We, The Watched (excerpt)

WE, THE WATCHED (excerpt) 

by Adam Bender

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Chapter 1 

AWAKE

The light is blinding. I cough up pine syrup, shake off the sweat and dew in a shiver. A million needles stab; a woodpecker hammers and pounds. I roll away from the light and scurry into the cool shadow of a towering oak. 

Stop. It's just a nightmare. I'm still in bed; just need to open my eyes. Just get them open and this will all be over. 

Something itches my neck-a tick, maybe. I picture the insect's dark head sink into my skin, its abdomen ballooning red. I sit up fast, scratching all the way. 

Oh my God-I'm not dreaming. 

I thrash about, a futile attempt to improve the reception. Nothing makes sense; all I get is static and a strengthened headache. The woodpecker hacks away. 

I close my eyes and let a slow, warm breeze brush through my hair.  

"Think, damn it," I breathe at last. "How did you get here?" 

My clothes are damp and feature spots of mud, but nothing is torn. Stranger still, my body aches, but my skin shows no signs of cuts or even bruising. It's like I just up and decided to spend a night in the woods-but forgot the tent and sleeping bag. Was I drunk? I can't remember anything about last night. 

Frantically, I search my pockets. No wallet, no keys, no cellphone... only thing in there is a crumpled-up brochure.  

"You have to be kidding me," I groan, tossing it on the grass. 

Unless... 

I snap up the ball of paper, carefully unfurl it. Emblazoned across the top are miracle words: National Park Visitor's Map. Better, someone's drawn two circles in Sharpie-one around the end marker of a trail and the other around a station labeled MONORAIL. I must have used the map to get here. But why? 

Sitting isn't doing me any good, and the headache's starting to subside, anyway. I'm sure things will come together as soon as I get home-if I can find it. 

Shut up, you couldn't have honestly forgotten- 

No, I didn't forget. I couldn't have. I'm just disoriented still. This is what happens when you sleep outside on the grass all night. I don't know what hallucinogen I did last night before coming here, but I'm never doing it again. 

OK, so where's the trail? 

I stare into the wilderness. Could I actually have taken a trail to get here? I was too wasted to remember anything, but sober enough to stick to a path? 

Wait. Is that-? 

The tree on the other end of the clearing-something's scratched into its trunk. I stagger to my feet and limp the rest of the way. My socks squish. 

Graffiti-some idiot decided to take a pocketknife and carve the numeral 7. The whole thing is senseless and illogical, but it confirms civilization is nearby. I squint into the vegetation and pan slowly, left to right. My eyes land on a path-overgrown with weeds, but a path nonetheless. 

* * * * * 

The density of green is overwhelming. And the birds-the damn birds are everywhere, all singing for mates. Too bad I'm not here on a hiking trip.  

What the hell is wrong with me? I'm lost in the woods, don't have the slightest idea why, and what do I do? Make jokes! Make stupid jokes! If I'd just concentrate I might be out of this mess already.  

Or-I don't know-at least maybe I would have built a hatchet to protect me from the forces of nature. 

* * * * * 

A new sound: trickling water. I dash for the source and almost run right through a stream. Splashing and guzzling ensues. 

The ripples fade. I don't recognize the youthful eyes staring back at me, but a touch confirms the gaping mouth and patchy beard are my own. 

The bushes on the other side of the stream rustle and snap, and two large deer tiptoe out into the open. They stare at me, bodies frozen stiff. I take one more hit of the cool liquid and rise to my feet. "Enjoy," I say with a wave toward the water. The doe, apparently alarmed by my suggestion, turns around and bolts back into the shrubbery. The buck continues to stare.  

I force a grin. He runs after her.  

Oh God-now I'm talking to animals. If I don't find humans soon I'm probably going to end up completely insane. But all I can see is the green and all I can hear are the birds. Who's to say I actually woke up in the place circled on the map? I could be anywhere. Is this really even a trail? 

Shut up. Keep going. Follow the trail. 

* * * * * 

Winged insects hiss in my ear and bite my arms and face, apparently attracted to my sweat and extreme body odor. The further into the vegetation I push, the more the bugs seem to attack, the more they foil my pitiable attempts to distract myself from the present.