Partially inspired by "No Indians in my Cupboard" by ReneeHouck, partially inspired by wondering what would happen if my OC and Ash met and how that would work out. I can't seem to write rude characters, so more of Ash's softer side shows than it probably should. Also, the chapters are short but hopefully the quality of the words makes up for their lack of quantity. Reviews, as always, are much appreciated. Enjoy!
Ash took the potion from Arthur's Wise Man, kissed Sheila passionately, and rode off into the sunset. Or so it seemed. Really he rode just far enough to make it look good, sent the horse back home with a smack on its rear, took a swig of the potion—which tasted awful—and recited the words. Well, maybe not every single tiny little syllable, but basically he said them. Basically. Anyway, it took a few seconds for the stuff to take effect. Ash was just beginning to doubt the Wise Man's potion-brewing capabilities when he stumbled, feeling a little woozy, his vision blurred, and then...blackness.
{(+)}
Oh, boy, did I have a headache. I couldn't remember much of the past night, but it must have been some party to leave me feeling like something the cat dragged in. Wait. No, there hadn't been a party. Bits and pieces started coming back to me. Phew, what a nightmare. No. Not a nightmare, either. It had really happened. My sister, my friends, even my hand. The portal to the Dark Ages, the battle with the Deadites; it had all happened. Which meant...
I sat bolt upright, peering around me. I was in the woods. I was back! I got to my feet, laughing with pure joy. "I'm back, baby! Hahaha, yeah!" I shouted, punching the air.
Okay. First things first. Find the nearest town and get some real clothes. I was still in that ridiculous medieval getup. It might have been all right back then, but this was the eighties now. I couldn't very well stomp around the local S-Mart looking like a Round Table reject, could I?
There was just one problem. I could see that I was in the woods, but I had no clue which ones. Or which direction the nearest town might be. I scowled. Had I faced down literal Hell for two nights in a row, gotten thrown into the Dark Ages, taken on an entire Deadite army led by my evil undead (and ugly) clone, and finally made it back to my own freaking time only to be defeated by the lack of a map? No way. So I spun around, arm outstretched, and when I stopped I was pointing at a gap between the trees that looked like a game trail. Good enough for me. I adjusted my cloak, set my jaw, and started walking.
It was almost nightfall—which was making me a little twitchy considering I didn't have much ammo—when I spotted a building through the trees. Suddenly I knew exactly where I was. "You gotta be kiddin' me," I muttered. An old wooden cabin stood before me, nestled deep within the Tennessee wilderness.
Well, dark was coming on fast, so I didn't have much choice: either stick it out inside the cabin or roam the woods virtually unarmed. So I approached with a sigh, wondering if the vortex had swallowed all evidence of what had happened there or if I'd find still-fresh bodies inside.
Wait a second.
That couldn't be the same cabin. A truck and trailer were parked in front of it, a warm light glowed in the windows, and I could faintly hear...my God, was that music? It was. Zeppelin, no less. Suddenly feeling much more hopeful, I banged on the door. "Hey! Open up, will ya?"
