The Unfolding Blackout (Book 1): A Girl Betrayed

by Aborn, A. L.

  Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

  I can’t move the car an inch in either direction.

  Frantically, I look around. I’ve barely passed the midline of the parked cars. Looking at the dashboard, the temperature has dropped to twenty-nine degrees in the dark. What now? What do I do? My mind flashes to the boy in the sedan on the road. Who did that? Who lined the cars up? Where are the people who did this? Are they coming back? Will they kill me too? My heart is pounding and I’m starting to hyperventilate. My breathing sounds like a dog panting on a summer day.

  Stop. Calm down.

  I need to get out of here.

  The rearview mirror shows me the mounds of things I took from home. I can’t bring it all.

  Meekah starts to bark again.

  Oh, God. Are they coming?

  Grabbing Meekah’s leash, I clip it on to her collar and pull her behind me as I jump out of the driver’s seat. I sink into snow up to my knees. The cold snow pushes its way up into my pant legs and into the top of my boots. Don’t think about that. Move!

  It’s hard to lift my legs out of the snow. It seems to take an hour to circle to the back of my car and lift the hatch. Grabbing the frame pack, I swing it onto my back. With the adrenaline rushing through my body, it feels like it weighs nothing. At my side, Meekah starts to growl. Hurry hurry hurry!

  What should I take? What should I grab?

  Meekah barks.

  Grab anything.

  I grab my other smaller backpack and swing it so I’m wearing it across my front. Grabbing a blanket, I sling it across my shoulders. This is it. This is all I can carry. Food. What will I eat?

  Ahh. The sandwich from the deli. It’s on the front seat.

  I slam the hatch.

  I gotta get out of here.

  Making my way back to the front of the car is only slightly easier than my trip away from it. Opening the front door, I grab the sandwich off the seat and shut the door. Clicking the lock button on my key fob and shoving the keys into my jacket pocket, I turn to the night.

  Where to? Where do I run?

  I can’t stay on the road. Get off the road. Get into the woods.

  Taking one step toward the woods line, something violently pulls me back toward the car. Am I stuck on something? As my body is whipped around, the face of a man at least six inches taller than me looms palely in the moonlight.

  The smell of alcohol is thick. His breath makes me want to gag.

  His grip changes to the back of my hood, catching strands of my hair. It’s painful.

  Pressing my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me, I feel my breath catch in my chest. It’s hard to get momentum past the backpack in front of me. Oh, God. Am I crying?

  My eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness after turning off the headlights of my car. I look up at my attacker’s face.

  “Adam?”

  He stops.

  “Adam!” Relief wars with the panic in every cell of my body. “Please let me go! We need to get out of here! Someone killed that boy in that car!” My words are rushing together, I can hardly understand myself.

  Adam is Brad’s cousin. I’ve known him since we were children. Is he a part of this?

  “Adam, please.” I plead. “I’m going to Ally and Brad’s, please I need to get there.” I’m hoping that hearing Brad’s name will break through and appeal to him. Meekah’s leash is tangled around my feet as she frantically tries to protect me.

  Abruptly, he lets go of my hood. Stumbling with the sudden lack of support, my hands plunge into the icy snow, barely catching myself before my face follows suit.

  “Go.” He whispers.

  “Adam, come with me.”

  “No. I’ll tell them there was no one here by the time I got here. Now, go.”

  He turns from me and walks into the roadway.

  Take his advice! Go!

  Still on all fours, I clamber through the deep snow until I get to the far end of the ditch. There’s a small incline before I can get to the woods. Clawing my way to safety, my hands are starting to go numb in the cold. Get to the woods, get to the woods. I find that I am chanting to myself.

  My faithful Meekah is ahead of me, looking back from the six-foot length of her leash.

  Finally, I make it to the relatively flat top of the hill. Before ducking into the trees, I turn to look behind me. There is a house across the way, set far back from the road. I can see the silhouettes of several people in front of a huge bonfire. From this distance, they’re tiny.

