When The Days Turn Cold

Chapter Four

He starts staring somewhere in my direction, and I think I'm spotted. But then the fourth man who went to check into the first crevice comes running.
"Some of our supplies have been stollen, and Larry is out cold" he shouts. Some? If they have more, than they can survive, I no longer feel so bad for stealing their stuff. And why would you name your kid Larry?
The one in front of me starts cussing "Find the girl, she has them. If we find the girl, we find the supplies. And I think we better return her favour of knocking my brother unconscious." Larry's brother has his back to me, and I swear I spot a gun holster in his belt.

There is snow building up on the rocks. I reach out cautiously, and grab a lump and press it against the scratches on my face. It's freshly fallen so it ought to be clean. It stings less, but none the less, it still hurts. The fourth starts hunting for me in another direction, and Larry's brother, starts climbing in mine. Oh c'mon, I wanna live to see tomorrow.
I can't run anywhere, I'm stuck. His eyes narrow down onto me.
"Here she is" he bellows as loud as he can. I'm sure he's attracted the attention of the other men.

I reach behind and grope for my knife as he reaches behind to his back pocket. I know he's pulling out his handgun. And before he can I charge towards him- as fast as I can without slipping down the slope- and stab him in the shoulder. I pull the knife back out because obviously I want to keep it. He crouches down with his hand on his shoulder. He has a backpack and I pull it off him. It's light but I take it anyways. As I dash around him to go down the slope, he grabs my leg and hauls me down. I graze my chin as I crash down on a rock. I kick the gun out of his reach. I get up but he tugs in my leg again. He really needs to stop doing that. He's brought out a knife, he brings his arm up and tries to stab me on my back.

I roll to the side, and he ends up slashing my forearm. It's a cut across the side, but at least he didn't stab me right in the middle of my arm. This is lucky cos I don't know how to treat a wound like that. I kick him in the rib. Hard. He uses his arms to press against the place I kicked. I stand up and bring my foot down on his stomach and then his nose. I'm pretty sure I might have broken it. I had to make sure he didn't follow me. I dash down the slope and make a beeline to the main road. I almost feel bad for breaking his nose but then I remember he tried to kill me.

I start sprinting in the gaps between the hills. Oh, this was a horrible idea. I pass two other men, who pull out their guns, I don't stop sprinting though with the hope they have stormtrooper aim. In spite of the fact that I have two bags slowing me down, I reach the road. I still don't stop though. I keep going until I find a sturdy tree I could climb on. It's not sowing here.

I ignore the pain which goes through my arms because of the gash, and climb up high enough to a fork that if the men ended up passing this tree they won't see me. I couldn't have kept running, even though I have enough stamina to jog ten kilometers, who knows, the men could still be following me. And I don't want them too catch up to me when I stop running. I take a look into the man's bag. He has water, some dried meat and nuts, and a first aid kit. Maybe this wasn't so much of a bad idea at all. I take the first aid kit, and leave my bag and his in a fork of a branch close enough for me to reach. I clean out the wound in my arm, then apply a cream. I then wrap gauze around it. After I'm done with that and the cuts in my face. I check my elbow. There's a bruise. The leather jacket must have stopped it from getting skinned at least.

I'm lucky for the clothes I'm wearing as they're thick enough to stop me from getting skinned and bruised. Well, getting bruised worse than I usually do. I'm wearing strong trekking boots, which have gone brown from mud. I have on a pair of thick jeans. They aren't skinny though, so I have enough flexibility so move around and kick stuff. I'm also wearing thigh-high socks because they supply a small amount -but very much appreciated-  of warmth. Under my leather jacket, I have on a singlet top, a long- sleeved shirt, and a hoodie. The amount of clothes I'm wearing is the only reason I haven't turned into an ice cube. The jacket is my dad's. It gives me something to remember him by, as well as a jacket big enough to fit a sweatshirt underneath.

I drink some water, and eat the dried nuts. I have a short slumber. When I wake up, it's evening time. The sky is a canvas of reds, oranges and purples. Each colour blending into each other. It looks like a couple of paint tubes exploded in the sky. I take out a strip of dried meat, and sit back slowly munching on it. I watch the sky as the land engulfs the luminescent sun. Just before the sun hits the ground, clouds roll in, and I know it's about to start snowing. I have to get a move on. I transfer the stuff from the man's bag into mine. I ditch his and jump down. I continue walking at a slow pace. The first flakes of snow begin to fall. I wrap the blanket scarf around me tighter, and pull up the hoodie. I start a very slow jog so I can generate more body heat.

It's getting really, really dark, and I'm fatigued. I want to stop, but I can't until I find a good, warm shelter. I swear I see lights but I suppose it's just my imagination. I get closer to it. A little bit off the main road is a cottage looking house-like structure. What's it doing in the middle of nothing? My gut tells me I shouldn't approach it but I do. I'll freeze if I don't get cover from the snow. I don't like dying very much.

I'm a couple of Meyer away from it, and a figure steps out. He's holding a rifle. He's not very tall, looks about 5'9. He has a stubble. His blond hair is cropped short, he looks like he's in his mid-twenties. Another face catches my attention. It's a women, she's pulled the curtain back so she can peer out. She looks the same age, and has wavy, caramel hair until her shoulders. I put my arms up.
"Who are you?" the man shouts at me. His voice sounds firm, but not menacing like the people I've earlier encounterd.