Days.
It had been days now, maybe longer—probably longer— since Dwight had stumbled into that miserable, suffocating fog.
Or at least it felt that way.
There was no way to be sure. Memory was unreliable. Fragile, and prone to abrupt erasure upon death, or so he'd learned through others who had strangely already known him in the past.
The flow of time lacked the reassuring constancy of the world he knew back home. Here, the campfire and its enigmatic cocooning woods remained eternally cloaked in an unmoving darkness. Not an insect hummed, nor did a single bird's chirp float across the air. There was only the fire's crackling embers and the occasional hollow sigh of the wind through the still trees that broke the oppressive silence. The trials also existed in a state of suspended animation. No matter how interminable they seemed, the stark, white moon above refused to budge, and the sun's blinding glare remained constant.
But surely it must have been days now. Long enough that Dwight was beginning to feel nostalgic over simple pleasures like fast food and a comfortable bed.
The campfire's warm glow radiated comfort. It flickered and danced in before him, a luminous heart at the center of this dark realm. He sat on the cold ground, his back against the solid trunk of a tree log. Now that they were safe once more, Dwight seized the moment to roll up the sleeve of his right forearm. Gently, he peeled away the bandage, feeling no pain anymore as he did so. Carefully, he picked away the crusted blood, revealing a pale scar where the wound had been. Within this surreal place, injuries and afflictions never lingered long, and Dwight was no stranger to this peculiar phenomenon. After surviving so many trials, he'd learned to accept the inexplicable. With a lingering gaze on the fire's mesmerizing dance, the eerily silent nights had become somewhat more bearable.
After all, he wasn't alone.
On the opposite side of the campsite, Claudette perched cross-legged upon the log, and he noticed her peering at him. She arched a subtle, inquisitive brow over the flickering flames, a silent but friendly way of asking if he was alright. Dwight nodded in response, eyes averted maybe too quickly as he refocused on the fire, a faint, insincere smile gracing his lips as he waited for Claudette to immerse herself once more in the conversation with Jake. The latter sat on the ground beside her, elbows resting on his drawn up knees, unwavering dark eyes reflecting the dancing flames.
Jake Park, in this uncanny world, often appeared unperturbed and resolute, undaunted by the horrors that enveloped them.
Hell, sometimes he made it look easy.
Jake was a newcomer, relatively speaking, but Dwight was uncertain about how long they'd crossed paths with him since time was an enigma in this place, memories even more so. He'd accompanied them through three trials at this point, proving himself a dependable and resilient ally, a rare breed in this cruel domain. He stood out as the first newcomer in Dwight's memory who hadn't succumbed to the cruel hand of death in their very first test of survival. The trio's longevity was a rare gem, Dwight couldn't deny it. Survivors came and went, mere flashes between the relentless trials. Among them, Claudette was the first person to weather more than four trials consecutively with him. Growing adept over the past few trials they had faced together, they'd managed to escape with their lives enough times to foster a genuine bond. The two stood at twelve trials now, though Dwight hesitated to keep count. Felt like bad luck to do so.
It was good—as good as it could get anyways in a realm of literal endless torture and suffering– to at least have someone he could depend on. The fourth member of their ill-fated group, who he felt a pang of guilt for when their name eluded him, had not been as fortunate.
It had been a rough night.
Dwight had attempted to drown out the conversations across from him about the ordeal, suppressing the bitterness that welled up within him. Yet, he couldn't help but respond to Jake's ridiculously optimistic musings that betrayed just how little time he'd spent with survivors.
"You don't go back."
The once-lively chatter hushed, both of their eyes swiveling to him.
"If you die in the trial, it doesn't end. It doesn't matter how many times you live or die, you'll just end up forgetting. Don't get yourself killed over wishful thinking. It's a waste of information."
As he looked up, he noticed the shadows that had darkened their faces. Regret picked at him. His gaze drifted back to the ground when he felt small under the darkness he'd put over their group.
Nice one Dwight.
"Sorry," he muttered, a moment of bleak introspection stealing over him. He paused, worrying at his cheek before continuing. "I've seen enough survivors come back even after they've died," he explained further. "And they never remember. It doesn't matter either way. We're stuck. All of us. Focus on surviving. You'll suffer less if you can remember how to live."
A heavy silence descended, so profound that Dwight felt compelled to lift his gaze. Both of their eyes were fixed on him, and Claudette's expression held a melancholy understanding as she regarded him from the corner of her eye. She knew he was right of course, and didn't seem eager to offer anything to the contrary, save for the concerned gleam in her eye under the campfire light. Dwight's eyes flickered away under the weight of it, and he found Jake too was observing him with a small frown. However, a muted curiosity lingered in his eyes, as though Dwight's words had piqued his interest.
"...How long have you been here, Dwight?" Jake asked quietly, voice nearly monotone from the bleakness of it.
The restlessness in Dwight's limbs and the unease in his hands built to an almost unbearable level. He offered a weak shrug, shaking his head as he refocused on the gentle crackling of burning wood. "Who knows," he muttered.
