Wildfire Book I - Survival Instinct

Cabin in the Woods

Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.

― Erol Ozan

Grace drifted in and out of consciousness again and again, but never long enough to actually understand what was happening. Everything was blurry, sounded dull. Her head pounded like someone had just stuck a chisel in it. Every breath hurt in her lungs, her throat was as dry as sandpaper. Again and again she felt one or two tremors, and finally, she became aware of the two strong arms that pressed her firmly against a warm body. Her head hung in the neck, her gaze looking at the blurred treetops under which she passed. The smell of moss, sweat, earth, and cheap whiskey filled her nose and lulled her in. The light hurt her eyes and aggravated the throbbing in her temple.

"Stupid bitch's slowin' us down.", a voice growled close to her head.

"We can't just leave her in the forest, not with all those freaks out.", countered a distant one in a neutral tone of voice.

"Yeah? She ain't our problem. She sure as hell ain't mine!", the brash reply came promptly.

The loud, penetrating shattering of glass made Grace jump up. In panic, she sucked the air into her lungs and looked around. Where was she? How did she get here? Her eyes had trouble adjusting to the dim light in the room. A wooden cabin, surely. Her fingers slipped across the worn fabric of the black sofa on which she lay. With difficulty, she straightened up. In the room there were also some bunk beds and an old rusty metal shelf with tins, numerous containers, and boxes. In general, the furnishings could be described as very sparse. Her heart was beating up to her neck, again she felt the blood rushing in her ears. Was she kidnapped? She paused when she noticed the man opposite from her at the sink. The mirror in front of him was broken, had he smashed it in anger? Daryl turned and looked at the injured woman. An expression of suspicion and fury burned in his blue eyes. Grace stared back in silence, ready to scream or resist if he came at her.

"Good morning sunshine. How are you feeling?", the older man's voice made her head jerk in his direction - which again caused a surge of pain that made her flinch. By now he had taken off the warning vest - just like his cap. And suddenly it hit her like a punching hammer: this man was the murderer of the injured guy. Without hesitation, he had shot a badly wounded person. Panic crept into every fiber of her body, but she was paralyzed.

"Y-You killed a man!", it came shrilly from her throat. "Let me go at once! If you do anything to me, my father will have you for this!", she vexed on hysterically.

"Hey, kid! Take it easy there, nobody's gonna hurt you here.", the older one reassured her.

"Oh no? Is that what you said to the man in the forest? You know, the one you just shot!", she shot back.

"That man was my half-brother, you saw that I shot him, did you also see that his guts were spread over half the riverbed? No one could have helped him anymore. Leavin' him alive would've been torture.", he continued calmly talking to her. In panic, her focus wandered back and forth between the two strangers. Daryl just leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. She did not like the way he looked at her. Like she was a helpless doe. There they were again the images in her head, of all that blood, of Karen literally getting torn to shreds in her wedding cake, of the man bleeding to death on the floor, his guts hanging out and the sight of his brain being blown out of his skull when the bullet hit. She felt the rumbling in her stomach, felt every color fade from her face. She couldn't help herself. She jumped up and paced over to the sink where everything that was still in her stomach was wiggling out of her body, making her throw up violently.