《A Chilling Smile》 Chapter 1: Never Drop Your Smile ¡°Alright see you later.¡± As I am leaving the store, I smile and wave to my coworker. ¡°Make sure you¡¯re not forgetting anything just hanging around.¡± The older woman, Barbs, says in a good humoured but quite bitting remark about an incident earlier today. I had lost the keys to the store¡¯s storage room and started looking through everything, only to realize they were on the hook next to the door. Barbs is probably not going to let this down for awhile. These old women can be quite catty. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I got everything.¡± I give her a good natured grin and pat my pockets in an exaggerated manner. ¡°Now don¡¯t accidentally lock yourself in. I won¡¯t be able to get you out if I can¡¯t find the keys.¡± I really wish she would let my moments of idiocy go, but she is having fun and I should be able to take a joke. It was all my fault really. ¡°Drive safe!¡± she yells at me as I reach the door, the last threshold between work and temporary freedom. No longer having to deal with the customers that see you more as set dressing than a person. A wonderful passing liberty. ¡°Never do!¡± I yell back into the store, in our usual farewell routine. I am the second last to leave. Barbs will lock up in a few hours. I head to my car in the coming twilight. The setting sun playing with the shadows that will soon engulf the world in its absence and rest, only to come back and cruelly stur the land again in the morning. Hopping into my sedan, my forehead makes connection with the steering wheel. ¡°I am an idiot.¡± After a bit I pick myself back up, and put a smile back on my face. --- Not wanting to cook today, I stop for some take out on my way. I am a bit of a regular at this place. Decent, cooked, and well priced food is tough to beat. Walking in I see the nice girl is working today, I can never quite remember her name though. ¡°Hey long time no see, the regular then?¡± Leah at the counter gives me a slight grin, but I can only give her a confused smirk. ¡°Um, I was here two days ago. Also I don¡¯t have a regular.¡± She appears to be taken aback by this. ¡°Are you sure? You aren¡¯t Tristan who always order a number 4?¡± I have no clue who that is. ¡°No my name is Eric. And I try to mix it up.¡± I keep a smile on my face to attempt to reassure her that I take no umbrage with the mixup. I know I would be worried if I got people mixed up, and I cannot remember her name either. ¡±Sorry.¡± She says in a kind of off tone, like she does not believe me. ¡°So what will it be?¡± She draws away from the conversation and drops her smile. I give up on trying to start a conversation and smile as I place my order. --- ¡°Maybe I should go out on my next day off¡± I say into one of the sparse rooms I call a home. ¡°A movie maybe? But who with?¡± I look through my phone contacts, only to be reminded of the current state of my social group. Most contacts are coworkers, with a majority of these being people who have already left their employment at the store, and I haven¡¯t seen in months. I always make sure to grab the new employees contacts, but never delete them when they leave. And the ones that still work there probably already get enough of me. After that is family, which I have never invited any of them out before. It would be bad if this came back to bite me at a gathering somehow, even if I do not know how a simple invitation would cause me any trouble, they will find a way. After that is my friends. Three contacts of which I have not messaged any in over a year. Each one has their own reason. While I could try to reignite these relationships somehow, I probably should not call randomly for a movie. ¡°These excuses are stupid.¡± I hear the words. Wondering for a moment where they came from, before realizing that I had been the one to say them. I try not to think about it, and put the smile back on my face. I had let it drop somehow. ¡°I have other things I need to catch up on anyway.¡± I pick up a book I have been reading for a bit. It is quite good but my eyes seem to glaze over, and I find myself unable to finish a page. Putting the novel down, I turn on the game console and begin riffling through my games. Nothing seems to stand out and I fruitlessly launch a few games only to quit them in the menu. I pull up some videos online. Nothing too exciting, just stuff I know I would watch with autoplay keeping them going. Just need some background noise. And that is just what it is, background. I pay the video of someone dubbing over cats no heed, and lay back in my desk chair. Staring at the ceiling and the little faces my mind creates in the paint, as my smile leaves my face. ¡°I want to kill somebody.¡± ¡°I wonder who it will be.¡± I mutter into the emptiness of my apartment. ¡°It will probably be myself.¡± I state in a mostly joking voice, but some underlaying tone causes worry. I should not be thinking like this. ¡°Things aren¡¯t so bad. Everything could be worse. Just keep smiling.¡± Trying to put back on my ¡®Everything¡¯s fine¡± smile, I stand upright and promptly a bout of nausea knocks me off my feet to the ground.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. --- The fall is not as hard as I thought it would be, but that was because I landed in some soft grass. Grass, still warm from a long day, much more comfortable then the expected flooring. I open my eyes and all I see is a thick fog enveloping me. The obvious conclusion is that this must be some sort of dream. I stretch myself out to get a better resting position on the ground and feel my hand brush something disturbingly sticky and wet. When I pull my hand back and look at the fluid, I see a deep red color coating my fingers. Slightly darker than fresh blood. Probably has been sitting out for a bit. Standing up, the fog begins to thin out. The water vapor appears to function more as a wall than a cloud. Completely opaque, and existing on some boundary that seems to be widening. Suddenly the cloud disappears, and I stand facing a strange man in a blood stained hooded robe. ¡°What the... ¡° The man in the robe looks more confused than me. ¡°Okay, what did Harry mess up!¡± a voice from behind me says. Turning around I see four more confused cloaked figures, standing each beside a more confused normally dressed person. ¡°What! Why is this my fault!¡± the presumed Harry protests from my immediate right, standing in front of a rather large book. ¡°You insisted on reading the incantation. We said George should do it but noooo!