  I probably know them. At least, some of them. More than Adam, I mean. It makes me sick. What are they doing?

  Shaking my head, I turn and flee into the woods.

  ***

  The going is much easier in the woods. The trees are so close together that the snowfall is only a few inches at most. It’s far harder to navigate through the low branches in the dark than it is to walk through the snow.

  When I first entered the woods, I was blindly moving on adrenaline and not paying attention to where I was going. Now that my adrenaline is fading, I make myself turn and start bearing back toward the road. I keep it at my right, but a few hundred feet away. I need to see it to reassure myself that I know where I am.

  I trudge on.

  The weight of the backpacks no longer feels like nothing. Instead, I feel like I’m being slowly pushed down into the ground by their combined weight. For the first time, I stop to look around and listen.

  Silence.

  That’s good, right?

  Of course, it’s good. Don’t you want to be alone?

  Not really. I’d much rather fast forward to being at my dad’s house.

  Wait. Am I still going there? On foot?

  Considering how far I made it in the car, I estimate that I’m still at least eighteen miles from my dad’s. I’ve never walked eighteen miles in my life. Ally’s house is probably only seven miles away. In the same direction that I am heading. It’s a no brainer. Ally’s house it is.

  After what feels like hours of walking, I pause. I know it can’t have been that long, but I’m getting tired. And cold.

  It’s probably fair to say, I’m not making it to Ally’s tonight. I still have some strength. I need to be smart about this and use that strength to make a shelter and eat. Ally can wait until tomorrow.

  With it being this cold, I need to build a fire. That means my shelter can’t be this close to the highway. Putting my back to the road, I walk in a straight line until I find a suitable place to make a shelter. Hopefully, it’ll be easy for me to find the road in the morning.

  The going is no easier in this direction. Small branches continuously snag at my clothing, backpacks, and face. Meekah walks unimpeded before me, below the level of most of the obstacles. The leash keeps getting snagged on seemingly everything. I am tempted to let her off the leash, but the thought of her running off is too scary.

  It feels like I have walked a long way from the road, but I have no way of knowing. It is dark inside the woods. The trees are so thick overhead that the sky is hidden from me. The air is bitingly cold, my nose is burning. One hand feels frozen around the loop of Meekah’s leash, the other is stuffed into my jacket pocket. I’m hungry. The sandwich from the car is shoved into the breast of my coat and it’s all I can think of. Somehow, it survived during the struggle with Adam. I’m sure it is smooshed from our encounter. I don’t care.

  There!

  A huge rock. I should be able to do something with that. Walking to the far side of the boulder, excitement spreads through me. There is a slight depression in the rock, enough room for me to squeeze into. Looking around, a dead tree lies roughly ten feet away. It’s small enough in diameter for me to move.

  I slide the backpacks off my aching shoulders; first the lighter front one and then the heavier frame pack. Oh, sweet relief. I enjoy the feeling for a moment, stretching my shoulders in small circles. Tiredly, I trudge over to the fallen tree. Its frozen to the ground in places, but after a fe
w moments, it comes free. Slowly, pulling it to the rock, I put one end on the top of the rock over the depression. Keeping the angle of the log as low as I can, I drape the blanket from my shoulders over the log to create a crude lean to. It’ll do.

  Now, for some wood. Everything is going to be wet. What a bitch.

  I go back to the spot where I pulled the dead tree from. There’s bound to be something dry under that. Small branches, pine needles, and leaves are my reward. It’s a start. Making small circles out from my camp, a hefty armful of dry-ish wood is eventually added to my collection. None of the pieces are large enough to create any decent sized fire; it’ll have to constantly fed. The thought of warmth drives me onward. Meekah trails behind me, sometimes biting at the branches I pick up. What a big help she is.

  Bringing the wood back to the campsite seems to take forever. I drag the wood inside, along with my two backpacks. For right now, they’re all I have in the world.

