Manitoba Lost (Book 1): Run (Survivors #1)

by R. A. Rock

Her eyes gave nothing away and I couldn’t believe how much her words hurt. Like I’d just been kicked in the gut.

  “A mistake,” I repeated.

  Damn.

  She was probably right. But…

  I tilted my head, my intuition picking up on something that sounded out of place but she was already going on.

  “Yeah,” Nessa said, continuing before I could figure out what it was. “We were just sort of thrown together on this trip and then we were talking about high school when I had a crush on you and finding out that you had a crush on me was so surprising and like I said, I think I just got carried away in the moment. And you have a…”

  But I never got to find out what she thought I had because at that moment she heard it too and interrupted herself.

  It was a vehicle coming down the highway.

  And we had no time to hide.

  Matt

  We were moving up the hill from SOAB creek when the truck appeared.

  My dad always said that there were a bunch of SOAB and S.O.B creeks and streams around Manitoba that had been named by the road crews who had to work over or around them. This creek was such a “son of a b*tch” to make a road over that the workers had given it that name. Or so the story goes.

  We had passed the new asphalt that they had finished last summer, which was still black as an oil slick. The road into the mine was behind us as well. They had stopped mining it quite a while ago because there wasn’t enough ore to bother with the trouble of extracting it. The crumbling head frame and treacherous mine shaft had had to be deconstructed and filled in.

  Once past the road into the old mine site, the trees gave way to marshland, which SOAB creek wound its way through. The scene was pretty — in stark contrast to the menace that hung suspended on the still, cold air. Directly in front of us was one of the highest hills around, that we had already started to climb when we heard the vehicle coming from behind us.

  We were out in the open and we couldn’t escape.

  The day was hushed and frozen — the sun blood red on the horizon. And it all seemed like something from a bad dream as the truck rolled inch by inch towards us.

  Suddenly an idea smashed into my brain.

  Hidden behind Nessa’s body so the people in the approaching truck wouldn’t see what I was doing, I pulled off my pack and as quickly as I could, whipped out Gideon’s goddamned homemade bomb. I had taken it out of his bag the day he had hitchhiked back to town.

  I had told Gideon that it would be foolish to risk bringing it with him, because if that cop had found it, who knows what he would have done. Gideon hadn’t liked it but at that point there had been nothing he could do.

  At the time, I had thought I was doing him a favour and saving his neck. Now I realized that maybe the stupid thing would save ours.

  I tucked it down the side of my pants and pulled out my shirt to cover it.

  “Do you still have those matches?” I said to Nessa.

  “Yes.” She patted her pocket.

  “Can I have one?”

  She didn’t question me, but pulled the bag out and retrieved three matches and one of the packs to strike them on. I pocketed all of it, while she returned the bag to its place.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, as I quickly put my backpack on and we both turned around to face the pickup truck, which had rolled to a stop right beside us on the hill. I wondered if he had put on the emergency break, because it was fairly steep here.

  “Matt…”

  “Be ready to run.”

  A man got out pointing a handgun at us, of course.

  Was everyone packing, these days? Sheesh, this wasn’t The States. We didn’t have the right to bear arms, even if the world was ending.

  My pulse kicked up a notch. Then a woman emerged from the other side of the car. They both stalked towards us like they were wolves and we were rabbits with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Or at least that’s how I saw them until he stumbled a bit and she sort of weaved her way over to us.

  Oh crap. They were drunk.

  I observed both of them. The man was fairly tall with brown hair down to his shoulders. He looked a bit greasy, like he hadn’t washed in a while. I could tell he had been handsome but now he sported the slightly bloated look of someone who drinks too much.

  The woman’s face was a bit puffy as well and though she had wide hips and generous breasts, she looked too skinny to me. Her brown hair was in a messy ponytail and her eyes were red.

  “Hands up,” he ordered, like we were in some dumb movie or something. Nessa and I both raised our hands slowly, palms out. Suddenly the name of the creek seemed all too appropriate.

