Till Kingdom Come
Help
The heavy Georgia sun peaked through tree branches, carefully illuminating the woods before him. The rays of light that made their way through the trees lay heavily on his bare shoulders, and the afternoon sun made the droplets of sweat on his forehead glisten like diamonds, an item which was no longer of value in this world. The redneck sauntered through the woods quietly, careful not to step on any branches as he closely trailed behind the rabbit that he had been tracking for nearly an hour now. With every step he took, he kept his back arched and head low, blending in with the trees around him. But the afternoon heat was beginning to wear him down, the bundle of squirrels attached to his belt getting heavier with every ticking second.
His group was growing hungry, but just as they were running low on food, prey was becoming scarce, and each of his hunting trips became longer and with limited rewards every time. This rabbit was the first he’d seen in months, and passing up an opportunity like this was not in his nature. Swiftly moving between trees, ducking branches and stepping over crevices, the redneck patiently waited for the opportune moment to attack.
A faint gust of wind scattered the dry leaves around him, whirling them about carelessly. He quickly ducked down low, worried that the breeze would cause the rabbit to fearfully hop away, but his prey stayed still before him, sniffing at a protruding tree root.
This was his chance. With the rabbit cornered up against a tree, the redneck slowly raised his crossbow in front of him, his tender muscles becoming more so defined as his index finger waited eagerly on the trigger. But just as he pressed against the trigger, a twig snapped in the near distance and his prey scurried off behind the tree and into a burrow, the rednecks arrow bouncing off the tree root and landing in a pile of dirt besides where the rabbit once stood.
“Fuck!” he quietly muttered under his breath as he went to retrieve his arrow, but quickly set his anger aside when he heard the shuffling of feet headed in his direction. Placing the arrow on his crossbow and forcefully pulling back on string, he pointed his weapon towards the silhouette without any form of hesitation.
Just as he aimed for the figure’s head and was ready to shoot, his grip on the trigger loosened as, much to his surprise, the silhouette distinctively brought up two quivering arms and pointed a pistol right back at him.
Before him stood the petite figure of a woman, young and fragile, draped in only an overly sized men’s grey t-shirt, it’s hem resting near her upper thigh, revealing long and skinny legs that were covered in bruises. Her dark hair resembled a birds nest on her head as certain fragments stuck to the soft skin on her face. Her almond shaped eyes were dark and bloodshot, a ring of red playing along the lines of her eye lids. Her skin was porcelain, making it easy to see the bruises that lined her neck, wrists, and forearm. His eyes trailed over her carefully, studying every inch of her, but quickly lingered over the dried blood that stuck to her inner thighs. This girls appearance fit in well among the dead, but the redneck was sure she was alive once he saw her chest rapidly rising and falling with every labored breath she took.
Raising his arms in defense, he sat his crossbow besides him and extended his arm out to her, slowly and carefully. The girl forcefully brought the gun closer and tightened her grip, shaking with every step she took towards the redneck.
“Woah, easy girl” he pleaded, “I’m just tryna help.”
The words must have registered in her mind because she slowly lowered the gun and perked up her head.
“Help?” she repeated in a fragile voice. It sounded as though her voice could break at any moment and the redneck was taken aback that someone’s voice could be so small. He nodded his head slowly and extended his hand out to her once more. Tears quickly welled up in her eyes and with every ounce of energy she had left, she brought the gun entirely down and pleadingly whispered “Help me” before collapsing into his arms.
Holding her steady, he lowered her onto the ground and looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of consciousness.
“Name?” he heard her ask, though barely audible at this point.
Right before her eyes rolled back and closed, he managed to get his name out to her.
“Daryl.” he breathed, and that was the last thing she heard
His group was growing hungry, but just as they were running low on food, prey was becoming scarce, and each of his hunting trips became longer and with limited rewards every time. This rabbit was the first he’d seen in months, and passing up an opportunity like this was not in his nature. Swiftly moving between trees, ducking branches and stepping over crevices, the redneck patiently waited for the opportune moment to attack.
A faint gust of wind scattered the dry leaves around him, whirling them about carelessly. He quickly ducked down low, worried that the breeze would cause the rabbit to fearfully hop away, but his prey stayed still before him, sniffing at a protruding tree root.
This was his chance. With the rabbit cornered up against a tree, the redneck slowly raised his crossbow in front of him, his tender muscles becoming more so defined as his index finger waited eagerly on the trigger. But just as he pressed against the trigger, a twig snapped in the near distance and his prey scurried off behind the tree and into a burrow, the rednecks arrow bouncing off the tree root and landing in a pile of dirt besides where the rabbit once stood.
“Fuck!” he quietly muttered under his breath as he went to retrieve his arrow, but quickly set his anger aside when he heard the shuffling of feet headed in his direction. Placing the arrow on his crossbow and forcefully pulling back on string, he pointed his weapon towards the silhouette without any form of hesitation.
Just as he aimed for the figure’s head and was ready to shoot, his grip on the trigger loosened as, much to his surprise, the silhouette distinctively brought up two quivering arms and pointed a pistol right back at him.
Before him stood the petite figure of a woman, young and fragile, draped in only an overly sized men’s grey t-shirt, it’s hem resting near her upper thigh, revealing long and skinny legs that were covered in bruises. Her dark hair resembled a birds nest on her head as certain fragments stuck to the soft skin on her face. Her almond shaped eyes were dark and bloodshot, a ring of red playing along the lines of her eye lids. Her skin was porcelain, making it easy to see the bruises that lined her neck, wrists, and forearm. His eyes trailed over her carefully, studying every inch of her, but quickly lingered over the dried blood that stuck to her inner thighs. This girls appearance fit in well among the dead, but the redneck was sure she was alive once he saw her chest rapidly rising and falling with every labored breath she took.
Raising his arms in defense, he sat his crossbow besides him and extended his arm out to her, slowly and carefully. The girl forcefully brought the gun closer and tightened her grip, shaking with every step she took towards the redneck.
“Woah, easy girl” he pleaded, “I’m just tryna help.”
The words must have registered in her mind because she slowly lowered the gun and perked up her head.
“Help?” she repeated in a fragile voice. It sounded as though her voice could break at any moment and the redneck was taken aback that someone’s voice could be so small. He nodded his head slowly and extended his hand out to her once more. Tears quickly welled up in her eyes and with every ounce of energy she had left, she brought the gun entirely down and pleadingly whispered “Help me” before collapsing into his arms.
Holding her steady, he lowered her onto the ground and looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of consciousness.
“Name?” he heard her ask, though barely audible at this point.
Right before her eyes rolled back and closed, he managed to get his name out to her.
“Daryl.” he breathed, and that was the last thing she heard