EIGHTEENTH - The wounded girl

While he was trying to get out of the thorny bushes, Dick, that is, Ivan, was convinced that he had just had a vision. Bentley and that little girlfriend of his told him that this place was strange to say the least and that it deceived the mind and senses, and he was trying to prepare himself for that. He was even preparing for the possibility that some hideous cannibal creature would try to lure him with some kind of hypnosis, an influence on his mind, as he had seen that pale, giant carnivore did to Mariana, and almost devoured her. However, he didn't expect such a vision. She was like a character from his wildest fantasies, although, to be honest, a little bit too violently strapped into some weird contraption clothes. He barely got out of the predatory claws of the prickly plant and curiously emerged again onto the road, convinced that the vision had disappeared.

"Do you need help?" she said, offering him her right hand, though it looked quite frail. He almost fell back into the bushes again.

He wriggled out, panting and blushing, and crawled onto the road at her feet. She did not bend down, nor did she crouch. She just looked down at him. He thought she might not even be able to bend, much less crouch, given the strange armor that encased her body.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly "Sit over there on those van seats so we can see what's wrong with you."

"I'm fine" he gasped, aware that the girl didn't quite understand why he was out of breath, and then he jumped in surprise, slowly getting up to stand on his legs, which were still shaking a little.

"Van? Our van is here? You're... you're that girl we found hurt in the white car! I recognized you now. Jasmine, is that right?"

"I guess you're the guy who disappeared."

"Yeah," said Dick.

When he saw her for the first time, a few minutes ago, standing in front of him leaning on that stick-thing of hers, she seemed to him like a magical vision, like one of the characters from fantasy illustrations, her long hair of the color of dark honey falling down her semi-naked body , the glowing skin, the strange vulnerability mixed with strange strength, her unusual armor-like equipment that gave her the look of a warrior from cyberpunk novel, and her gaze. He couldn't describe to himself what attracted him so much in that gaze, look in those jade-colored eyes, but he was almost completely out of breath. Now, when he looked at her a little more carefully, and as the moonlight enlightened the darkness a little more, he felt his blissful, but totally unnecessary and mind-numbing excitement rapidly recede. Now he noticed that the girl was wounded, pale and tortured with dark circles around her eyes. She had splotches of dried blood all over her body and a cuts that had been expertly treated and patched up. What he thought at first was some sort of interesting Amazonian warrior suit was actually something that apparently kept her frail and broken body functional and upright. That protective suit was particularly interesting. Dick had never seen anything like it in his life.

"Oh, are those my drums?" he asked, squinting through the semi-darkness at her armored body. He was starting to feel sick again at the sight of blood and her injuries and had to focus his thoughts on something else. The girl seemed to suddenly become aware of her exposed body, blushed and turned away from him, looking for something to cover herself with. He took off his denim jacket and offered to help her put it on. He helped her to the seats she mentioned, which he immediately recognized as the seats from their band's van. He slowly eased her into the seat and very carefully put his jacket on her as she unbuckled the straps of her improvised crutch and set this unusual contraption down beside her. He was at least ten centimeters taller than her, so luckily his jacket covered her just enough. For a while he just looked at her silently. Maybe he was staring a bit too much because he noticed she looked away with discomfort, although for a moment it seemed that she was actually looking for something, or someone. Whatever she was looking for, she didn't find it, because she frowned a little and returned her gaze to confused Dick, who was contemplating what he should say or do first. He was mourning his drums, although given the situation that wasn't a priority. Her life, and probably his, hung on the thread, but he still bitterly regretted his drums, for which he had been saving for years, which he spent so long assembling and customizing, and to which he remained emotionally attached in a certain way. He felt terrible about it, but he couldn't stop the telltale tears that easily trickled down his dusty cheeks.

Fortunately, the girl misinterpreted his sudden outburst of feelings. She put one of her hands, the one that was only secured with wrist straps, those very straps taken from his drums, over his arm to comfort him. Her forehead was still furrowed and slightly frowned, like she was thinking about something else, and she occasionally casted anxious glances around. He had vague a feeling that there is someone else nearby, someone who is hiding.

"I should call Bentley and Mariana," he said a little nervously, looking around, though he didn't know what he was looking for "They'll be worried that I'm not answering."

"By all means call them," she said absently, and now he was sure she was looking for someone.

"Is there anyone else here besides the two of us?"

She thought, perhaps a little too long, still scanning the surroundings, to finally say no. He knew she was lying. Nevertheless, he stood up, and went back through the bushes, loudly calling Bentley and Mariana. He saw how Jasmine somehow rose to her feet behind him with a crutch attached to her left forearm and was slowly approaching him. He felt strange. Like it was only a ghost approaching him from behind.