¡± The five hooded people continue to bicker and try to assign blame onto the hapless Harry. The other four normal people, each looks like to be in their early 20¡¯s, are hammering their fists on invisible walls. Screaming but no sound can be heard. Our capturs seem fully unconcerned with their distress. An inspection of the ground reveals thick lines of blood drawn in a giant pentagram, with a circle about two meters wide at the points of the star, each holding a captive. Me included. I reach out and feel the same invisible wall holding me back at the edge of the crimson circle. The barrier is slightly spongy, probably the reason the others can bang against it without injuring themselves. ¡°Enough of this, Harry I am coming over to check the book.¡± The man in front of me finally speaks. ¡°George you can¡¯t just leave your spot! The barrier could weaken!¡± ¡°It will be fine. I can power it a bit as long as I am still around, and the barrier is made to hold demons. People should be easy. Mine isn¡¯t even doing anything. Just standing there with a stupid smile on his face. Probably slow in the head.¡± George leaves with a chuckle as I quizzically reach up to inspect my face with a hand. Sure enough my ¡°everything¡¯s fine¡± smile is there. A constant companion in times of trouble. Even now, it has yet to abandon me. ¡°Harry, are you a idiot! You used the wrong succubus summoning chant. This is for midnight under a full moon, not twilight under a waxing moon.¡± George exasperatedly palms his forehead as he looks at the book. ¡°So what, it should still work.¡± Harry folded his arms as the other stared incredulously at him. He looked to be taking a hard stance, but if one paid attention they would note he was purposely not looking any of them in the eye. ¡°Haa, maybe you could get something, if you read it perfectly! But what does it say here?¡± ¡°Venere.¡± ¡°And what did you say?¡± ¡°Venerate... But listen, there is like a dozen different languages in these stupid chants. How am I supposed to get them all right? It¡¯s just one stupid mistake.¡± ¡°Looking at this there were others as well.¡± ¡°Fuck you Harry, you fucker! I could be having sexy times with my sexy succubus by now!¡± One of the other cloaked figures, the shortest one, yells at the increasingly defensive Harry. ¡°I¡¯m quite happy with what I got. But I am not sharing with the rest of you lot.¡± One of the other cultists, which I suppose is an appropriate term, licks his lips, and causes the woman trapped in front of him to draw back in fear. ¡°Everybody! Shut! Up!¡± George seems angry. ¡°We just now need to find a new ritual with human sacrafi-¡± Then his brain exploded out the back of his head. Everyone was silent, not just the ones in the circles that let out no sound. All eyes turn towards the man who was still trapped inside Harry¡¯s blood ring. Both his arms were extended, clasping onto a chunk of metal. A familiar and deadly chunk of metal. ¡°A pistol?¡± I say, trying to project my voice but it is snuffed out by the ring. I can feel the words in my throat, but as soon as they leave they are gone. ¡°He had a wand!¡± ¡°No! No! Magic would need to break through the wards! Even if silent casted!¡± ¡°Then what the fuck is that! IT¡¯S NOT A FUCKING BOW!¡± The short one is swearing again. ¡°KEEP CALM! HE PROBABLY CAN¡¯T- ARRRGH!¡± Another silent bullet is loosed from the gun, Harry impacting on the arm. The trapped man with the gun is screaming, but no one can hear him. He is probably shouting to let him go or some such nonsense. The gunman is maintaining his shooting posture, but his legs are shaking. His skin has paled and entered a state of flush, with waves of sweet pouring out from him. Personally, I would not be surprised if he vomited. He looks like he really wants to. ¡°Idiot is entering shock. Do this after all the enemies are dead, not after the first kill.¡± My silent critique goes unheard by all except vaguely by me. The cultists, the captives, and the gunman are all panicking. Yelling, some incoherently, others unheard. Harry stands back up after a minute. Blood dripping down from one of his sleeves he looks both angry and slightly scared. This is not the type of unknown he was hoping to deal with today. He vaguely mutters something and a blue shimmer washes over his body. The gunman retrains his gun on the cultist. Cultist Harry holds his good arm up, hand and fingers outstretched as if grasping for something just out of reach, and shouts ¡°Ice Spike!¡± A light blue crystal flies from his hand and embeds itself in the gunman. Piercing his chest and causing blood to fall out in globs from the new opening. The gunman¡¯s face has stopped moving, but he is not dead yet. ¡°Ice Spike!¡± the second ice spike penetrates the heart. I believe however the gunman had managed to get a shot off between spikes. I am unsure, it is hard to tell without the distinctive sounds of a gun. But as the gunman collapses, Harry kneels down clutching the palm that he had used to launch his ice. ¡°Well looks like I need to try something.¡± While I know nothing about magic, George the one who was holding me is now dead so I should be able to just walk out. An untested hypothesis, but I should at least try. ¡°Here goes.¡± I tell myself, and step into the barrier. The force field that once held me is still there in some capacity, but I make my way through the strange pressure that assaults me from all sides. And out into freedom I step. But, immediately all eyes turn to me. Both cultists and captives have this wide eyed look about them. This is kind of awkward as I do not like groups staring at me. Raising my hand, I give them a friendly wave. ¡°Hello.¡± I say with a smile. Chapter 2 Now everyone is staring at me, questioningly, as if a creature just walked up to them and they are not sure if it is a wolf or a dog. I hope they will stop glaring, but I also hope I can avoid being filled with pointy ice, which are two options of equal probability. I keep the smile on my face, as something tells me it is the only reason I am still alive. Moving my head around slowly, making sure to avoid sudden movements, I survey the current surroundings and situation. One cultist is dead, taken out by the gun. The icy one, whose name I swear I knew a moment ago, is wounded in both arms and partially disabled. The other three are just standing at their points on the giant ritualistic blood star. Each about ten to fifteen meters apart; they have not made any moves to stop me yet. Thinking about it they did not make any attempt to stop the gunman either. Possibly they cannot attack at that range. The captives, now numbering three, are likewise staring. Two woman who have finally been shocked enough to stop pounding on the barrier, and a man who is frantically waving his arms at me with some sort of meaning. Probably to run away or get help. I focus on the circle now containing the dead gunman. Slowly, take one step then another, building up momentum to a walking pace. Keep smiling, be confident, show no fear. Halfway to the corpse, the damaged ice thrower finally gets his head together. Lifting his arm up, albeit slowly due to the injuries. Time to see if this will work. I raise my arm quickly in a similar fashion. ¡°Ice Spike!