I walked and walked for what seemed to be an hour. When I finally checked my watch, it had only been twenty minutes. The old drunk's directions mentioned a mill and an oak tree, but neither were in sight. My throat felt like sandpaper, and my eyes were drooping from exhaustion.
"Damn it, I'm so thirsty. I didn't even bring change to buy sh-t." I muttered, counting the mere pennies left in my jeans. If there was a shop nearby, I could ask for water, but all I saw were endless trees.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, echoing through the sky. Birds scattered in the opposite direction, and a deer bolted for its life. The shot had to be nearby. There might be someone who could help. I quickly paced through the trees, and within a few meters, I saw him—the man with the shotgun, aiming at something unseen. His rugged, burly face showed no compassion; he looked like a butch.
I hid in bushes, waiting for the right moment to ask for help.
I gulped. Should I even ask for his help? He might not lend a hand, or worse, he might turn that shotgun on me. But there was no one else around, and I was parched.
"Sir…" I emerged from the bushes, revealing my presence. He glanced at me and then turned back, his eyes still on his target. His eyes were weary, the same weariness I've seen in my parents, just a lot more clearly with him.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice gruff, keeping his eyes on the shotgun's sights.
"Can I, uh, get some water, please?" The man didn't seem to care, his face impassive.
"Follow me." He sighed heavily and led me deeper into the woods. Normally, I wouldn't trust someone like this, but my thirst was unbearable, so I followed him like prey.
After what felt like ten minutes of waiting on his front porch, he handed me a glass of water.
"Thanks a ton." I chugged the water as if I had never seen it before. The heat had really gotten to me, and for a second, I almost forgot Mom had left me in the middle of nowhere.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows.
"I don't know where the mansion is. We got lost, and then I, well, we got separated," I sighed. He nodded, then rummaged through piles of dirty clothes and empty beer bottles.
"Here, this will help ya get home by dusk." He chuckled, handing me a compass, like the ones in old pirate movies, with a flimsy needle that always pointed north.
"Um…thank you?" I said hesitantly.
The man explained the directions again, more clearly this time.
"You got it all, kid?"
"Ok, thanks, sir…?"
"Charles. Charles Yarrow." We shook hands awkwardly. His grip was firm, and his hands were calloused. Before I said anything else, Charles began to talk again.
"Listen, son, I don't know what you're here for, but whatever it is, it's not a good enough reason to stay. Like I said, this town and the house especially, they have secrets—dark secrets. It's best if you get out of town and never set foot here again."
He whipped somehting out from his jacket pocket. It looked like a ticket. There's a train that comes to the station every day at 3 a.m. Why don't you hop on and find a new place for you and your family to stay?"
His words sent a chill down my spine. The way he spoke, with such certainty and fear, made me wonder what kind of horrors lay ahead. Should I just leave then, stay at James' house and find a new place for us? But I had a mission, and I couldn't abandon it now, what should I do now?