Change

Chapter Twenty Eight

By now in my life, I've seen so many movies that I wouldn't be able to count them. Romance, Comedy, Action, you name it. I seem to devour them, able to sit in front of a screen for who knows how long and never notice the time going by, only realizing when I'm scolded by my parents for staying up so late. I yearn to understand them, trying to catch hints of later events in the movie and wondering in awe how difficult a certain special effect was to create. I laugh and cry and scream along with the characters, feeling like I'm no longer myself, but part of the actual movie.

However, in all my want to understand the layers of a movie and to be part of the fictional world, there's always been one genre of movies that has always stood out to me. Horror. They've always been my favourite, and I doubt that will ever change. The rush of adrenaline that comes with a jump scare is almost addicting, and the plots are sometimes so crazy and make no sense that it just works. One difference though, is that while I desire to stand alongside the characters in most movies, I've never wanted to be submerged in a horror movie. I've always been just fine with being on this side of the screen, cuddled up under a blanket and knowing that the events that happen in the movie aren't real.

But maybe they are real. I could never know for sure.

The sound of the branch snapping outside the hollow tree brought me to instant thoughts of a horror movie. I suddenly felt like one of the first characters to die, the one that gets snuck up on in the middle of the night and suddenly attack. They're also usually the ones who call out to anyone out there, usually being the mistake that costs them their life.

I am not prepared to be making that mistake in this moment.

I instead wait in silence, sitting as still as possible and trying my best to steady my breathing. Tasha and Deodar are asleep, and I fear that if I move to wake them, I'll give up my location. Another branch snapping rings in my ears, and goosebumps rise on my skin even in the heat of the morning. Against my will, my breathing gets heavier, faster, as panic starts to build inside. I start to hold my breath, and every noise around my starts to become deeper and fuzzier, as if I am underwater instead of cowering under a blanket. I listen for each sound, trying to figure out what, or who, is out there.

Snap. Crunch. Creak. Each noise spells out terror in my mind, and this terror only heightens with the newer sound of footsteps. It isn't footsteps of an animal, however, these belong to a person. A singular person, and their steps are heavy, stumbling, and drawn out. The person walks, seemingly having the need to step on every branch they come across, creating a racket that causes Tasha and Deodar to stir in their slumber. The steps stop for a moment, then start again, as if the person has just figured out where they need to go, and when the steps get louder, my eyes widen with the fact that where they need to go is here.

I start to shake, only slightly at first, but by the time the steps stop once more right in front of the entrance to the tree, I was shaking harder than when I opened the door to the plane too early in Antarctica. Droplets of sweat bead out on my forehead, and I quickly glance at Tasha and Deodar, mentally berating myself for not warning them of what might come.

The shadow of the person suddenly covers the entrance to the tree, and I pull up the blanket to my chin, as if the thin layer of fabric would somehow protect me from what I'm about to encounter. I wait in frozen panic to come face to face to whatever murderer or monster belongs to the horror story I've been plunged in, but as the shadow enters the tree, slowly and heavily, panting noises emitting from its body, I get something else.

Human clothing, drenched in blood and wrapped haphazardly in white bandages, already soaked in red.

Human limbs, arms and legs battered and cut open to reveal alarming wounds.

Human hair, matted beyond repair and the colour unrecognizable under the blood.

Human eyes, tired and scared, but with a kind glint underneath.

And not only one human, but two.

After a moment of movement towards us, the hollow tree refills with the morning sunlight, gentle and calming as a mother's lullaby. The light allows me to fully see the people in front of me, and their features that make them so distinctive. Dark hair and a bright smile reveal Sam, while hazel eyes and freckles showcase Jeremiah. The relief that floods me is inexplicable, the only way I could possibly describe it is as a rainbow that comes after the horrible storm, shining and vibrant against now clear skies, while I marvel at it in absolute awe and wonder.

I throw the blanket off of my body and sprint over to Sam and Jeremiah, only to stop when I notice something wrong. The reason I had originally thought that the footsteps belonged to one person is because they did. They belonged to Sam, and they were so heavy and slow because he was being weighed down by Jeremiah, currently thrown over his shoulders, and barely awake, whimpers of pain escaping his lips.

"Is he going to be ok?" I ask, not realizing that my voice is barely at a whisper. My gaze remains locked on Jeremiah, and my eyes start to tear up when I take in his injuries, knowing that if I were stronger, they wouldn't be there. His grey shirt is barely gray, stained with blood and slightly damp, most likely from Sam trying to wash out his wounds. His limbs curl in on themselves, making him appear smaller than he really is, and I notice that his hands are tucked into his chest, the left being covered by the right.

"He should be alright, but it will be a while before he gets better, and we want to be in full health before we approach Penny and Raven," Sam replies, making his way over to the pile of blankets. I notice that he has many injuries himself, bruises and cuts scattered all over his body, but he seems to ignore them, either in pride or to not shift the focus on himself, instead letting it settle on Jeremiah. I dash over to the pile, grabbing a few and making them into a small makeshift nest. Sam nods once, before placing Jeremiah down, and that is when I see something horribly wrong.

His arms uncurl themselves, and his right hand uncovers his left.

At least, where his left hand would be.

Instead of a strong fist and fingers that can fly faster on a keyboard than I've ever seen, there's a mess of blood and bandages, clumped together into one big knot at the end of his lower arm. The bleeding has stopped, but the dried blood still frightens me to no end. His arm shakes slightly, twitching every now and then, as if it's wondering what happened to itself and where its ending part has disappeared off to, and grey tones of misery greet me as I come to terms with the fact that it will never return.

Jeremiah lets out a louder moan of agony, and I am instantly by his side, kneeling on the blanket nest.

"Hey, it's ok. Everything's going to be alright," I assure him, lightly caressing his forehead. He glances up at me, his eyebrows furrowed in pain, and the emotions rolling off him are almost enough to knock me off balance.

"No...it won't. Raven's...base has...hand recognition...it would have gotten us in...we'll have to storm the place now...didn't want to do that...too dangerous for you," Jeremiah chokes out, a few tears starting to trail down his cheeks. I quickly brush them away, before having to brush away my own that had started to escape.

"We'll figure it out. We always do. We'll take a few days to get us all better and make a plan," I counter back, my voice still at a whisper. Jeremiah mumbles something out, closing his eyes and starting to drift off to sleep, and I lean down to hear him better.

"What did you say?" I ask, starting to cover him up with the blankets. Tasha and Deodar are fully awake now, and Tasha silently brings over her own blanket, placing it over his body. Jeremiah swallows, before taking a few deep breathes, and eventually repeats himself, loud enough for all of us to hear.

"I'm sorry."