¡± I shout out and the wounded iceman gives up on trying to point at me and crosses his arm in front of him, releasing a cry of pain from the sudden effort on his wounded limb. And as he waits for a never coming impact, I make a run for the gun. I manage to get into the circle before the cultist realizes he has been tricked, my momentum causing me to slam into the inner walls of the cage. Quickly I grab the gun and we both raise our arms simultaneously. ¡°ICE SPIK-ARRG!¡± My silent bullet impacts his chest. Not a lethal hit, but his arm does swing wide. Which is good as, apparently, he was close enough on the yell and the frozen projectile launched at me, but his off aim caused the crystal to simply bury itself into my left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, I finish the ice cultist in one carefully aimed shot at the head. Whipping around I face the other cultists, not being able to afford the time to glory in my kill.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You Fuck!¡± The angry, short, sweary one finally moves from his position. Running around his captive, he starts charging at me. As he passes the captive man he was holding, an arm grabs the charging cultist. ¡°What the fuck!¡± The momentary confusion allows my fellow captive to pull the cultist¡¯s forearm into his ring. I manage to get three shots, missing once, off before the angry shorty manages to tug his limb free. The shots had hit his torso but this does not stop him. He continues to run at me. He is absurdly fast, but luckily he is moving in a straight line. Lining up my shot quickly, when he is within three meters I fire a bullet into his face. This stops him, but contrary to my expectations, does not kill him. ¡°FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!¡± He really needs to learn a new swear. He stands there clutching his face with both hands; screaming like a eight year old who just learned a naughty word. I step out of the ring and move around to get a clean shot at the back of his head. Bang! It is the first shot I fired off outside the silencing circle. This floors him, knocking him down, but I think the pottymouth might still be alive. He has proven resilient. After putting two more bullets into the skull, I am finally satisfied he is dead when I can see brain matter. I look up, my fellow former captives are standing about five meters away. Staring at me. The man is just looking at the bodies, clutching his own arm that he had used to pierce the barrier. His face one of forced neutrality. One of the two girls is trying to look away from the sight of blood and brains, but just cannot seem to accomplish this. Constantly turning back and having to stifle a gag each time. The other woman is covering her mouth, looking quickly from me to the dead at my feet. Darting back and forth; never resting as if she is afraid one will move when she is looking at the other. The other two cultists are no longer in the area. Probably fled when Shorty was attacking. The ice spike is still in my shoulder so I will need help. I am going to have to break this stalemate we have found ourselves in. Why are we in a stalemate anyway? Sure, I have a gun and some blood splattered on me, but these are all resulting from saving them. ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Eric. Don¡¯t suppose you could help me with my shoulder, please?¡± I give them a particularly wide smile. Hoping to alleviate some of the tension. One of the girls took a step back. The one with the darting eyes, which were no longer darting and devoted solely to staring at me. The other girl was also now staring at me. And the man was staring at me. ¡°Um, this is kind of nerve-racking to have you all staring at me. Can you please help?¡± I implored once again. ¡°Y-yeah, let¡¯s... get away from the blood first.¡± The man visibly shook himself out of his stupor with a soft clap to his face. ¡°Okay, but please hurry. This doesn¡¯t hurt much now, but that just might be the cold numbing it. I don¡¯t want to know what happens when it melts.¡± I start to walk towards him, keeping a casual smile up. The pain and light-headedness starting to set in as a drop an arm around the man for support. Chapter 3 A few hours later, the sun has departed and we are left with the illumination of a hastily made campfire. The soft lighting of dancing flames causes shadows to play around the tents. My mind distracting itself by focusing on the wisping fire. The ice in my shoulder had to come out, as the spike was starting to melt. This would have probably caused me to bleed profusely if uncontrolled. Currently my shirt has been tied around the wound, tight enough to cut off all feeling in my left arm. I do hope I will get that back. ¡°I found some medicine!¡± Angie, the shy girl who had the darting eyes before, shouts out. We had found the cultists campsite, and the others were ransacking it while I rested by the fire Mike started. The group reconvened around me. Angie is pulling bandages and vials of strange liquids out of an old leather satchel. Mike is kneeling to look at all the items. Jess, the other woman survivor, is just looking around aimlessly. Occasionally glancing at me for extended periods of time, however when I look back she pretends to have been simply passing over me. I do notice her face changes briefly while looking at me though. ¡°Do you think these could help?¡± Angie is looking at the medical supplies she managed to loot. Trying to make sense of the strange vials. ¡°I don¡¯t know the bandages seem basic enough, but I don¡¯t think we should trust the medicine.¡± Mike is looking the cloth strips over, apparently wanting to give up on the vials. ¡°May I see one?¡± I reach out my good hand to receive the glass bottle. It is stoppered at the top by a cork and filled with a strange yellow liquid. The vial is labeled as ¡°Quixley¡¯s Quick Acting No-Bleed Coagulant- Product of Howe- Batch #31 4127¡± followed by instructions that list it as an oral solution that lasts fifteen minutes. ¡°Are they all Quixley branded?¡± I ask with a slight chuckle. The label reminds me of the old fashioned designs popular in the 19th century. Entirely in black, with large swirling letters. ¡°Yeah. All Quixley. There is two disinfectants, a mild regeneration, a laxative, and a lot of tubes of ¡®Gentleman¡¯s Stallion.¡¯¡± Mike says looking at the labels in the light of the campfire. I am partially disappointed one of them was not actually snake oil. Mike continues reading over the labels, and a grimace graces his face when he finally realizes what the last one is. ¡°Well, I think I would like to try them. I am no good if I am down for weeks with this. You would probably leave me out to die in that case.¡± I say in good humor with a smile, although I do not think I have stopped grinning since we got here. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± Mike says in all seriousness. ¡°It¡¯s a joke. Don¡¯t be so touchy.