An unbearable silence hung in the air for a few more seconds, and Dwight couldn't endure it any longer. Without a word, he rose to his feet, clutching a flashlight in one hand.
"Where are you going?" Claudette predictably asked when he turned to step over the log he'd been leaning against.
"Just for a walk." He tried to keep his voice casual.
Claudette perked up, her shoulders subtly straightening.
"Do you want—"
"No," he interjected the offer abruptly as he shoved his free hand into his pocket, regret stinging him immediately after the curt response.
Neither of them spoke as he crossed the clearing toward the encircling trees. He continued walking, passing through the treeline until he was beyond both eye and ear shot. Finally, he let out a pent-up sigh to release the tension that had been building within him. He didn't like being by himself, not here at least. But for once, Dwight needed space. Away from that constant crackling of wood that burned endlessly, away from Claudette's incessantly well meaning glances, away from all of it.
He walked slowly deliberately, having long ago learned the intricate workings of the densely wooded forest. In just another five minutes, he'd circle back to the campfire—a maddening loop mostly devoid of landmarks or recognizable features that could easily drive newcomers to the brink during their initial days. The wilderness was eternally quiet. The only sounds being the crisp crunch of branches and vegetation beneath his feet and the subtle brushing of leaves overhead in the breeze, accompanied by the occasional creak of wood that always pulled the anxious eye. His mind had begun to wander back to the previous conversation echoing in his head. The residual guilt still gnawed at him and the fingers in his pocket picked restlessly at each other.
He hadn't really meant to snap, and especially not at what was probably his only friend in existence right now. Claudette was a kind hearted person. Quiet and introverted at first, much like him, something that had drawn them together. Yet, once she felt at ease, she could chatter endlessly about her passion for plants and insects, and she could be incredibly empathetic to a fault. She could hardly be blamed for failing to pick up on silent cues for a clear need for solitude, and he felt rather bad suddenly for taking it out on her, even if it only was just a single unkind word. He'd survived numerous trials thanks to her skill in rallying groups and her unwavering commitment to teamwork, and now he'd wandered off with an attitude, essentially leaving her to entertain someone they hardly knew past a couple of trials.
Surrounded by the dense, impenetrable forest on all sides, Dwight came to a halt. He withdrew the hand from his pocket and wearily rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, emitting another weary sigh. A low, gentle babbling creek passed by at his feet now, its soothing sounds the only comfort in this nightmarish place. He knelt down, placing the flashlight on a nearby rock at the clear waters edge, and he began to wipe the cold water over the crusted blood of his forearm. He'd go back soon. It wasn't smart to wander out here too long, or too far from the campfire in general, should a trial suddenly start once more. The offering in his pocket felt heavy, a foreboding reminder of the vicious cyclic nature of the realm churning like a bloody wheel of horror. Before long, Images and memories of trials past intrusively began to play out in his mind. The repetitive hums of generators, brutally swinging blades, piercing screams, the explosive searing pain of a sharp metal hook tearing through flesh and scraping…
When the bones in his motionless hand began to ache under the gentle current he realized that he'd drifted off deep into thought. Stirring from his frozen state, he shook his head and pulled his hand from the cold water. It was too quiet out here, with no one to distract him from the worst his mind could conjure.
Best to not get more lost than he already was.
As he stood, clutching the flashlight once more, a sudden, violent force grabbed at his shoulder. It yanked him backward, almost sending him tumbling, and he struggled to regain his balance, losing the flashlight when it slipped from his hands before he could grip it tighter and hearing it splash in the water.
"H-hey!" Dwight exclaimed, voice becoming an involuntary huff when his back collided with a solid object, and adrenaline and instinct sent him surging forward in a desperate attempt to escape whatever had suddenly attacked him. A massive figure loomed before him, grunting as it interrupted his stride, forcefully shoving him back against the unyielding trunk of the tree. Panic surged through him the moment he felt strong hands grip the front of his shirt and pin him, and the shadow before him exuded what Dwight could only register as danger.
A killer? Here? In the woods? It wasn't possible, it couldn't be, it was safe here. This had to be some sort of sick–
"Where the hell am I then, eh? Someone 'aving a laugh, that it?" A man growled down at him, his voice carrying a low accented gruffness, and a faint whiff of… tobacco?
Every part of Dwight came to a freezing stop. Killers seldom spoke, and the british accent certainly didn't belong to anyone Dwight recognized.
"Wh-what?" He finally stammered out after a few wordless seconds. "I don't know what-"
"The hell you don't, you think I'm daft?" The darkness made it difficult to get a proper view of his assailant, but he could tell the man was large, and the formidable strength holding him against the tree made him swallow thickly. "I find myself wakin' up in the middle of nowhere, and the only other bloke around just so 'appens to be–"
Fear climbed into Dwight's throat as the strong fists tightened their grip threateningly on his collar, and his body finally responded again, hands flying up to claw at the strong arms pinning him. "I–I don't know what you're talking about! Let go of me!"
