(Day 1): Eventual Exit

Leaning against a concrete wall, I rip off the bag of medical supplies from my belt. Sorting through it, I pull out a small glass bottle of disinfectant and a roll of soft bandage. Undoing the top, I grit my teeth as I slowly pour the disinfectant into the opening in my skin. Tears fill my eyes as I gently pry the folds of skin apart, letting the cold, stinging liquid drip into my flesh, mixing with my bloodstream. I ignore the gloopy red substance flowing down onto my clothes and the floor and pull out the roll of bandage. In a zig-zag pattern, I tightly bind it across the cut. Without anything to secure the end in place, I tuck it underneath the rest.

"At least it won't get infected now," I mutter to myself, not caring if anyone can hear me. I secure everything back into the bag and clip it back onto my hip. I pull out the packet of dried fruit and pop a few pieces into my mouth, savouring the flavour spreading across my tongue. "I need to keep moving," I say out loud to myself.

"Yes, you do,'' a male voice calls out behind me. My head whips around towards the sound, sending splotches of blood from my clothes around the floor. It's the kid from before, standing about twenty metres away from me. I stand up quickly, dropping the packet of dried fruit onto the floor, its contents spilling out and rolling across the dusty floor. 'How did he find me so easily?' I think, confused. That's when my eyes fixate on the drops of blood littering the floor, leading down the path to where I came from. The boy smirks and raises the knife. He charges and I ready my fists. He slices down from above and I dodge left, punching him in the stomach as the knife passes by me, harmlessly. He stumbles backwards. 'Hey! That's my knife!' I think angrily, recognising the weapon he is holding in his grimy clutches. Then I allow myself a small laugh. 'I managed to get myself somewhat emotionally attached to a knife…' I charge again, trying to take advantage of his weakened condition. I swing a punch at the left side of his jaw with my right fist. He catches it in his left hand, using his knife to slice my right wrist. Blood squirts out of the fresh opening oozing down onto the floor. He tries to stab at me again. I pull back on my hand, feeling it slide free of his grip due to the slimy wet blood that seeped in between his fingers. The force of me retracting my hand causes him to stumble forwards to the right side of me. I raise my elbow – my freshly opened wound screaming in protest – and shove my elbow down as hard as I can. It strikes into the back of his neck, sending him sprawling onto the ground. With a gooey squelching noise, the dagger slides free of his grip. He struggles to get up, the blood on the floor making his hands slip out from underneath him.

I plant my foot onto his back forcing him onto the ground and ceasing his attempts at standing up. I crouch down, my foot still on his back, and reach over for the bloodied knife. The boy tries to say something, but the floor muffles his voice. A pitiful and depressing last protest to the world. 'For survival,' I think, with a hint of regret. 'He did try to kill me though,' I argue with myself, as if that would make what I'm doing any better. I raise the knife and plunge it into the back of his head. Purging him of this unfair existence instantaneously. The boy's limbs twitch once, before growing deathly still. I exhale a deep sigh. A sigh filled with relief and exhaustion. 'I did it, despite my wounds and all the odds stacked against me - but what now?' I think to myself. I grasp the hilt of the dagger with both hands, ignoring the pain stabbing through multiple parts of my body to the best of my ability. I brace my feet on the floor and yank the dagger out of his skull with some difficulty, due to the slippery blood covering almost everything I own. It comes free with a "squelch!" and is followed by a squirt of pressurised blood that sprays over my shirt. I grimace and wipe the knife off on one of the few remaining splotches of clean fabric. I return my knife to the spot on my belt. Standing up, I begin to make my way down the passageway.

