Anthem

Chapter 5 - Reagan

         Reagan opened her eyes. Everything was blurred from tears that still came, and she stood up groggily, blinking her vision clear. What time was it? She didn't know how long she'd been out, couldn't see the sky through the canopy.
         Her damp cheeks and red rimmed eyes were the only sign of what had happened. Wiping her face on her collar, she took in a deep breath and willed the tears to stop.
         She strode through the trees, ducking and weaving around the low branches that reached out to comfort her. She needed no comfort. She was fine, she was fine, and she wasn't fine. Who was she kidding, she needed someone to lean on. Jesse—she'd find Jesse. Her breathing hitched as she found herself gasping for air again. In her mood, she felt careless, suddenly reckless, snapping little saplings and thin branches in her way. Her careful steps became a heavy gait. She just needed to get out of this damned forest and find Je—
        She let out a piercing cry.
        There he was. Slumped against a rather decrepit pine, blood seeping like water from the limp body that had been flung onto it.
         "Jesse?" she whispered cautiously. He groaned and turned slightly to face her. No—not Jesse. A man around the same age, his leg bent in entirely the wrong direction. Deep, frenzied cuts and abrasions were scattered over his skin and several were still open, still bleeding. Clearly intentional. Torture. Oh—the blood loss looked deadly. He needed help, fast.
       Frantically, she ripped off half her right sleeve, pressing it to the severe gash that marred his head in hopes of clotting it. He let out a grumble, barely clinging to consciousness. She yelled out, calling for help, begging anyone to come to the dying man's aid. He couldn't die like this. She wouldn't be held responsible for the death of another person—not this time.
           She couldn't be seen here, she would do her bit and summon help but she wouldn't have his fate thrust in her hands. She couldn't risk being tied to his death, if it happened. Evidently, the people in the village hadn't come across the site yet or the man would have been rescued.
          Reagan hadn't met many of the villagers but she knew their opinions of her couldn't be high. She'd seen their looks as she had thrown open the door to her room and shouted for Jesse. They didn't trust her - why should they? She wouldn't have trusted herself either. She wasn't self-centred enough to give a shit about her reputation, not anymore anyway.
        There. Footsteps. She gave the man one last look before whispering reassuringly "You didn't see anyone, okay? You'll be alright." He winced in reply, nodding ever so slightly. She gave him an encouraging pat, and ran for the trees.

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        Jesse sprinted through the forest, heart racing in his chest. She couldn't be far. Heck, he didn't even know she was still doing out here. Hours had passed since they had sat by the river together. What could she have been doing that had made her scream like that? Whatever it was, he had no clue—and didn't like the uneasiness he felt as a result.
        He continued to brush past the trees, making sure to focus on his senses as the light failed. He couldn't hear anything else from the location, no more whimpers or sudden cries as of yet. It was totally silent save for his thundering feet hitting the rocky trail. Left. Right. Left. Right. Jesse did not want to think or imagine what might have happened. He needed a clear head if he were to be useful. There was nothing yet to be seen either; but he wasn't far off from where he'd heard that shriek. No trace of an off scent, nothing looked out of the ordinary.
         But he knew that something had gone horribly wrong, no matter how the forest fought to ignore—
        "Here," he heard a faint, raspy voice choke, "I'm over here."
        It wasn't Reagan, that was for sure, but it sounded like this person was struggling.
       "I'm on my way," Jesse called, his voice grave. Who knew what kind of injuries the person might sustain? The strained tone of their voice revealed the figure was weak and likely incapacitated.
       Jesse's stomach lurched when he saw the figure, sprawled limply at the base of a tree.
       A man? He couldn't tell for sure.The victim was broken in several places and the blood's steady dribble still oozed out of open wounds. His shirt was drenched scarlett and his hair was clumped and dried in knots of blood.
       Disgusting.
       Jesse had trained for situations like this but never on this scale. It wasn't like they had a mannequin or fake person that depicted this level of... atrocity. The man's fist uncurled and fell to his side, limp like the rest of him.
      "Who did this to you?"

Authors' Note
Hey guys it's been a while! Sorry for the lack of updates, we've had this chapter ready for some time but just hadn't gotten around to publishing it. Don't worry, we'll be uploading more regularly - and soon! Enjoy!