  What a son of a…

  “Grab the bags, Zoe.”

  The woman came towards us and removed the packs from first Nessa and then me, struggling to move them over to the truck one at a time and then leaning each bag against the vehicle. She dropped clumsily to her knees and dug through them.

  “There’s food,” she said with a smug smile at the man. “Nuts. Plus a bunch of clothes. This is awesome.”

  “You had a good idea to come for a joy ride,” he said and the woman flushed at the compliment.

  “What should we do about them?” The man waved the gun at us a little erratically but looked at the woman as if he wanted her to tell him what to do.

  “Just leave them. We only need their stuff.”

  “But that’s not what they do in the movies. We should take them to town with us. We have guns now, Zoe, we could make them do whatever we wanted.”

  She squinted her eyes at him.

  “What are you talking about, Brett? We’re not taking anybody anywhere.”

  “I think we should take them back with us.” He nodded to himself, starting to get into the idea. “Yeah. Just like in the movies. That’s what we’ll do. You can hold the gun on them while I drive.”

  “You can’t drive, you’re drunk,” she said, frowning. “You hold the gun on them and I’ll drive.”

  “So we’re taking them?” he said with a little smile, and she frowned as she realized the trap she had just fallen into.

  “No.” She glanced at us.

  “Yes,” he said with a stubborn glint in his eye that told me that he was used to getting his way. “Come here.”

  She walked over to where he stood in front of the truck, clearly making an effort to remain upright. The guy called Brett kept the gun trained on us while he listened to her speaking rapidly in an angry tone of voice. I couldn’t make out the words.

  I felt flooded with nervous energy. We needed a diversion in order to escape and I had one, if only I could light it and throw it without them stopping me. I needed to wait for the right time, though. Timing would be everything.

  There was no way I was letting him take us with them to town. They might be harmless drunks but there were lots of people in Thompson who weren’t harmless at all. We needed to escape these crazies.

  I kept my eye on the man, as the gun dropped lower and lower and finally, though he was still holding it, the weapon wasn’t pointing at us at all.

  I was thankful the day was still and cold as I tried to unobtrusively pull the matches and matchbook out of my pocket. I managed to pull them out without drawing attention to myself and I lit one.

  When I saw that the couple wasn’t paying attention to us at all, I turned and pulled the bomb out of my pants, touching the match to the wick and praying that it would catch.

  “What are you doing?” Nessa’s tone was fearful.

  “I’m making a distraction so we can get away. It’s a homemade bomb.”

  “Jesus Christ.” She took a slow step back, careful not to attract their attention. “Aren’t they dangerous?”

  I didn’t answer just watched as the long wick continued to burn down. The man and woman turned towards us and froze when they saw I had something in my hand. I could see their sluggish brains trying to do the math and figure
out how the tables had been turned.

  The guy started to raise the gun but I waved the bomb at him.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said. “Drop it.”

  If we were using cheesy lines from movies, I could get into it. He put the gun close to the ground and then let it fall.

  “Is that what I think it is?” The woman backed up.

  “Oh, so you’ve seen a homemade bomb before,” I said and she nodded her eyes wide.

  “Then you’ll know you should start to run, right?” I said, taking a few quick steps towards the truck. I crouched and put it underneath, standing it on its end so it wouldn’t roll.

  “Oh God,” the woman said, taking off down the hill.

  “Run,” I yelled to Nessa, who took off up the hill in the opposite direction.

  I dashed for our packs and dragged them with me. The man was standing stock still, staring at his truck but I assumed he would run soon. Either way, it wasn’t my problem. When I felt like I was far enough from the truck, I threw my bag on one shoulder and hefted the other in my arms, following Nessa down the highway as fast as I could.

  If only we were far enough away when it exploded.

  NESSA TURNED, STILL moving, as I caught up to her. But she stopped dead when she glanced at the truck — her face appalled. I twisted my head to see what she was looking at.

