Locked (Savage Men 2)

I go to the kitchen area and grasp the flask, then I bolt for the door. There’s no lock, and it opens without making too much sound. I hope he doesn’t wake up soon because he’ll probably chase me, which is why I have to make a run for it.

Now.

Accompanying Song: “Arrival Trailer Music” by Johann Johannsson

I hastily fill the flask with water from a barrel outside. Next to it is a torch, so I grab it and light it with the fire outside. Then I run. The torch guides my way through the jungle, through the thick bushes and trees. When I find a big trunk, I stake the torch in the ground and climb up again. When I’m high enough, I scour the area until I find ground zero.

It’s not far, so I immediately jump down, grab the torch, and run toward it. If I go in a straight line, I’ll reach it eventually, and if I’m uncertain, I can always climb another tree to check my bearings.

I know how to navigate my way around the land. If I need water, I know how to find it; if you just go down, all the water flows from mountains to the rivers down below. And if I need food … well, I can tell which plants are edible and which aren’t. Guess the survival skills the teacher taught me back in college are paying off.

But I’m not thinking about food or water right now. I need to get to the helicopter. I want to know if Ollie and Pete made it out alive. And I need to find a cell phone, so I can communicate with the outside world and let them know I’m okay.

So I keep running—past a tiny creek, over some rocky terrain, and into the deep jungle—until I finally come across a few charred trees. Not far beyond is an entirely scorched area … and in the middle of it all is a helicopter … or what’s left of it.

The metal wrangled and molten, I can barely recognize it as a helicopter. It’s turned upside down with pieces of metal hanging by a thread. The whole thing looks as though it’s about to collapse.

I take a deep breath and venture forward, determined to find what I’m looking for.

With the torch to light the way, I avoid debris and tree stumps, navigating around to the helicopter. There’s no good way to get inside, other than through the window on top of the wreckage, so I plant the torch in the ground again and grasp the wreckage and pull myself up.

The metal makes weird noises. Creaking and screeching, as if it’s about to collapse completely, but I push through. A small piece breaks off where I grasp it, and I almost tumble down, but I manage to catch myself before I fall. I grab a sturdier ledge and pull a bit before I actually make another move to make sure it doesn’t snap.

After a few more steps, I’m near the window, so I tear off a piece of my shirt and wrap it around my hand to knock away any remaining shards of glass. Then I hoist myself inside.

The whole thing quakes the moment I land inside the blackened cockpit, but a few seconds of pause keeps things together. For now.

The moon provides a small trickle of light into the helicopter.

That’s when I notice the seat in front of me.

Or at least, what used to be a seat. And buttons. And a stick.

Nothing’s left of it.

Or the human who was in it.

It’s as if the pilot melted together with the seat.

I cringe and try not to touch anything as I pass by. It could all be evidence for when the police come to investigate, and I don’t want to be blamed for messing up a crime scene. Because who knows what happened … I don’t.

The last thing I remember was our flight and that we were just about to land … and then a lot of noise and banging, and me being thrown out of the helicopter.

And then him … finding me. Taking me.

The rest is history.

I blow out a deep breath and force myself to concentrate on the here and now.

Slowly, I crawl across the floor beyond the cockpit and look up.

My jaw drops the moment I see Pete … and the metal bar that pierced his body.

No matter how hard I try to suck in the air, the oxygen won’t enter.

My throat clamps up before I can squeal.

Fuck.

This is horrible.

Pete’s dead … and Ollie … Where’s Ollie?

I think as hard as I can, and then it hits me. He was flung out of the helicopter before it crashed.

I quickly move to the left and climb up to the window on the rolled-over helicopter. When I gaze outside, the moonlight is enough to show the bits and pieces of metal scattered on the ground … and pieces of clothing … and flesh.