Escaping Witikow part 1

Abby and Chris spent the night whittling the long skinny branches into sharp spears and the thicker branches into sturdy stakes. They also tore one of their spare shirts into strips and soaked them in kerosine from the lamp they packed with them. The stakes with the kerosine rags would make great protection around a camp if they got trapped out in the open.

Lastly was the unpleasant part: cauterizing the wound. Abby placed the flat metal spatula they brought with them directly onto the open flame. When it was red hot she picked it up with an oven mitt and straddled Chris's leg. He bit down on a piece of wood and with a prolonged sizzle and a blood curdling but muffled scream, his wound was closed. Abby immediately poured cool water over it and Chris fainted. She let him sleep.

After the prep, she built a small fire with some paper from their pack and some dry kindling she found in the overhang. She then woke Chris for his shift at watch.  Neither one of them saw Witikow for the rest of the night. The fire must have really spooked it, the guy from the journal deserved their thanks. 

About an hour after sunrise the pair packed up camp and prepared for phase 2 of Abby's plan. With their new tools they headed to one of the many nearby meadows in search of their target. The rags from Chris's foot were tightly tied onto one of the spears. She had made the ends barbed so that once they went in it would be difficult to pull it out. 

The hope was that she would lie in wait and catch a deer by surprise then quickly jab it with the spear in a place that would only minorly injure it and that it would flee, leading Witikow on a false chase. She felt bad about having to hurt the deer but they needed some way to get a headstart or they weren't going to survive. 

Abby laid down her stomach in the tall meadow and waited while Chris hung back a few hundred feet. To their luck after only an hour, a herd of deer approached the meadow. Chris knocked quietly three times on a tree with a rock which was Abby's signal that the deer were headed towards her. 

In a few seconds, Abby could hear the grass around her crunching and the heavy grunting of the herd. She gripped the spear tightly, let out a silent breath, stood and jabbed.  She nailed it. One of the deer ran away with the spear and the rags embedded in its rump. 

Abby ran towards Chris who in-turn started fast limping with his walking stick towards the stream. After a few hours, the pair spotted the milling station from afar. It was large and had an area for offloading logs and conveyor belt to pull unfinished pieces into the mill itself which was essentially a building full of saws. In fact,  there were still some old pieces on the track as if the whole place had just abruptly shut down.

When they were about 100 meters from the factory they saw a black ring of burnt straw.

“The man from the journal must have done this. He talked about it. I wonder what went wrong, it seems like it was a full circle. I guess no one will know.”

“Yeah the guy's probably dead right?” replied Chris.

Abby sighed. He was probably right. They better hurry up and start moving unless they wanted to join him. 

“Hey Chris we should…” 

“Abby watch out!”

As she turned her head “splat!” The spear she had made came flying from behind the trees and buried itself into her upper right shoulder blade. She was in so much shock that she couldn't even make a sound. Her eyes rolled back and she started to fall forward before being swept off her feet by Chris who screamed as he ran with her on his injured foot. 

He headed for the shelter in an abandoned building thinking that inside they would avoid any more long range attacks. As soon as he entered what looked like a warehouse, he was surrounded by the smell of rotting flesh. He collapsed behind some old equipment and shook Abby aggressively. Her eyes fluttered but she didn't wake up. 

He cradled her in his arms and tears came flowing out of his eyes. He knew she was hurt badly, and he just hoped that this wouldn't kill her. He thought about ripping the spear out of her back but remember watching a medical show that said it was better to leave something in if the bleeding wasn't too bad. It didn't look like blood was gushing out of the wound so he decided to leave it alone. 

Before he had a minute to catch his breath and get his bearings Chris heard a loud bang and some scraping. He tried to open the door of the large piece of equipment he was hiding behind and to his luck it was unlocked. He slid Abby in there and silently shut the door. He hid himself underneath the machine and held his hand over his mouth. 

Loud, heavy footsteps echoed in the warehouse as unknown objects clattered and were crushed beneath Witikow’s feet.  The footsteps stopped right in front of the machine and were replaced by the sound of deep animalistic breathing. The creature let out a roar that sent shivers down his spine and ran out of the warehouse. 

He heard a muffled groan and swung the door open.

“Abby! I thought I lost you!” Chris jumped in and pressed his forehead to hers. 

Abby pushed hers back against his. “Are we safe yet?”

“No it was just in here. It's just a matter of time before it finds us. Can you move?”

“Yes. I think so. A sling would be really helpful though.”

Chris took off his jacket and tied it around her neck. “There. Try that.”

Abby placed her arm in the makeshift sling and felt a wave of relief. Chris hopped out of the machine and helped the love of his life down. He was so thankful she was alive. Once they made it out of here, he wouldn't waste another second. He was going to marry her immediately. 

The two headed towards the door that Chris entered from, covering their noses from the vile stench. Abby's foot caught on something and it slid across the floor. She pulled her flashlight from her pocket and immediately, the two knew where the stench was coming from. Hundreds of bones laid in a huge pile, mostly picked clean of all flesh. Only one body lay half eaten and decaying in the pile with maggots crawling across it. The jacket had a patch on it that read “Smith J.”

The two knowingly looked at eachother. It was the guy who owned the journal. They limped along until the cool forest breeze replaced the stench of death.