Beneath Dark Skies (Rolling Hills Ranch #1)

4. Farron

FOUR

FARRON

A SILENT WITNESS

Day 33

Sitting side by side in a small clearing, Magnum and I take a moment to rest in the tranquil embrace of the forest. Tall, ancient trees tower above us, their leaves forming a lush green canopy that filters the sunlight into a soft, mottled glow. The air is filled with the earthy scent of moss and fallen leaves, and a gentle breeze rustles through the branches, carrying the melodic tunes of hidden birds and the distant babble of a nearby stream.

I open my backpack and pull out some food, offering Magnum a share of the meager rations as we replenish our strength for the journey ahead. Magnum, with his wiry, light brown fur and soulful dark eyes, eagerly accepts the food. His ears perk up with excitement, one standing tall while the other flops endearingly to the side. His slightly scruffy muzzle works diligently as he eats, and his tail wags in a slow, content rhythm.

But as we sit in companionable silence, a faint noise in the distance catches my attention, causing me to freeze mid-bite. The sound is subtle, barely more than a whisper on the wind, but it sends a shiver down my spine nonetheless. Instinctively, I reach for Magnum, my fingers curling around his wiry fur as I strain to identify the source.

The forest around us seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation as we listen for any movement.

Suddenly, raucous male laughter echoes through the forest, catching me off guard and causing my jaw to drop in disbelief. Real people—actual living people—are nearby, startling me. It's my first encounter with other survivors since the outbreak began, and the realization floods me with conflicting emotions.

Fear creeps in despite the initial rush of excitement at the prospect of human contact. The world wasn't exactly safe for women even before everything went to hell, and now it's undoubtedly even worse. With a sense of urgency, I scramble to my feet, my movements fueled by adrenaline. I gather my belongings, my hands moving quickly as Magnum follows, hobbling a bit with his leg still in a splint, knowing that our safety depends on our ability to assess the situation and take cover.

Before I can get everything packed up, a vice-like hand clamps over my mouth, stifling any attempt at a cry for help, while another encircles my stomach, rendering me immobile. My heart hammers against my ribcage, each beat a thunderous reminder of my vulnerability in this moment.

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” The foul odor of the man's breath wafts over my face, causing my stomach to churn in disgust. It's a scent that cuts through the cold morning air, a nasty reminder of the darkness lurking within humanity. For the first time since the world descended into chaos, a new kind of fear grips me, sending a shiver down my spine and chilling me to the bone.

“Smith, look what I found!” the man calls out, alerting his companion, who approaches from the treeline.

As the second man gets closer, they start jostling me between them. Both men taunt me, their leering faces twisted with maliciousness and their hands violating my personal space as they harass me. One of them licks at my neck while the other gropes my chest, which only causes my airway to constrict further. Magnum growls in defiance, but his small size and injured leg render him powerless to intervene and help me, although my small hero tries.

When the men press me up against the rough bark of a tree and begin to unzip my jeans, a sense of helplessness washes over me, amplifying the terror coursing through my veins. Tears cascade down my cheeks uncontrollably. I’m completely overwhelmed with fear, shaking and frozen in place at the thought of what these men are planning on doing to me. When one of the men begins to move his hand inside my pants, a surge of adrenaline courses through me, finally allowing me to reclaim control of my limbs and jolting me into action. With a trembling hand, I reach for the knife tucked into the back of my waistband, my fingers closing around the hilt with a desperate grip.

Without a second thought, without any hesitation, I wrench the blade free and drive it into the man's chest, the sickening sound of flesh tearing beneath metal echoing through the air. I rip the knife back towards me and watch in horror as he crumples to the ground, a crimson pool spreading beneath him. His friend, enraged, backhands me across the face, sending stars dancing behind my eyelids. He crouches down next to his friend, hurling obscenities at me the entire time.

But even as pain radiates through my skull, as blood trickles from the corner of my mouth, I refuse to be cowed. With a steely resolve and the knife still clutched tightly in my grip, I seize the opportunity, swiftly pulling the knife up and plunging the blade into the second man’s throat. I don’t stop at one, unleashing a furious onslaught of stabs. I don’t stop until my wrist aches from the repetitive motion. I don’t stop until he lies completely still, no longer a threat.

Breathless and trembling, I stand still in the aftermath, my hands stained with blood and my heart still racing with the lingering effects of adrenaline. Time seems to blur, the seconds stretching into eternity as I remain frozen, grappling with the horrors that have unfolded before me. Again.

At some point, Magnum hobbles over to me, his whimper breaking through the deafening silence that surrounds us. His nose nudges against my leg, a silent plea for comfort. I lower my gaze to him, and my heart clenches at the sight of the crimson stains that now cover his matted fur, mirroring the blood that coats my own hands.

With a heavy heart, I drop to the forest floor, the damp earth beneath me stained with violence. I wait for the tears to come, for the release of emotion that never arrives. I wonder how much more I am expected to endure as I stare blankly ahead, grappling with the weight of everything. How much can I handle before everything takes its toll? At what point is the journey ahead of me, the hope of seeing my family, no longer worth the pain I keep feeling?

I can try and rationalize, justifying my actions with the fact that if I didn’t kill them, they would have done much worse to me. I know that I did what I had to in order to survive. But how many lives will I be forced to take simply to save my own? How many people will I have killed by the time I finally face my family again?

With a raw and primal intensity, I unleash a scream that tears through the stillness of the forest. Each guttural cry is a release, a cathartic expulsion of the pain festering within me.

I scream until my throat is raw and my voice is hoarse, the sound reverberating off the trees and fading into the distance like a haunting echo .

When I finally fall silent, gasping for breath amidst the wreckage of my emotions, I realize that my face is wet with tears. The salty tracks glisten on my cheeks, a tangible reminder of my despair. I sit on the forest floor, panting and covered in blood, the forest around me a silent witness.

I’ve survived another encounter with darkness in this new world, but at what cost? The scars—both physical and emotional—will linger long after the men are gone, long after I’ve made my way home.