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

by R. A. Rock

  There was the sound of the insane woman who was coming after us muttering to herself as she splashed down the stream towards us. A bolt of terror shot through me.

  “Matt,” I whispered.

  “We need to run, Nessa. Separately,” he said, taking my shoulders and searching my eyes, as if he was trying to figure out if I could do it.

  “Separately?” I felt even more terrified at the thought.

  “I know I said we wouldn’t split up but we have to. It’ll be harder for Zoe to track us both. You remember the rendezvous point?”

  I nodded.

  “Say it,” he said, glancing over his shoulder where the woman was still splashing through the water and swearing.

  “Pisew Falls.”

  “Head west towards the snowmobile trail,” he said, pointing. “It’ll be easier running.”

  “Okay,” I said, hardly believing that we were splitting up already.

  And why did I get the feeling he was sacrificing himself for me?

  “It’ll be okay, Ness. We’ll meet up at Pisew.”

  I nodded again.

  He searched my eyes for a long moment and then pressed his hot lips to my cold ones for a second. Pulling back quickly, he pointed towards the trail again.

  “Go,” he said, giving me a little push. “I’m going to head south.”

  “Be careful, Matt.”

  “I will,” he said. “Now go.”

  I went.

  WHEN WE TOOK off running, Zoe gave a shout, but I paid no attention, focusing all my energy on sprinting forward. We were easier to see now that we were moving.

  The trees in this section of the forest were almost all deciduous and they didn’t even have buds yet, never mind leaves. Besides, all the poplars around here grew straight up towards the light. That meant that there was twenty or thirty feet of bare trunk before you got to the leaves at the top.

  So, yeah. No cover.

  I had never before in my life wished so much for a stand of thick spruce. On the other hand, I couldn’t move quickly in trees like that, so maybe this forest was better.

  I ran as hard as I could, holding my injured arm to my torso, and glad that I didn’t have my pack anymore. I kept the lake on my right and headed roughly south west. I knew the snowmobile trail picked up along here, somewhere, and Matt was right. That would be better for running. The trails were cleared and groomed to make it easy to ride a snowmobile down it. They were almost as good as a gravel road.

  I ran and ran, my throat turning painfully raw, and a stitch developing in my side. I was almost glad of the exercise because it had warmed me so much I was now sweating. But it wasn’t enough and soon I heard the sound of something behind me. I turned my head and saw the woman gaining on me. I sped up. So did she, having rage and revenge on her side. A moment later and she was tackling me to the ground.

  I screamed when my right arm hit and quickly twisted on to my back to get my weight off of it. The woman was on top of me in a second and punched me hard in the face, cursing viciously.

  I arched my back and grabbed her with my good arm, shifting her weight off balance and dumping her off me. I rolled away and got to my feet. She came at me again and I brought my good hand up in a fist to protect my face. I put my other hand behind me to keep her from using the injury against me.

  That self-defence class I had taken in university had been quite a few years ago but apparently I still remembered something in the heat of the moment.

  I wondered when she had dropped the gun.

  “You killed him,” she snarled and even in the half-light of dusk I could see the hatred and fury etched into her face. “And now I’m going to kill you.”

  “We didn’t mean any harm,” I said, making a futile attempt to diffuse the situation. “It was only supposed to be a distraction. Because you were trying to kidnap us.”

  “Brett’s still dead,” she said, looking like she wanted to cry. Then her face hardened. “And you two are going to pay.”

  I would never win against a woman like her with so much rage, pain, and desperation on her side.

  I moved towards her quickly as if I was going to hit her again. She flinched and as she was reacting, I turned and raced away, straight west this time. I needed to escape her and I wasn’t going to win a foot race. I needed a plan. And I had one.

  It was crazy enough, it just might work.

  I could hear her yelling at me to stop and crashing through the bush behind me. My panic gave me speed I had never known I had. I could not let her catch me. I had to get away. She would never give up while she was still angry enough to want to kill me.

  I watched my footing, as well as I could, tearing through the gloomy, dim forest towards the lake. I couldn’t see very well now that the sun had gone down and I didn’t want to trip again and get even more injured — or worse, killed.

  When I got to the lake, I didn’t hesitate, I just jumped in.

  The water was so cold I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I could barely move. Oh, I had been in cold water before but this was so much colder than I had been expecting. I gasped trying to get my wind back and wading into deeper water at the same time. Soon, I could breathe but I needed to start swimming. Movement was the only thing that was going to save me now.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed at me. “Come back here.”

  Come get me if you want me, I thought.

  Apparently, she didn’t think that was a good idea.

  I took off my coat so it wouldn’t drown me and struck out across the lake. I was dragging it behind me with my right hand as I swam with my good arm because there was no way I was leaving my coat behind. I definitely wouldn’t survive without it in this weather. But neither did I want its weight to pull me under.

  Thankfully SOAB is a small lake. It was not easy going along the shore where the woman had to walk because the forest came right down to the water — no beach.

