The Back of The Mind: A Collection of Eerie Short Stories

Walk to Salvation: Part 8 of 8

Berk didn't say another word as he tied a groaning and sobbing Erik up. He kept the arrow in the shoulder to avoid any blood loss. He carefully returned Erik to his place next to the fire. The young man finally looked peaceful in his balancing consciousness. There was nothing left to do but sit back and wait. The hard part was over for Erik.

Erik slept through the night despite the howling pain reverberating through his body. Losing blood and friends at once was too much to work through. He didn't see another moment of reality until he was lifted off the ground.

Erik tried to open his eyes, but the bright morning sun stung his eyes. The left side of his chest was prisoned by a dull throb. Every time he breathed, his ribs wanted to give in under strain. Fighting against the arms wrapping around his body would be pointless. All of Erik's gathered strength had left him, and he could feel the lack of blood on his face.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light of day, he saw the four faces that carried him up the hill. They were bruised and scarred, and none held any sympathy for Erik. Every bump in the road or stumble of their feet pulled on a muscle connected to his shoulder.

The agonising trip to the house was shorter than he expected, and he wished he could say the same for the previous two days. He saw the first corner of the roof and brick walls floating past him before hearing any voices. Erik had envisioned his first human contact, other than Berk, as a saving grace that would lift him out of his shoes and through the air toward home.

This voice, however, reminded him of a high school teacher scolding her most frustrating student. There were no coherent words. However, the female voice sounded conditioned and strong. They passed the window where it originated from, and a few seconds later, he was put down to his feet. The motion pulled at his shoulder, and he could feel the arrow move between his muscles.

Berk's arm flew up beside him to stop the person behind him. Erik looked down his numb arm to see a hand leave his wrist. The woman stepped away and let Berk take her place. He took Erik's injured arm, rotated it palm-up and strapped it down to a plank at his side. Berk took care not to hurt him. When both arms were fastened without a struggle, the group of strangers, including Berk, disappeared from view and left Erik alone.

The ground was dusty and blew away with each pass of the wind. The area was bare, with only a wooden fence surrounding Erik before the treeline. There was nothing to see between the trunks and branches. He could still hear a hum of voices coming from the house behind him.

"How's the arrow?"

The voice erupting from his back startled Erik. "Who're you?" he blurted.

"Name's Ciara," the voice was softer now. "You okay?"

"In pain but pushing on," Erik welcomed the pleasant voice. "Why are you here?"

"Found a stranger on my farm. He wanted to show me something." She had a subtle but tangy accent under her breath. "Not long before he pulled me down and tied me up. Next day we're here. You?"

"I got lost," Erik sighed. "I needed help. He said to follow him here." The words didn't come as easy for Erik. Every time he refilled his lungs, there was a numb pain in his chest.

Ciara kept silent at that. Erik looked to the clouds, on the verge of rain.

"They're gonna eat us." His head dropped, and he swallowed a cry. He could barely suffer the pain already.

"I know," Ciara's tone dropped. "Already took a fucking finger as a sample."

"Christ," he shook his head in disbelief.

Erik could hear the girl sobbing quietly. Neither of them was meant to be there.

The house's doors opened behind him, and along came chatty voices, all in a language Erik couldn't understand. They came to stand to his left. One woman struck him as superior to the others. She held a cane and tapped the ground with it as she walked. She was clean and carried herself well. Her eyes were more fierce than the rest. Everyone formed behind her, and conversations died out.

The woman said something in their language and then to them, "Let's meet the dinner."

She stepped toward Ciara's side and pushed her with the cane. "What do you do for work?"

"I'm a farmer," Erik could feel her shrug the cane off. "Who're you?"

"Thank you for asking," the woman put her cane back down on the ground. "You may call me Modea." She walked toward Erik's side, and they met eyes.

"You took your time to get here," she felt at the arrow and investigated it. "Did you much good. Why did you run?"

Erik didn't want to sabotage someone else that may see the carving and get away.

"To get away, why else?" He was trying to be as steadfast as Ciara had been, but he felt his whole weight held by a toothpick.

"Yes of course," Modea nodded sarcastically. "But what caused you to run?" She leaned into Erik's avoiding eyes.

"Berk told me," he pushed the words out between his lips.

"Oh, he would never do that," she stepped away. "But, luckily for you," she took a deep breath, "I don't have the time to get it out of you."

The room fell silent as Modea drifted back in front of the herd.

"This will be mostly painless," she stated when she took her place. "You will both drift toward your final sleep while your blood drains from your bodies."

Both of the victim's heads turned toward the mother.

"Hunters," she called them forward. "Finish your prey."

Berk and the other hunter stepped forward, both with a knife. Berk had changed clothing, he noticed. A white and crimson robe draped over the brute as he stood before Erik.

Erik clenched his jaw and braced his body. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't.

"Please. Berk." Erik spat. "Please."

Berk kneeled. Erik looked up at the sky and tried to memorise the clouds. It was almost going to rain.

As Erik's vision faded, he felt Berk removing the arrow from his shoulder.

"Prepare your meat!" He heard Modea call out.

While Erik was getting prepared, his car was being towed away.