Amid the Ruins

III. Hope

Night fell, and at this point, Mom couldn’t even get up anymore. We treated her bite the best we could, but it felt like we’d hardly done anything at all. She was deteriorating right in front of us.

“Ugh,” She gasped, arching her back away from the pillows, her voice low and raspy. “It feels like tons of tiny needles poking my skin, it just aches... Everywhere.”

She couldn’t find a comfortable position anymore, and in the pale green glow from the battery powered lamp, I could see the dark shadows descending around her eyes, and the crows feet grow into a weathered mask of pain and exhaustion. She grew pale and her eyelids were heavy.

She was sweating profusely, but still said she was freezing. We had every blanket we owned draped over her, and she still shuttered with shivers, but when you touched her forehead, she was hot as a fire.

I was starting to lose hope, and it terrified me what our situation would look like by morning.

Dad only left the tent a few times, and I never left her side. I held her clammy hand and hummed songs to her, and would tell her stories she’d already heard before. She’d crack a small smile, pale, cracking lips pulling apart just barely before she winced and recoiled back into a dark state of pain.

She took more painkillers, even though I think she was already over her dosage.

“Nothing’s working!” She groaned in pain an hour later, “Those damn pills might as well be sweet tarts for all the good they’re doing me.”

I was relieved when she finally fell asleep. I hoped that some rest would point her in the right direction... But deep inside of me, there was a tiny part of my mind that proposed the possibility of a different outcome... One where she did not wake up.

“You should take a break.” My Dad whispered to me. He looked exhausted and fearful. I looked at her and hesitated, but then deciding hanging around, being an emotional wreck was not going to help her or anyone. I climbed out of the tent, and went to hover over the fading orange embers in the firepit. Charlie and Lilly were already asleep in the other tent.

Everything that had happened to us in the past two weeks... What bullshit. They say God only gives you as much as you can handle, but really, how much sorrow do you have to dish out to make a point?

I nudged the glowing logs, and a swirl of orange sparks burst into the dark night air.

It was silent in the trees. There was no wind, no sound of any animals. Just the bright moon lighting up the clearing and the unnerved feeling of being watched lingering.

