Day 33
John opened his eyes and saw the fading light through the trees. He’d been unconscious for hours. As soon as he came to he felt the ants crawling on his body and freaked out, jumping up and slapping himself over and over, peeling his shirt off and running his fingers through his hair. He’d managed to land next to an anthill, and they weren’t too happy about it.
How many have I swallowed? John shook the horrible thought from his mind.
He took a few minutes to check every inch of his body for ants, stepping on the anthill at his feet and wanting to kill every last one of them. He was angry. At himself, and at nature trying to slowly kill him, between the ants and the mosquitoes.
With my luck lately, a deer will rush out and stab me with its antlers, John thought.
He was unarmed. During the tumble down everything but the clothes on his back had been lost. Again…if it wasn’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all.
John needed to get his bearings and keep moving. At least no one had come after him while he was out. By now they’d likely found the dead man near the stream.
He looked around and sighed. There was no easy trail out of the valley. No rocky steps leading up and out. The few trees growing at odd angles didn’t look thick enough to hold his weight. With leaves and loose dirt it would be a slow, noisy ascent.
Without another option, John decided to get moving. He began scrambling up the side but for every two inches he got he slid back an inch, and by the time he’d worked his way to a rock outcropping he was wiped.
John sat on the rocks and looked back. He was less than halfway up.
He stood and was about to keep going when he heard definite movement through the underbrush up above. He slid down behind the rock and pressed his body into the rocks, covering his legs with leaves as quietly as possible.
“Looks like he came this way.”
John didn’t know how many men were up on the ridge, but it sounded like more than a few. They weren’t trying to hide their walking, either.
“Think we should go down and investigate?”
John tensed up even more. If they came down they would definitely see him.
A few minutes passed but they didn’t sound like they’d moved away.
“We circle around the ravine and back to the stream,” one of the men said. “Two teams. If we go any further we’ll end up on the highway, and we don’t want that.”
“Buck ain’t gonna be happy without a body, especially after what happened to his cousin. Bastard bashed his head in good.”
John held his breath. How many Sawyers were there? Everyone in this county was related somehow. If he wanted to survive he’d need to kill every last one of them, like cockroaches.
They started to move and John knew he’d be seen as they went around on either side.
John wedged himself into the space between the two biggest rocks, dragging as much dirt and leaves as he could, hoping the men were making so much noise it would mask his work. He needed to do it quickly, too.
He got his body covered and his face, too, just as the men came into sight in the distance. They might be too far to see him, and the camouflage as well as natural features might help him get away with it.
If not, there’s nowhere to run, John thought. I can’t go up and try to outrun them. If I head back to the bottom they’ll shoot me in the back.
His hope was for them to leave without spotting him. He’d sit for a while, perfectly still, and make sure they weren’t still in the area.
Then he’d try to find the highway they talked about. Maybe he could flag down someone in a car. Maybe a cop.
As if anyone is going to help me, John thought. They’re all related. Remember? Better to follow the road until I can get out of the county. Then I might have a chance. A slim shot is all I’m asking for at this point.
His eyes weren’t covered by leaves, twigs and dirt, but he didn’t want to chance turning his head. He followed the two groups across the valley as they met up.
They stood and talked for a long time, looking around.
John was paranoid the covering was going to fall off of him or get blown by a strong breeze, giving away his position.
One of the men seemed to be staring right at him.
It took everything for John not to burst out of the hiding spot and make a run for it.
They were too far to hear other than a few scattered words, and he was further paranoid thinking they knew exactly where he was and were waiting for him to screw up and try to escape.
Keep cool. There’s freedom not too far away. A highway, John thought. Maybe the military. People not related to these inbred goons.
A few of them started walking toward the right and out of his peripheral vision. The rest were still talking, and he could see rather than hear a couple laughing. They looked relaxed, with rifles slung over their shoulders and one of them passing out beers from a backpack.
John wanted to lick his dry lips but didn’t dare. If he didn’t get water or food soon he might pass out. He felt weak. Sitting this still, in the oppressive heat, was making him tired as well.
He kept blinking his eyes, sweat rolling down his face and threatening to dislodge his covering.
John kept telling himself to be cool, but he was going to lose it soon.
The men began to break up the group, heading out of sight. He could still hear them traipsing through the woods loudly.
His body itched. He wondered if the ants had come for their revenge and were covering him again.
John closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing.
An hour might’ve passed before he couldn’t take it anymore and he shook off the dirt and leaves and popped his head up, expecting to be shot.
Nothing but the normal sights and sounds of the woods around him.
John slowly got up and stretched. His body hurt. His throat was bone dry. Covered in sweat, he began to make the climb again.
The highway has to be near, he thought.
He started to walk in the opposite direction of the men, stopping every few minutes to listen for either pursuit or the wonderful sound of vehicles driving on a road to freedom.
John kept walking, trying not to drag his feet but failing more and more, his body giving up at one point. He dropped to the ground and passed out for a few hours.
The sun was going down.
John was lost in the woods. He couldn’t remember which way he’d come from. The sun was nearly gone, only a distant orange glow. Had he been walking toward or away from it?
He had no clue.
John found what little shelter he could find and prayed he’d survive the night.