"Don't know what I'm talking about?" The man's words were laced with angered skepticism. "One moment, I'm strollin' outta the pub, and the next, I'm here in the woods, not knowin' my arse from my elbow. So, what was it then? Drugs? Somethin' slipped in my pint? Is this some kind of fucked in the head prank? Some sort of–"
The grip on Dwight's shirt slackened briefly when a small rock suddenly collided with the man's arm, causing his head to snap to the side, scowl now aimed at the aggressor.
"There's plenty more where that came from." Relief washed over Dwight, and he followed Claudette's voice to see her true to her word, standing prepared with another rock already poised to throw. She continued her warning, voice firm. "So unless you want more of that, you'd better let him go."
Without hesitation, Claudette launched the pebble forward, and it sailed out of sight, missing its intended target entirely. Nevertheless, the man still holding Dwight flinched, his grip weakening further, and his tone shifted to a more defensive one.
"Oi–" The man winced again when she primed another rock for throwing, and luckily for the ambient air around them, she paused this time to hear him out. "Now look, miss, maybe there's been some sort of mix-up," his voice carried a hint of puzzled desperation at this point. "I'm just trying to figure out what the hell's going on here. I thought…"
Dwight was barely breathing as the man in the darkness turned to look back at him. Then, his hands thankfully fell away, raised defensively now, and Dwight released a relieved breath as the pressure vanished. He quickly sidestepped to put distance between them and backpedaled, nearly tripping over a root in the process until he came to a stop at Claudettes side, still armed with another projectile. The stranger shrouded in shadow before them was rooted to his spot, hands still held up. His demeanor appeared more wary than angry now, and maybe even a bit guilty.
"Look, I've been wandering through this ruddy place for ages, and I ain't got a clue how I got 'ere in the first place," he continued, words heavy with confusion. He stepped forward into a faint patch of moonlight, and Dwight had been right in his initial impression. The man was burly, a tough looking guy with a sturdy build and short dark hair that was slightly unkempt. More notably, his dark clothes and jeans were clean, free of blood or torn fabric. "You're the first folk I've come across in a bleedin' long time, and I thought... well, I don't know what I thought, but maybe you can tell me what the hell's going on here, 'cause I ain't got a clue. One second I'm walkin' through the city, miles from any forest, and now I find myself 'ere."
Claudette and Dwight exchanged a brief, knowing look. They'd been through this dance several times, but typically, newcomers stumbled upon them at the campfire while they awaited the next trial. It seemed Dwight's luck was different, and he'd just happened to find someone lurking in the woods. While terrifying at first, he was glad to know at least that they were still safe outside the trials.
Mostly, anyways, considering he'd nearly had his head bashed in by a crazed lunatic.
Nonetheless, with a softening expression Claudette lowered her rock, and it dropped to the earth with a small thud.
"You're new, aren't you?" She began, her tone uncertain. "We... we do know what's going on... Sort of. It's, um, kind of hard to explain."
The stranger's keen eyes narrowed, and his hands fell, hanging restlessly at his sides.
"What d'you mean, ' hard to explain '... I just want to know where I am and how I got here. If you know something, tell me already," he demanded calmly.
"We're all in the same boat," Dwight began, rubbing the back of his neck and unsure of how to convey their situation. This part was never easy, and his voice was awkward as he spoke, still reeling somewhat from the sudden heated encounter. "We don't know how we got here either. We have a camp, not far from here. You should follow us back."
"We can explain once we get back to our friend," Claudette added, turning away to lead the way as she motioned with a thumb behind her. "Come on. It's not far."
"Friend?" He questioned and there was a pause of indecision on his part. "What exactly is going on 'ere? "
"We'll talk when we get to camp," Claudette answered, her tone gentle and disarming. "It's not as cold over there."
After a few seconds of pause the man muttered a brief, "Alright then," and Dwight heard the crunch of his boots as he followed along a distance behind them.
As they made their way back through the woods, Claudette gave Dwight a sympathetic look and asked quietly, "You okay?"
"I'm fine," he replied with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. He adjusted his tie and smoothed out his ruffled shirt collar. "No harm done. Maybe just a little embarrassed you had to come to my rescue."
"I was aiming for his head," she retorted with a playful lilt. "Don't mention it, though. I think I owe you at least one badly aimed rock throw. But I know that back there wouldn't shake you... I was talking more about earlier."
Dwight frowned, his gaze flitting forward when he felt a poke of regret. "Oh... yeah, uh... Sorry about that. The last trial was just... a lot. Needed a minute to breathe."
"You don't have to apologize," Claudette reassured him, gracefully stepping over a fallen branch. She cast a brief, curious look back at the larger man who was following them. The orange glow of the campfire began to flicker through the trees, indicating their near arrival. "Just wanted to know if you're alright." She offered a warm smile as they broke through the tree line. "We're a team after all."
"Right," he uttered quietly, seeing Jake look over his shoulder when he heard the sound of footsteps, and Dwight raised a brow, giving him his best 'you'll never believe what we found' look. "Thanks Claudette."