I couldn’t place the feeling, but it made me feel defensive. Scanning the treeline, I saw nothing, aside from Sam digging holes in the grass across from me.

~~~


Eventually the night gave away to early morning. I lingered by the campfire until it had completely died, then I heard my Father’s hesitant voice call for me from their tent. I got up quickly, going to investigate.

She wasn’t even her anymore... Her cheekbones were sunken in, and she was still sleeping.

“How the hell?” Was all I could manage to say. “Do you think this was the bite?”

“I don’t think it could have been anything else...” He shakes his head sadly. “Amy, I really don’t think there’s much time left...”

“What do you mean?”

“Her pulse has dropped, she can’t hold down any food or water... She’s exhausted and has deteriorated faster than anyone with any disease known to mankind. This... Is a whole other thing.”

“What are we going to do?” I whisper, because if I raised my voice any more, it would crack and tremble.

He could only meet my eyes, but no words came to him.

“I need you to do something for me... For her. Please.”

“Just name it.”

“I need you to scout for a cabin. According to the coordinates I have, your Grandfather’s cabin was eight miles up the mountain. Maybe you can find it? Or find someone, anyone, and get antibiotics.”

“How long do you think I have to do this?” I wonder hesitantly, looking at the shell left behind of my Mother, her chest still slowly rising and falling with feeble breaths.

“Maybe sundown today.... I don’t know. You have to hurry. Here” He pulled out the map, and a pen, copying the coordinates over from a scrap of stationery.

“I’ll try.” I say in determination, leaning forward to hug him before climbing out of the tent to gather my things. I put on a light jacket, grab a flashlight and some of the canned goods we’d brought back from the camp yesterday. I tuck it into my messenger’s pack, and I set off on foot, headed west.

I jogged for as long as I could, and every time I felt weakened, I remember my Mother’s ill face and dying frame. It provided me with just enough energy to keep putting my feet forward.

Combing the woods aimlessly, I couldn’t see anything other than the bushes and trees that littered the forest floor. I even called out a few times, receiving nothing in return. I passed creeks and streams that opened into the larger river. A few times I stopped for a few minutes to fill my water bottle in the seemingly clearer spots in the streams, to wash my face, and pull off my boots to soak the blisters adorning my heels. Somehow I kept finding the energy to pull myself up from the sticky dirt to keep moving. After nine hours spent trekking across the forest floor alone, I came across a small stone shed stashed in the knoll of a hill, barely hidden under a large spruce.

Hope grew inside me and I ran towards it, knocking on the door to be polite, but when no one answered and nothing happened, I creaked the door open to find an empty, abandoned, and most likely illegal distillery. I hurriedly searched the crates around the room, sunlight burning outside as I wasted time.

Frustration overwhelmed me.

There was no damn way I could do anything to save my Mother’s life. But still... I tried. I stuffed four bottles of cloudy moonshine into my backpack to use as a disinfectant if needed, and out the door I bolted again.

The trees were silent as I ran between them, ducking branches, avoiding boulders, searching the furthest edge of the woods for a cabin, a building, anything.

My lungs were heaving, and my stomach was turning, threatening to pour forth whatever remained of breakfast. I hadn't stopped for lunch, I couldn't... It took too much time away, and every moment I am gone, my Mother's life continues to silently slip away.

“No no no... Gotta keep going.” I breathe, my knees locking with every step, sending a searing pain through my limbs.

The sun gave away to the stars, and when it did, I stopped. I stopped running, I stopped trying, and I sank to my knees, angry, upset tears pouring from my eyes immediately.

“I’ve failed.” I cry, wiping at my muddy tears. There’s no way in hell she’s still alive now... What else can I do? Keep searching for help? Go home? Go home to what? I go back there and all that’s waiting for me to return is the highly potential corpse of my mother, grieving father and mortified younger siblings.

I dig my nails into the soft dirt at my knees, pine needles jabbing into my palms, their sharp prick enough to bring me back to reality. I blink, and get my bearings. “It’s not over yet.” I shake my head fiercely, pushing myself to my feet, every muscle in my body creaking in protest, threatening to fail me if I keep pushing forward.

Somehow I find it in myself to keep going.

I slow down through the night, alert of my surroundings, listening to the owls in the trees above and the quiet squeaks of rodents scurrying across the pine needle carpet. I hold the straps of my backpack tightly in each hand, observing my surroundings completely before advancing deeper into the woods.

Early dawn begin to break, and the foggy forest became illuminated with a soft, orange glow. I feel mesmerized by it in my exhausted state, and stumble forward, my vision blurring briefly.

In my slanted tunnel vision, I see something spectacular. I see a tiny wooden cottage.

Hope flares up in my chest and I run towards it recklessly, shouting with what energy I have left “I’m here! I’m here!”

The front door swings open and my heart is in my throat, “Help me, please!”

A man steps out onto his porch, looking to be in his late forties. He wields a shorty shotgun in one hand and a speckled navy blue coffee mug in the other.

“What the hell brings you to this neck o’ the woods?” he chuckles, and I slow immediately. “I need antibiotics for my mother, please,” I breathe, “she’s very ill.”

“Where is she?”

I jog towards him and hold up the map in my trembling hand, pointing to our location on the map. “Here... We’re camped here. We got lost, and then our car broke down. We have been stuck out here for weeks. Do you have any antibiotics?”

“Sure do.” He nods, looking down at my hands, “you’re shaking like a leaf. Hungry? Thirsty? Come inside for a moment, and then we’ll go tend to your folks. I know where they are, right down by Mount Rainier river. It’ll be a quick trip, I’ve got a vehicle we can take.”

I take the slow moment to catch my breath, following him up onto the porch.

“How many you got down there now?”

“My parents, younger sister and younger brother.” I tell him, following him into the cabin, shutting the door behind him. He hesitates, waiting for me to walk by him. Then I hear the quiet click of the door locking. I turn and look at him.

“Paranoid?” I joke half heartedly.

“Nope,” he laughs, his whole demeanor changing. He smiles, revealing yellowed teeth pulled up in a sadistic grin. “Jus’ a lil lonely.”

My blood runs cold as he walks towards me, taking his time, steps slow as he closes the distance between us. “Thanks to you, I can get in a couple today... Kids are my favorite.” he waves the map in his hand, his dirtied knuckled curled around the crushed paper.

His grin widens and a shiver runs down my spine and my mind is screaming at me to make a break for the door. I mentally scold myself, I have to wait for the right moment.

“Really?” I choke out, trying to disguise the disgust in my voice so I can earn his trust. Out of all the damn people I could have found to help me... I find the perverted rapist living alone in the woods.

He gets close enough that I can smell his reeking breath. It collides with my face like a brick wall, making me wince in disgust.

“Aw, come on, ain’t that bad.” he chuckles, moving closer. I wait under he is directly in front of me before I bring up my knee as hard as I can, driving it between his legs with enough force to knock the air out of him. “Let’s get to know each other. I’m William Carver, but you can call me Bill.” He winks like everything he has said up until this point has been perfectly normal. “And who might you be?”

When I take a little longer to answer than he anticipated, his eyebrows knit together in frustration. “When someone asks you a question, it’s a damn good idea to reply.” his friendly demeanor quickly disappears and is replaced with that of an unpredictable psychopath.

Now. I mentally urge myself forward, breaking free of the tension to make a run for the door.

He waves his arms to grab me as I dart by him, and luckily, he misses. I look at the lock as I run, and I know that there’s no way in hell I’m getting it open in a five-second window. It’s the standard door lock with a deadbolt as well.

In my panicked state of mind, I veer right, and end up in his dimly lit kitchen. There’s a carving knife impaling a wooden cutting board to my left. I grab it immediately, holding it in an iron grip, turning to face my enemy as he barrels into the kitchen angrily.

“Stay the fuck back!” I shout at him, and he only grins, and proceeds forward, grabbing the knife from my hands before I could process what I needed to do to defend myself. Before I knew it, I was struck down by a hard blow to the jaw, and my worst nightmares played out before me while I drifted helplessly back and forth between consciousness and total darkness. I was grateful for those little flashes of black, because with them and the muted thud of my pulse in my ears, I couldn’t see anything, feel anything, or hear anything. It was just me lost in an empty space.

Unfortunately, the darkness never lasted longer than a few seconds at time before I was brought around again by another agitated smack.

I don’t remember crying... I like to think that I did cry, just a little, but it wasn’t for me. It was panicked tears for my loved ones, crying in vain hope that I might reach them before this psycho does, and before my Mother dies. I could not allow that.

Luckily, after forty-five minutes of this pained routine, I blacked out permanently, and was laid to rest from all the pain for a few hours... But I didn’t have hours to waste.