¡± People never get my humour, but I am glad they are willing to help. The group make a plan to treat the hole in my shoulder with the available strange potions. Grabbing the coagulant, I prepare to drink while I watch Angie carefully pouring the disinfectant on a cloth as per the instructions. ¡°If I don¡¯t make it, see you on the other side.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that.¡± ¡°It is a joke, so sensitive, aren¡¯t you Mike.¡± I drink the no-bleed potion. The next fifteen minutes are a blur. My lungs felt as if they were trying to breath soup. My heart jackhammering enough to break concrete. The world spinning, nothing is real. What is that in my mouth?! Is it a slug? I try to bite it but it bites back every time, causing me to retract my teeth. After the quarter of an hour, the world uncoiled itself and I regained my thoughts. I cannot really remember what I was thinking about. My shoulder feels better, if a bit sore, but now my tongue hurts for some reason. Angie is tightening the bandages on my arm. Mike is cataloguing the potions again. Treating them with more respect this time. I notice him sneak a stallion potion for personal use though. Jess is off at the edge of camp, keeping watch of the forest. ¡°So, how did it go? Good news doc, will I get to keep the arm?¡± I say to the girl binding my shoulder. She has short dark hair and a short stature, which matches with her mostly Asian features. ¡°Ah! You¡¯re alright. You were out of it¡­¡± Angie trails off, quietly retracting into her shell, and returns to her work on my shoulder. ¡°The no-bleed only works fifteen minutes, but it was quite a ride. Kind of worryingly so.¡± ¡°Um, you should be okay. You were breathing quite hard. Your heart rate rose to the level of someone after a marathon, but not too far into the dangerous zone. Your eyes also glazed over. But during all that, the bleeding had stopped when we unwrapped the wound.¡± She has a wide grin on her face, and is relatively fast now. ¡°The regeneration was magical. It was amazing. Like watching someone stich the individual muscle fibers together.¡± She had stars in her eyes and was obviously completely in love with the potion. ¡°If it is so great, why do I still need bandages?¡± I prod Angie from her praising. ¡°W-w-well there wasn¡¯t enough or it wasn¡¯t strong enough, sorry, I followed the instructions it said to pour all into the opening after disinfection and it just stopped working after a few minutes, sorry, you should be fine though don¡¯t move the arm too much and keep the bandages on I could try stitching we have more disinfectant but we don¡¯t have needles but it will scar if we leave it should I try improvising something, uh, uh, uh, sorry.¡± How in the world did she say all of that in one breath? ¡°Wow.¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± Angie is completely wound up. A trap ready to spring again. I do not want to hear the worlds longest sentence again. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I try to move my arms in a soothing gesture, but my left is still numb and cannot move well. ¡°You know quite a lot about this though.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a med student.¡± She is now talking quietly, precisely, and reservedly. Afraid of losing herself again, probably. ¡°Well thanks. You also wrapped my arm originally. I am glad someone here knows what they are doing.¡± I keep smiling at her. She is a bit strange and awkward. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I know much.¡± She is keeping her head down. I do not think she has looked me in the eye this whole conversation, except when talking about muscle fibers. A bit worrying. ¡°More than me. But that¡¯s not saying much. I¡¯m just a college dropout, store clerk.¡± ¡°Then how did¡­?¡± She lets the sentence fade out. Her eyes go wide, like she has had a sudden revelation. After about half a minute of waiting for her to finish, I speak up. ¡°¡®How did¡¯ what?¡± Hopefully, my gentle but curious smile will coax out the rest of her question. ¡°Nothing! I need to go clean up.¡± Angie leaves very briskly. Head down, shaking slightly. Entering a near run when she turns around and sees me staring at her. ¡°What was that about?¡± I say to nothing and prepare for bed. Chapter 4 I woke up to the smell of oats wafting into the tent on a gentle breeze. While I could feel no wind, the soft fluttering of the entrance provided the proof of the quiet presence. Either that or the tent is haunted. Which considering we stole the shelter from demon worshippers, is entirely possible. The blankets next to me are empty. Mike had been using them when I fell asleep. There were only two tents in the cultist¡¯s camp. The girls did not even humour a discussion on sleeping arrangements and just took one of the tents for themselves. I think Mike wanted to argue the point a little though. Getting up I put on some clothes we found in the camp. Mine were covered in blood and ripped apart for bandages. The shirt is a simple throw over tunic. Quite long but good in that the sleeve does not stress my shoulder too much. That area is still sore and difficult to move. After putting on the pants, while thinking that the tunic is so long I could go without, my eye is caught by one of the things in the corner. The others found a lot when they initially ransacked the camp. There were many books among the items, mostly on demons and rituals, but there was a stand out in the number. ¡°Beginners Introduction to the Magic of Ice.¡± It is cold to the touch. I wonder if it could be used for food preservation. I grab the book for now, and tuck the tome away in a perfectly book sized pocket hidden inside the tunic. The clothes did belong to a cultist afterall. The loose clothes hide the book nicely, and there are even more pockets sown randomly inside the shirt. I exit the tent into the bright morning light. The sun has fully risen and graces the land with warmth. A welcome change from the dreariness of yesterday evening. Mike is preparing food in a pot over the campfire. He is a tall dark man lacking the density to fill out his own form. The smell of oatmeal grows stronger with each stur of his spoon. He grimaces with each rotation a little. Most likely having to do with the large bruises covering his right arm from when he broke through the barrier. He has not complained about the arm though. ¡°Good morning.¡± I say with a bit of chipper in my voice, and a smile on my face. ¡°What¡¯s so good about it?¡± He responds with some mild distain for the world at large. ¡°Not being strapped to a ritual alter, watching your heart pulled out while it beats in a demonic hand. Feeling your eternal soul pulled down into a fiery abyss from which nothing may escape. Never ending torture to the point where nonexistence is prayed for. Compared to that, this is great.¡± I say, my grin growing wider. ¡°That did nearly happen!