"I hate this place! Why do people keep getting lost here! We will never all be together again! Never!" he burst out suddenly.

"I'm so sorry, Jasmine, but I'm so tired and I'm hungry and I'm thirsty and I wish I was home so much."

She stood behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. It was a gesture he hadn't expected. He turned to her and gave her a cautious hug. Whatever happens, he won't be so stupid as to let anyone else out of his sight. Holding her as gently as he could, he slowly led her to the van. If the van engine could even start, they could drive it to where Mariana's car was fairly fast. He could certainly go back by foot, but this time he had no intention of leaving Jasmine alone for even a minute, whatever a minute meant here. If the van doesn't start, they'll walk together through the woods, no matter how long it takes.

"Who made you these strange, er, immobilizers? I've never seen anything like it."

She was silent. Finally, when they reached the van, he asked her what happened to her and how badly she was hurt. That was when she told him. He reached out with his hand already on the driver's door lock.

"I'm sorry, but you must've been mistaken." he said cautiously "I know what it's like to break a bone and you wouldn't be able to stand, much less walk, even with a cane. Four years ago I broke my leg and I know I screamed in pain and was in pain for a long time, days and weeks afterwards. I could hardly move with the aid of splints and crutches. Your injuries are certainly less serious than broken bones, maybe just sprains. Besides, this seat could hardly have hurt you so badly, even if it fell on you from a bigger height than that in a turned over van.''

"They were jumping on the seat," she said in a voice that sent shivers down his spine "they were jumping on it, and there were dozens of them. If it hadn't been for...if I hadn't somehow moved up the Vortex...I'd be dead."

"Who was jumping? And who helped you? Sergei? Bentley mentioned him to me. Where is Sergei? Why is he gone now?"

"I don't know. I don't think he wants anyone but me to see him. At least, I have that impression. He told me he wouldn't leave me, so I guess he's there somewhere."

Dick sighed, not knowing what to think about that. She seemed delusional. If her bones weren't broken, she was still seriously injured and needed a doctor. He hoped she wasn't telling the truth about Sergei, because that would mean the mysterious gentleman in question had some sort of problem, because why else would he be hiding from them? Bentley and Mariana, especially Mariana, hinted that this Sergei has some serious physical problem, but how bad can it look in these circumstances? After all, if Sergei's condition was so serious, would he even be able to make such complex devices? Why would he lie to Jasmine that her bones were broken? Dick didn't like that Sergei. Everything about the character was either very mysterious or sounded like a lie.

He opened the van door. They came off their hinges almost immediately, and if he hadn't jumped to the side, they would have fallen down on his leg. Jasmine staggered, but stayed on her feet. He moved the now completely useless driver's side door away from the van and peered inside. The other, the passenger's door, was completely smashed, the glass was broken, and almost all internal elements, the lock, the mechanism for opening the window, were literally crushed. This door will not be able to be opened again, he estimated.

Of course, there were no more seats. God only knows what happened to the driver's seat, and someone (Sergei?) pulled the passenger's seat out of the van and stretched it out like a bed on which they had been sitting a while ago. How the hell is he going to drive without a seat?

The back of the van, which used to house their music instruments, speakers, amplifiers, microphones and every possible accessory they thought they might need, was a mess. The instruments were mangled and mercilessly torn apart. It didn't look comfortable or safe, so he folded the blanket he picked up from the unfolded seat of the van, where he and Jasmine had been sitting a while ago, and managed to make fairly comfortable place where Jasmine could recline. He dragged the seat back into the van and rearranged it to make it as functional as possible, then he fixed it with cables so that it does not move. He sat behind the steering wheel, which was cracked but functional. It was quite uncomfortable, the seat moved, the steering wheel was unstable and wobbly, and the pedals were further away than he was used to, but he would probably be able to drive with considerable difficulty, Jasmine stretched out on the blanket he had placed, and then it became clear to him that beside unstable driver's seat, because of her too, he would have to drive very slowly and very carefully.

Miraculously, the van started right away. Jasmine sighed loudly and it sounded like she choked. When he looked at her worriedly, she just waved her hand as if it didn't matter, but he still noticed that she was surprised. He was surprised that he even managed to start the engine. As he let the engine warm up a little, he saw her looking anxiously through the gaping part of the van where the driver's door used to be, as if waiting for a sign. Or some person. He knew who. He expected that suddenly, out of nowhere, a guy completely unknown to him would appear and jump into the van. That didn't happen. Jasmine sighed deeply again and whispered something to herself, but due to the noise of the engine, Dick could not hear what. He sensed that she was encouraging herself by softly calling this Sergei to join them in the van. No one showed up. As the van bounced slightly and then slowly moved away, she just stretched out across her blanket, exhausted and disappointed.

They drove slowly down the road.