The End of Everything (Book 7): The End of Everything

by Artinian, Christopher

  The End of Everything

  Book 7

  Christopher Artinian

  Published by Headless RAM Publishing

  COPYRIGHT © 2020

  CHRISTOPHER ARTINIAN

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Dedication

  To all the sisters who are doing it for themselves.

  To receive my book, Before and Beyond Safe Haven, absolutely free (for a limited time only) click here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/1v9xdaxx77

  Chapter 1

  Robyn was in a deep sleep, the kind of sleep that comes once in a blue moon. It had been another strange day in a long line of strange days. Things had not been running smoothly of late, and the decision to get out of the farmhouse they had been staying in had given her an overwhelming sense of relief. The surrounding forest was too weird, too unsettling, and the sooner she, Wren and Georgie escaped this place, the better.

  That night, they had eaten well, packed their belongings ready for the following day, and gone to sleep with smiles on their faces, content that collectively they had made the right decision to leave.

  Robyn roused from her dreams. There was a voice, her sister’s voice—surely it wasn’t time to get up already. They had agreed on an early start but not this early. “An engine!”

  What the hell does that mean? “Wh-what?” Robyn lay there for less than a second. An engine—shit! An engine! Wren flicked on her torch, and suddenly the deep, warm, comfortable sleep was nothing but a memory. Both sisters sprang to their feet and pulled on their clothes.

  “Georgie! Georgie! An engine!” Wren shouted into the other room as the sound drew nearer.

  Georgie, sprained ankle and all, ran through to join them, just as two vehicles pulled into the farmyard. Robyn and Wren grabbed their bows. “No, girls. We need to get out of here,” Georgie said, pulling the clutter away from the back window and opening it.

  “Take Georgie, I’m going to block the living room door, we need to buy a bit of time,” Robyn said.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Wren replied.

  “I’ll be right behind you. Head to Cynthia’s, now run!”

  Wren reluctantly followed Georgie out of the window. She left the torch on the sill as they both ran out into the night.

  Robyn headed into the living room and in the warm orange glow of the embers’ light slid the couch against the door. She pushed one of the armchairs across too as she heard feet stampede across the courtyard. A bone-shaking boom sounded as the front door was kicked in. Time to go.

  Robyn ran back into the room where she and Wren had bedded down just in time to hear at least one, possibly two people begin to shoulder barge the living room door. It rattled in its frame, making the whole house shudder. She scooped up her bow, quivers and rucksack, grabbed the fading torch from the sill and hurdled over the ledge into the night. Wren and Georgie were already out of sight. Great! It worked, Robyn thought as she began to sprint towards the path to Cynthia’s cabin.

  Suddenly, two silhouettes appeared from around the side of the house. They were carrying objects that looked like baseball bats, but it was too dark to see properly. Robyn did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree about-face when another stick-wielding shadow sprang from around the other side of the house. Crap! Crap! Crap! No way could she get a shot off in time or with any accuracy in the dark. She turned right and began to run through the knee-high yellow grass of the meadow.

  “Get her!” one of the voices shouted.

  “Col, one of them’s here,” another yelled.

  Col? Oh no! It was that gang. The gang they had confronted in the forest. Robyn flicked off the torch. She could just about make her way across the field in the starlight. At the far end, the darkness of the forest beckoned her. If she could get to that, she could weave and duck and hide. If she could reach the trees, she could lose them. In all likelihood, she would probably get lost herself too. This was a route she and Wren had not explored yet, but she could stay hidden until daylight; until she could see clearly enough to aim, then she would figure it out, but one thing at a time.

  “Get the torch on her, you idiot!” shouted a voice from behind, and immediately a bright light enveloped Robyn. Her elongated shadow stretched across the field, telling her that, at least for the time being, her pursuers were hot on her heels.

  She could feel the sweat running down her back. The cold air assaulted her lungs, but this was no time for weakness, no time to give up. The longer they followed her, the further Wren and Georgie could get without the fear of capture.

