating above the S.O. It looked like he was raising a...a Tomahawk!

“No, Chief, NO! He's not that Stillman! Run, Forest, RUN!”