The Outlanders

It's Just Not Us

MARS

I've found Jackie.

I think I've done the most important thing that I can possibly do. And that's to make sure she's safe. While I know she isn't some damsel in distress that needs someone to fight her battles for her, it doesn't mean that I won't bother defending my girlfriend. To begin with, I didn't even have a clue that she was here with me. I had thought I was alone. Well, alone in the sense that no other human being roamed the swamp. There were far too many of those things lurking about. Green, slimy, covered in whatever the swamp had. It walks as if it's human, but it's jaw says otherwise. I've learned that they operate on sound. Not sight. I can be spotted by one, but I need to make sure it can't hear me. It was easier to sneak past them without Jackie, naturally, one was easier to manage than two. She's more susceptible to panic but she's far stronger in a lot of aspects. My hand's been holding her's since I found her, and we're slowly plodding our way forward. We don't exactly know where we're headed, but we've internally made the decision that we weren't going to die here. She gives my hand a squeeze and it stops me. It's our way of communicating that she sees one of them. I spot it to my left. The emerald shine of slime reflecting against the pale glow of the moon. It turns it's head and stops in it's tracks. Jackie and I don't move a muscle. Had we been on dry land, this would have been a piece of cake, but moving through water meant making the sounds of sloshing and splashing. Moving forward was not an option. The creature moves in our direction, and I reckon it's because it heard us moving, but it's since lost our trail. Even though it's baring it's fangs right next to my face, breathing with a subtle growl coming from the pit of it's stomach. I try not to breathe, because I'm not too sure if it could feel my breath bouncing off of it's leafy skin. My entire body's shaking, but I put a lot of my own will power into making sure I don't move a muscle. Jackie's doing the same, but I can't even make a passing look to her, since I've already closed my eyes. It helps with the "not panicking" part. Situations like this happen a lot in the games I've played, and while it's much easier to press a button on a quick-time event, it doesn't exactly translate to the fact that one button doesn't account for the whole body. The creature pulls away, just as I was about to run out of breath, and begins to move east. A wave of temporary relief washes over me, and I watch it continue to roam the swamp as it sees fit. We make sure it's out of sight, swallowed by the mist, before we start to move again.

I hate this. I could be home, enjoying my day, but somehow we've ended up in a horror movie. It makes me wonder what Kasper would be thinking. He loves horror movies, but I don't know if he'd love to be stuck in one. This is problematic. And I hate having to deal with anything that strikes me as problematic. No matter how small the subject matter may be. It used to be so that my biggest problem was losing a few games, and went down a couple of ranks on the leaderboard. But now my problem was making sure I stayed alive. Jackie and I haven't exchanged stories about how we got to where we are, or what happened before we woke up, nor have we fully come to terms with what was going on, but we're both dealing with it the best we could. We've silently communicated earlier about how we could try and camp out atop a tall tree, but each of the trunks were smooth, and almost no bark made it physically possible --at least between the two of us-- to climb. Both our phones were checked for reception, and we're dead in the water. No data. Nothing. We've been walking for an eternity, and there's been no sign of the swamp, or the mist, letting up. Our phone clocks have completely stopped working, perpetually stuck at 12:00. I've given up on walking a few hours back and I continue to do so every ten minutes, but Jackie gives me a look determination each time. It allows me to keep moving. For the most part, other than wearing me out, the walk wasn't so bad. The feeling of being soaked at the bottom half stops bothering you after a while, but it's the constant threat of the creatures that really drives home the mental exhaustion. My hand picks up a stick floating by, and I chuck it as far as I can in front of us. It produces an audible splash, but nothing comes for it. I recognize the opportunity as a moment of calm.