¡± He is scowling. Not seeing the humour and fortune in our situation. ¡°Fine then. I take that back. Nearly being sacrificed is just as bad as being sacrificed.¡± ¡°Shut your ass up.¡± ¡°Cheer up, we¡¯re pretty lucky. I mean, it could be raining. There is that better, or am I just tempting fate now.¡± I slightly laugh at my own antics. ¡°Stop messing around! We are up to our necks in shit! How are you okay with this!¡± Mike is angry. Little veins popping on his forehead. Teeth clenched in frustration. ¡°We will probably be fine. We have a camp of supplies and a handgun.¡± I give him a smile and a light chuckle. ¡°Better off then most people lost in the woods.¡± ¡°The two other guys could come back.¡± He is trying to harden his face. Appear stoic and strong enough to give his words the needed weight. ¡°So shoot them. Or fire up into the air to give us a warning.¡± I try to break through his negative outlook on the whole situation. We are in a pretty good situation, relatively speaking. Especially since we found a lot of old silver coins in the cultists¡¯ backpacks. They are in English, but I have no idea who is the woman on the coin. We just have to get out of here and see what they are worth. Mike just looks down into his cook pot. Stirring slowly and looking guilty like the cat that killed the canary. Looking closer, he is missing something very important. ¡°Mike, where is the gun?¡± I say trying to sound gentle. ¡°I have it.¡± He is not looking at me, so I go across the fire from him and bend down to eye level. ¡°Can I please see it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He scowls slightly. I stand up and amble over to the log that I knew was used by the nightwatch. I was healing and did not take a shift, but the other three watched the camp in turns to allow us sleep. Mike¡¯s shift should have been the last one. However, now I see the pistol, that should be protecting us, sitting on top the old fallen tree. Just in the open. Abandoned. ¡°You really should be keeping an eye on this. It is just idiotic to leave this sitting around.¡± The sloppy, stupid nature of this is infuriating, but I remain composed and smile like I am only mildly amused.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I pick up the pistol feeling the cold metal slip into my grip easily. Keeping my finger off the trigger, and the weapon pointed down. The safety is still on from when I gave the gun to Jess for first watch. ¡°Put that down. You¡¯ll hurt somebody.¡± Mike stands up, letting his superior stature attempt to intimidate me. ¡°You just left it here. Anybody could have taken it.¡± ¡°I was watching it.¡± ¡°Why weren¡¯t you holding it? You need to watch the forest, not your weapon. You need to be able to respond fast.¡± Mike just looks down at the question. Avoiding eye contact. No not eye contact, gun contact. He is turned away slightly, trying to look at me but avoid the weapon. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± I try to sound soft and gentle, but my smile just makes the voice come out mockingly. ¡°Nothing.¡± Short, simple, and an obvious lie. ¡°Are you afraid of guns?¡± He scowls slightly. The man has such an obvious tell. ¡°Were you threatened with one?¡± No response. ¡°You get shot?¡± His eyebrows furrow. Closer. ¡°Somebody you know get shot, killed, filled with lead and left for the fishes?¡± Now that is a nasty furrow, but I do not think I am there yet. ¡°Somebody blasted out their own brains?¡± Now that is pure anger on his face. ¡°Shut up.¡± He tries to maintain a normal tone. ¡°Did you see?¡± My voice has a mocking edge. ¡°Shut UP!¡± He gives into some of his anger. ¡°Did you watch?!¡± ¡°I am going to pound you¡¯re brains in!¡± ¡°It would be easier to blast my brains out, but you don¡¯t have a gun.¡± I am just now purely mocking him. ¡°SHUT YOUR ASS UP!¡± ¡°Alright, alright, let¡¯s be civil. While I regret to hear about your unfortunate experiences, you need to get over this. Others are counting on you.¡± Mike quiets down. His rational mind fighting with his irrational anger and fear. Making a face as if twin dragons are fighting in his mind. He knows he did a stupid and dangerous thing afterall. ¡°How about I help you then.¡± I give him a friendly smile. ¡°As long as you follow the basic rules of firearms nothing bad will happen.¡± Mike narrows his eyes, unsure if he wants my ¡°help¡± but deciding to see were this goes. I have to hand it to him, he can reel in his anger pretty fast. ¡°The first rule of firearms is to only point them at something you are absolutely fine with obliterating. It is dead when you point your gun. Your suicide guy would have known this.¡± The man is looking at me. Furious. Ready to pounce but not daring to charge. Oh, this will be a fun lesson. ¡°I always make it a point to follow the first rule.¡± I raise the gun to my head. I feel the barrel rest on my temple. The cold steel against skin. Even though my finger is off the trigger and the safety is on I receive the desired effect, because this is real. I am serious. But still smiling. And he is quiet, anger giving way to listening. ¡°I don¡¯t care if I die. I will one day or another. I already tried once.¡± The chef is silent. Actively working to keep his face neutral. Probably not wanting to upset me. Too bad, I wanted to feel his reaction. ¡°Death is always an option. An out.¡± I move the gun from my head and point the barrel at him. He tenses and lowers ever so slightly to the ground. Ready for some stupid bullet dodge he most likely saw in a movie. ¡°There are conveniently four bullets left. We could all leave.¡± I move the gun in a pass over the tent with the two girls. ¡°This could end. Death is always there. But then what would we miss. Life is fascinating. Life is wonderful. And I want to see it through. If I die, I just finish what I started. Finality. A boring finality. But inevitable. But it is the person¡¯s choice, not the gun¡¯s.¡± I lower the pistol. My smile fades slightly, but still beamingly present to anyone who did not watch in that moment. Mike walks over to me. He stretches out his hand. ¡°You¡¯re insane, and need help.¡± ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right.¡± I give him the gun. He points it at me. Right at my head. I can see down the barrel, but I still smile. ¡°Nice threat, but remember you just killed me with that.¡± I say with my ever present smirk. ¡°You are wrong. Death is not an option. It is failure.¡± Mike lowers the weapon. His face now as hard as stone. Eyes locked in reminisce. ¡°You are right in some aspects, but let¡¯s hold onto this for another day. Breakfast is burning.¡± I say with some glee at the situation, but still genuinely concerned for my meal. ¡°Shit fuck!¡± Mike runs over to the fire and starts stirring the mush. ¡°It looks fine, just caught it. Wake the other two.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I walk over to the tent, and open the flap just a bit. ¡°HEY! Wake up can¡¯t spend all day sleeping! Breakfast is done!