  Not far down, I saw the thick stand of spruce I had been wishing for. I realized with satisfaction that it would be completely impossible for Zoe to walk where I was swimming to. The only way to get where I was going was by water and strangely she didn’t think a swim in liquid ice was a good idea.

  Me neither.

  But I would take it if it meant that I would get away from her. She had stopped yelling and when I looked back at the shore, she was already making her way back the way we had come. I felt a deep sense of relief.

  Then I remembered that I was swimming in the middle of a lake that had to be barely above freezing. I was hurt. I had no food. And no dry clothes.

  Even if I had escaped from the crazy people, I wasn’t out of danger yet. Far from it. If anything, I was in the most danger I had been in since we had started this trek. I had no idea how I was going to survive.

  And now I was really on my own.

  Nessa

  It was brighter here in the open and the moon illuminated the water. The lake was still and peaceful — in direct contrast to the fear, pain, and despair I felt.

  I made it to the other shore and with a quick glance around to see that nobody else was following me, I put my dripping coat back on and lumbered off through the shadows, trying to run to warm myself the way I had before. But I had been in the water much longer this time than I had when I had fallen into SOAB creek. And my limbs felt stiff, my clothes plastered to me. Thank goodness I had brought the coat — it wasn’t doing me any good at the moment but I knew it would be useful if I survived.

  If I survived.

  The thought took my breath away.

  I needed to get warm.

  I needed a fire.

  Soon.

  But first I needed to get farther away from the crazy lady, so I moved away from the lake, heading for where I thought the snowmobile trail would be.

  I shuffled along, trying to keep up some speed but my legs felt like they were made of stone and my arm ached. I felt a bit dizzy from the cut on my head. At least the cold water had seemed
to staunch the blood flow, though, so that was something anyway.

  I just had to make it to the trail and then I would stop and build a fire. I was never more grateful for my emergency matches as I was at the moment when I put my hand in my jeans pocket and realized that the ziplock bag was still in there.

  I pushed through the brush knowing that the branches were scratching me, but not really feeling it, my skin was so cold. The moonlight striped the ground before me as I moved. My fingers started tingling and feeling numb and I knew that wasn’t a good sign at all. I really didn’t want to die of hypothermia. I tucked my icy hands under my armpits to try to keep them warmer and began my shambling run again.

  Although, if I had to choose a way to die, then hypothermia would be it. They say that you just feel really warm and then you go to sleep. Can you think of a better way to go?

  I couldn’t.

  Of course, I didn’t want to die of hypothermia. That was only if a Genie appeared and asked me to choose the manner of my death or something like that.

  I frowned, feeling the cut on my forehead pulling from the movement. That was some weird crap that my mind was spewing and I thought it wasn’t a good sign.

  I stumbled along, searching ahead of me constantly for the trail. Surely it must be along here somewhere.

  My breathing was ragged. I wasn’t in good shape. And, though I had always wanted to run a triathalon, I hadn’t planned for it to be of the for-my-life variety. My throat was painful and I had a stitch that was a sharp ache under my ribs every time I put my foot down.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t go any longer, I spotted it. This was the part of the snowmobile trail that ran along the old rail bed and to me, it looked like a little bit of heaven with its clear path through the forest. I picked up speed and got on it, running as fast as I could for as far as I could. When I got to a patch where I could see a bunch of deadfall, I stopped.

  I leaned over, putting my hands on my knees and gasping for breath. But I didn’t sit down.

  That would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  I couldn’t fall asleep or I would die.

  And if I sat down, I was probably going to pass out from fatigue.

  So, no sitting down. I needed to make a fire.

  Pronto.

  Then I remembered that the smoke would draw attention to me. Make me easy to find. But the sun was completely down by this time, which both relieved me and made me far more worried.

  With the oncoming night, I wouldn’t have to worry about the smoke being visible to Zoe. But night also brought a temperature drop that could be fatal if I didn’t get warm right away.

  I gathered kindling as quickly as I could, fumbling and dropping it often with stiff fingers that I could barely feel. There was some dried moss in the shelter of a fallen down tree. I also found a small copse of birch among the poplar and peeled some bark off, sending a prayer of thanks to the tree for helping me to survive.

  Then I dragged as much deadfall to my little clearing as I could, the effort warming me slightly. Soon I had a pile that I thought would last all night. I hoped, anyway.

  With all my supplies besides me, I knelt on the cold forest floor, quickly tearing a circle of bare ground and setting up the bark with twigs over it. With shaking hands and numb fingers, I removed the matches from my pocket. It took a few fumbles to get one out of the plastic bag, but I did.

  One match. It should only take one match to get it started. That was the rule.

  I struck and struck again — after the fourth attempt, I got the match lit. Carefully touching it to the moss, I watched as the flames died almost immediately.

  “No,” I moaned, adding the unburned match to the twigs and nervously taking another match out. The wind blew into my face, freezing it. And I knew that it felt so much colder because I was wet — four times colder, to be exact, I remembered from my first aid training. Hard pieces of my frozen hair slapped against my cheeks and I shuffled around on my knees until my back was to the icy breeze, protecting my face and my fire.

