REVIVE ▸ d. winchester [2] ✔

Chapter 9

72 HOURS

My shoulders shake with exertion as I lean back against a tree. I ignore the dull ache in my back where my quiver of bloodied arrows digs into my back, and instead stare down at what I'd just done.

The beast lies stiff on the ground, the only source of movement being a slow trickle of blood. It makes it's way into a pool underneath it's stomach, mixing with dry dirt and leaves and finally settling mere inches away from my muddied boots. The life literally trickles out of the thing, yet as I stand, breathing heavily, I feel no remorse. I'd seen so much death, I'd caused so much of it, I didn't feel a damn thing anymore.

Four. That's four of them. Four of twenty.

Sixteen left.

I slowly slide down the bark, bending my knees and folding them in front of me as I sit. Never in my life would I have ever expected myself to get sick of hunting. It was never just a job, it was my life. Maybe if it was just a job, then yes, I would come to hate what I did. But its all I've ever known. And no matter what, I could never hate what I do.

But this- everything around me, the four beasts I'd killed with the motivation I've been forced to accept- I can't take it anymore. I'm completely and utterly sick of this hunt. I'm not hungry. I'm not thirsty. I'm not tired or weak. I'm just mentally exhausted. I'm lost.

How long have I been here? Days? Weeks?

I long ago lost track of the sunrise and sunset. A fog had set over the sky, making it even darker than before. It is now impossible for me to see the change in the shades of gray in the sky that I had been correlating with each new day. So now, I don't even bother trying to count the days. I just do my job.

I walk a path that follows the stream's current. And every time I find one of Azrael's chimeras, I fight. I fight to kill. After, I pick up my arrows and wash them in the stream. Then I pick up where I'd left off, following the same stream, ready to repeat the process.

And I'm completely tired of it, to say the least. I can't lie to myself any longer.

This a shitty situation.

From my spot on the ground, I stare at the monster in front of me. I find myself wondering what Azrael thought he could get out of this one, this specific experiment that lies dead in front of me. Unlike the three others I had met so far, this Chimera had no sharp teeth and no lengthy and deadly claws. It instead relied on its speed and agility. It's size definitely helped with that- coming up to my waist in height, the Chimera had gotten the first shot at me from behind.

I shouldn't have let that happen. I need to pay more attention.

Bringing a hand up to my face, I wipe a mix of sweat, dirt and blood off of my forehead and wipe it on my jeans. I find no use in preserving the integrity of my clothing at this point- I was already a mess, what would a little more grit do?

Bending my knees, I drag my feet underneath me and push myself up back into a standing position. Looking down, I eye the two arrows lodged deep into the chimera, one in its chest, another its abdomen. Without a second thought, I grab one arrow by its shaft and place my foot at the wound, then give a good yank. With little resistance, the arrow slides right out, and I easily remove the other in the same manner.

I give one last glance at the dead Chimera before reaching down, picking up my bow in my free hand, then stepping back. After only a few paces, I've put the thing behind me and I have the stream in my sights again. Making my way down to the water's edge, stepping through dead foliage and slipping slightly in the mud, I kneel down to my knees.

I have no thirst and no hunger, so the water will not help quench in that sense. However, I find myself refreshed by the feeling of the water moving through my fingers as I dip my hands in. The cool sensation wakes me up despite not even being tired, and in a place of death, I can't help but allow it to bring a sense of life to me.

Bringing the two bloodied arrows under the surface, I let the blood run off the silver. Red stains whisp through the current, and I watch how they disperse and slowly disappear, flowing quickly away from me. Removing the arrows from the steam, I find them clean and as good as new, the water having washed away any evidence of my kill from not even five minutes ago.

Satisfied with their cleanliness, I remove my quiver from over my shoulders. I place them back inside safely, making sure they're strapped in so they don't fall out but in such a way that I can get them out as quickly as needed. And then, with no immediate danger in sight, I set the quiver on the ground and take a seat beside it in the dirt. And I take in the silence.

"Do you know what the best part of all of this is?"

Ripping my eyes from the clear water at my feet, I frantically search around, over my shoulders and in the brush next to me, looking for the source of the voice. My hands immediately find my bow and pull an arrow from my quiver, and I find myself back on my feet once again within seconds.

My eye scourge each tree, each dead brush and between every boulder that lines the stream, yet I come up with nothing. Only a mirage of greens and browns and grays enters my eyesight.

"What?" I whisper to myself in confusion. I stand completely still, my boots not rustling a single speck of dirt on the ground.

I'm going crazy.

Giving the silence another full minute, I finally let my shoulders relax and release the taught string I had been holding the arrow on. With one last glance behind me, I lower my bow. I'm just imagining things.

I take a deep inhale of air, but instead of receiving a calming release, I instead find a sharp pain running through the temples of my forehead.

"Shit!" As a reflex, I drop my bow and the arrow on the ground and grab my head with both hands. My fingers twine into my dirty hair and my eyes shut in response to the blinding pain.

"Only one of us is walking out of this alive."

"No," I plead. In my pounding head, I feel as if I am screaming, but from the weak feeling in my throat, I know its barely a whisper. "Stop."

Another wave of pain washes through my head, and this time it is enough to force me to grit my teeth. The pain. The voice... It was becoming too much. Yet, even in my pain-stricken condition, it didn't take me long to figure it out. To figure out what was happening.

"Azrael."

As soon as the name leaves my lips, one last crash of pain sends me falling to my knees. I land right on the edge of the water, but this time the cool sensation of the water doesn't bring me back. The pain reaches into my eyes, and although I have my eyelids tightly shut, I only see a blinding white light.

"Son of a... God, stop it!" I yell to the water below me, hoping he would hear me. Wishing Azrael would just stop.

"And the odds are not in your favor."

I let my hands fall from my head and grip the rocks and mud beneath me, searching for a balance in the dizziness and pain I'd been submerged so quickly into. Water rushes over them, and between the thin slits of my eyelids, I watch the dirt and grime wash off of my fingertips. It all simply washes away.

My vision slowly becomes darker and darker no matter the number of times I blink. I shake my head from side to side, trying to find my bearings, trying to focus on one thing. But I can't. The only thing I am aware of is the pain.

"Please," I whisper. The last thing I see before darkness takes over is the water, its clear blue haze turned to one that is red.