  “Oh God, Matt. Look, he didn’t run,” she said and horror filled me as we watched him, poking under the truck with a long stick he had got from the ditch, maybe.

  I stared in dismay.

  What the hell was he doing?

  “We have to help him,” she said, her voice shrill. “We have to go back.”

  I glowered at her.

  Was she insane?

  “It’s about to go off, Nessa,” I said, then turned and started yelling at the man to run. The woman called Zoe was doing the same thing from the other side, since she too had noticed that he was still in the danger zone.

  The man finally picked up on the threat and realized that his life was in danger. He got to his feet and started running towards the woman.

  “Come on, Ness.” I grabbed her hand.

  We stumbled up the hill with effort. My pack felt heavy but my feet were like stone. I could hardly pick them up to run. It felt as though I were going in the wrong direction. I should have run back and saved that guy. I was a terrible, terrible person. What if he got badly hurt? But I had to make sure Nessa was safe and I couldn’t help anyone if I was dead, I argued with myself — I was complete unconvinced. My breathing was laboured and harsh and I pushed myself on.

  We needed to get away.

  Farther away.

  As far away as we could before the damn thing went off.

  Every muscle in my body was protesting the climb up the hill, the weight of my pack after all the days of walking. But I paid no attention to the pain in my body.

  We had to get away.

  I had no idea how much power that bomb had but if I knew anything about Gideon, he had overdone it.

  I pulled Nessa onward as she tripped and almost fell. We couldn’t stop. We could only keep running until…

  The sudden explosion pushed us onward, unexpectedly strong and hot. I fell, letting go of Nessa’s hand as we crashed to the ground from the force of the blast. When I could sit up, I saw the man lying on the ground, the woman kneeling beside him.

  Oh no. I hadn’t wanted anyone to get hurt. I had just wanted to scare them and distract them so we could escape.

  “Matt,” Nessa said, her eyes filled with distress. “He’s lying on the ground. What if he’s…”

  “He’s not,” I said, harshly and she drew back at my tone of voice. “Let’s go before they see us. The whole point was to get away.”

  I felt awful.

  What if I had inadvertently caused that man’s death?

  What if…

  All of a sudden we heard a shriek of pain and rage, the woman was on her feet, gun in hand, running after us and shooting.

  Matt

  The scene was surreal with the darkness stealing in, the trees burning savagely, and the crimson sky in the west, which instead of meeting the ground, seemed to flinch away from the shadowy earth.

  “Oh no, Matt.” Nessa’s wide eyes stared at me in terror as the woman with the gun ran, staggering and screaming towards us. She appeared completely unhinged and I searched frantically for some shelter, anything to protect us from her shots which were haphazard but at any moment might hit their target by accident.

  We stood near the top of the small valley. The highway sloped away from us — down towards SOAB creek. The six foot wide stream twisted its way to SOAB lake, not far away.

  “We have to run where she can’t find us,” I said, looking around and trying to decide what was our safest bet. Another shot hit the asphalt. I grabbed Nessa’s hand and pulled her off the road. “Now. Come on.”

  We were near the top of the hill — one of the biggest between Thompson and Sipwesk. There was a steep drop off below us that fell at a sharp angle to the creek.

  I thought desperately. SOAB Lake was about a half a kilometre away and the woods around here were mostly poplar, which meant sparse cover especially at the end of winter when everything was bare.

  We couldn’t make it across the road and there was absolutely nowhere to hide here where we were on this side of the road, which had only a few trees and brush. I headed for the forest further west towards the lake, dragging Nessa with me.

  We ran as hard as we could, slipping a couple times on the icy grass but regaining our footing every time. The sound of shots rang out to the left and right and I prayed she would run out of bullets before she hit us.

  Nessa was slowing down and I pulled her on, making her run faster. The woman was crazed with grief and rage, I guessed because the man was dead. If she caught up to us, she’d hurt us or maybe even kill us in revenge for his death.

