Into the Clearing

He is following me.

I can hear his ragged breaths gaining speed. Up ahead I see a deserted building. I run for it.

Bricks have fallen from the porch rubble, blocking my path. I jump them, kicking up snow in the process. The door swings open easily and I run inside, slamming it behind me. My numb fingers engage the lock. Nothing happens.

I make another attempt, but the lock is broken. I curse aloud and back away, searching the alcove for another exit. The man shoves himself against the door and I turn on my heels to assess the threat. It splinters, and then he’s standing there, a leering smirk directed at me. Terror finally begins to settle in the pit of my stomach. He has me cornered.

I take a step back, and he follows. I think of the small pocket knife I have stashed away in my bag, wish I had kept it within easy reach. He takes another step towards me, and this time I react, swinging my backpack of meager supplies at his face. And again, I run.

It wasn’t enough. His hands are on my shoulders, pulling me back, and I lose my footing. He throws me to the ground and anger and fear grip me, mixing together to form rage. I can smell the man’s foul body odor. He grips the hem of my sweats and I shriek, sliding away. My bag has fallen to the side, out of reach. My hands search around in the debris, crawling blindly, sifting through the rusted pile of building scrap. And then I feel it.

My fingers curl around something cold, long, and hard. I grab the object, position it above his head, and with all the strength I can muster, ram it into him.

Something between a gasp and a cry escapes his mouth, and his grip loosens significantly. I drop my weapon of choice - a rusty steel rod - and scoot backwards, pushing him off. I scurry to my feet.

The man is howling, and there’s a gash on his hairline, dripping blood. I snatch up my bag and, just as I turn, the man’s hand is on my ankle, greasy and callused. He is grimacing, clearly in pain, but still managing to hold onto me tightly. I think, if he hadn’t been planning on killing me before, he is definitely going to now.

I shake him off frantically, but lose my balance and fall back. I reach out and grab the first thing I see - a broken piece of brick - and slam it down on his hand. He groans, and I finish off by shoving my other foot in his face. His grip loosens, but he quickly latches on with his other hand instead. I do the only thing left that I can think of. I begin to untie my laces, but my fingers are fumbling over each other. In a rash decision, I kick my shoe off with my other foot and the second I’m free, I bolt.

I’m breathing so raggedly and my heart is thumping so loudly in my ears, that I don’t hear the man approach me. He takes hold of my shoulders, but this time I am faster. I struggle out of my thin coat, hoisting my bag over my other shoulder, and then I escape his clutch again.

I cringe as my bare foot maneuvers over sand and rubble, glass crunching beneath. I run down a long, dark hallway. I make it out of the doorway and into the chilly air, and I stop for a moment to catch my breath. Bent over, I notice it is reaching nightfall and the chilly wind is picking up. Behind me I can hear the man’s heavy steps.

Panting, I stand straight. It’s getting too dark to navigate, but I will have to try if I want to make it out alive.

I stumble forward, tripping over rocks and logs in my path. Without my jacket, the harsh air bites my skin. It’s getting colder by the minute. I reach the woods and close my eyes as I barge into the branches woven together at the entrance. Their scraggly arms covered in thorns prick my exposed skin. Once among the trees, I continue on, my heart in my throat. I can hear twigs snap from somewhere behind me. My bag’s strap catches on a naked branch. I tug, snagging my nails in the process, but it’s stuck and I have no time to salvage it. I let it go, and then I am running again, struggling to keep up my momentum.

With a jolt, I fall forward onto my knees, and turn to see a vine wrapped around my ankle. Horrified, I hurry to loosen it, scraping my shoulder as I move. My fingers feel like deadweight and my hands are clammy. I can hear my attacker getting closer, cursing out profanities and insults meant for me. I scram away, and the vine snaps with the force of my sudden strength. My ankle twists, a sharp burn flutters, but I ignore it and keep running.

Up ahead, I can just make out the beginning of a small clearing. I hope it’s a road or an entrance to a town, but as I approach it, my heart sinks. I hear the faint gurgle of slow running water, and it only gets louder as I get closer.

Once I’m there, I gape at the river that lies before me. It’s narrow, but I have no way of telling how deep it is. There is no way around as far as I can see. I gather up all my courage before starting across the frosty water, slowly at first. If the water happens to be deep, I am prepared to swim.

To my rugged relief, I wade out to the middle, and it only skims my knees. But it is ice cold, likely to freeze over soon. A jagged chill is ascending up my legs. But this is my only way out. I push on.

I run until my legs are shaking, and I can barely feel my toes. I can no longer hear anyone thrashing behind me through the undergrowth. But still, I keep on. I wouldn’t stop yet, not until I was certain.

My knees suddenly collapse beneath me. Shocked, I spin around, unable to believe that the man is no longer on my heels. All is quiet as I take deep shallow breaths, gasping for air. My shoe is soaked through, my ribs ache, my lungs fill with icy air, so cold that it burns. I’m leaning over, trying to erase the pain. I’m hot and sweating, but even so, I can finally feel the cold creeping into my bones. I’m exhausted and my limbs are screaming. I fall backwards into the falling snow, then everything turns black.