¡± After some grumbling, a mild curse, and another wake-up call, the two women are up. A bit worse for wear. Angie had shoulder length hair and no make-up. At least no noticeable make-up. A little water to wash up and she would still look like she slept outside. But at least appear like she planned for the occasion. Jess, however, had layers of well done make-up. Which was now smudged and running down her face. She had cried in the night which was quite noticeable. Her long hair was tangled up like a squirrel had used the strands as a nest. The fibers begging to be brushed. She quickly excused herself to go to the stream, which is when I noticed she actually had her purse. Jess came back looking better than all of us combined, but I wonder how long her supplies can last. She was only gone about ten minutes, and the wait was interminable. Mike has already dished out the food, but Angie insisted on waiting for Jess until we could eat. I am not sure why I am so hungry. I nearly gave in. Just wanting to dunk my head into the pot. But now she is back, so we can start eating. The meal is quiet. Mike and I grab seconds and finish off the pot. He is actually a good cook. The simple food is surprisingly delicious, even with the limited seasonings and additions. But this momentary peace cannot last. When the meal is over, we will have to talk about our plans. Chapter 5 ¡°Thank you, that was delicious.¡± Angie says to Mike in a tone that indicated she genuinely means the compliment. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Always a pleasure when someone enjoys the food.¡± Mike actually might blush from a response like that to such a simple meal. ¡°What are you talking about? It was just oatmeal. No fruit, honey, cinnamon. Just bland. Even I could make that.¡± Jess complains. Why she would choose to metaphorically put a bitchy foot in her mouth right now, is a mystery. Mike starts scowling at Jess. ¡°I have been a cook for seven, fucking, years. I don¡¯t got nothing fancy here.¡± Mike is holding his anger pretty well. As Jess is about to retort I butt in. ¡°What about the meat, could help?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t trust that. God knows what animal, or guy, they pulled that from.¡± Quite a lot of dried meat was found in the packs. Angie visibly shakes at what Mike just implied about the food¡¯s origins. ¡°Really, then what about getting something off the goats?¡± I gesture to the clearing. A large pile of dead goats was on the other side of the large circle we initially arrived on. The group had found them last night. All the corpses were drained of blood, and strangely they did not smell unless you got really close. ¡°Are you, fucking, insane.¡± Jess says some really hurtful things sometimes. I do not dignify her with a response. Just raise my smile and narrow my eyes a bit at her. Despite her best effort she visibly recoils a bit. ¡°Um, guys can we just try to get along?¡± Angie interjects in the silence. ¡°She has a good point, and we need to make a plan for getting out of here.¡± Mike says, providing the needed segue into the discussion we should have been having. ¡°You are supposed to stay still, in a survival situation. Idiots get themselves killed wandering through the woods.¡± Jess says, kind of condescendingly. ¡°No one knows we are out here. No one is looking. Somebody will probably be accused of chopping us up and hiding our parts around town.¡± I helpfully chime in. A slight chuckle following my comment to keep the mood merry. The others do not seem to appreciate my humor. Angie starts clutching her shoulders at the thought. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him.¡± Jess rubs Angie¡¯s back soothingly. Large soft circles to reassure that someone is there. ¡°They will probably think you just ran away. Everybody will be looking for you.¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t finding us even if they are. You all saw ¡®that¡¯ last night.¡± What is Mike talking about? ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Angie seems to know. She is now clutching herself a little harder, trying to appear small and unnoticeable. ¡°It was probably a trick of the light.¡± Jess seems to want to deny whatever this is. Keeping a hand on Angie¡¯s back to support the girl that is breaking at these thoughts. ¡°Wait! Saw what?¡± I interject. Mike and Jess just look at me like they are not sure themselves what they saw. Or that they do not want to believe it, and saying something will make it true. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. How did you miss it anyway?¡± Jess looks at me with disbelief. ¡°I have been told I am very dismissive of the world around me.¡± I say a light chuckle at my own insult on my person. ¡°Heh, if it is still there tonight I¡¯ll show you.¡± Jess promises me, looking smug for some reason. ¡°Aw, come on. Please just tell me.¡± I want to get any information on this mysterious thing that I missed last night. When Jess sees I am still smiling, despite my own failings being called out, she backs away slightly. I could probably force an answer out with some rough verbal prodding. ¡°Eric. Drop it.¡± Mike is trying to ruin my fun. ¡°We need to stop getting distracted.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± I say simply. Probably should keep this on the right track anyway. --- The planning went well. A long, boring, back and forth that only got derailed one more time. We have decided to move. Walking along the stream until we hit civilization or ocean. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Mike and Jess both have their cell phones, but cannot get any signal. Jess had actually been trying back when we were trapped. I guess I was too distracted to notice. I am now approaching the clearing with Jess, as there is a slight problem with the plan. Both Angie and I do not have footwear, having been taken from our homes. Also Jess does not have appropriate footwear. Her sandals may look nice, but will fall apart after a few miles hiking. The only source of shoes we have is corpse looting, which brings us back to the bloody circle. ¡°So get to it.¡± I turn to Jess indicating she should start prying off the shoes, with a slightly jokey smile. ¡°Go burn in a lake.¡± Jess does not look at me, or move towards the corpses. She is hiding something in her right hand from me. ¡°Harsh. What did I do to you?¡± I was not actually expecting her to go corpse robbing, but I could have had some fun watching her panic about. Anyway, I just smile and shrug the words off. I go to the least bloody corpse, the first to die. Killed in only one shot to the head and falling in such a way that the blood pooled away from the body. I begin pulling the boots off of the cadaver. ¡°So, why do you hate me?¡± I ask, slightly too cheerfully, as if I enjoy being hated. ¡°I¡¯m not here to talk. Just help carry things.