~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly stumble my way down path after path, walkway after walkway, for what feels like hours on end. Eventually, I reach an exit to this hellhole. I tentatively step through the final opening. In front of me is a big meadow. Throughout are a few randomly scattered trees and rocks. To the far right of that is a colossal lake. No wind is detectible, and thus the lake is strangely still. On the other side of that appears to be another meadow. Almost identical to the one in front of me. I think that I can make out another rainforest after that, but colours seem to blend into one at that distance, any sort of detail difficult to apprehend. To my relief, the lake looks to contain drinkable and clean fresh water, though I'm not quite sure how I know that. To the left of the meadow is a dense forest. This overgrowth is mirrored several-hundred metres away, on the far side of the meadow. Neither seem to fit in with this environment though. It appears to be a jungle or rainforest, due to the nature and size of the trees that it contains. Almost as if the trees there are older than the rest of the location. Like they had been dug up from another location and transplanted into the ground here. Hundreds if not thousands of different species of trees seem to be found in the forest. From short, rounded pine-trees, to large, hanging trees with dark green leaves and long hanging vines which merrily sway in the gentle breeze. I eagerly embrace this slightly more pleasant, new-found reality with a faint smile on my lips, thankful to be rid of the experiences and locations behind me.

~~~~~~~~~

I approach the forest with shuffling feet, my body bound with multiple layers of bandages and gauze pads. My ripped clothing is soaked through with various substances. Most of them being various shades and intensities of red. All of them stink. It looks like I've been through a warzone. In some ways, I have.

I step into the dense overgrowth, going a few metres deep. The sound of hundreds and thousands of leaves rustling against each other fills my ears. I hear the birds chirping happily in the trees, their songs adding to the harmonising concoction of noise the forest offers. The birds are all so oblivious and ignorant of the warzone they are surrounded by. Only concerned with the downpour of roaring rain, the sweet sunlight, or their next tasty meal. Along with all this is the smell of fresh pine-needles, though diminished through the wall of stench radiating from my own being. It feels strangely like home, even though I don't remember anything about my home, if I even had one that is. As far as homes go, this wouldn't be an unpleasant one. 'In fact, I quite like the idea of living among the trees. Dwelling amongst the birds, bugs, and beasts of the forest. It makes me wonder if I had anything before this…' But no, those thoughts do naught but carve a hole of depression in my being, so I wrestle with them. Forcing them to submit to me. Banishing them to the outskirts of my conscious thought. 'Better to just get back on track and focus on the task ahead of me; surviving.' I start searching around the rainforest's random overgrowth for a bit, lest I find other people dwelling. Making me need to run in fear for my life once more. Or perhaps I might find a supply crate around this area anywhere. Alas, nothing gets found after a few minutes of searching. So, I switch tactics and instead search for a place that I might be able to set up a campsite of sorts. It doesn't take long before I come across a large, warped tree that contains a small cave opening in the bottom. However, still large enough for me to stretch my whole body inside it. 'Yes, this will make a fine little home.' However, something about it bothers me. It looks man made. I shrug, sitting down next to it. I roll over and stretch out my weary limbs inside it. Subconsciously, my hand drifts down to my belt where my dried fruit packet is hanging. I feel nothing but air. The first thought is confusion, but then my mind clicks I realise they are still eating dust on the floor of the stone-cold maze. I scowl. My mind flicks back farther, and I remember the backpack that I dropped. 'That could have had food in it, too.' My scowl deepens.

"Great! just great!" I growl to no-one, throwing my hands up with a level of exasperated despair that I felt perfectly summed up everything. All the birds in the surrounding trees flutter away with a series of angry chirps at my sudden outburst – I am completely alone once more. A pang of loneliness flicks me. After a quick thought, I check the medical kit strapped to my belt. I sit up and open it, I study the items, sorting through them until I find what I need. 'Paracetamol tablets. Not the best, but it will do the trick. And plus, maybe it will help with my hunger slightly. Who knows?' I think, placing two of the small, bland, white tablets into my mouth. With some difficulty, I swallow them both. Over the next few minutes, my hunger does not subside, but the pain does somewhat abate. Once again, my thoughts are left to drift over to the food I left growing cold on the dusty, bloodied floor some hours ago. 'This stupid tree with its stupid knobbly bits.' I think, feeling the discomfort of the floor and the tree on my back. I stand up and start pacing, making some attempt to get some level of feeling back into my sore body. I kick a small rock forward with my shoe, a small poke of pain is felt through the soft cap of the shoe. 'Stupid bloodied clothes with the stupid stinking stench.' My eyes float to the left. Through the densely packed trees I can just barely make out a few glimpses of fresh green grass that makes the meadow out there. 'Stupid fruit pieces that I forgot to blimmin' pick up.' I kick a larger rock. More pain. I take it back, I'm sick of this place. I exclaim internally.

"BANG!" A deafening gunshot radiates across the forest, like a roar of thunder, the source coming from somewhere behind me, in the heart of the forest. I jump in fright, banging my head on a low-hanging branch behind me. I frantically glance around. I see nothing. I wait a few seconds to make sure that there isn't anyone near me. 'Okay. I think it is safe. That sounds like it must have come from a large calibre, powerful firearm. Maybe a sniper-rifle. That would make the most sense.' I plop myself down on the uncomfortable poking branches and loosely running vines, calming my adrenaline-charged veins. After a few minutes of sulking, I can already feel pins and needles stabbing through my flesh in the areas I feel forestry pressing my skin. 'I can't stand this stench! There is only so much blood one can take. I have found a base. I need to go and do something about this smell before I lose my mind!' Mentally remembering the location of the warped tree overlooking my campsite, I struggle to my feet and stumble towards the edge of the forest. I get to the point where the forest meets the meadow, with a glorious blend of different shades and colourations of green.

I'm about to walk out when I pause. Over by the exit to the maze that I emerged from not so long ago, I see two figures step out into the light. A blonde-haired boy and a black-haired girl. The boy looks about fifteen years of age, and the girl makes out to be slightly older from this distance. So, give or take sixteen. I take a few slow, deliberate steps backwards. Using the tactic of stealth to my advantage as best as I can. I crouch down behind an old, rotted tree log. It looks to have been felled a long time ago. Perhaps by a human. Perhaps natural causes. Or, more mysteriously, perhaps it was done by something else entirely… The figures walk over to the edge of the forest, trailing along besides the tree line. Every step bringing them closer to their demise. My right hand deliberately falls to the hilt of the dagger on my belt. I draw it slowly, as to muffle the "shink" of polished metal on treated leather. I stay there patiently, and quietly. Like a pack of wolves hungrily awaiting the perfect moment to strike. As I watch them, I begin running through scenarios in their heads. 'I'm going to try and get what supplies I can off them, but I need to be smart about this. If I hold one of them at knife point, then I can persuade the other to drop their weapons before killing them both.' I think grimly, before amending my statement. 'Well in theory, assuming they have somewhat of a bond through life-or-death. After all, trust is difficult to come by.'