  Number two.

  I swept it down the strip on the matchbook, again taking several strikes to get it lit. As soon as I touched it to the moss, it died again just as quickly. I tried to think through the pain and fatigue. It must be too damp. Feeling fear curl in my belly, I dug out another match.

  Number three.

  This time when I finally got it lit, I touched it to the birch bark, which instantly went up in flames, lighting the moss and the small sticks. I added bigger sticks, one by one, until I could put a pretty big branch on the tiny bed of coals. I continued to feed the fire, never taking my eyes off of it for a second, deathly afraid that it would go out while I wasn’t looking.

  After a while, there was enough heat that I shoved the end of one of the small dead spruce trees I had found into the coals. I would push more and more of it in as it burned.

  I sat back, my feet had gone to sleep from not moving for so long as I focused single-mindedly on starting the fire. I felt a tiny bit better. I had a fire, so I might not die tonight.

  I still had to get myself warm and my clothes dry, though.

  But how?

  I held out my frozen hands, basking in the warmth that seemed like a miracle, and thought about it. I needed to stay warm while parts of my clothing dried. I took off my jeans right away since they would probably take the longest. Then I grabbed three sticks from my pile of firewood and made a tripod to hang the pants on as close to the fire as I dared without risking them burning.

  Now what else?

  I decided to take off the shirt, sweater, and long underwear I had on and hang that too. I would leave on my underwear for modesty and my coat to keep me as warm as possible till my clothes dried. I did all that, getting everything hung — all the while checking on the fire. I could not let it go out.

  I stood on my socks in my bare feet near the flames, which were burning so hot, that I laid the ends of a couple big trees into them. They caught quickly and soon there was so much heat coming off of the fire that I knew that as long as I kept it going, I would survive the night and I would get my clothes dry.

  I would stay warm and alive.

  But I couldn’t relax.

  There would be no sleep tonight.

  Nessa

  I stood with my back to a large spruce tree, watching the fire. The moon was hidden at the moment, but the flames were so bright that they lit the entire clearing. The fire was so hot that I couldn’t stand directly beside it anymore.

  I was drooping, but I wouldn’t sit down. I was too afraid of falling asleep. Every so often I would check my clothes. My long underwear top and bottoms dried first since they were designed to do that. And with relief, I took off my bra and panties and put on the dry clothes.

  It was a huge comfort to have something warm and dry against my skin. My boots had dried, too. I had put them to roast on sticks upside down next to the roaring fire and they were well cooked by this time.

  I put them on my frozen feet and hung my wet socks to dry. Everything had needed to be well wrung out before I hung it, I was so soaked.

  So all that was left was my sweater, jeans, and coat. These were all the thicker things so I knew they would take longer. My coat’s shell could be unzipped from its inner layer, so that was what I had done. The outer was dry and I put it on. The inner was only a little damp still.

  The jeans and the sweater would take the longest.

  As my feet warmed, they started to hurt badly but that was the way it was with frostbite. I was pretty sure it wasn’t serious, anyway. The same thing had happened with my fingers earlier.

  After a few hours of keeping the fire going and turning all the clothing so that they dried as evenly and as quickly as possible, I had on long underwear bottoms and top, boots, and the outer shell of my coat.

  I felt much better.

  My stomach was awfully empty. The handful of nuts I had had before the attack seemed a long time ago. I wasn’t foolish enough
to believe that I was going to die of hunger. Didn’t people know it took a long time for that? I knew that I could live off my fat for at least a couple weeks, if not longer.

  I had fasted before so I knew I could do hunger. It took a while for the body to get used to it, though. And I needed water. But I was reluctant to drink untreated water. Of course, I would have to. But I would get it from the cleanest source I could. Tomorrow. I would be okay for the time being. I simply had to ignore my stomach’s demands. Besides I wasn’t stepping even a foot away from my fire until morning.

  It must have been after midnight by the time everything was dry, though I really had no idea. I put all my clothes back on and the coat over top. I pulled up the hood and tied it tight around my face. Then I drew my hands into the sleeves and wrapped my arms around my middle, feeling a sharp pain in my right wrist.

  I wondered what I had done to it. I should at least wrap it but I didn’t have anything to wrap it with. The wrist was swollen and painful but I was pretty sure it wasn’t broken. Or at least I hoped it wasn’t broken.

  The big trees that I had been burning were now down to about two and half foot logs and I piled them all on the fire, which burned up brightly again. Then, feeling warm and dry and as weary as I had ever been, I sat down and leaned against the big spruce tree. Its large branches reached nearly to the ground, curling around me, so that it seemed as though it was watching over me and protecting me.

  The fire had burned so hot and for so long that the ground was fairly dry, so I wouldn’t get wet again if I sat down.

  I looked at the huge fire and knowing that I probably wouldn’t freeze to death, I decided to sleep. But only for an hour or so. I would wake up then and put more wood on.