The Disbanders

Chapter 27: The Ultimate Sacrifice

I was definitely right about one thing––the journey is not an easy one. Within the first ten minutes, my legs, arms, and overall body are beginning to give out. Our pace has definitely slowed down, and the rough forest terrain certainly isn't helping this journey along. It was much easier walking in daylight, than hauling a wheelbarrow by night.

    Chuck has been holding the flashlight forward for me, so I can see some of the roots, stones and crevasses in our path ahead. However, the strain from this constant force I have to exert is blurring my vision anyway, leaving me to mostly only see light, and not what it is supposed to let me see.

    By now, it's 2:45 am and we haven't made it very far. Even in darkness, I know the proximity and distance of these woods, from our house to the distant road I laid eyes on when Alexa went missing. I'm going to be at this for a while.

    And that's only making it to the first road. Who knows how far the nearest hospital is?

    As my tired body keeps pushing, I try to think of a story. I'm realizing that I may need to include some of my past information, such as an address, in answering questions. I'll have to lie and say that we're twins, or something. The problem is, we look nothing alike. His thick black hair and piercing grey eyes are something only his relatives would possess. We unfortunately know that to be true.

    With each little bump, I can hear soft moans coming from Chuck. I didn't even think about how much they must hurt.

    "How are you doing Chuck?", I gasp. "You okay?" He doesn't answer me. Through my blurred vision, I begin to notice that the flashlight is flickering. Oh no. The battery is dying. We've used the flashlight out here, but gone through the batteries. The last ones I have left are here, in the flashlight now. Now, we're about to lose our one guiding source of light.

    Chuck lowers the flashlight, changing the direction of its aim closer to the ground.

    "Chuck, I know it's hard, but please. Show me the light! It's about to die, we need all that we can get!" The light then shuts off. Oh no. "Did you turn it off?", I ask naively. I know he didn't. Sure enough, Chuck weakly shakes his head no.

At this point, I'm near tears. This journey was already near-impossible to begin with, and now our odds of making it––let alone on time, are diminishing. I shake my head and slap myself. Come on, Candice. Pull it together. You can make it. With a mighty heave, I continue to push the wheelbarrow, slowly but surely.

    "We're going to make it, Chuck. We're going to be okay after all," I tell him. I don't believe it to be true anymore. It would take a miracle. I do my best, however, to ignore the sense of impending doom, and keep the guilt out of my struggling mind. I need to try.

    "Candice," he says weakly. "Candice!", he hollers, weakly but louder. "Stop." He coughs once more. I purposefully ignore him.

    "No, Chuck! We're going to get you there! We're almost there! We've made it this far! I'm not stopping!"

    "Candice, it's......it's not use. Simply getting out of bed almost....almost killed me. It took me.....practically an hour to get to the couch on my own." No, no, no. I can't stop. This isn't real.

    "Chuck, I'm not stopping!"

    "Candice, please!", he begs, straining his voice. "Please," he continues. "There's no point. I'm already beyond repair. I'm....a dead man walking, except I can't even walk!" He's as weak as I've ever heard him sound. Giving into my negative spiral of thought, I stop the wheelbarrow. I get down on my knees and rest my head, practically about to sob. I can't, though. I need to be strong. "We're not going to make it," he utters quietly. Another cough erupts from him. At this point, his coughs are louder than any speech he utters through his damaged, raspy voice.