Even If You Were The Last Person On Earth
By Colorain
Disclaimer: Susan Blackweld belongs to me. No Tolkien stuff shows up yet, so I'm safe on that front. Welcome to the chapter of product plugs. I don't own Indiglo, Scotchlite or Choose Your Own Adventure. And . . . yeah, this chapter is short because we all want to get to Legolas, right?
And thank you reviewers! Nightshade, Indiana Jones, SnowLight, and Minka . . . I love you all!
The eerie sound of wind whipping through treetops, the ominous peals of thunder rolling under the clouds, and the bright flashes of lightning ripping through the darkened sky were not what had wakened Susan Blackweld. No, while they had certainly helped, a more pressing problem had torn her from her slumber.
Her poor tent, so cursed at, so worked on, had given up. It had succumbed to the first big gust of wind and was now merrily flying away into the woods.
Susan opened her eyes, and was instantly blinded by the jagged crack of lightning scorching the ground way too close to where she was. She blinked quickly, trying to get her sight back so she could chase her tent and find better shelter. It looked like it was going to rain.
Green spots still danced in front of her eyes, but Susan grabbed her backpack and ran off in the direction of her tent. "Get back here!" she yelled at it (like that was going to help), but her voice was snatched away and carried far in front of her. Despite the darkness, Susan managed to press the Indiglo button on her watch. It flashed the time: 11:37. Damn, she thought, I had a long nap. Her tent had again blown out of sight, despite its neon coloring and 3M® Scotchlite® reflective material strip.
As she cut through the woods, another streak of lightning illuminated the area around her. To her left, the tent. To her right, a cave which would provide some shelter . . . maybe. She stopped in her tracks. Susan twisted her head in both directions, desperately trying to make a quick decision. She hated making quick decisions.
"I'm in a Choose Your Own Adventure book, I swear," Susan grumbled, and decided. The tent. It was her parents, and they just might kill her if she came back without it. If, in fact, she came back at all, since Susan Blackweld was utterly, entirely, lost.
"This sucks."
~*~
The rain had started. Tiny daggers of ice stabbed their way through her clothing and chilled her skin. A wild bout of wind had stolen the tent soon after she had decided to follow it. You're in it now, she told herself. No turning back. No wimping out.
The ground was slippery—the rocks slick and dangerous. Susan slid more than once, but still kept her balance—a miracle of its own, because she was definitely not known for her grace.
The thunder and lightning were occuring almost simultaneously now, and Susan knew that she was in the worst of the storm. The ground rumbled beneath her feet, but didn't stop when the thunder did. What the hell? she thought, still searching out her tent.
Susan knew almost before she stepped that she was going to fall. Her hiking boot hit the wet rock, stuck . . . for a precious, life-changing moment, time stopped . . . then slid out from under her. There was no saving grace, no ground to break her fall as there had been that afternoon, only empty air.
Susan Blackweld, in a moment of true stupidity, had slipped on a rock right next to a small crevasse. As she fell, her last thought before hitting bottom was: Crap.