¡± Jess says dismissively. She turns away slightly but still keeps an eye on me. She keeps her hand behind her back where I can not see. I pull the boot off the body. Holding it against my foot, it looks like a fit. Placing the footwear aside after quickly grabbing the partner. I begin searching the body for anything else. ¡°Creep.¡± Jess is disapproving of this action apparently. Ignoring her I continue searching. The matching robes the cultists wear are very thick. Apparently thick enough that in this weather one only needs underwear underneath. The only place to store things appear to be a single pocket on the right side of the robe. I pull out a dagger. Only one side is bladed and curves into a single point at the end. Even with the nice design, the knife looks kind of unimpressive. A rough iron affair. The curvy design feels like it will break if striking anything too hard. ¡°Look what I found.¡± Gripping the dagger I make a few swings. ¡°Now then, can you please tell me something? Do you think you can stop me with only your pepper spray, if I decide to charge you with this knife?¡± ¡°How did you-¡± ¡°Answer the question.¡± I interrupt the annoying woman. Her face takes on a vexed expression. ¡°Y-Yes.¡± She manages to stammer out. ¡°Then you are greatly mistaken. By the time I reach you all I have to do is follow through. Even in the unlikely event you manage to hit my eyes, by the time I am in range of your spicy mist, I just have to slice where you are.¡± She looks conflicted as I make a very good point. Luckily she has not decided to run. I would not be able to catch up if she did. ¡°Don¡¯t worry I just want to know your problem with me, so would you please do me the kindness of answering this time?¡± I say in my attempt at a soothing voice. ¡°In, in my line of work, I have to be able to pick up on anything that seems off.¡± Jess finally starts talking. ¡°What line of work is that?¡± I make a casual inquiry. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know. Just that everything about you says danger.¡± She looks away like she is ashamed to say what she does. ¡°What about me says danger?¡± I press her some more. ¡°What?... You killed two people and don¡¯t even seem bothered! You have a stupid creepy smile all the time! And now you are handling corpses like it¡¯s nothing!¡± She yells out at me. ¡°I suppose you are right.¡± Resheathing the dagger, I toss the weapon over so it lands next to her. ¡°For your protection.¡± I continue looting the dead, while keeping an eye on her. She yells at me as I attempt to search the dead gunman. Ignoring her I continue searching, but do not find much. Some cigarettes and a wallet, and Jess asks for both. I do not smoke and the wallet only has four dollars, so I oblige. ¡°What do you want these for anyway?¡± I question her. ¡°A freak like you wouldn¡¯t care, but I at least want to know who this guy was.¡± She is right, I really do not care. He is dead and if we find some authorities we can send them to the body. "But why the cigarettes?" She just shrugs off the question, so I continue searching. I discover the first cultist I killed, Mr. Freeze, had the same knife as his friend. Shorty also had this knife on him, and had apparently decided that he did not require any undergarments under his robes. ¡°Hey! Is there a book?¡± Jess asks from her comfortable distance. ¡°No.¡± I look around not finding anything else. Now that she brings this up, I do seem to remember one of the cultists had a large, strange book. ¡°Really, nothing?¡± Jess seems to be in disbelief. I suspect she would think I was lying if she had not been watching me this entire time. I kick over each cadaver as I quickly scan the area again for the tome. ¡°Don¡¯t see it.¡± I report once again. ¡°Then where did it go?¡± She seems to be demanding I answer the impossible. ¡°That¡¯s not what I would be worried about.¡± I say giving a slight chuckle to mask my nerves. ¡°Huh.¡± Jess gives me a dumb look. I begin walking back towards her and the loot pile. ¡°Nothing has been nibbling at them in the night. Out here in the forest normally bugs would be crawling all over them, and something big might take a bite. But there was nothing.¡± I report my findings. Jess does not know what to do with this information, and just looks confused. ¡°I think we should get out of here, quickly.¡± I give a subdued, frustrated smile. Chapter 6 The banks of the stream are relatively flat and clear. Intermittent floodings have created a small ditch that for now remains clear of the more obstructive plant life of the forest. Passage along the bank is expediated by this beneficial feature. However, we keep being obstructed in our trek. For example, the large fish that is now currently flapping on top of Jess is quite a hindrance. The fish is nearly as long as the twenty-something female underneath it. Possessing a wide flat body that it can open wide enough to create a inner hollow big enough to swallow a person. It kind of reminds me of a windsock, with the design. The fish keeps opening its mouth and attempting to engulf the prey that has unfortunately been trapped. Jess fruitlessly stabbing away at the mostly hollow body. When the fish had suddenly jumped from the stream, Jess¡¯s survival instinct apparently told her to faint temporarily and drop to the ground in a heap of limbs. Resulting in the fish overshooting the target and accidently landing on its prey. I bet it will feel pretty silly about this blunder latter, if it can survive. Mike and I have taken position on opposite sides of the creature, stabbing relentlessly at any part of the body which stops flopping around for a second. After a few slices and stabs from the three of us, the fish starts to panic. Rounding its body until it resembles a scaly log, it starts to try to roll back to the water. Unfortunately the only path is through one of the two men standing on its sides. The fish starts rolling at me, during one of my stabs. My dagger had just pierced the scales when I felt the creature start to turn at me. Keeping the knife steady in the fish, I start to backpedal. The fish in desperation tries to power through, but only manages to continue cutting itself on the knife. Resulting in a large cut around the circumference of the fish, which finally ends this whole debacle. ¡°Well, that was fun.¡± I say out to the group in a dry tone and smirk. Angie and Mike, helping Jess to her feet, ignore my comment. ¡°That disgusting sashimi just tried to eat me!