Zombie Rock II

Welcome to the Jungle

I felt a dull, throbbing ache in my temples as I slowly drifted back to the land of the living. The distinctive scent of pine and decaying foliage was sharp in my nostrils as I tried to take slow, deep breaths. As the smells registered, other things came through also: Sounds. Distant running water. The rustle of leaves.

I opened my eyes. I was in a forest. Not that my brilliant deduction narrowed things down, really. Osborne was surrounded by many deeply wooded areas, including the one behind the trailer park.

I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I was sitting up, which hadn't really registered until now. That was a little odd, I supposed. And shouldn't I have been dead? A body to be found after being picked clean by wild animals? Not that I wasn't glad to be alive, whatever the reason. I just needed to figure out where I was, and worry about why later.

I had no doubt I'd disappeared without a trace, just like everyone else, which suddenly made me think of a question I probably should've asked myself already: Could the others have woken up here too? And if they had, were they nearby? Alive? My brain, still fuzzy from the chloroform, seemed to take forever to process these thoughts.

I put a hand down to push myself up and my fingers brushed against something hard. Habit, nothing more, made me look down. It was a rock. No shocker there, but the piece of paper sticking out from underneath seemed out of place. I felt a twinge of curiosity, and reached for it.

It took a moment to realize that it wasn't a note. It was a picture. I frowned. Why had someone drawn a picture and left it under a rock next to me? This whole thing really wasn't making any sense at all. Until I realized the picture wasn't a picture—it was a map. Someone had left me a map. It was very simply drawn, giving me directions that I needed to follow. I stood and steadied myself as a wave of nausea hit me. That chloroform crap had one nasty kick. At least, I hoped that's all it was.

I looked around, trying to orient myself to the map. Since there was only a single big tree-looking thing at one end of the map, I assumed that's where I was. A squiggly line to my left was probably the running water I could hear. I was hoping that was the river that ran along Osborne's western side of the town. If it was, once I figured out which way was north, I'd be able to follow the river home. According to the map, I was supposed to walk toward the squiggly line and then turn right.

I started to walk, then scowled down at my feet as my toes scuffed the ground. I hadn't gone ten feet and already stumbled twice. Concentrating, I lifted each foot, putting one in front of the other until I was walking almost normally. It seemed to me that this shouldn't be so hard. But I didn't have time to think about it too much. I was busy shifting my eyes back and forth between the map and where I was going. In the back of my head, I knew there was something going on, something I should know. But I pushed the thoughts down and concentrated on what I was doing. Once I was out of here—wherever here was—I'd sit down and try to figure things out.

After walking for a couple minutes, I began to realize that my throat was very dry. And the closer I got to the river, the thirstier I became. Then my stomach growled and I decided that stopping at the river for a nice long drink seemed appropriate, and at least I would have something in my stomach. The river wasn't exactly my first choice for a drink, but by the time I reached it, I'd argued away the all the reasons why it wasn't a good idea, like toxic runoff, etc.

I knelt down on the bank and cupped my hands. That first swallow was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted, and I drank until I was uncomfortably full. Then I started trudging along again. I hadn't noticed until now, but it was getting late. The sun would be setting soon. I picked up the pace.