Daniel's stomach heaved violently, urged on by the sharp pain in his abdomen. He stumbled, tripping over roots and fallen branches as his vision blurred with tears. For a moment, he was moving forward blindly, sure that he would trip and fall at any second. Then he felt his shoulder connect heavily with the sturdy trunk of a tree. He leaned against it gratefully, steadying himself as he dry-heaved. Saliva escaped the corners of his mouth and dribbled down to his chin, collecting there before dripping onto the forest floor.
He wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. It came away bloody.
Gritting his teeth, Daniel pushed himself off of the tree and continued deeper into the woods. As he limped onward, his thin blue hospital gown kept getting tangled in bushes and caught on thorns and vines. He couldn't bring himself to care. He simply tugged until the edges ripped away, never stopping to properly untangle himself. And why should he care about something so trivial? There was only one thing that was truly important, only one thing he needed to focus on. If only he wasn't so weak—
A sharp snap came from underneath him, and Daniel suddenly found himself lying face-down in the dirt. His whole body spasmed, muscles twitching pathetically in a vain attempt to fight against the poison corrupting his system. Rocks and twigs poked harshly into him, and he let out a pained groan. For a time, he was aware of only the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and the low hum of insects. Daniel could feel the patches where sunlight was able to breach the tree line, imagined the heat growing in intensity until it swallowed him up; until his body erupted in a billowing pyre, his thetan released into the clear blue sky.
He must have passed out, for the next thing Daniel remembered was the cool slant of late afternoon light. A breeze blew along the forest floor, and he shivered. Whoever had invented hospital gowns ought to be dug up and killed again, he thought bitterly to himself.
When he finally found strength enough to move, Daniel discovered that his legs had grown even weaker than before. Just rising to his knees took a herculean effort. A quick mental scan of his body revealed that sometime between lying on the ground and sitting up, his nose had started bleeding; a muscle in his left foot would not stop twitching; a constellation of bruises was blooming all over his pale skin.
The reality of his body's mortality hit him all at once. That would not be a problem — should not be a problem — except Daniel had unfinished business. If he died now, his thetan would move on, be reincarnated into some other form. He could become anything, might end up anywhere. There was no guarantee that he'd even return to Earth.
But the man he hated lived here, on Earth. Therefore, Daniel also had to remain on Earth. He had unfinished business; he could not leave yet. He'd be damned if he didn't finish what he'd come to do, refused to be denied delivering just retribution upon the one who had dared to stand in his way.
Before he knew it, he was standing, feet moving him jerkily towards his destination: the campgrounds. Every part of his body urged him to stop, to rest, but he clenched his fists and pushed on. Setting his jaw, Daniel resolutely ignored the angry spasming of his stomach, the achy hollowness of his arms, the tremor in his legs. He had to push past the pain — knew how to push past pain. He just had to remember how. He just needed his body to remember how.
Night was rapidly approaching, the low sun casting long shadows all around him. Daniel knew he shouldn't continue all night. He was already weak and tired, and traveling in the dark would be dangerous. Still, what else was he to do? He had yet to reach the camp proper, and was in no state to construct even a basic shelter for himself.
A soft breeze blew by, carrying on it the sound of crickets and the smell of summer. Warm, pleasant summer. Daniel briefly allowed himself to revisit a different summer. A better summer, warmer and comforting.
A man was leaving the Auditing Center, walking down the steps to the paved road where a group of children played. As soon as they caught sight of him, they rushed forward to greet him, eyes glittering with admiration and excitement. Daniel reached the man first, tugging on the man's sleeve and looking up in wonderment.
"I want to be an auditor when I grow up, just like you!" he said, bouncing lightly on his heels.
The crowd of children had reached the two, jostling each other playfully. They stretched their arms out, clambering for his attention, all of them speaking at once.
"Auditing is a very serious responsibility. As an auditor, you'll be responsible for helping other people reach spiritual enlightenment." Daniel tried to reign in his emotions, but couldn't stop his face from falling. "Still..." here, the man leaned in, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially. "I'm sure you'll make a great auditor," he encouraged, smiling and ruffling Daniel's hair. Daniel beamed.