~~~


I wake sometime later, unsure how much time has passed, or if it’s even the same day. Pain consumes my senses immediately, and I realize that I am in terrible shape. Where there isn’t a large, discolored bruise coloring my skin, there is a large crusty patch of my dried blood.

Blood is matted in my hair, and caked in my skin, holding the torn remains of my clothes to my violated body.

I groan in pain as I push up off the tile floor of the kitchen, a sticky sound similar to the sound of ripping velcro follows, and it feels like I’ve just left behind a layer of skin on the tile, caked into the pool of my blood.

My vision is blurry in my left eye, and no matter how much I blink, it won’t go away. I cry, hoping to cleanse my eyes, but it only leaves them stinging and red.

I’m alone now... The cabin empty, no sign of that man...

I almost feel in a daze as I pull myself up and pull myself together. I put on my clothes to the best of my abilities, putting my body to the test with every new task.

When I’ve done what I can for myself, I begin scouring the cupboards around the kitchen and attached bathroom for antibiotics. My shaking hands clumsily knock over the contents of a kitchen counter, and items fall into the drain of the sink.

What if he returns before I escape?...

What if he is already on his way to my parents camp? He has my... Map. How on earth will I find my way back without it?!

I move from searching the kitchen and bathroom to check the back bedroom. I push open the door and watch as a pale splinter of sunlight pushes into the dark room. I hesitate in the corridor, trying to decide if it's empty or not before entering.

Onwards I go, walking towards the windows first, ripping down the carboard panels he has duct taped over the glass, blocking out all the light. I turn, and take in the small bedroom. It’s themed in the classic woodsy style with a log bed frame, photos of forests, and bear, moose, and pine tree designs on everything. There’s even a little novelty mirror above the desk shaped like a row boat.

I stand before it, briefly shaken by my horrific reflection in the dusty glass. Quickly, I turn away and busy myself again with searching the room for the promised antibiotics to save my mother.

He’s a crazy man, no doubt... I have no doubts that he was lying about it, and it drives my heart out of my chest in guilt to think of how easily I trusted him, and how easily I placed the fate of my family into his hands without even asking for his name.

God, I’m stupid.

I lift the bed skirt and peek underneath, finding nothing besides a rat-eaten leather suitcase - empty - and a cardboard box filled with assorted scenery snapshots. I shove both of the discoveries under the mattress again with a huff, looking around, high and low for anywhere he may have hidden some.

My searches yielded nothing besides a small bottle of Aspirin. With that pathetic jar cradled in my hands, I sigh. I go to the closet, select a new flannel shirt to claim as my own, and once I’ve finished sliding the last dark green button through the hole, I’m out the door in a hurry, praying silently the whole way that I’m not too late.