  Thirty metres. Suddenly, the light behind her grew stronger, less diffused. “Crap!” Robyn cried as her ankle folded a little in a divot.

  “Faster!” one of the voices shouted.

  Yes, faster, Robyn echoed in her mind as the fear of being caught by a group of armed, vengeful teenage boys who she had humiliated earlier that day made the adrenaline surge through her blood. Twenty metres. She dared to throw a glance back and wished she hadn’t. When she and Wren had stumbled across the gang, there had only been four of them. Now, as a second and third torch beam panned towards her, there were at least seven, including one figure limping and trailing far behind—Col, the ringleader who she had shot in the leg.

  “Get the bitch!” shouted another voice, sounding nowhere near as far back as she would have liked.

  Ten metres. The torch beams illuminated enough of the path ahead for her to see a small thicket covering the entrance to the forest. If she veered off course, she would lose some of her already narrow lead. She unhitched her rucksack and let it fall from her shoulders. It dropped into the long dry grass with a muffled clunk.

  Zero. Robyn launched. Please have enough height, please have enough height, please have enough height. Her bow cut through the darkness ahead of her like an arrow sailing towards its target. She felt herself rising higher and held her breath. Her right foot dragged as a dense growth of small branches seemed to reach up, desperate to grasp onto an ankle, a foot, a toe. But no, she was still rising as the torch rays shifted, searching for a way in that didn’t involve the spiny thicket.

  The earthy aroma of the forest greeted her, and that split second of relief was replaced just as quickly with a feeling of dread as Robyn realised her landing would be in pitch darkness, on or in God only knew what. “Shiiit!” she cried as she touched down on the other side, immediately feeling something catch her boot like a rabbit snare.

  She crashed to the ground with a heavy thud and sharp pain jolted through her like electricity. “I can’t see her!” yelled one voice.

  “Quick, round this way,” shouted another.

  For the briefest moment, Robyn was shrouded by darkness as her pursuers sought out easier routes into the woodland. Get up, get up, GET UP! It wasn’t her own voice but Wren’s, ordering her like a drill instructor.

  Robyn scrambled to her feet, wincing as weight bore down on her ankle. Ignoring the pain, she started to run again, a little slower now. Crap! I’m in trouble. For a few seconds, darkness continued to surround her; then one, two, three torch beams found her in quick succession. There’s no escape, they’re going to get me, and it’s going to be bad; very, very bad. She could tell the lights were getting closer, step by step. Got to do something. Not going to make it otherwise.

  “Come on, she’s slowing down.”

  “Screw it!” Robyn continued running as fast as her legs and, more importantly, her ankle would carry her. She reached over her shoulder for one of the arrows then noticed a shadow besides her own. One of the pursuers had broken rank and was now chasing her down while the torch-bearers continued to light
the way. She nocked the arrow and skidded to a stop, pivoting on her good foot. A split second—raise bow, aim, release. She began to run again as if the pained shriek of her target acted as some kind of starter pistol.

  “Fozzy?” came a panicked scream from one of the others as suddenly Robyn’s shadow was alone once more. Then there wasn’t a shadow at all as the torch beams all wavered at the same time, focussing their collective rays on Fozzy.

  “Owwwuowuuu.” Fozzy’s follow-up scream sounded like a werewolf howl gone wrong. “My balls. She got one of my balls. Aaaggghhh. Help me!” His words quickly became unintelligible as they descended into baying cries.

  “I’ll get him back. The rest of you, get her. Get her now.”

  Robyn had been aiming for the stomach of her pursuer, but hitting the smaller target was somehow much more satisfying. She had gained at least five seconds, in which time she had ducked to the right, veering off the clear path, and delayed the resumption of the gang’s pursuit while they scoured the treescape to find her.

