Johnny Depp Imagines

Mort #2

***POV: It's Saturday and you and Mort both go hiking***

"I hate you," Mort declared bitterly as we trudged up a muddy steep hill, our feet aching, our hearts pounding and the wind blowing. Our hair whipping around violently; getting caught in our mouths.

"That's nice," I replied sarcastically, my rucksack weighing down on me. It seemed to be heavier than when we got out the car. It was as though I was carrying bricks on my back.
"Damn, it's such a lovely view isn't it?"

Mort shrugged.

"If you like the wind, the certainty of a storm and the feelings of being depressed, then yes, I guess it is 'a lovely view.' Anyways, I don't get why you bought me out to the middle of nowhere."

I rolled my eyes.

"I just thought it'd be a nice change of scenery, seeing as we're always inside, chilling out with our social anxiety. I mean, don't you get bored seeing the same four boring walls every day?" I asked, leaning against the tree, rubbing my aching limbs and taking a sip of water from my eco friendly water bottle.

"Nope."

I looked at Mort in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Really. I'm a writer. I stay at home to write stories to entertain people. That's my job."

Mort paused and scratched his stubbly chin, looking up at the cloudy sky as he thought of something else to say.
He had obviously forgotten to shave again. That was the third time this week. But whatever.

"Hrum. Now come on, let's go back to the car and go home. It was a walk so we could get out."

"Finally!" Mort sighed, relieved that he didn't have to trudge through what looked like cow pats, anymore.
Tying up his hiking shoes, he turned around and started walking the way we'd just come.

"Um, Mort, we're going back this way," I said, pointing to a dot in the distance, which was the car park, which took about twenty minutes if you walked through the forest.

"Jesus," he muttered grumpily, stopping and turning back around. "We've got to walk through that shit?"

I nodded.

"Now come on, quit complaining," I told, him, taking the lead. I carefully walked down the slippery, muddy slope, trying to avoid stepping wrong and tumbling down through the mud.

"Uh," Mort groaned. "Ow!" He suddenly cried.

I immediately turned around to see what had happened that had caused Mort pain.
I was alarmed to see him slumped unconscious against some railings that stopped people from falling in the lake.

Rushing over to him I dropped my backpack onto the muddy grass and knelt next to him, checking his pale wrist for a pulse. I knew it was probably nothing, but I just wanted to make sure.
I was relieved to feel the beat of his heart. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans and green trench coat, I carefully rolled him onto his back, rested his head on his rucksack, trying to make it as best a pillow (an uncomfy one), and pulled my jacket off and over him so he didn't get cold.
I sat cross-legged next to his motionless body for a while, patiently waiting for him to come round.

Just as I finished deleting some emails on my phone I heard a groan. A groan of someone in pain.

"Mort?" I asked, putting my phone away. "Mort Rainey? You alright?"

"Who's Mort?" He questioned in a voice that didn't sound like his own.

I frowned. Completely puzzled by this.