Spawned in Primeval

Chapter Seven: Casey

            There's a crick in my neck and my body won't move. Rough fabric scratches my face and arms as I try to wriggle out of whatever is holding me. I can't see anything when I open my eyes, but I also can't tell if that's because of the dark or if I've just gone blind. The way I'm hanging, it feels like I've been strung up somewhere in a big burlap sack. My hands are bound above my head and the sack is drawn tight above my elbows. The sack isn't large enough for me to sit comfortably—my legs are half-bent and joints already aching from the awkward position. Then there's the gag tied around my head that yanks the corners of my mouth back. But the smell is what draws most of my attention. It's meat and blood and it's all around me, filling my head, like I am the meat and blood.

It hits me: I'm strung up here as bait. But for what? To capture a beast? As a sacrifice for something? There's only one thing I know for sure: I need to get out of this sack.

I try to pull my hands apart, but the rough, scratchy rope doesn't give. I'll have to free myself another way. I briefly remember heroes in movies flipping upside-down to get to their hands, so I curl my legs up above my head. After a couple seconds of flailing, I manage to hook my feet through the mouth of the sack and rip it open. I drop my legs back down, surveying my surroundings, and despite the treetops covering the sky, I can see pretty well. Do I have... night vision?!

I'm tied to a hefty branch amid some forest, and the branch is low enough for me to swing my legs up and wrap around it. I barrel roll around the branch until I can sit upright and assess the ropes knotted around my wrists. My war hammer and travel pack are gone, and I wasn't smart enough to hide a knife anywhere. My only option, other than staying here, tied to a tree, is to try to pull my hands out. I twist my hands until the insides of my wrists press together. I grit my teeth and wrench outwards, stifling my cry of pain as the ropes tear into my flesh instead of loosening. Shit. What kind of ropes are these?

"I smell... bag..."

I still, listening to the sound of something hissing as it drags itself through the forest towards me. Coming for me.

These ropes aren't going to budge. They're as thick as my fingers. They'll sooner flay my wrists than come off.

"BAG..."

My heart jumps up into my throat and I start frantically yanking, trying to pull my hands through the tight loop. Blood soaks the ropes and softens them slightly, though they don't budge. The taste of iron coats my mouth as I stifle my cries of pain by biting my tongue.

"Empty... bag?" I freeze as whatever the fuck that is drags itself into view below me. It looks like a zombie from the waist up and the rest of its body stuck inside the same type of sack that I was in. As it crawls over to my discarded sack I slow my breathing, and when it gets close enough, I hold my breath altogether. It pokes the sack and finds nothing. "BAG... EMPTY?!" it snarls, turning into a roar at the end. Then it fucking looks up at me. I'm not even breathing. How the fuck does it know I'm here?

It licks its lips and snarls, "Bagman hungry," and lunges up the tree trunk, sinking its claws into the bark. I let out an involuntary shriek and lurch upwards, snapping my legs up beneath me onto the branch. Adrenaline blocks out pain as I wrench one hand free of my bonds, then the other, leaving behind strips of my flesh. "Bagman smell yummy dinner!" The fucking Bagman crawls up the tree after me as I scramble through the branches. How am I supposed to get out of this? It's not like I have a gun to shoot this zombie thing in the head.

It grabs my ankle and I kick down as hard as I can, connecting with its head in a loud crunch. It lets go and I thrust myself upwards again. I'm halfway up at this point; I don't have much more room to climb.