I get pretty far, too. As I reach the threshold of the forest, I see a cabin, brightly lit by two oil lamps. On the porch, two more men have already taken up their positions, guns in their hands, and it is time to use them.
They do not open fire on me, but rather fire wildly into the trees in the courtyard. The return volley gets near my head, but they can’t aim for shit.
They’ve been waiting for me. Chains are drawn, rattling across the wood. The tall door creaks inward, and a man stands before them at the ready with a rifle.
When he fires, the bullet grazes my ear.
“Hands where I can see them,” he says.
I obey. I’m not stupid enough to challenge this man. I’ve seen this before, in a dream I had once. I know it sounds crazy, but I know how this plays out.
The men behind me catch up, cackling with laughter. It’s not long before I feel the hot blow of finely crafted wood hit the back of my head.
I fall to my knees and raise my eyes to more than a few rifle barrels. “You move, we shoot,” the man says.
One of his men holds a chain used to restrain human prisoners. He lumps the rusted mass together and steps forward. “You best not try to run,” he says, chuckling to himself. “Boy, we’re going to be rich once we turn you into them cultists.”
I keep my mouth shut. English is primitive. Easy to understand, and even easier to speak. But if I open my mouth, I’ll end up saying something that will get me killed. So I act like a docile beast, a savage claimed by the unkempt heroes of this region.
I give them what they want, and I wait. For her. The woman I’ve yet to find here.
I keep searching for her, knowing that when I find her, I’ll have my way out.
I’m taken prisoner, dragged inside that wood cabin until they feel real nice, safe enough to beat an alien twice their size. I accept their pain, rolling my eyes open after each blow dealt, barely able to focus on the questions they spit into my ears.
In the room’s corner, a few candles glow and melt onto a wood table. It’s just enough warmth to tantalize me. I focus on those flames, and the pain suddenly subsides.
Yes, I’ve been here before. In a dream. I’ve seen all of this, but there are slight irregularities with how this is playing out.
Another punch to my skull. Yep, I remember that too.
“Where is she?” the man growls.
I try to remember her face, but my mind is blank. Maybe I’m going through some form of amnesia. Maybe I hit my head during that landing.
I was made for a mate. She’s out there somewhere.
We were born for each other.
I spit blood and watch as their rugged leader grows desperate for a response. He takes a candle in hand and holds it delicately over my body. “I asked you a question, boy,” he says.
“And I’m under no obligation to answer,” I growl.
Although his mouth is closed, I see his thick cheek muscles flex as his teeth slip together.
“I gave you a choice,” he says.
That’s right. He did. But just because a man is asking questions, doesn’t mean he’s got the right of a judge. He doesn’t get to decide my fate.
I do.
The men part ways around their leader, nervously eyeing one another like a pack of wild animals. The hunter’s heavy boots echo on the decayed wood panels, adding to the almost ominous noises the forest critters make alongside the strong, howling wind.
Safety doesn’t exist in a place like this. But they sure believe it does.
The hard-boiled lawman shouts a few words in praise of his good luck, then throws the melting candle and rifle down in the same movement. Wax falls onto my skin, searing into my flesh, but I’m focused on one thing.
“Let’s burn this monster alive,” the hunter bellows, eyes narrow and mad.