  My fire goes against the rock, just outside of the depression. Pushing the blanket ceiling back, I hope that the smoke will travel up the rock and out of the hole. Is this right? I don’t know. I’m getting too tired to think, I’m just acting on instinct.

  Digging a hole for the firepit is hard; the ground is frozen and icy. My fingertips start to bleed. Opening the smaller backpack, I find some extra clothes and a blanket. I wrap my hands in a shirt and keep digging. It’s not as deep as I wanted but I don’t care anymore. The wrapper from my sandwich gets wadded up and tossed into the bottom of my firepit. Meekah’s head snaps to attention, eager at the scent of food. Carefully, I place small branches in the shape of a teepee over the paper before layering larger branches. Opening the frame pack, I find the flint and steel. I, of course, couldn’t have packed anything smart, like a grill lighter.

  Oh, well. Here goes nothing.

  Striking the steel on the flint, it surprises me when a few sparks shoot off. Eureka.

  About one hundred tries later, I accurately aim some of the sparks into the paper and they catch. I drop the flint and steel and lean down.

  Careful, careful, careful.

  Slowly, blowing on the embers of the paper, I mentally cross my fingers.

  A flame!

  A little one, okay, but still: a flame.

  Still blowing, it catches on the twigs. It’s working!

  Leaning down over my pitiful little fire, the first glimmers of warmth reach my face and hands. Looking at my tiny stack of little bits of wood, I realize this is going to be a cold night.

  Picking up my sandwich from where I had placed it on the ground, I brush off the dirt and take a bite. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Ripping off almost half of the sandwich, Meekah catches it in midair when I throw it to her. She gulps it down in two bites, waiting for more.

  Now that there is some food in my belly and a little warmth in front of me, I decide to go out for more wood. I feed the fire almost half of what I have left and venture back out. Most of my determination slips away as soon as I step out of my little camp. Meekah slips out from under the blanket and sits beside me. Okay, fine. Let’s go.

  My second wood trip proves little better than the first; large pieces of dry wood continue to elude me. The armload of small pieces will definitely not last through the night. Lifting the blanket wall, I am relieved that my little fire is still going. Surprisingly, the blanket is holding in at least some of the heat. It’s a little smoky, but it appears that my chimney theory is partially working.

  Next: a bed.

  There wasn’t much snow on the ground under the depression of the rock, and it only takes a few seconds to brush it away. The rest of the clothes from the backpack form a meager mattress spread across the dirt. There’s just enough room for Meekah and I to snuggle. I think I remember somewhere that your body heat can warm up a blanket a lot faster if you’re naked. The thought really doesn’t appeal to me, but my pants and socks are wet, so I’m at least getting half naked.

  With my clothes off, I’m freezing. My feet especially. I decide to put my jacket under me; the other layer of clothes isn’t doing much to block the frozen ground. Dragging Meekah to me, I pull her into my stomach so that we’re spooning. Her thirty-pound body is deliciously warm against mine. The blanket from the backpack over us helps. We are near enough to the fire so that I can reach out with one arm and keep feeding it the rest of my scant supply of wood.

  Staring into the small flames, I think of tomorrow. I do not want to think about the implications of today. I can’t. For now, I’m just going to pretend that I’m camping.

  Chapter Four

  To Ally’s

  Meekah moves against me, pushing me toward waking.

  The first thing that I realize is that I’m warm. Well, mostly. I’ve been warmer.

  My face is under the blankets and it’s actually quite a pleasant temperature. My toes are chilly, and my back is stiff from sleeping on the ground, but hey, I survived!

  Pulling the blanket from my face, the cold hits me like a slap. It smells of stale wood smoke. Meekah stands up and shakes.

  Rushing to put my clothes back on, I find that my socks from the day before never dried completely and now they’re frozen. Pushing my hand into the small backpack, I find a pair of wool socks in the bottom. Silently thanking the universe for my haphazard packing and random choosing of this bag, I slide them on. Once clothed, it’s time to pack up camp.

