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Radiant flakes of snow drifted along the landscape and exaggerated the already lifeless skyline between the two distant mountain ranges. Wind pulsed through the open valley and slammed into the treeline at the base of the looming forest, distributing the frozen slivers that signaled the approaching season. Normally more than three months away, again this year it had come early.
His head pounded and his shoulder felt as if it was being pulled from his torso. The pain radiating from his left thigh and deep into his hip ran a close second to the vomit-inducing cramps he presently battled. Flat on his back, he stared at the frozen precipitation drifting in from the east. Squinting through the pain, he rolled gently to his right side, using what little momentum he created to push up onto his hands and knees. Dry heaving as he clutched the tracks, the pain that ran along his left side began to dissipate into a dulled numbness, as if half his body had fallen asleep.
Dragging his feet along the ice covered wooden planks, he attempted to stand, and without warning was sent face-first down the short embankment as his weakened limbs buckled under the added weight. Sliding to a stop, he came to rest alongside a sprawling field of debris, dominated by a recently downed object that held roughly the same proportions as a small vehicle from decades earlier.
The punishing cold began to bite at the exposed areas on his face and neck as he pulled himself onto the dreadful slab of downed scrap metal. Twisting side to side in an attempt to breach the stiffness running the length of his neck, he scanned the area, finally pausing on the massive object that rested less than two feet away. Motionless and dumping fuel onto the grim terrain, he began to recall what this was. He just had no idea why it was here and where it had come from.
He felt empty, almost hollow. His mind battled his subconscious for dominance as it slowly revealed bits of the present day, exposing the hell he’d been trapped in for the last thirty-two years. As he attempted to stretch away the building lactic acid that harassed every muscle in his body, the damage was beyond evident.
He removed his right glove and ran his bare palm, first along the inside of his coat and next down both legs, before checking his face and neck. Without any indication of serious injury and very little of his own blood spilled, he collected the contents gathering in the back of his throat and spat what remained onto the black metallic surface, watching as the steam rolled into the air.
Finally standing and with each step carefully calculated, he walked the perimeter of the metallic beast lying broken at his feet. No distinguishing marks or significance as to its rightful place, he struggled to remember anything from the last thirty minutes of his life. Details were unclear, although he knew three things for certain.
The embattled drone he now leaned against hadn’t come here alone.
Not quite fifty yards away, something awaited him at the edge of the forest.
Her name was Sarah… and she was gone.
. . .
The backpack sitting twenty feet away was also vaguely familiar to him. A quick internal debate ended with him making the decision to retrieve it. Each step carried with it a reminder of his previous beating as he stepped carefully around and through the lightly dusted metal debris field. Snow began to drop at an increased rate and was fueled by the driving wind as he stood over the bag and looked skyward. Bending at the waist appeared be the lesser of two evils at the moment and dropping to a knee to retrieve the backpack would have been all but impossible.
With one hand on his lower back, he leaned forward, clenched his teeth, and exhaled through the searing pain along his left side. In one motion, he quickly snatched the pack and with his right hand, slung it over his shoulder. As his vision began to transition
Radiant flakes of snow drifted along the landscape and exaggerated the already lifeless skyline between the two distant mountain ranges. Wind pulsed through the open valley and slammed into the treeline at the base of the looming forest, distributing the frozen slivers that signaled the approaching season. Normally more than three months away, again this year it had come early.
His head pounded and his shoulder felt as if it was being pulled from his torso. The pain radiating from his left thigh and deep into his hip ran a close second to the vomit-inducing cramps he presently battled. Flat on his back, he stared at the frozen precipitation drifting in from the east. Squinting through the pain, he rolled gently to his right side, using what little momentum he created to push up onto his hands and knees. Dry heaving as he clutched the tracks, the pain that ran along his left side began to dissipate into a dulled numbness, as if half his body had fallen asleep.
Dragging his feet along the ice covered wooden planks, he attempted to stand, and without warning was sent face-first down the short embankment as his weakened limbs buckled under the added weight. Sliding to a stop, he came to rest alongside a sprawling field of debris, dominated by a recently downed object that held roughly the same proportions as a small vehicle from decades earlier.
The punishing cold began to bite at the exposed areas on his face and neck as he pulled himself onto the dreadful slab of downed scrap metal. Twisting side to side in an attempt to breach the stiffness running the length of his neck, he scanned the area, finally pausing on the massive object that rested less than two feet away. Motionless and dumping fuel onto the grim terrain, he began to recall what this was. He just had no idea why it was here and where it had come from.
He felt empty, almost hollow. His mind battled his subconscious for dominance as it slowly revealed bits of the present day, exposing the hell he’d been trapped in for the last thirty-two years. As he attempted to stretch away the building lactic acid that harassed every muscle in his body, the damage was beyond evident.
He removed his right glove and ran his bare palm, first along the inside of his coat and next down both legs, before checking his face and neck. Without any indication of serious injury and very little of his own blood spilled, he collected the contents gathering in the back of his throat and spat what remained onto the black metallic surface, watching as the steam rolled into the air.
Finally standing and with each step carefully calculated, he walked the perimeter of the metallic beast lying broken at his feet. No distinguishing marks or significance as to its rightful place, he struggled to remember anything from the last thirty minutes of his life. Details were unclear, although he knew three things for certain.
The embattled drone he now leaned against hadn’t come here alone.
Not quite fifty yards away, something awaited him at the edge of the forest.
Her name was Sarah… and she was gone.
. . .
The backpack sitting twenty feet away was also vaguely familiar to him. A quick internal debate ended with him making the decision to retrieve it. Each step carried with it a reminder of his previous beating as he stepped carefully around and through the lightly dusted metal debris field. Snow began to drop at an increased rate and was fueled by the driving wind as he stood over the bag and looked skyward. Bending at the waist appeared be the lesser of two evils at the moment and dropping to a knee to retrieve the backpack would have been all but impossible.
With one hand on his lower back, he leaned forward, clenched his teeth, and exhaled through the searing pain along his left side. In one motion, he quickly snatched the pack and with his right hand, slung it over his shoulder. As his vision began to transition
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