Disaster Follows

13 - Ghost River

Valentina smiled to herself after passing through the gates of the plane into a new world. Of all the places her father had sent her, never had she been to Pakistan before.

There’s always a first. She smirked, putting on her sunglasses. She knew it was risky, going on her own, without a guard—what do they call them? Slayers—who would keep tabs on her. Nothing. She’d sneaked at night out of home and made it to the airport. She hoped the note she’d left her parents would be enough for them—especially since it stated she was going to Hawaï for some days.

One of the guards recognised her and led her to the other side of the airport, where a chopper awaited her. Here goes nothing, her brain told her as she stepped inside. She’d never travelled in a helicopter, and though she’d imagined her first time would be on a different situation, she settled in. Whatever, we won’t die, she thought to herself.

The base was unsettling for her. Of course she hadn’t climbed once in her life, she’d never thought there was anything cool about climbing some mountains. But now that she’d been forced to say it out loud, in front of every climber in front of her at the bonfire, she felt even more awkward than her first night with the Ashcrofts.

She’d been intelligent enough to take her camera with her, and claimed she was only there because of the amazing photos she’d take the next day. Everyone must’ve believed her, she thought, or they would’ve pressed for more answers than those she intended to give.

Never being a morning person, she almost grunted out loud when her phone beeped the alarm at 4am. She then remembered she wasn’t supposed to be grunting at all and nearly choked trying to keep it in. And then she remembered Carlo wasn’t there with her.

Great, now his stupid rules are actually sticking with me, she thought as she rolled her eyes. She made her way out of the base camp. She’d purchased a gun from a weird guy at the camp, and she kept it as in the movies, right in her back, under her sweater. Anyone could’ve thought she was from National Geographic. At least if they didn’t, that’s exactly what she’d planned to say.

She got away from the trekking route, sharping her senses at anything out of the ordinary that could actually give her a clue to whatever she was hoping to find. She wandered for hours until her stomach growled at her. With a sigh, she took a sandwich out and began eating it, when she realised she was close to a small path that apparently led to deep into the mountain.

This is it, her brain told her, point of no return. She looked behind her, she didn’t really know where exactly she was, and she supposed it’d be a blessing if the GPS managed to take her back to base camp, but for now, she had nowhere else to go. Forward it is, she resolved mentally.

She took her camera out, holding it on her right hand next to the gun. If that’s what it took to find her answers, she was ready for anything. Maybe not death, her brain reminded her. Shut up.

She walked over three miles until she heard something behind her. She was already deep in the mountains, away from everyone, so far up she could actually see beyond the horizon, and alone. Or so she wanted to believe. She drew in a deep breath before turning on her heels pointing the gun and camera before her.

Valentina blinked. There was nobody. She sighed in disbelief, turning again to keep up with the path when she caught the glimpse of a sword before her, and then the world faded to pitch black.

***

When she managed to regain conscience, she found out her hands were tied—so were her feet—and she was blindfolded. She could hear footsteps near her, but no matter how much she tried, she just couldn’t figure out what they were doing, or who they were. She hoped to whatever god up in the sky those footsteps didn’t belong to any Reapers.