And Through the Woods
Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2011 8:51 am
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued from Over the Hill.]
Alex picked up the pace.
He'd been walking on through the night, hobbling his way down off the mountain, following the paths he'd marked out for himself on his first trip through. Jimmy's compass was seeing a lot of use in the past several hours, far more use than it ever saw before or after he stole it. And the stolen flashlights, the ones Alex had taken off the dead bodies at every opportunity he had, were lighting his way through the woods. Alex wasn't slowing down, even if his leg had started to bleed again. The bandages were far from clean now, and had soaked through at some point. But still Alex pushed on. The sooner he found everyone he needed to find, the better. The sooner he found the people he was looking for and put a god damn bullet in every head he saw, the better.
The sooner he was the last man standing, the better.
He pushed himself, took as many pills as he felt were necessary, and found himself running low. On pills, on patience, on energy. Take your pick. Every time he stepped, he winced. Every time he winced, he cursed. Every time he cursed, he lashed out. He'd taken to breaking branches and spitting out a slew of curses and shouts every time his leg, his pain, brought about his frustration. He wanted to keep moving. He wanted to end it now, and get off that god damned miserable piece of shit island.
But he still had to get through the woods.
At times, he stopped, and rested, and leaned up against a tree. He ate, and he drank, and he didn't care how much of his supplies he was using up. He could always find more. He could always take more. Take it from the living, take it from the dead. It didn't matter to him who he took it from, as long as he took it. He rubbed his leg, and adjusted the bandages, and made sure he wasn't bleeding too badly. But he'd lost a lot of blood in the past two weeks. Bread and crackers and those little birds and that one squirrel weren't going to be enough to keep him going if he lost much more. But by now, he couldn't even tell how much of what was on the bandages was new and how much was old.
It was just blood. And he wasn't even sure it was his.
So Alex ignored it. He ignored it, and pushed onward. He forced his way through the trees and the underbrush and he knocked down whatever stood in his way if he could. He pushed, and he fought, and he didn't give up.
He was determined to make it through the woods.
He was determined to find anyone he could.
And he was determined to make sure he was the last man standing.
"You won't be standing, boy. Trust me."
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Almost there in To Grandmother's House We Go.
Alex picked up the pace.
He'd been walking on through the night, hobbling his way down off the mountain, following the paths he'd marked out for himself on his first trip through. Jimmy's compass was seeing a lot of use in the past several hours, far more use than it ever saw before or after he stole it. And the stolen flashlights, the ones Alex had taken off the dead bodies at every opportunity he had, were lighting his way through the woods. Alex wasn't slowing down, even if his leg had started to bleed again. The bandages were far from clean now, and had soaked through at some point. But still Alex pushed on. The sooner he found everyone he needed to find, the better. The sooner he found the people he was looking for and put a god damn bullet in every head he saw, the better.
The sooner he was the last man standing, the better.
He pushed himself, took as many pills as he felt were necessary, and found himself running low. On pills, on patience, on energy. Take your pick. Every time he stepped, he winced. Every time he winced, he cursed. Every time he cursed, he lashed out. He'd taken to breaking branches and spitting out a slew of curses and shouts every time his leg, his pain, brought about his frustration. He wanted to keep moving. He wanted to end it now, and get off that god damned miserable piece of shit island.
But he still had to get through the woods.
At times, he stopped, and rested, and leaned up against a tree. He ate, and he drank, and he didn't care how much of his supplies he was using up. He could always find more. He could always take more. Take it from the living, take it from the dead. It didn't matter to him who he took it from, as long as he took it. He rubbed his leg, and adjusted the bandages, and made sure he wasn't bleeding too badly. But he'd lost a lot of blood in the past two weeks. Bread and crackers and those little birds and that one squirrel weren't going to be enough to keep him going if he lost much more. But by now, he couldn't even tell how much of what was on the bandages was new and how much was old.
It was just blood. And he wasn't even sure it was his.
So Alex ignored it. He ignored it, and pushed onward. He forced his way through the trees and the underbrush and he knocked down whatever stood in his way if he could. He pushed, and he fought, and he didn't give up.
He was determined to make it through the woods.
He was determined to find anyone he could.
And he was determined to make sure he was the last man standing.
"You won't be standing, boy. Trust me."
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Almost there in To Grandmother's House We Go.