I questioned what Michael's plan was. He could easily kill all of us. I know people will want to check on me, so, even if I die, it'll only be a while before the town questions where their mayor, co-founder and friend of co-founder went. Michael gets up, forcing me to lean back to match his height, but moving towards the kitchen. "No one move!" He says, as he reaches under the countertop, grabbing my handgun. He drops the shard of glass, it shattering against the floor when it lands. John jumps at the noise as Michael shoves the cold gun barrel against the underside of my neck. Slowly, we all move outside, John crying and Michael readjusting the gun barrel against my throat every few seconds.
Michael kicks me off the back porch, "Now, I will count to twenty. You, on the other hand, will run away from me." He begins counting loudly. We all scatter quickly. John running leftwards, toward the mountains, which are hiding deep into the forest. Alex running towards the river near the east, and I run closer to John. John's running shirtless, because I didn't get the chance to bandage him up. I run close to him, as I hear a gunshot, probably signalling that he's done counting. Both of us run for what seems like hours and before long, we reach the base of the mountain. I exhale heavily, my lungs having issues keeping up with me. I look over at John, who's wounds on his chest aren't entirely healed. I walk over to him, leaning on him for a while, before asking, "May I examine your wounds?" Out of breath, he simply nods. Only using two fingers, I run them across the bloody slashes. He flinches continuously everytime I touch the wounds. They aren't open or bleeding much, but when I can, I should get them patched up and heal them for him.
Before long, I hear gunshots, towards our east. "That could be Alex." I tell John. He shakes his head in disagreement, "I understand that he's a friend, but we need to keep our own lives." I question John's mindset, "Fuck you, he deserves help, he's our friend, and I'm going to help him; with or without you." I say, before running in the direction of the gunshots. I begin walking slower, listening for more sound ques. I become almost entirely silent as I hear a monologue from Michael nearby. I slowly move towards it, as I almost walk right into both of them. I hide in the shrubbery, watching the scene drag on. Alex has been shot in the shoulder and right thigh, he needs medical treatment soon or he'll bleed out. "You know why I'm doing this, Alex?" Michael taunts him, Alex coughing up some blood. "I'm doing this, because your mother, never gave my father the correct medication. Causing his depression to rise faster than the water level during a flood. And causing him to make irrational business deals. After all the pain she caused him, at the end, he killed himself." Michael drags on, crouching down next to his victim. Alex, not much caring, spits some blood onto Michael's face. "Such a bitch. You can't even die with what little honor you still have ." Mike says, leveling the gun to Alex's forehead.
I'm not letting him kill my best friend. I jump out and onto Michael's back, as he misses Alex with the gun. I put him in a choke hold, as smacks the sides of my chest and gut with the gun. I grimace and my arm slips as he pushes me off his back. I kick out one of his legs, causing him to topple to the floor, dropping the gun, and starting a close-quarters bout between me and Michael. I grab both of his inner armpits, for the mobility advantage, as he attempts to choke me. After my vision begins fading, I forcibly move him and roll myself on top of him. His arm length inferior to my own, I press my knee onto the center of his chest, making him immobile. "Alex! I got him! Throw me my gun." I yell at Alex.
The instant Alex attempts to reach for the gun, Michael stabs me in the upper knee. I topple down, off him. He rushes over to gun, bicking it up before Alex could grab it. I pull the knife out, my vision goes fuzzy, but keeping my center of focus clear. Michael must've hit somewhere fatal, because I'm losing blood quickly. I look up to see the blurry outline of Michael with the gun pointed at my head. "Bitch." He says, with a busted lip and blood dripping from his mouth. I figure that this is the end, for my life. I get cold, my blood loss catching up to me. I hear a buzzing sound, followed by pure silence, as The Man appears behind Michael and picks him up. Michael, scared, fires the handgun, hitting The Man. The Man doesn't flinch or even react, as he vanishes with Michael. Alex crawls over to me, breaking the silence, "I'm here! You're gonna be okay, don't worr-" Before he could finish his sentence, The Man appears, grabs Alex and vanishes into thin air.
"Fuck. I don't think I can make it back before I bleed out." I think to myself, as my vision becomes more and more blurry, fading in and out. I'm having issues keeping my eyes open. I get short bursts of image, presumably of my consciousness fading in and out too. I hear shrubbery, then John dragging me somewhere, then the ceiling of my house. My vision fades to pure black, as I wonder where Michael and Alex are. I reawaken in the local hospital, I can tell because of the dark purple walls. I immediately attempted to sit up, as John tells me to lay back down, proceeding to push me back. "You're wounded. Rest." He says as my head spins faster than a spinning top.
