Day 34
It was no use. If there was a highway at the edge of these woods, John had gone in the wrong direction. He didn’t hear any vehicles, but was glad to not hear further pursuit.
The morning was once again bright and hot, with lingering clouds overhead not doing much to keep John from sweating and swearing. He tried to move slowly through the underbrush but it was no use: anyone or anything with ears would know he was coming from a mile away.
He didn’t know if he cared right now. He was tired and itching for a fight. Sleeping with your back to a tree and jumping at every sound wasn’t what you needed for a good night’s sleep.
John eventually found the same stream about midday, but didn’t know if it was anywhere near the spot he’d originally crossed. He could be within a few feet of where he’d killed a man or miles away. It all looked the same.
Whenever he’d watched a movie or television show where people got lost in the woods, he’d shake his head and their stupidity. How hard was it to follow the sun? Go in one direction and eventually get out of the woods. It didn’t seem all that hard.
Except…it was. It really, really was. Thorn bushes and trees blocked your path, not to mention the endless branches, stumps and rocks you tripped over, so you had to keep your head down and watch where you were going more than in which direction.
John had turned back a hundred times, trying to see where he’d come from, but it looked alien. Trees, dirt and leaves in an endless blur all around. Birds overhead, laughing at him. Squirrels and rodents scurrying from this lost and stupid intruder. He’d seen more snakes than he’d ever seen in his life, and they all looked poisonous killers to John.
The woods were trying to kill him…and if it did, no one would find his rotting corpse. His flesh would meld into the rich dirt and feed the mushrooms and the trees, after the animals had finished picking over his dead body.
Trusting what little instincts he had right now, he decided to go to his right. He had no idea which way he was headed. Back toward where he’d started or away from it all? John didn’t think it mattered.
He followed the stream for a couple of miles until it branched into three separate smaller streams.
John decided it was time to pick a direction, deciding to go to his right. It seemed like the direction that was working for him today.
Maybe he’d get lucky and find that damn highway or an open diner giving out free coffee and pancakes.
He saw the back of the farmhouse and smiled. His luck was changing.
A large overgrown field would offer some cover, but not enough unless he decided to take half of the day and crawl to it.
John was out of patience. He ducked down, hoping to create less of an easy kill, and ran across the field. He wove back and forth, another lame way of hoping he didn’t present an easy target.
He smelled the body about halfway across and frowned. He hesitated. What if it was someone he knew? He hadn’t been on the friendliest of terms with Herbert and his family. Definitely not Darlene. There had been tension from the beginning. Mostly his own fault.
John covered his nose and ran in the direction and found the body soon enough. He didn’t recognize the man but he smiled when he saw the shotgun in the weeds. He was armed again. The man had a hunting knife as well as six shells for the shotgun. John prayed it was enough.
What had happened here? Was this the man of the house, shot down in his field?
John made his way to the house slowly, feeling more confident with the shotgun.
Inside the house looked like it had been ransacked, although nothing was broken. It was all taken. All except for a pile of goods neatly stacked in the living room.
John thought it might be a trap.
He searched the rest of the house but no one was hiding. There was no car in the driveway. Maybe whoever had been here had shot the owner and took his vehicle.
John frowned. Then why were supplies left behind?
None of it made sense, but then again…nothing made much sense these days.
He found a box of stale crackers and ate, washing them down with tap water. He paced through the house, looking in closets and under mattresses for weapons, money or anything he could fit in his pockets.
When he was satisfied there was nothing of value except the items piled in the living room, he did a quick sweep of the property.
He found a second body and took the man’s rifle and knife, too. Both men were on opposite sides of the yard. Another mystery John didn’t have time to solve.
The barn was his next stop, and when he stepped inside, expecting farm equipment, he was surprised to see a pickup truck.
John searched it but the door was unlocked but there were no keys.
The glove box was empty and there was nothing underneath the seats.
He wondered if one of the dead men had owned the truck, or if it was what they’d come looking for.
John needed to get off of the property. He had a bad feeling and it had come on quickly. He stepped outside and heard the car engines in the distance, knowing they were heading this way.
He ran across the field, trying to keep low, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t drive right past the house to the field. He’d be spotted before he had a chance to hop a fence and disappear back into the woods.
John was winded by the time he made it to safety, and he dropped down behind a tree stump and waited. No use crashing through the woods and letting whoever it was know he was back here.
By the time he’d stopped breathing heavily, feeling better after eating the crackers, and checked to make sure both weapons were loaded and ready, he saw the half dozen men as they stormed through the house, weapons drawn.
They made a beeline for the first body, likely drawn by the smell like John had been.
He watched for the next twenty minutes as they found the second body, the pickup truck in the barn, and took turns going in and out of the house.
One of them stared at the woods for a few minutes, slowly moving his head back and forth. John stayed perfectly still.
When the house behind the man began to leak smoke through the open back door, it was time for them to leave.
They ran around the side of the house and John heard their engines.
The house was ablaze, and it spread quickly.
John sighed. One of his ideas while watching the men was to go back inside once they’d cleared it and rest for a while. Out of the heat and the sun. Even for a couple of hours.
Instead, he had to keep moving and hope he got to the next property before these men did, and burned it to the ground.
What about the pickup truck, though?