  A shot narrowly missed me on the left, forcing me to go right to the part that began to slope down, getting closer to the drop off. We both slowed down, getting ready to scale the steeper part. And then it happened.

  Time passed so quickly, I couldn’t react — but it also went into slow motion so I could see every detail. Nessa slipped on some of the ice we had been so worried about. That would have been fine, but her leg went out from under her and she fell with her pack on the downward side of the hill, this had the effect of dragging her hand out of mine and sending her rolling down the incline.

  She didn’t have to roll far to hit the drop off and she cried out as her body hit the sharp rocks, her momentum carrying her down until she came to a standstill in the water of the stream.

  I stayed frozen for a second and then time sped up again and I scuttled down the hill as quickly as I could, feeling panicked. The sound of the shots stopped as the woman also began to make her way down the steep and slippery hill.

  God damn it, Nessa was hurt.

  How would we get away, now?

  I reached her, amazed that I hadn’t tumbled all the way down myself, I had slipped so many times. But every time I had lost my footing, I had kept moving forward so somehow I hadn’t fallen.

  “Nessa, are you okay?” I said, wading into the stream. She sat up and was looking stunned. There was a cut on her forehead that was dripping blood but there was no time to treat her. We had to hide. I had an extremely bad feeling about the woman and her intentions. My intuition was screaming at me and we had to listen. “Can you walk? We have to get out of here.”

  I took her hands to pull her to her feet but as soon as I tugged on her right arm, she moaned. Uh oh. That didn’t sound good. I put her uninjured arm around me and helped her stand. She almost fell over from the weight of her pack, which was so waterlogged that it must have weighed an extra twenty pounds. But we didn’t have time to take it off right now.

  We needed to get out of here.

  My heart pounded from our run and from the adrenaline my body was pumping through me
. My instinct was going wild right now and I knew better than to ignore it.

  As a wilderness guide, you learn to go with your gut in certain situations because it knows more than you. And the few times my head had thought it knew better, I had got into trouble. So, when my guts said run — I ran.

  Except that Nessa could hardly walk. I kept her arm around my shoulders and helped her limp along as quickly as she could downstream towards the lake. Once we got a little closer to the water, there was some pretty dense forest that we could hide in.

  I didn’t look back. We didn’t have any time to spare. I just kept us moving forward, my muscles straining.

  The woman had stopped shooting probably in order to not fall down herself, which was giving us a brief respite that I was thankful for. I felt frozen to the core after wading into the stream and holding a very wet Nessa against me — I couldn’t imagine how cold she was, having fallen right in.

  I kept my eyes on the shadowy trees. The sun had dropped below the horizon and the light was already failing. If we could just make it there, maybe the woman wouldn’t follow us. Or we could escape and hide from her. She would sober up and leave us alone. She would realize that the man’s death wasn’t my fault.

  No matter how guilty I felt about it.

  I could hear the woman splashing through the stream behind us. We still had a half a minute and I upped our speed, almost dragging Nessa along with me. She stumbled and ran as best she could. Soon, we had reached the woods and we crashed into the bushes. I felt a small sense of relief.

  We had made it.

  I stopped for a moment to catch my breath.

  A shot split the silence.

  God damn it.

  She was still coming after us.

  And she was going to kill us.

  Nessa

  “Nessa,” Matt shook me, his eyes completely freaked out from what I could see in the moonlight. I tried to focus and think but my head hurt. A lot. And I was freezing to death from the cold water.

  “What?”

  “Get your pack off,” he commanded. Matt gave suggestions, he never ordered people around, so I knew that things were getting pretty bad if he was in army sergeant mode. I struggled out of the wet backpack with his help and he found a place to hide both his and mine in the middle of some dense bushes. Once the backpacks were in there, you couldn’t see them at all. I envied him his presence of mind in this terrifying situation.