Ryan Westfield - Final Panic

And then she remembered the stolen supplies. If they were recovered, maybe there was still a chance.

Her thoughts turned to her husband. She felt a yearning for him, a longing, an intense hope that he was safe and alive, ready to return soon.

From behind her, she heard a sound. The low rumbling of an engine. But not a car engine. Something bigger.

Struggling, she flopped herself over so that she could face the driveway and the road.

There were just a couple trees in between her and the road. She was basically out in the open.

Her hand instinctively dug into her pocket, trying to find her pocketknife. But it wasn’t there. Maybe it’d been on the bedside table. Or maybe it’d fallen out of her pocket. She didn’t know.

The vehicle was a familiar one. It was a single, large RV. Maybe one of the ones that had driven by earlier. Maybe not. But chances were that it was.

What did they want? Had they seen the smoke rising to the sky from across the lake? Had they come to help or to take advantage of those in distress?

Whatever they wanted, Aly didn’t want to deal with them. On a day like today, at a time like this, strangers didn’t mean good news. Everyone was a potential threat.

The RV pulled partly into the driveway and crawled to a stop.

Aly waited. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to do anything but be there, simply waiting.

But she couldn’t. Getting out of the house had taken everything out of her.

With the house burning behind her, she watched as the door opened, and two people stepped out and onto the driveway. They pointed to the house and then began scanning the surrounding area. It didn’t take them long to spot Aly. They pointed to her, and then began walking towards her.

“Shit,” muttered Aly, clutching the knife tighter.

“Hello there!” called out the man, speaking in a jovial way that somehow seemed completely fake. He stopped near her. A woman about his age stood next to him. “Now what do we have here?” He leaned forward, as if to get a better look at Aly.

“Looks like we’re going to have some fun after all,” said the woman, chuckling to herself.

“I told you not to give up hope. When there’s disaster, there’s hedonism.”

Hedonism? What were they talking about? They seemed like strange people. Very strange. They gave off a weird vibe, and something looked strange about their eyes, as if their pupils were somehow too small.

“Don’t come any closer,” shouted Aly, using all her energy to raise the knife, brandishing it towards them.

“There’s no need for that,” laughed the man. “Come on. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Not yet, at least,” said the woman, smiling wildly. “But plenty of people find that they enjoy BDSM. I know I do.”

“We practice a variation,” said the man. “It’s more painful.”

“And more dangerous.”

“But a lot more fun.”

“For us, at least.”

They approached her together, taking steps towards her.

Aly was simply too weak. As they got closer, she was overtaken with a coughing fit. Her lungs still burned.

She wasn’t even able to swing the knife before strong arms seized her arm and held it in place. Before she knew it, the knife was wrenched from her hands as the man and woman laughed.

They kept laughing all the way back to the RV. They carried her, and she was too tired to do much more than kick a single time at one of them. But it was a weak blow and it merely glanced off the man’s side, making him laugh all the harder.

“It’s more fun when they fight back a little, isn’t it?” he said.

“That’s right. Now get the rope.”

“I think it’s behind the driver’s seat.”

“No, don’t you remember? It’s hanging up by the bathroom.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Get me my pills, while you’re at it.”

“You’ve had enough.”

“I didn’t know we were rationing now? I thought we were going out in style.”

“Fine, I’ll get them.”

Aly was overtaken again by a coughing fit as the woman held her down on the floor of the RV. The man tied ropes tightly around her.

Her face was pressed against the floor. She heard the RV engine start, and felt the RV back up.

She hoped someone would find her. Though maybe it was too much to hope for.

Jim was more than exhausted, but as he neared the lake house and saw the plumes of gray smoke in the sky, he quickened his pace.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking for, or for how long he’d been away for. He still had his watch, but to his tired brain, the hands on the dial didn’t seem to mean anything. What’s more, he had no idea what time he’d left.

He only knew that he’d been away for a long time. Long enough, apparently, for something serious to happen.

His view of the house was, for a good while, obscured by the trees. But as he got closer, he saw more of the smoke. And he could smell it.

Something was burning. Something big.

And that something, whatever it was, was right where the lake house was.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was burning.

Jim thought of his wife. He quickened his pace, breaking into a run.

His muscles burned as he ran, and he felt like he was gasping for air, but he kept going.

When he finally came around a group of trees, he saw the house. He saw the flames, rising high.

It was immediately clear there was no saving the house. It was an inferno, burning hot and wild. There’d be no entering that house without dying.

Jim’s eyes immediately began scanning the yard and the surrounding area, hoping to see someone, hoping to see Aly.

But there was no one.

Jim didn’t let himself panic. That’d only make him less effective. He focused on his breathing, keeping it as calm and steady as he could in his state.

And there it was. A sound. Beyond the roar of the fire, he heard it. It was an engine. Rumbling and low. But not that far off.

Jim didn’t waste any time. He sprinted as fast as his exhausted body would allow down to the driveway. By the time he reached the road, he was panting and out of breath.

But it was worth it. Down the road, he could see it.

The RV.

It was far enough away that it looked small. He couldn’t make out the markings, but the size and shape of it looked just like the RV he’d seen earlier.

The RV was too far away to get a shot off. He’d miss by a mile.

But it wasn’t too far to run after.

Sure, there was every chance in the world that he wouldn’t catch up with them. He was just one lone man, tired and exhausted, trying to catch his breath. And he’d be up against a diesel-burning RV, with who knows how much horsepower.

And Jim didn’t even know who was in the RV. It was a long shot. His wife, not to mention the others, might be dead in the burning house right now. Or close to dying. But Jim had no chance of rescuing them if that was the case.

If they were in that RV, taken prisoner or hostage, then there was at least a chance of rescuing them.

It wasn’t the kind of strategy that worked in poker. But it sometimes worked in real life.

There were so many “ifs” that it all seemed crazy.

But he had to try. No one else was there. There were no other options.

Jim didn’t waste any time. He’d made up his mind. He started running.

He was already losing sight of the RV. It didn’t seem to be going fast, but it was going a lot faster than he was.

But he kept going.

After all, if there was a chance, however small, that he could save someone, or do something, then he had to take it. Worrying about the fire, the burning fire, and all the problems that would result from it, was pointless now. Completely and utterly pointless. And not just that, but an actual determiner to what he could potentially accomplish.