She awoke to the early birdsong, morning chirps, and the sweet sounds of rustling leaves. A swift, calming breeze swept through the curtains and gently brushed her forehead as she blinked her eyes open. The sun cast its gold into the dark, eerie confines of her room. With worn eyes, the girl gazed at its torn and musty interior. Cracks ran through the decrepit walls and the low-hanging ceiling. Vines, held in place by their winding stems, grew in every crevice they laid their leaves upon. Save for a couple of chairs stacked atop each other in a corner, the room was as empty as it was silent. A soft pain radiated from her lower back as she realized she had been lying on the hard, moldy wooden floorboards. In the warm streaks of sunlight, she saw the ever-so-light particles of dust floating about before her.
Directly opposite the window was the door to the room. One of its two hinges hung detached from the wall, its bolts rusted. Where am I? she thought, her mind awash with questions and vague memories. She sat upright, unable to move her legs, as she searched on the floor. A distant yet familiar dread settled into the hairs on her skin as she realized her gun was no longer with her. She was not alone. As her gaze shifted between the floor and the door before her, she noticed dark stains, concealed in the damp wooden floor. They were revealed by the stream of sunlight that flowed through the window. The stains were dried, brown in color. It did not take long for her to realize what they were.
They were everywhere. Spattered on the floor, her shirt, and even the palms of her hands. Then - she saw it. About an inch below her left shoulder, the sleeve of her shirt was ripped open in a single, precise stroke, as if done by the edge of a jagged blade. She retracted her sleeve, revealing a bloody bandage that was clearly wrapped in a hurry. Gauze fibers hung from the bandage like the loose threads from the tear in her shirt. Was she attacked? Where was her backpack? Her mind raced with questions that went unanswered. As she made a futile attempt to tuck the ends of the bandage in, a violent pain seared through her left arm, jolting her. She wanted to scream but she stifled it, wincing in agony. Her breathing hastened as she struggled to stay afloat in a drowning sea. Her eyelids became heavier, and her vision more blurry with each passing second. She cast one final glance at the shut door before her head hit the hard wooden floorboards.
***
She found herself back where she was days before, sitting alone by the comfort of a campfire. The place was engulfed in darkness, scattered with rays of moonlight. In the harsh, whispering wind, she wrapped herself in the campfire's warmth as the embers danced in the rich orange flame. Tall trees obstructed her sight in all directions. The campfire seemed to provide the only light for miles. Often, she scanned the enveloping silence, but couldn't make anything out in the pitch darkness. She tried to contain her unease as she contemplated going to sleep. As she stoked the fire, she wondered where her family was. Whether they were busy with their lives, knowing she would be standing on their doorstep soon. Whether her brothers were playing outside, as they always did. She held her necklace up to the gentle glow of the fire. She wondered if they missed her back.
In the deceiving night calm, her mind descended into her darkest places, as the haunting memories caught up to her. Soon, she became overridden with sorrow and guilt. In the distance, she heard the echoing cries of her lost friends, muffled by the ensuing chaos. She saw the ill-fated image of an overturned bus, and people pouring out of its door in a desperate bid to escape. In the midst of it all, she saw herself in that bus, standing rooted to the cracking glass window beneath her feet, grasping onto anything she could find. Her eyes widened as she noticed a kid in the back, trapped in the narrow gap between two seats that had collapsed in on each other. He looked less than half her age. "Help me!" he cried as he flailed his arms in panic. But it was not so much the sight of this kid that drained her face of its color.
A few seats behind this kid was an older boy, still in his seat. His unblinking eyes had turned completely white, and his mouth hung unnaturally wide open. He was foaming around the edges of his mouth. His arms and legs twitched suddenly and rapidly, as if drifting in and out of consciousness - or delirium. The eyes, the movements - everything about him screamed danger. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as her thoughts descended into a swirling madness. Run away. Help him. She had to act fast. In a sweeping motion, she vaulted over the sideways chairs. She hurled herself towards the breakaway seat that pinned him down. With what little strength she could muster, she pulled at it but to no avail. Her eyes darted around, searching for something - anything - that could remotely be of help. She wasn't so lucky. She glanced over her shoulder to see him now writhing uncontrollably in his seat instead of twitching. Her heart throbbed like a beating drum in her chest as she tried again, this time using her legs as leverage. She heard the relieving screech of the chair coming loose. She yanked at it harder to finally dislodge it from its position.
He clambered out of the hole in ragged breaths. Silently, he nodded at her with gratitude and instantly made for the door. She tailed closely behind him, checking behind her every so often to ensure that they were not being followed. He was still there between the seats, convulsing and snarling like a rabid animal. Was he conscious? She was unsure what to think of the situation, though she knew for certain that he had met with a cruel, cunning fate. She despised the thought that he could get up and chase after them at any moment. Apprehension weighed on her as she slowly climbed upwards out of the bus, after the little boy. Her feet landed on the ground with a thud, beside him. People gathered around to make sure they were unhurt. "Hey, get away from that door," a familiar voice called out to her. She knew a few people her age on that bus, but she couldn't tell one face from the other in the darkness. She did, however, recognize the voice. It was Cruise's, the group's undesignated leader. She sensed that they were still reeling from what had transpired.
