Not Alone

3

You know when you're scared out of your mind, and everything seems to slow down? You see your life flash before your eyes. Your mind thinks of the worst case scenario, and your imagination goes wild. And there's no controlling it.

Thoughts race through my mind, all blending together in a confusing blur. Adrenaline fills my veins, my heart palpitating with each moment I continue to stay still. At this point, it's either fight or flight.

I don't need to look down to know exactly where my dagger is. Taking my weapon, I face my attacker.

All I see is trees. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that was trying to kill me.

Maybe I actually am starting to go crazy. Perhaps something in the grass I ate? The water?

I strain my ears to hear for something out of the ordinary. What exactly am I expecting? I have absolutely no idea.

When they first arrived, I expected the Others to be cute little aliens, like E.T. Granted, I still don't know what they truly look like. But I've seen the destruction and chaos they've brought upon this earth. They mercilessly wiped out an entire species.

Almost an entire species, I remind myself.

I continue to stay in a fighting stance, readying myself to kill if necessary. I slowly bend down to pick up my backpack, not tearing my gaze from the woods in front of me.

A twig snaps again, and I spring into action. I make my way along the river, sprinting as fast as I possibly could. The adrenaline keeps me from feeling the burning in my lungs, and the ache in my limbs.

My path is blocked by a pile of boulders, but I am in a hurry. I climb over the sharp rocks, their sharp edges digging into my palms.

To my right is the endless forest. To my left is the winding stream, a barrier between me and the trees on the other side. I obviously have no time to cclimb all the way down the other side of the rocks.

Why are those even here?

I begin to climb down, frantically searching for an opening of some sort for me to hide in. I find one at the base of the pile, where the boulders meet the water. I jump not-so-gracefully into the cool water, the sounds of nature and my labored breathing cutting out abruptly as I fall beneath the waves.

My now-soaked clothes have become heavy, making it difficult for me to move easily across the water to my hiding place. I wedge myself into the opening, and try to keep my dripping backpack above the waves to prevent further damage to the contents inside.

I cover my mouth to quiet my heavy breathing, not daring to move. I star in my ears to pick up sounds of my pursuer, but the sound of my heart beat and the roaring waves drowns out all other noise.

The stinging in my hands becomes stronger and stronger as the adrenaline wears off. The blood from the cuts flows into the stream, and slowly fades as it moves along the current. I pray quietly that there isn't a trail of my blood on the sharp rocks.

As more time passes, I regret my choice of hiding place more and more. I am no vulnerable, a sitting duck. If they find me, there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to run.

"I'm screwed," I whisper to myself, my voice shaking from fear and the freezing water.