Daniel stiffened as the breeze turned cold. It was twilight now, and he could hear nocturnal beasts rustling far off in the trees.
From somewhere nearby, an owl cried. Spooked, Daniel tripped over his own feet, crashing once again to the ground. This time, he managed to shoot his arms out in front of himself to catch his fall. Rocks scraped the palms of his hands, but he couldn't quite manage to prevent his forehead from making impact with a rock. He felt a sharp pain in his forehead, sucked in a surprised breath as his vision flashed white, then lay still, catching his bearings.
Blood dripped down his forehead, over his right eyelid. It curled around his eye, continuing down his cheekbone, down and down until it dripped onto the rocks beneath him. His vision cleared slowly, still slightly spotty as he heaved himself — yet again — to his feet.
It was then that Daniel caught sight of the cabin. It was an old, dingy thing, rotten and decaying. A section of the roof had caved in, and vines were creeping over the timbers. Tall trees crowded closeby, bushes and moss encroaching on the ramshackle building.
Daniel shuffled closer, pushing past bushes and clawing vines away from the door. It took far longer than it should have — that is, longer than it would have taken had he been in better shape. He finally cleared enough vegetation away from the door to turn the handle and press it open. When he pushed, dust and dirt came off on his hands, hinges letting out an awful scream. Instinctively, Daniel's hands shot up to cover his ears. After a moment, he lowered his hands back to the door and finished pushing it open.
Inside was dark and damp. Stepping through the doorway, Daniel was immediately greeted by a cobweb to the face. He jerked back, momentarily surprised, then reached up and wiped the cobweb off on his hospital gown. Already, he was wondering if he would've been better sleeping outside. Then again, at least there was a roof in case it started raining in the middle of the night, and the walls provided some protection from wild animals.
Resigning himself to his fate, Daniel laid down on the hard floor and closed his eyes.
~~~
The morning dawned crisp and bright. A shaft of sunlight illuminated Daniel's face, waking him slowly and gently. Cracking open his eyes, Daniel saw that there was a gaping hole in the side of the cabin that hadn't been visible in the night. He took a moment to just gaze outside, letting his eyes focus on nothing.
Daniel shifted, and was suddenly made aware of the ache in his muscles. Coming back to himself, Daniel groaned. That's what he got for sleeping on the ground, he supposed. Daniel forced himself to sit up, rubbing the crust from his still-bleary eyes. He stretched, all of his muscles loudly voicing their complaints.
A small squirrel watched him from above, tilting its head curiously. It chittered, jumping down to a lower beam. Its round, beady eyes watched him intently, as though examining him for signs of weakness that it could exploit. While it probably detected plenty of weakness, it apparently decided it couldn't make use of any of them, as after a few quick twitches of its tail, it turned and leapt up, exiting through the hole in the roof. It was probably off to find more food to store for the winter, Daniel mused.
At the thought, his stomach growled a loud and painful protest, letting up only after Daniel was curled up in a fetal position — lying on the ground once again. Right, food. When was the last time he'd eaten? It must have been a couple days ago, and with the rat poison still in his system... As much as Daniel wanted to go after David right away, he had to admit to himself that he needed food first. He needed food, proper rest, and a plan. Normally, Daniel would've already had one, but considering his impaired state... well, it wasn't exactly surprising that his usual control was gone.
After several long moments, Daniel managed to talk himself into standing up. He struggled to his feet, having to try several times before managing to stand without collapsing. Although his legs were still shaking, and he was leaning heavily on a long stick he'd just picked up off the ground, he was standing. He was standing, and he was going to find food.
Daniel supposed he should start where he'd left off the previous night: searching for the campgrounds. He was in no shape to hunt, catch, kill, and prepare any animals, and he had no knowledge of what nuts and berries were safe to eat. The easiest way to get food would be to find the campgrounds, sneak into the kitchen, and steal some.
Outside, the grass was wet with dew, and the air smelled clean and fresh. Daniel slipped his eyes shut and took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. As he exhaled, he felt his body begin to relax. With each breath, his body relaxed more and more, and his shaking legs began to stabilize.