"Thanks," the boy said in a low, hushed voice. "You saved me." She smiled in return.
"What's your name? And-" She hesitated for a moment, her smile starting to noticeably weaken. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Benjamin... but call me Ben. I'm okay, I promise." he answered, his voice cracking slightly. He ran off towards a group of other children whom she presumed were his friends. Her smile soon faded, as did the incessant overlapping chatters. She had to tell the others who - or what - she had seen in the bus. As she walked around the front, she saw the lifeless corpse of the driver through the shattered windshield. His body hung sideways, his legs wedged between the seat and the footwell. His face was covered in fresh blood, still oozing from the ear. She wanted to run all the way back if she had to. She yearned for her mother's gentle arms and her father's lifting words. She cursed all the senseless decisions that landed her here, clutching her necklace in her trembling hands. She missed the dull, insipid life she foolishly wished to escape. But she knew better than to dwell on her past sorrows. She knew it only imbued her spirit with a renewed purpose, one that she vowed she would keep. She had to return to her family.
A sudden thud awoke her from her memories. It penetrated the deafening silence. Something had fallen from the bus, against the gravel road that ran underneath. An unsettling chill ran down her spine as she instinctively started to back away from the bus. Her eyes were riveted to the nose of the bus. It obscured her view of the opposite side, which faced the dense woods. She crept on her toes, keeping the coarse gravel from shifting beneath her feet, as she waited for something to manifest in the blinding darkness. She stole a glance at the bank of the road, where the rest of them were. She knew in her mind that she could neither call out nor signal to her group for assistance. Her only option was to lay low and move swiftly. She felt meagre, as though she were adrift, alone in an endless sea. The air thickened around her chest, growing heavier with each passing second.
As her gaze swiftly returned to the bus, she thought she narrowly glimpsed the faint silhouette of eyes peering at her from the shadows. Her mind seemed to be playing tricks on her. She stopped in her tracks, allowing her eyes to adjust to her unlit surroundings. Apprehensive thoughts seemed to chew away at her conscience, just when she noticed something in the corner of her eyes. In the fog that was brewing, she saw them in the dancing mist. She saw the unmistakable, hollow voids of white that pierced the darkness. They were frozen in place with a menacing stillness, watching her from a distance. Her steps quickened, but her legs quaked with fear. Her breath quivered in her throat. She fell onto the road, transfixed by the lurking monstrosity. Its eyes seemed to grow bigger in the shroud of mist with her every blink. Its vague bodily silhouette gradually materialized before her eyes, arms extended outward, advancing towards her with a stagger. It was him, from the bus.
She let out a blood-curdling scream that tore through the midnight calm, rattling the towering canopies and the cawing crows from their slumber. She shot upright, panting like a hunted animal. She was back at her drowned campfire, now emanating its last, fading warmth. Time seemed to quicken as she came to her senses. Anyone within a mile would have noticed that scream. Her shirt was drenched in cold sweat, soil smeared onto its woollen fibres. In the distance, she heard the guttural snarls she had heard once before. She had to haul her almost failing legs out of there. Quickly. She grabbed whatever she could see under the dim moonlight. Her backpack, water bottle, and a polaroid photograph of her family. She clung to it as she took her first steps into the silence, broken only by the dark whispers of the twisting pines.
She trudged forth, uncertain how long she had been doing so. Everything behind her fell into shadow. Her legs would give out at any moment, but her spirit was unrelenting. About a hundred feet out, she spotted a wooden cabin that blended almost perfectly into its surroundings. She saw the entangled vines, the charred wooden edges and the peeling walls that hung to the last of their rusted nails. Its structure was falling apart under the tempestuous winds and rains. Yet it stood unfazed before her, beckoning to her like a guiding beacon. Her steps grew weaker, each feeling like her last. She brushed past the hard, woody bark of the trees, using the trunks to support her. She felt a sudden, soft pain. It lingered in her arm, numbed by her exhaustion. She looked down to see her sleeve ripped open and blood welling up in her wound. She had scraped the jagged, protruding branch of a nearby tree. She stumbled forward into the brief clearing, clutching her wound, as her vision blurred into a foggy haze. Her legs could not carry her weight any longer. She dropped onto her knees, still eyeing the cabin. It seemed to be living and breathing, through its windows and its chimney. She looked at the fallen polaroid photograph, collapsing onto the grass bed as she passed into an uncertain sleep.
***
The door was open now. A low figure stood before her in the doorway. It was Ben. She was at the barrel end of her own revolver - gripped in the shaking hands of the little boy that she saved.
Bio:
Soundaryen is a student based in Singapore. Since a very young age, Soundaryen has been an avid reader, with a strong interest in genres like war/historical fiction. He is a new writer with a relatively newfound interest in writing, trying to explore the world of short stories and storytelling. “Dark Days” is one of his first legitimate stories written and now publicly viewable.