¡± Jess says incredulously pointing at me. However, I was now sat down next to the fish corpse, so the scorn might have been directed at it. But for some reason, I doubt that. This is the fourth weird creature we have found. And the second to attack us. The first was something that looked like a dog with too much hair gel. The fur stood up in ridged twists that ended in fibrous spikes, covering the entire body. That one was weird because the dog just stood in our path barking for a minute, before jumping at the biggest in the group. Mike punched it on pure reflex and sent the dog away, whining. The girls actually seemed sad at the sight, but Mike was happy to see the beast go as he had cut his hand on the dog¡¯s fur. The second thing was a strange pair of eyes that was watching us from the treeline¡¯s shadows. None of us are sure what they belonged to, and we were not in a hurry to find out. The eyes followed us for about an hour and suddenly disappeared. No one was sure if they were happy or not that we could not find them anymore. Thirdly, was some thing only describable as a moose-pig-yak. Big, slow, and dumb was this creature. The stature and antlers of a moose, the shape of a pig, and the fur of a yak gave this ¡°thing¡± the docile, yet intimidating presence that only belongs to large herbivores. Not a good idea to anger the animal, but this was not a problem. Even after spotting us, the creature just continued stripping the trees of bark with its antlers. Slowly chewing the scrapings. And now we just took down a giant hollow fish. This is the closest to losing someone we have gotten on this interminable, hours long hike through the unknown wilderness. Unless you count the all the times we have nearly collapsed from exhaustion. ¡°So, do you think we can eat this?¡± I say to the group. The fish looks like a deflated balloon now, but hopefully, it will taste slightly better than one. ¡°Can¡¯t trust a fish you don¡¯t know. Especially a river fish.¡± Mike shoots down my hope of a fresh meal. Lunch today had been disappointing stale crackers. I just shrug off the displeasure and keep smiling. We could be starving after all. I wonder which one of us would start eating the others in that event.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Jess seems to be more or less fine after the fish fiasco, so we keep moving. The walk is quiet. All of us seem to be either watching the trees or the stream for any surprises. At one point Mike throws a rock at something in the bushes and all we hear is the thing scurry off. ¡°Should we, um, maybe head back?¡± Angie finally breaks the silence with what we all thought an hour ago, but gave up for a very good reason. Mike and Jess are too nice to answer her and let the question cruelly linger. ¡°Can¡¯t, we went too far. Any attempt to make it back and we probably will be eaten by something. These animals around here are freaks, so who knows what comes out at night.¡± I say, innocently smiling at the situation. No reason to let the negative things dampen my grin. Angie dejectedly stares down. We continue making our way across the clay and rock of the area. Placing one foot in front of the other, and letting my mind wander. Where are we? Should we start setting camp? Will we live through the night? The usual stuff people worry about in these situations, but you could not guess from my face I was worried. My grinning facade is still there. The others probably think I am remembering something funny, or that I find this all humorous. I am supposed to be watching the river, but how many big, jumping fish could be in that water. Suddenly, I hear Jess quietly bringing us to a stop. She is making gestures at the distance. Between some trees, I can barely discern something I actually recognize. A deer. Jess, Mike, and I get lower to the ground and start slowly approaching the animal. Angie does not appear to be on the uptake and keeps standing back. At least she knows enough not to be moving around. Getting a better look the three of us observe the animal. We are downwind and the animal is drinking from the stream. This is a ridiculously lucky scenario. Moving closer to Mike I gesture for the gun that he still has from this morning. Jess seems to want to object, but holds her tongue. Hesitantly and slowly, he hands me the firearm. We do not have many bullets and Mike¡¯s fear of weapons does not fill me with confidence he can hit the target. Leaving the other two behind I begin approaching. The deer has no antlers so I assume female. I need to get as close as possible. Leaving the pistol trained on the main body of the prey, I approach carefully in a wide arcing pattern. After just getting within a comfortable distance for a shot, she raises her head and looks directly at me. The momentary shock keeping her still for a second, as her animalistic brain interprets her situation. I fire without hesitation. The bullet hits the main body but does not down the animal. Possibly the pistol was a poor choice for a novice hunter, and might not have had the power necessary to down the deer. My dinner runs off. ¡°Fuck it got away!¡± Jess approaches with the others. ¡°Not for long. We just have to follow it.¡± I give off no worry, and smile like I know what I am doing. I point them at the blood trail the animal left. A thick path of blood leading further down the bank of the stream. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry before something else gets it.¡± The blood trail is thick and easy to follow. Occasionally disappearing into the water, but Jess is proving to be very perceptive. Usually finding the trail again with just a look around. Angie seems to be distressed about this situation, but smart enough not to speak up on those feelings. Good, I will not miss this meal because somebody watched Bambi too many times. We find the animal in about ten minutes. Still on the bank of the stream. Just downstream and on the other side. The deer is not moving anymore. Instead, laying down and breathing noticeably heavy. She will not get away again. Before approaching, Mike stops me and gestures at the gun in my hand. ¡°Give it back.¡± ¡°I think I am probably the best shot.¡± I give him a smile to try to lighten his serious mood. I look around, but find no support. Jess is giving me a gaze that says ¡°Do it.¡± And Angie is stuck watching the deer slowly bleed out and suffer, a face of genuine sympathy for the poor animal. ¡°Fine, fine.¡± I relent. Giving a smile like I am only mildly amused. ¡°Why does nobody ever trust me.¡± My rhetorical question goes unanswered as Mike takes the pistol. I do not turn the safety back on, hoping he will stupidly shoot himself. Unfortunately, he remembers to check. I take a seat on a rock as two others move over to take care of the deer. Mike with his knife ready to end the animal, and Angie looking like she wants to comfort the beast in her last moments. They should be able to take care of it. Closing my eyes, I try to calm down. I need to control my anger, relax my nerves. Getting wound up will accomplish nothing. I need them, and they need me. Just keep smiling. ¡°Who are you!¡± Jess yells out, bringing me back to the stream. I man with a large scar across his face, who is the size of a bear, and with a bastard sword bigger than my leg is standing in the trees. Staring at us.