He let his mind wander, first to the dirt and grass under his bare feet, then deeper, to the rich topsoil dotted with pebbles, insects burrowing deep beneath the surface. Their many tiny legs wiggled and squirmed as they dug many tiny tunnels. Deeper, deeper, to the groundwater, to the fractured rock. Traveling back up through the spaces between the soil, up through the dirt and rocks, to the grass and then trees, sky and clouds.
Small beads of moisture clung to each leaf, each needle, each flower and blade of grass. The dewdrops glistened, each a universe of their own, filled with tiny motes of dust and particles from living things. The sun was slowly climbing, radiating heat and warming the air. Its rays reached out, seeking every nook and cranny, grabbing at the heavy, gleaming drops of dew, slowly drawing them up into the sky through which the morning songbirds sent their whistling tunes. Far above — miles and miles — clouds shifted in a wind that could not be felt from the ground. Daniel allowed the eye that was his mind to explore all of this, lingering on each thing for an infinitely long, yet infinitesimally small, amount of time. And all around him, life. Death. Matter, energy, space, and time caught in each other's embrace.
After a minute of standing still — still leaning on his walking stick for support — Daniel returned his awareness to his body and opened his eyes. A humming energy started in his feet, climbing through his veins and nerves and urging him on. He turned sharply, heading west. Something told him that was the way to go.
It was about an hour until he first heard the river. He heard the current beating against rocks, could almost feel the spray. Daniel made his way towards the river, legs wobbly and stomach tight. Closer, closer, until the sound of the water filled his ears and he broke through the tree line to the rocky banks. Loud and swift, the river ran roughly southeast, sloping with the land, twisting around bends, pulling rocks and sticks and leaves along with it.
He would travel upstream. Daniel remembered a lake — there was a lake near the campgrounds. A mountain, the tip visible from above the treetops, roughly northwest. The mountain, ahead. The lake, beside. The ground, sloped down, shaping the river's path. The lake would be ahead of him. The water that made up the river would come from the lake. The lake would be filled from rivers snaking down the mountain. The mountain was ahead of him, and the river flowing towards his back. The lake — and therefore, the camp — would be between him and the mountain.
Rocks poked at his bare feet as he stumbled along, sometimes losing his footing, often getting his walking stick stuck in cracks. As the sun rose, the rocks absorbed its heat, until the rocks were no longer cool and round underfoot, but warm. The spray from the river kept them from becoming too hot to walk on, for which Daniel was grateful, but did not dwell on.
At around noon — he had no way of knowing exactly, since the hospital had taken his watch — Daniel caught sight of the flagpole, flag flapping happily in the wind above the mess hall. He had to be careful now. He could no longer depend on the dense forest for cover, the distance and isolation for hiding. The campers would be out, the counselors would be guiding them. Some would stray from the group, and Daniel had to be careful not to be spotted.
Although he'd only been to the camp once before, for less than a day, he could remember the layout of the camp. It wasn't that complicated, after all. The mess hall was located centrally, with the cabins slightly east, and the amphitheater and activity field northwest and due west, respectively. North was the lake. South was the long dirt path back to the street. It was around noon, so Daniel could only assume the campers would be eating lunch.
Seeing buildings — solid, well-kept ones — for the first time in days made Daniel take a moment to consider his appearance. He was wearing the rags of a hospital gown, dirty and scuffed; he hadn't showered or shaved for quite some time, and his hair was turning into a rat's nest. His body was covered in bruises, and he was sure he had the most hideous bags underneath his eyes. Not to mention the large scrape on his forehead, caked blood still flaking off. He probably looked quite the savage, all wild eyes and sun-baked complexion.
That wasn't important, not at the moment. Nobody would be seeing him — nobody should be seeing him — not yet. First things first, he reminded himself. Without survival, there can be nothing else. Food. Clean water. Survival. Those were the important things at the moment. A thin camp mattress, if he could manage it. Food. Clean water. Rest. Those were the keys to his survival.
First, he would take care of survival, and then...
David.