Shane Shikland absolutely hates running. Being tall, thin and fit, you'd think he runs every day, although, these are consequences of winning the genetic lottery for an over-functioning metabolism.
Thus leads to his morning rituals for the daily life of a soldier;
0500-wake up
0505-regret waking up
0530- head to formation
0600- wait for formation to start
0630 formation starts followed by runs.
From here we see Shane ,tirelessly, running with the already exhausted group, 5 feet in the run route.
Green, Shane's training friend and fellow run hater, asks
"How do you do it, man?"
Shane ,keeping his grey eyes pointed forward, replies
"do what?"
"all this running and you're not even outta breath! I saw you eat 4 bacon burgers yesterday! I'd thrown them up by now."
Shane heartly chuckles without losing his breath.
"maybe if you'd quit smoking you'd catch up for once."
Shane expects Green to argue that vaping is not smoking, he hears nothing in response.
"Green! you hear me?"
Shane turns his head to find no one next to him.
He stops in the middle of the road hastily searches around to find his formation gone.
Did I fall out? Shane thinks to himself.
Maybe. wouldn't be the first time. But why couldn't I hear the formation? Why did Green leave mid sentence?
Weird, at least I know where I'm at. this route has another 4 miles to go. I'll catch up eventually.
Shane begins running again.
After the first mile, he sees the 2nd mile mark, labeled with his company name.
Sweet 2 more to go
As Shane is running, he can't help wonder where everyone was, he kept up a decent pace, no way should he have fallen out from the formation so fast. His head begins to feel a slight tug, as though reminding that something was off.
Shane's thoughts were interrupted as he spots the 3rd mile mark over a right turn.
This brings little relief to his troubled mind. Shane begins to realize there are no morning birds. no whistles, tweets or any gentle reminders of morning. The tug he felt earlier began to feel like a tickle of anxiety.
To throw this tickle off, Shane focuses on his breathing and the sole fact that the last sign was right around the corner.
Finally, Shane begins to feel hope as the final mile mark appears.
"never thought I'd be so happy to see my unit name." He jokes to himself.
He makes a shaky halt at the sign, as though questioning if it was real.
Shane leans one arm against the sign in order to catch his breath.
"tweet!, tweet!"
Ah! there are those birds, he thinks to himself.
"TwEet! tWeEt!....TWEET!"
A dying bird I suppose?
"Tweaet! tweaet!"
Shane begins to confirm that this is no bird. it spelled tweet wrong.
" wait just a minute!"
he throws himself off the sign, waving his arms in front of his body as if keeping balance.
" How did I know tweet was spelled wrong? I didn't see it!"
A heavy thought begins to dawn on Shane, making the tickle rise again.
He has never seen any birds on any tree since he stopped.
"TWEET!, TWEET!" it continued
With shallow breath, Shane turns his head to the correctly spelled tweet sounds to find no birds, in fact, nothing but trees. Wrong trees. Shane knew they were wrong. they were unnatural, as if someone tried to remember what trees looked like.
Studying the Wrong trees, Shane began to realize the vibrating bark making the tweet sound.
More accurately, the Wrong tree itself was vibrating! Shane, frozen with a confusing mix of fear and fascination, noticed a single branch vibrating faster. The lone branch picked speed to the point that Shane could no longer see it.
SNAP!
The branch flew as though shot from a bow, striking Shane on his left side abdomen, causing a graze.
Wincing from the shot, Shane grabs his side as though bleeding out.
He realized the graze hurts no more than a paper cut. He couldn't help to imagine if the branch actually struck if he was 2 inches to the left.
As he stood back up, color began to drain from his face when he noticed more vibrating branches from the Wrong trees.
Shane's tickle of anxiety changed to a push of adrenaline as the branches began firing!
One mile! One mile! and I'll be out of the woods!
These thoughts raced like a mantra on Shane's mind admist the tweeting Wrong trees and the firing branches
"SNAP!"
Shane falls into a ditch, to find his right leg bleeding, struck by a branch. The pain builds panic overwhelming him as he tries to crawl out the ditch. Another branch SNAPS next to his his hand, causing him to recoil back into the ditch .
Shane sees the flying branches and realizes that the branches can't strike him there! The branches simply fly overhead.
Shane rolls over layering dirt on his stomach and snapping the branch that struck his leg. The pain shoots up his body causing him to choke out scream.
"All I have to do is crawl. I can make it!" He reminds himself.
using his arms, he reaches over his head ,while not going over the ditch, to pull himself up.
After half a pull ,his struck leg begins to scream with pain.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Shane continues to pull foward.
A few pulls later, drowsiness flows on Shane mind.
Why? What's happening to me? he asks himself.
With a shaking head he looks back to his struck leg to find it bleeding profusely.
Oh God. I'm bleeding out.
He knows he can stop the bleeding, however, the minute he leans up the flying branches will snipe him out.
He resorts to shouting.
"help! Someone! watch out for the trees! please God anyone! help!"
These cries bear no weight, as Shane could not muster anything louder that a whisper.
Tears were building up in his eyes at the thought that he might not survive.
Shane closes his teary eyes as drowsiness overcomes him.
"Hey! Excuse me? Young man, are you ok?"
These words startled him. Blinking in disbelief, he found the source of these gentle words from an old lady.
She had a walker with her wearing a purple poncho with orange and black stripes whirling around resembling a nebula draped over her shoulders.
"Honey, are you alright? it's bad for your back sleeping in a ditch like that?" she asked again in her soft tone.
Shane wanted to chuckle at her comment, to only remember in dismay;
"The Wrong trees!" he shouted in alarm.
"The Wong bees?" The old lady asked in a concerned tone.
"No, no, the Wrong trees! I can't explain but we have to hide!"
"Hide from what, sugar?"
"the Wrong tr--" Shane cuts himself off as he finds no branches or tweeting trees.
He instead finds a cloudy orange dawn with actual tweeting birds flapping overhead.
"Oh my goodness you're bleeding! lemme help you up!" The old lady leans to one knee, using her walker for support, reaching for the bleeding boy in the ditch.
Shane cautiously accepts her hand, as though expecting another onslaught.
"Here baby lean on my walker, I'll guide you back to post."
Although awkward, Shane can lean with ease next to her so long as he keeps rhythm with her steps.
Shane begins with "Thank you ma'am. my name is Shane. I never seen you around this route before." He begins to wonder how she found him. "Civilians don't usually wander here. Who are you?"
The old ladys brown eyes twinkle in the dawning sun, as if they were trying to match its peaceful aesthetic.
"I'm just a Wandering One, baby." she said in a as-a-matter-factly tone.
"Um, ok I just dunno why your W and O were capitalized." Shane stopped in his tracks.
"How do I know that?"
Her brown wrinkle face curled into a smile
"Sugar, How did you know that?
Shane head starts to hurt trying to comprehend how he knew. Shane didn't see the sentence; he just knew, as if it was an idea that popped in his mind.
After limping with the walker for some time, the two make it to a road gate consisting of 2 small buildings
(still editing. after reading reviews I will add more to my stories. thank you for reading)