I love the forest. I love the animals, the sounds, the colors, the way the sunset streams through the fruitful branches. And at night, like now, the moon and stars gaze down upon me with a pale, heavenly glow.
To me, the forest is a safe haven to go and clear my mind. At least that's what I've experienced.
I can't remember anything from my past. Not where I lived, my family, not even my own name. So when I woke up in the woods, I was terrified.
Any sensible person would be. At least I think so.
One day I just wake up and I'm there. Not a soul in sight, just me. Me and a few birds and squirrels peering down from their perches. They seemed to wonder where I had come from, as if I had appeared out of thin air. Maybe I had.
For hours I sat there, horrified and scared to death. Questions swirling and swirling in my head until I made myself sick, literally. I hoped upon hope that someone would come, anyone who could tell me what had happened to me.
Nobody came.
I knew that if I just stayed there, I wouldn't find the answers to my endless questions. So I got up and started walking. I had no idea where I was, but from the light and temperature it was early morning and if I followed the sun, I would be heading east.
How I know of such things, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to.
It's been a number a days since then, approximately two weeks. I feel weak and tired from all those dreadfully long days of doing nothing but walking. Having no other option, aside from sitting on the forest floor like a slug and waiting, I chose to get a grip on my bag and cross over a bubbling creek.
I had found the bag next to me when I had woken up. Inside were a box of matches, crackers, beef jerky, a knife, and iodine, plus a few extra objects that confused me.
One was a stuffed animal that vaguely reminded me of a hippo; it has an orange body with orange ears, a purple head and arms, a yellow snout, and complete with black and white striped legs and tail. It's a weird looking thing, but kind of cute.
There was also a book, but blank. All of the pages bare of any markings. Alongside it was a pen; a journal.
I've so far used it as my diary to keep my thoughts running.
And the last and most bewildering object of them all, was a silver ring with a small butterfly strapped to the metal band. Its wings made of turquoise stone. It's so beautiful, but puzzling all the same.
For the hundredth time today, I ponder. For hours at a time, I grind into my brain for answers. Scraping the darkest, murkiest parts of my conscious in a desperate quest for even the smallest hints of a memory of my past life. But as usual, I only end up empty handed. Unless you count a throbbing headache I receive on every attempt.
Gosh, this sucks.
I make my way around a thick tree and suddenly stop in my tracks. In front of me, is a clearing. But not just any clearing, a space where the trees are gone and no grass blankets the ground. All that remains is hardened, black tar. Asphalt.
My heart quickens at the sight.
This is a road, a road that leads to somewhere. A... place I can get help. I can't stop the almost maniacal smile that crosses my face. I'm almost there! I'm almost there!
Suddenly I hear a noise. A loud revving noise. A roar of an engine. I quickly step back, concealing myself in the shadows of a large bush.
FWOOSH
A flash goes past me, blowing leaves and hair into my face. Then another and another. This goes on for a bit, with every new swift movement picking up scattered leaves and wisps of hair.
After a sixth one they seize, but not before they all slow down and park a few yards away. I instinctively crawl to them for a better look.
Spending God knows how long in a forest with nothing but a nearly empty bag and the clothes on my back can do funny things to a person. Like make you insanely curious enough to head right into a few mysterious figures without any consult with common knowledge.
Yeah, sounds about right.
I come upon a full six motorcycles with six men to accompany them. They all wear black leather suits and pitch black helmets. They talk in hushed whispers.
If I can get one of those bikes, I can finally get the heck out of here. A thought in my head taunts.
My mind is already made up as I creep even closer to these strangers.
Talking my way into borrowing a bike from the group is out of the question.
Who knows what kind of people they are, not to sound too paranoid or anything. But hey, if I even cross one of them I could end up in a ditch somewhere, stone cold dead.
Okay, that's a little paranoid, I'll admit.
But still.
"Baxter Stockman just messaged me. He said it's happening tonight." A voice says in front of me.
"Well it's about time." Another says, their voice much deeper.
"According to Karai, their heading for Upstate New York."
The silhouette of the second voice gives a nod.
"Alright. Let's head out." The first voice shouts out.
All of the people begin to mount their vehicles again, preparing to leave.
Warning bells go off in my head, like a loud siren screaming in my ears. Whatever they're doing, it ain't good. And that's coming from the lonely hermit in the woods. But if I'm gonna get out of here, now's the time. My best chance is when they're leaving.
Will I feel bad about doing this? Probably.
But I have to do this, no matter who they are or what they are doing.
A few feet away, a straggler is having a bit of difficulty starting his engine.
Perfect.
I head for him, crawling on my hands and knees, watching every step I make to stay as quiet as possible.
VRUUUMM
The machine finally comes to life and the owner looks pleased. I crouch in the underbrush like a predator stalking their prey. My fingers brush against something cold, but I don't flinch away from it. Instead I grip the solid form in my hand and continue to watch.
He lifts his leg over the seat and...BOOM! I run out in the nick of time and jump him. We fall off the motorcycle together in a crumpled heap of limbs. I flip him over and wrap my arms around his neck. He gasps and struggles beneath me, slapping my arms helplessly. But I hold him tight, squeezing his throat like a boa constrictor.
A boa constrictor?!
How the freaking heck do I know what South American snake to relate to when I'm choking out some poor guy yet I don't even know where the heck I am?
Hilarious, if you ask me.
He slowly gets weaker. The lack of oxygen pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness. His strangled cries are silent, but no one could have heard them anyway. His buddies are too far out of earshot to even grasp the slightest hint of a cry for help. With a swift motion of my wrist, I yank off his helmet and smack the back of his head with a stone. He goes limp, and ever so cautiously, I stand on my feet. The even up and down of his chest reassures me that he is still alive. I push air out of my cheeks and run a hand through my scalp.
Dang he was a fighter, I'll give him that.
I hook my arms under his shoulders and grunt loudly as I pull his heavy body off the road. I lay, more like flop, him into a pile of rotting leaves.
His face is plain and pale, angry red marks are present on his neck.
Poor guy. He never knew what hit him. I think to myself.
Without a second thought, I swipe the shining helmet from the ground and plop it onto my head. It shifts violently, proving to be way too big. Nonetheless, I sit myself onto the worn leather seat of the bike, my legs vibrating. I glance back over to the man.
Forget what I said about second thoughts. A pang of guilt strikes my innards, churning like old butter in my stomach.
Well, at least you didn't kill him. A voice whispers in my head.
And with that, I turn away, twist the handle and finally speed off.
Do I know how to drive a motorcycle?
I have no idea. I don't even know if I'm of age to even ride a motorcycle.
But all I know is that I haven't crashed and died yet, so I guess it's safe to say that I'm good to go.
I race off through the road. My long hair flies back, knitting itself into a tangled mess. The wind whistles by as I fly at an incredible speed. A few pinpricks of red tail lights appear on the horizon. The other motorcycle people.
Following them? Me?!
No, that's ridiculous.
Ok, fine!
Yes, I'm following them. And for a ngood reason, too. If I were to just drive off, they will definitely notice that they're a driver short and come after me.
Then what?
Besides, they're most likely heading into a town of some sort. I can get help there.
That's as far as I've planned.
Brilliant, I know.
I accelerate until I'm in range of the others. One swivels their head to me in question and I throw a quick thumbs up. It must've worked because he nods and faces forward. I take a deep breath and move ahead.
Man, what have I gotten myself into?