  Early morning light streams through the trees. There is only silence around me. I push everything back into the packs. My shoulders hurt just thinking about putting them back on.

  Isn’t there a knife in the frame pack?

  Digging through the bag, I find and remove a hunting knife. The blade is about five inches long and it comes in a nifty little carrying sheath that threads through your belt. I bet it would be really convenient if I were actually wearing a belt.

  The knife is sharp and makes cutting a slit in the middle of each blanket simple. Before putting the packs on, I put my jacket on, then pull the altered blankets over my head. They’re kind of like big ponchos. I’m hoping that the extra padding will relieve some of the weight on my shoulders. When I put the frame pack on, I try to shrug my shoulders and tighten the straps across my chest. There, that’s not too bad. The small backpack is a little lighter, now that the blanket is around my neck. Hooking Meekah to her leash we follow our tracks from the night before back toward the road.

  It doesn’t take long for my stomach to remind me that I haven’t eaten much in the last twenty-four hours. Moving around is warming me up; at least I’m not cold and hungry. It feels like every branch in the forest is attempting to reach out and grab at me as we push through the undergrowth. Almost screaming in frustration, the road finally comes in sight. Not wanting to get too close, we turn to the left and start walking toward Ally’s house. If my estimations are correct, a sideroad should be coming up fairly soon, which feels safer than the main road.

  The morning passes. Sporadically, I grab handfuls of snow to cure my thirst. I don’t want to have too much though; it only makes me feel the cold more sharply. The sunlight grows brighter, and I swear I can feel the temperature rising. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but it makes me feel better all the same. Throughout the morning, only one car passes. They’re heading toward the roadblock of cars and the dead boy; I hope they’re okay.

  I’m hungry. Really hungry. Thoughts of all the supermarket bags of food in the back of my car haunt me. I know that there was no way I could have carried them, but I beat myself up for it anyway. My mind wanders back the crowd in town listening to the man with the megaphone.

  No, better to think about food. If I could have anything right now, what would I have? Brandy’s homemade macaroni and cheese with ham. My mouth starts watering. Maybe I should just pay attention to where I’m walking and what I’m going to do next.

  Minutes later, the sideroad appears before me. I stop, considering the scene before me. I have two options: try to circle around the
houses at the start of the road through the woods or chance the road. There aren’t many places to jump off the road if someone comes. It will be risky. But I’m so tired of picking my way through the trees that I just can’t resist the road.

  The hunting knife is shoved down the front of my jacket. I can just reach it through the hole in the blanket ponchos, but I wouldn’t be able to grab it in a hurry. I opt to hold it in my hand instead.

  Stepping out onto the pavement in broad daylight is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I can’t see anything; I can’t hear anything. The world is silent. Yet, I am convinced that death is around every obstacle.

  Heart pounding, we start walking. Trying not to walk too fast, I pace myself to make it to Ally’s in one shot. Regretting that I never made time to go to the gym or stay in shape, my breaths labor as I carry my gear up the slight hill in the road.

  It seems that all I have done is regret things over the last twenty-four hours. Time to get positive! I’ve made it this far and I’m going to make it to Ally’s today! Warmth and food! Maybe even a bath! As we march down the road, the thought of warmth and food becomes my only focus. Just behind my determination for warmth and food is a thin line to hysteria. The feeling of being watched by something behind every window leaves my skin crawling. When will someone come out to stop me? Or kill me? Or… rape me? I shy away from that thought. I’d been purposefully avoiding it since last night.

  Keep walking. Keep thinking positive. You got this.

  A dog is barking in the distance.

  Meekah growls in response.

  Oh, God. Where should I go?

  There’s a house to my left. A sloping driveway to my right. I don’t know which direction the dog bark came from. Keep going. Just keep going. There’s nothing else that I can do.

  The only sound is the crunch of my boots on the icy pavement. Maybe this was a bad idea. I resist the urge to keep looking behind me. That will only lead to panic. Just keep going.