Ryan Westfield - Pushing On

Mandy finally realized what Georgia was saying.

“Come on, Georgia, that’s crazy. They’re not like that. Let’s go have dinner.”

John’s eyes were on a branch that had snapped back into his face when it happened.

Up ahead, there was a strange noise.

Sara cried out. Derek made a noise that sounded like he was choking in surprise.

One moment, Derek, Sara, and the new guy Drew were there, in view. When John looked up, they were gone.

John stopped. His hand seized his gun and he pointed it forward. His finger was on the trigger.

He put his other hand up, letting Cynthia know to stop.

“What happened?” said Cynthia.

John didn’t answer.

A scream up ahead.

John didn’t know what to do. Did he turn back and flee with Cynthia? Or did he try to rescue the annoyingly naïve Derek and Sara?

Obviously, there was some kind of trap.

Probably Drew had led them into it, but John wasn’t sure.

“Stay there,” whispered John.

“If you’re going, I’m coming.”

“No way. Stay.”

“You’re an idiot.”

That was Cynthia’s way of trying to be endearing. It had come out slowly, her way of using insults to show affection and devotion. John was used to it.

The branches on the side of the trail were thick. There wasn’t much hope of heading off to the side and approaching from an unexpected angle.

Plus, who knew how much time there was left.

John rushed forward, hoping that the element of surprise would be on his side.

He came into a small clearing, off to the side of the narrow trail.

Someone huge, wearing all orange, lunged at him.

The guy’s weight was massive. He knocked John down.

John didn’t drop the gun. He kept his grip tight.

The guy was on top of him, pushing down.

John could barely breathe.

Somewhere nearby, someone cackled. It sounded like Drew.

John could only see his attacker’s huge, ugly face, full of long red scars. He was a former prisoner, judging by the uniform he still wore. His head had been shaved, but the hair was growing back slowly, patchy and sparse.

“I’ll be taking this,” came Drew’s voice, his face unseen.

Another hand reached down to the gun.

But John wasn’t going to let it go.

He tried to move his arm, angling the gun so that he could threaten Drew or the big guy on top of him.

But the big guy was pinning his arm down.

Where the hell was Cynthia?

Had she chickened out? He thought she’d been right behind.

“Shit,” muttered Drew. “He’s holding onto this thing good.”

Drew’s fingers were trying to pry the gun from John’s hand.

“Just kill him,” said Drew. There was a sickening delight in his voice.

So this was it.

The big guy, with one free hand, picked up a loose rock, about the side of a baseball. He raised his hand, ready to smash it into John’s skull.

John writhed under the weight. He kicked his feet. But he couldn’t reach anyone with them. He was stuck. Completely. He couldn’t do anything.

A shot rang out.

John saw it all. Blood gushed from the big guy’s temple. His expression dropped away, nothing but deadness showing on his face.

He started to fall, his weight crashing down.

Somehow, with the dead guy not actively holding John down, he was able to get out from under him. It took all his strength. He did it so quickly, so instinctively, that he wasn’t even sure, afterwards, how he’d done it. But he was out.

Cynthia was standing nearby, her gun still raised, held with both hands. Determination was on her face.

John was breathing heavily as he stood straight up. The gun was still in his hand. He raised it and pointed it squarely at Drew.

There was a scurrying in the branches on the edge of the clearing. Someone, or someones, had just fled.

“Where are the others? Derek and Sara?”

Drew just smiled. “My guys have got them.”

“And they’re just leaving you here?”

“They work for me. Don’t worry. They’ll be back.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

Drew kept smiling. “Look, I’m sorry about all that with the gun. He got a little overenthusiastic. I was just trying to get the gun away from him. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s alive. Look at him.”

“Yes, what a shame.”

“Doesn’t sound genuine.”

Drew shrugged. “He was an employee. But listen, we don’t need to let this little misunderstanding ruin what could be a mutually beneficial relationship between the three of us.”

“You can’t sweet talk your way out of this one.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to do that.”

“You remind me of a guy who was trying to sell me bogus siding once. And I never even had a house. Tell me where Derek and Sara are, or you’re dead.”

“Truth is, I don’t know. I can call my guys back.”

“Do it.”

Drew cupped his hands to his mouth, and called out. “All right, guys, enough is enough. Bring ‘em back. They’re going to kill your boss if you don’t.”

But Drew wasn’t taking it seriously. He still had a smile on his face. Clearly he didn’t think that John was capable of carrying out his word.

“Looks like your guys have cut and run,” said John. “They’re not coming back.”

“Guys!” called Drew. “You’re not going to abandon your boss, are you?”

“Pathetic,” muttered John.

“What are you going to do with him?” said Cynthia.

“The same that he was going to do to us.”

John squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Drew in the forehead. John’s aim had gotten good. Sure, he was close to the target. But he was also a beginner.

Drew’s smile fell off his face. His body crumpled to the ground. The corpse lay there, slumped, blood pouring down the front of his face. The eyes were rolled back, lifeless.

“What about Derek and Sara?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Do we go after them?”

“They would have done the same for us, right?”

“I don’t know about that. Remember how they wouldn’t listen to us about security? About guns? And about this piece of work here?”

John pushed the toe of his boot against Drew’s corpse.

John didn’t want to go after Derek and Sara. It meant risking his own life at the expense of others who hadn’t been willing to take care of themselves.

“Shit,” said John. “We can’t leave them.”

“I know,” said Cynthia. “We’ve got to go for them.”

“Come on.”

They made their way across the small clearing. The branches were thick at the sides. John pushed his way through. He could see a path of broken branches, where the other guys had pushed their own way through.

“We can follow their trail pretty easily,” said John. “It goes without saying that we’ve got to be careful.”

“They don’t have guns, though. We’ve got the advantage.”

“They have guns now. Remember? They’ll have had time to go through Derek and Sara’s packs. Guns and ammo. That’s what they’re going to have.”

“Shit.”

John shrugged. “Fortunately, I bet we’re better shots than they are at this point.”

“They’re criminals. Don’t you think they know how to use a gun?”

“Probably, yeah. But they’re probably bad shots.”

“That’s not enough to risk our lives on.”

“Yeah, but that’s what the breaks are. The other option is leaving Derek and Sara to their own fate.”

Cynthia seemed to consider it for a moment.

“I guess we can’t,” she said finally.

“Nope.”

The going was hard. Even with the path having been blazed, so to speak, ahead of them, it was a real slog. The underbrush was thick and their boots sank into ground. Instead of being firm, the earth was soggy, draining their energy.