Replaceable Timelines: Book 1. [COMPLETED]

Prologue:

I drive my knife into their throat.

The ambush was a success, so far.

The knife glides through like it's going through the hide of an animal. The sound of it resonates through my ears. The only light I see is beyond the brush of trees from my partner's flashlight. He doesn't look back; he and I still don't fully understand what we've done.

The sinew and muscle of their throat are severed by the steel. The rupture site flows blood and stains my hands in it. There's the scent of iron lingering from his body.

I fixate on what I've just done. My partner screams something I can't make out, for just a moment, the sounds of the forest dull, and the rustling of trees against the wind stops.

The silence is swiftly disturbed. The sounds of the forest resumed, reminding me I am here at this moment.

I push the knife forward, with one hand on the hilt and one on the blade. Plunging aside the skin in his throat. His chest rises and falls; attempting breaths but is stopped short at the windpipe. The only sounds that escape the body are the choking of blood. Their nervous system does what it can to flail about, attempting to remove me, the threat to their survival.

My partner shouts, "We have to go! The sensor is still up!" His feet propelled forward through the dark forest. His boots sank into the soft and damp earth echoing thudding noises.

I and my partner only have each other, and even that is subject to betrayal.

I watch the life leave their eyes. All values and morals are snuffed out like a flame; how uncanny it is to end a life. They're only a kid, a child just like me.

The light dangles from side to side as my partner runs, illuminating the forest. Branches and skinny tree trunks propagate throughout the darkness.

Their friends are waiting at home, just as mine are. I must survive for those I love.

Retracting the knife, the remnants of his esophagus cling to the blade, ending this confrontation. Their hands claw towards their throat. He can't reach them no matter how hard he tries. My knees are across their chest and situated above his shoulders, withholding any outward interference. They will die. Only those with the willpower to undo another for their own selfish lives will pull through this with that life still intact.

Before I have a second to take in the emotional depth of ending one's life and the repercussions of doing so, my partner yells to me, "I will leave you behind!" his footsteps become increasingly distant.

Dismounting my target, I begin to run. My partner's flashlight in the distance is all I see between the branches. My breathing is labored, inhaling too much oxygen through my mouth as I attempt to catch up. My heart is beating out of my chest, and my feet move on their own. My mind feels like it's gone blank, and all attempts at thought are provoked by my nervous system's fight or flight response.

My partner's silhouette in the distance reminds me of the figure in my dreams that started this all. The one we've all seen, those of us who are caught up in this sick game have peered towards that figure. When we did damned us to an over-encumbering paranoia and fear. Those who thought they had something to protect, at least.

Cold sharp needles from pine trees pass against my exposed skin, but I don't feel it. Fueled by the adrenaline, I don't feel anything. Why did it come to this? The horrors of bringing extinction to another life are now a burden I'll carry with me forever. I look back briefly for a moment. Their companions are examining the body in terror, who just seconds before was a living, breathing person. Thinking back, I shouldn't even be alive right now. If I could go back to the beginning, where this all started, I would have never chosen life.

My boot slips along the root of a tree, plateauing my progression. Instinctively, I place my arm in front of my face, landing on the soft dirt.

I flip onto my back to see if they've caught up. The cascade of individual steps runs toward me. But I can't see clear images of them. It's like a stop motion picture scene. Shadows emanate in the darkness, weaving their way toward us. The firing of a rifle is all I hear as I place my hands over my face. I peer through my fingers. The night sky is filled with a brilliant all imposing orange light, the brightness of which is all I can focus on. Burning my retinas and dislodging my attention.