Sleep

Chapter 10

He awoke to a scream. Tom squinted through the darkness, his hands reaching out through the bushes. He stumbled off to the right where he could see the dimly lit path. Tom gazed at where the trail met with the rest of the brush, and he caught sight of the moon. It was still night. Grunting, he pranced over to the center of the dirt, and he cocked his ear to the left towards the brush and the trees. He heard another scream, this time dimmer than the last one. It was a long, drawn-out scream that pierced the silence and resonated through the brush. Tom scrambled into the bushes to snatch up his pack, and he bounded for the trees.

The screams got louder, and Tom panted as he wove his way through emptiness. He didn't know how long he ran, but he lost sight of the trees. Tom felt bushes, jagged rocks, and mud, and his surroundings became blurred. He couldn't hear the scream; he was losing it. To the left, he spotted a grassy clearing, and he quickly turned and staggered to a stop. Tom wiped his brow and glimpsed around him. The trees had given way to a clearing with a waterfall, and the sky widened towards the right to reveal a sizable craggy ridge covered in mud and damp grass. He jumped as the water lapped over the rim of the cliff. Tom spotted a concrete fire pit a few feet away from him, and he wandered over cautiously. He knelt down and placed his hands on the surface, and one of the embers landed on his pant leg. Tom wiped it away, startled, and he held his hands over the coals in the pit. He felt the heat from the coals, and he noticed that most of the ash was still warm to the touch. He stood still, his heart hammering, and Tom gazed at some of the undergrowth closing around the clearing. His eyes diverted over to the left, and he felt a jolt of alarm. Tom spotted something through the shrubs, something pointing towards the fire pit. He heard the loud report of a gun, and Tom yelled.

The bullet whistled past his ear, and when he reached up, he felt warm blood trickle through his fingers. He jumped sharply to the right and dropped to the ground behind the firepit.

Crack.

The gun sounded again, and pieces of concrete flew towards his head. He heard another bullet fly past, and Tom pressed himself farther into the grass. He scrambled around the pit using his arms, and he peeked over to the side towards the scrubs. They were reloading. Tom crawled back around, and a voice called out.

"Who are you?"

Tom quivered, and he forced himself to speak.

"Put your gun down," Tom shouted. "I just want to talk."

"Come out."

Tom stood up slowly and halted behind the fire pit. He took a step forward.

"Don't move."

The shrubs rustled, and a masked figure came out. It had on a tattered black jacket, dust goggles, and a tan scarf that wrapped over their face. It stared at Tom intently and stepped cautiously towards the pit.

"Reveal yourself," The figure demanded.

He took another step. The figure reached its scarf and pulled it off.

"Tom?"