Walking the Ruins

A narrow valley, and where it leads to

The path that Jan and his cronies take, with Steve and Jenny, leads directly towards the side valley, which forms a ravine like a narrow gap in the rock face before me. I follow them at a safe distance, stealthily threading my way through the undergrowth. I keep looking around, but the only people in sight are those that I am following.

A stream runs along the floor of the ravine, its roar and thunder coming closer with each step I take. The rock walls on its both sides are nearly vertical, soaring skywards, leaving a narrow passage for the water. A recess extends along one of the sheer walls of the ravine, like a half-tunnel or half-cavern open to one side, some meters above the white, furious waves.  It forms a path following the stream into the ravine.

Jan and the others enter the half-cavern, and they disappear from sight quickly. I wait a few moments, and then I follow into the gorge.

In the half-cavern, the noise of the wild water is nearly unbearable, hitting not only my eardrums but my whole being with its thunder, leaving me dizzy and unbalanced. There used to be a railing securing the path towards the gorge, but most of it has gone. Parts of the cavern floor are missing, probably eroded by the incessant attacks of the creek.

The humid breath of the white waves fills the air, the ground below my feet is slippery. I push myself against the cold, wet wall of the cavern and move along carefully.

This may have been a harmless tourist trap ages ago, but now it feels like the entrance to a cold, wet hell.

The half-cavern follows a bend of the gorge to the right. I stay close to the wall and advance, step by step. Peeking around the curved stone, I see that the ravine widens at the other side, forming a large, elongate bowl in the surrounding rock. A fairly flat meadow is located at the bottom of this bowl, and Jan's group is crossing it, maybe a few hundred steps ahead of me. The grass is bordered by a nearly vertical face of whitish rock on its right side and by the creek on the left, with another vertical wall of rock beyond the creek. Straight ahead, behind the meadow, there's a grove of firs, like a group of morose, dark Christmas trees, before the valley rises steeply into the mountains.

The basin formed by the valley looks picturesque. But I am not in the mood for sightseeing, with Jan's backside in front of me and the creek's painfully loud roar to the left.

The others approach the copse and stop at its edge. Jan is talking to one of his cronies, his hands on his rifle. They are all looking at the firs, away from me.

Crouching low, I run towards a small stand of bushes at the lower end of the meadow. The escape from the thundering noise of the creek is a relief. The bushes protect me from any glances that Jan and his people might cast in my direction. The tension in my muscles starts to ebb off.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I turn and see people approaching me from the half-cavern. They are led by the woman with the dark, short hair that I have seen with the jogging group, the one with the pistol. This pistol is now pointed at me. Behind her, there are two men.

"Hands up, and don't move!" she says, her face grim.

Trapped! They really got me. The upper end of the valley is guarded by Jan and his cronies, and the only other exit from here is now blocked by the three new arrivals. Slowly, I lift my hands.

"That's fine," she says. Then she shouts in Jan's direction. "Jan, we've got her!"

Keeping my hands up, I glance back into the valley and see Jan's group approaching.

"Drop that spear!" the pistol lady says.

I'm still holding my spear in my left hand.

I could probably run circles around any of these pale figures. But the weapon pointed at me looks real. I let the spear drop to the ground between us and give her the most inimical stare that I can muster.

"Congratulations, Jan," she says, aloud.

I look back to Jan, who is now only a few steps away from me, holding his rifle, keeping it pointed at my feet. He's grinning. His receding, flaxen hair frames the bullet-shaped upper half of his head. His eyebrows are blond, too, nearly invisible against his skin, and his eyes are a pale blue. The off-whitish tone of his features, combined with his pale skin, make him look like one of those bleached photographs that I sometimes found in the ruins.

"As I told you, Emma," he answers the pistol lady's comment. Her name is apparently Emma. Then his eyes focus on me. "The little rabbit has caught itself in our trap."

His grin broadens. With a sense of satisfaction, I note the poor state of his teeth. Their dark yellow tone is likely the most colorful part of his face, and one of his incisors is broken off in the middle.

Only after processing his general dental condition, I become aware of the meaning of his words. They have set this trap for me, and I have walked right into it! I was so naïve, following them into this ravine.

"You wanted to save your friends here, didn't you, Leona?" Jan continues, derisively. "But, you know what? They don't want any saving." He waves one hand towards Jenny and Steve, who stand beside him. "They've told me about you. And I've been looking forward to making your acquaintance."

I look at my friends, trying to make eye contact with Steve. But his eyes are empty as if there is no one looking through them. I have to stifle a scream of frustration.

"If they don't want to be saved", I hiss, turning my attention back to Jan, "it's only because you've implanted them with that rubbish. Because you've chipped them."

To my great satisfaction, the smile on his corpsy face disappears. But it returns quickly.

"Leona is well informed," he says. "How do you know about chipping?"

With a start, I realize that I have said too much. Maybe Anna hasn't told him about her abduction at all. Otherwise, he would know where the information comes from.

I stay quiet and turn away from him.

"You'll tell me soon enough," I hear him say.

My gaze is now on Emma, the woman with the pistol. Her black hair makes a strange contrast to the pale skin of her face. Her features are still grim.

A ghastly bang shatters my world, like a thunderclap in my head, and the world dissolves into kaleidoscopic fragments of colors. Then everything turns black.