  The beams found Robyn once more, but she could tell they were much farther back now. No time to be complacent. Still got a dodgy ankle. Won’t take them long.

  “Red, you go round that way; Zeb, that way. She’s going to screw up sooner or later, then we’ve got her.”

  The torch lights started to separate, and Robyn’s heart rate seemed to increase twofold. Can’t risk taking any more shots. Won’t slow the others down. How long have I been running? The woodland was getting denser, and, if anything, the torches were helping Robyn more than hindering.

  Fozzy’s screams were silent now. Had he passed out? Or had she run so far that she just couldn’t hear them? Out of breath. Ankle really hurting. Can’t carry on much—

  “Aagghh!” Robyn’s feet left the ground, and her bow flew out of her hands as she was suddenly tackled from the side.

  “Over here! I’ve got her, I’ve got her!” shouted one of the boys waving his torch in the air to signal the others as he straddled Robyn. “You are in so much shit now. You’re going to wish you never laid eyes on us before tonight’s over.”

  “Too late,” Robyn said, feeling out something cold and hard on the ground next to her. She brought her fist up as if it was spring-loaded and a hollow crack echoed around the forest as the rock smashed into the side of her captor’s skull. She moved her head to the side quickly as the torch dropped from his hand. His body slumped forward, winding her as it landed heavily on her chest.

  “Red? Red?” shouted a voice.

  Robyn heaved Red’s unconscious body to the side, grabbed her bow and flicked off the small but powerful torch, putting it in her pocket, before climbing to her feet.

  “There! She’s there!” shouted another voice as Robyn got caught in the cross beams once more.

  She started running, but each step became a little more painful. “I’ll stay with Red,” said one of the boys.

  “Screw that, we’ve almost got the bitch. We’ll come back for him.”

  Water? Is that the sound of water? Not just a little either, that was a stream, a big stream … a river. Each metre she travelled brought it closer and closer. Robyn grimaced. Fight the pain, fight the pain. She was running faster again now, the sound of water giving her new hope. If I could get to that, maybe get across, or hide in the dark leafy shrubbery on one of the banks. A few more metres, just a few more.

  The lights behind her continued to dance their arhythmic bolero as the torch’s owners gained on Robyn inch by inch.

  Robyn scoured the edge of the broken torch beams for some clue as to where the river was. It was louder than ever. Must be here somewh— “Aaaggghhh!” Like a slow-motion sequence in an action movie, the world opened up around her. The torchlight from behind illuminated her bow as it disappeared out of her hands into the darkness, and suddenly the solid ground beneath her feet was gone too.

  The ever loudening noise of the fast-flowing river cocooned Robyn as she plummeted for what seemed like an eternity but was in fact just a few seconds. Her feet plunged into the biting cold water, devouring her from toe to head, momentarily encasing her in its frigid depths. An agonising spasm stabbed through her as her ankle smashed against the rocky riverbed. She could not even hear her own garbled cry above the rushing water as she started to move her arms in an attempt to get back to the surface.

  My ankle’s trapped! She had managed to suck in a lungful of air before disappearing beneath the churning white wake, but the shock of how cold the water was – coupled with the freshly realised problem that her foot was now wedged between two rocks – caused her to panic. She could see virtually nothing, but the air bubbles escaping from her mouth as she tugged and pulled in an effort to release her trapped leg acted as a constant reminder of how little time she had left. This is it. This is how I’m going to die. Trapped in icy darkness, slowly decomposing while fish get fat picking the rotting flesh from my bones.

  “You’re my older sister. Act like it and stop being such a prissy little bitch. I’m out here with Georgie, and I need you!” Wren’s voice shouted in her head. Wren’s voice, not Wren’s words. Wren would never be so cruel. “Come on Bobbi, you’re not that girl anymore, you’re a fighter—fight!” Yes, that was Wren. Fight!