I'm beyond the point of confused. I don't know what day it is. I don't know who's alive, much less, who's still in the forest. I suppose John either dragged me here, or carried, which is hard to believe. He's almost half my weight and not nearly as strong as I am. I'm still wearing most of my clothes, my grey undershirt and zip-up jacket. I reach into the inside pocket, and gasp at the object I remove. It's a page, similar to the ones I have at the house. This page differs because it has the words, "Can't Run" on it. John's out cold on the chair next to me. I have a medical cast on, preventing my running. It'll hurt to walk, sure, but I must find Alex and Michael. I swing my injured leg out of my bed. I lose my balance, quietly leaning against my bed for support. I make my way to a pair of crutches leaning against the wall, slowly hobbling out of the room on the crutches. I make it halfway into the lobby before a doctor spots and stops me, "What are you doing out of bed? You need rest." These doctors are getting more and more creepy each time I come here. "No. My friends are lost in the woods, I must find them. I'm my own doctor." I say, forcing my way around the doctor, slowly continuing to the street.
It's a disturbing pink, purple and dark blue color slur in the night sky. However, I'm a solid hour away from my house if I could run, two hours on these crutches. The doctors did a lackluster job on bandaging my leg, and just put a weak cast on it. I can fix the issue with the wrap I have at home. As if I needed more setbacks, John comes running, "Jay! You're wounded. You need to rest. Come back to the bed." I'm pissed off, too many people telling me to stop. My friends aren't dead, that much I believe. "No! You chose against saving Alex. You, go back to the room and cry. I'm going to go and save my friends." With that, John runs back inside, as I toss the crutches down, and begin speedily hobbling down the street.
I've always curious about the supernatural. Beings without a set-in-stone scientific answer and not a lot of room for debate. I was really into that kind of stuff in High School. Back then, I used to have a career pathway of both engineering and psychology. I use engineering to run measurements on the fly and psychology to fuck with people's response to my words. I've learned words that have certain values and when to use them. Much like humans, words are complex, and one slip up could be really funny or really fucked up. God, I hope Alex is okay, and Michael, regardless of his murderous intent. I fear for my friends, none of us know who The Man is. He's certainly supernatural, seeing that he teleports, and cannot be harmed by gunshots. I have no idea how long Alex and Michael have been gone. More over, I have no idea what day it is, could be the same day, or months later. John hardly changes his look, so I'd have no clue on what day it is, much more, the week or month.
My train of thought crashes when I hear cracking sounds from the cast. "It's going to break", I think to myself, as it almost obeys my thought in the moment, and shatters like glass. I collapse to the concrete, swearing openly. It doesn't matter, no one is out this late to hear it anyways. I roll to sit on my butt, examining my leg, where the cast once was. It's not bad, but the nerves are in need of a major jumpstart, so, I can't walk. I begin to crawl forwards, legs first. Well, my situation has just gone from okay to shit.
Three hours and a nice pair of jeans later I arrive at my house. I crawl up the steps, damaging my gut and upper chest as I climb. I finally reach the door, leaning against it. I reach up, turning it and opening the door. There's medical wrap and a metal staff in my room I can use for walking and as a weapon. I make my way to my room, I get more than halfway down the hallway, before hearing the front door shut. My heart drops; I can't see much of anything, it's pitch black. I hear footsteps, as I attempt to crawl to my room to get my staff. I crawl past the door frame, softly closing the door behind me, as I make my way towards the metal staff against my headboard. I grab at the carpet and pull myself along it. I hear noises similar to that of someone throwing things. I grab the poll and hoist myself on to my feet, leaning against it like it's the only thing I love. I sit on my bed before wobbling to the built-in bathroom. Lucky me, there's still two packs of medical bandages and gauge left. I begin wrapping my leg when the door to my room creeks open, I rush myself, tying off the bandages. I lean against the wall, ready to smack whatever is about to come through the door. The door swings open, the hinges screeching in agony as it slams against the doorstop.
I peek around the corner, relieved that nothing was there. I exhale, leaning against my staff. I hear the back door shut followed by distant screaming. I begin to rush towards the back door, attempting to walk correctly while using the staff as a cane. I slide the door open, instantly spotting a blood streak leaving into the darkened woods. I turn, grabbing a flashlight off the nearby table, and head out into the forest.