Descent into Mayhem

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - IN THE THAUMANTIAN WOODS

North-west of the mining quadrant, Nature's Night, 17th of June, 2771

Toni's head swiveled about, trying to glean some clue as to his location. He tried to shout, only to have the sound smothered by the cloth in his mouth. It tasted of sweat, and Toni knew it was part of the undershirt Ian had given Kaiser to protect him from the sun.

His prisoner was on the warpath and his camp was unprotected. He thought of the possibilities, and they terrified him.

The stranger reminded him that it was all his fault. He should not have turned his back on the earthling. He should have remembered the dagger. He should have remembered the pistol as well. Each realization was like a punch to the stomach. But when he thought on it a little harder, he realized that his first mistake was having spared Kaiser's life on that day at the plantations.

He forced himself to calm down and think of a way out of the mess. He decided to test his bindings and gave them a good yank, only to feel his right arm's wounds tear open and begin to bleed. He cried into the cloth in his mouth and then tried to spit it out. The effort proved impossible; a strip of cloth wrapped around his head was holding it in place. He then tried to stand.

The tree he was bound to was a thick pine, but the wide strap that confined his arms afforded him enough space for the necessary acrobatics. Finding a knobby outcrop about a foot above the ground, he put his boot on it and threw himself up and forwards, tucking his body into a tight roll. His boots scraped against the trunk, sending bark everywhere and slowing him down a little too much. He fell hard on his head, only his right leg managing to get clear, his bound arms still hugging the other leg as well as the tree itself. The jolt of the collision sent shockwaves throughout his body and he felt his wounds tear open a little more. He screamed with the pain again, almost choking on the cloth as he tried to suck air in.

Finding himself in a very awkward position, Toni's heel found the knob and he jumped again, his left leg finally managing to clear the tree as he fell onto his side, still hugging the cursed pine. With enormous difficulty he stood again, his twisted body set in an upside-down hug. He leaned against the trunk and tried to grab his own wrists, working blindly.

Finally he gave up, realizing that they were still too far apart, and tried to kick at the bindings of his left wrist instead. They were too firm to slip off; he had been bound with his own rifle-strap.

I suppose that's what Kaiser would call poetic justice, heh? the stranger sniggered.

Cart-wheeling over his head and on to his other side, he kicked at the bindings on his other wrist. They were slick with blood and gave a little. Desperately he pressed his boot's edge against the bulge of the strap, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm, and felt it slowly begin to recede. The knot slipped off his swollen wrist with a particularly vicious kick.

Without delay, Toni lay on his back and pulled the pistol out of his pocket, loving the feel of steel against his palm. He chambered a round, pointed the weapon to the sky and fired off three shots, praying that he was not too late. He rose unsteadily to his feet and began to search the ground around the tree for drag-marks. They proved to be easy to find.

Moving as fast as he could, Toni followed the trail back to the camp and arrived there in under a minute. His comrades were already awake, hands gripping rifles in expectation of a fight, and they stared at their arriving comrade as if in shock. Ian appeared particularly surprised to see him.

"He's gone ..." was about all Toni could say.

"We know ..." Hannah replied, her expression grim, and she pointed to the only prone figure among them.