  Robyn could feel her lungs deflating more with each movement, each second. She wrapped both hands around her calf and tugged. Her biceps strained, and for a brief second she wondered if she had actually lost her foot, but as the frigid water swaddled her toes, she realised that all she had left behind was her boot. She kicked out using her other foot and soared to the surface.

  Her head exploded through the wake, and her lungs sucked in as much air as they could take as the powerful torrent carried her downstream. Robyn turned her head to see beams of light exploring the black waters looking for her, but the current was moving so quickly that their feeble attempts to find her went unrewarded.

  Her head kept bobbing in and out of the water as she continued to be carried by the powerful torrent. She had escaped, but at what cost? Her rucksack was gone. She had lost one of her boots, she didn’t know where the hell she was, but worst of all, she had no bow. The only thing Robyn now owned were two quivers of arrows and a torch, which in all likelihood would never work again after being submerged in this water.

  The river flowed around a bend and Robyn could no longer see the torchlight or anything else for that matter. The icy wake splashed into her eyes and face. More water still entered her mouth, making her cough and splutter. Is it my imagination or am I speeding up? She stayed in the centre of the moving mass for another minute, ensuring there was no way the rag-tag mob of revenge-seeking thugs could find her again. Then she began to move her arms and legs in order to swim to the bank. Each time she thought she was making headway, the current dragged her back to the middle resulting in another fit of coughing.

  Come on. I can do this. An agonising jolt ran through her as she collided with a vast jagged rock jutting out of the water. “Aaaggghhh!” Her body spun like a top, unable to regain control in the evermore forceful current. Her face warmed as tears began to run over her freezing cheeks. Spinning, spinning, bobbing, flipping, out of control. No solid ground, no friendly overhanging branches to offer a leafy hand out of the water. She screamed in frustration and fear and only got another throatful of water for her trouble. I’m losing control. The searing pain in her ribs gradually numbed as her body temperature fell further. I’m sorry, Wren. I’m sorry.

  Whump! The side of her head collided with another rock, not as sharp this time but even more painful. Blood began to pour. The occasional copper-flavoured stream entered her mouth as she continued to spin and flip in the water like an anchovy caught in a whirlpool. Head woozy. Feeling dizzy. Can’t keep eyes open. This is it. This is it. I’m sorry, Wren. I’m sorry.

  Chapter 2

  Darkness. Darkness and freezing cold. Head hurts. I … I…

  Darkness.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  So cold. So very, ve
ry cold. Can’t move. Wet. Wet and cold. Some light. Daylight? No, torch. The gang! They’ve found me!

  Darkness.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Voices. No voice, singular. Don’t understand. Head fuzzy. Probably deciding whether to just leave me to die. So much pain. Ankle. Ribs. Head. Hard to keep eyes open.

  Darkness.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  What’s happening? Being dragged. Who? Why? They can’t do any more than they’ve already done. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

  Darkness.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Upside down. They’re hanging me upside down. Are they going to slit my throat? Watch the blood run out for their amusement? No! Not hanging me. Still being dragged. What’s happening?

  Darkness

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  What are they doing to me? “Wha-ye-dung me?” Did that come out of my mouth? That was gobbledygook. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I talk? Head hurts so bad.

  Darkness.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Light! Daylight! Freezing! Still been dragged. Can smell woods. Can see trees.

  Darkness.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  So cold. So very, very cold.

  “God, can you stop complaining for just one minute, Bobbi?”

  “Wren? Is that you?”

  “Course it’s me. Who the hell else is it going to be? There’s only you and me now.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I’m not taking you anywhere.”

  “So, where am I?”

  “Beats me. I’m just getting fed up of hearing you whine. So cold. Ribs hurt. Ankle hurts. God, you’re turning into Nanna Spencer.”

  “Screw you. I’m in a…”

  “In a what, Bobbi? You’re in a what?”

  “I was going to say a lot of pain, but actually I’m not anymore.” Robyn felt her ribs and her head. They were all healed. “What’s going on?”