The Storm

A tense silence hung in the air, as Druknet and Bjorge stepped through the door into Bjorge’s house. The room was dark and cold since the fireplace had been snuffed out all day.

As Drukent quietly took off his boots, Bjorge pulled a book of matches from his pocket and struck one. It sparked before a small flame lit up in his hand, illuminating his face. He knelt down at the fireplace and lit some kindling. Flames slowly emerged on top of the logs, pushing out the cold.

“I think it's best that you don’t step outside from now on.” Bjorge said with a firm tone, as he stoked the fire.

“...” Druknet remained silent, taking a seat at the table.

Bjorge continued, “If the weather cooperates, a supply ship is scheduled to stop here in a week and a half. I’ll convince them to take you to Tromsø. There’s a hospital there that can treat you better than I can.”

Druknet's head snapped up. “That’s too long! That thing will get me before-.”

“Enough!” Bjorge shouted, slamming the fire poker against the hearth.

A clap of thunder followed, shaking his house as a sudden storm began to roll over the village.

“I’m doing everything I can do to help you.” He continued, as frustration began to bleed into his voice. “But I can’t protect you from the others much longer… Not after what happened today.”

The wind outside howled, causing the shutters outside to rattle violently. The tarp that was stretched over the broken window bowed inward, just barely clinging to the frame.

For a split second, Druknet thought he saw the outline of a hand pressed against the tarp, but then he blinked once and it was gone.

“...” He sank deeper into his chair.

Bjorge stepped away from the fire and approached the table. He opened his hand, letting a small pile of sleeping pills fall onto its wooden surface. “The best I can do for now is increase your dosage.”

Druknet stared at them. “I guess there’s no other way.” He muttered.

“Here.” Bjorge said, turning away. “I just brewed some coffee. You should drink something with those pills?”

He poured two cups and set them on the table.

“I’m not in the mood for coffee. Could I get some tea instead?” Druknet asked.

Bjorge sighed. “If that’s what you want.” He turned and moved toward the stove, filling up a pot with water.

Druknet sat still, as the storm storm groaned against the walls. The frame of the house let out a creak.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch. It was cold and silent. As he turned it over in his hand, it let out a single tick…

Druknet froze.

He tightened his grip around the watch, as he tensed up. The sound was brief, but it was enough to remind him that the draugen was still out there.

His gaze shifted to the pills sitting on the table then back to Bjorge, who still had his back turned…

Bjorge had been nothing but hospitable to him since he had washed up in this village and yet, he was about to betray him.

An image of crashing waves and the sound of men shouting suddenly flickered in his mind. He was only snapped out of it when another gust of wind smacked into the tarp over the window, causing it to let out a crack.

He nervously looked over at the tarp. For all he knew, the draugen could be lurking just outside of it.

“I don’t have a choice…” He whispered to himself.

Lowering the watch, he flipped it over and pressed the flat metal back against the pills. Carefully and quietly, he began to grind them. The faint scraping felt louder to him than it should have been.

He paused as Bjorge shifted around as he stood over the stove top. For a moment, he thought Bjorge was about to turn around, but he remained with his back turned.

Druknet exhaled slowly, as he continued grinding the pills into a fine powder.

Once he finished, he swept the dust into his palm and leaned forward, letting it fall into one of the cups of coffee. The liquid swallowed it instantly. He stirred it slightly with his finger to ensure no trace was left.

“Actually…” Druknet said, picking up the untouched cup. “Coffee is fine.”

“I’m not getting back up if you change your mind again.” Bjorge muttered, removing the kettle from the flame.

He returned to the table, taking a seat across from Druknet.

The shutters clapped violently, as the storm outside worsened. The wind pressed against the tarp even harder.

“Hopefully that holds through the night.” Bjorge remarked, glancing toward the window.

He turned his attention back to the table. “Did you already take all those pills?”

“Y-yeah.” Druknet quietly mumbled.

Bjorge lifted his cup of coffee, while Druknet watched him carefully…

Bjorge took a sip then set the cup back down.

“With that amount, you’ll be out any minute.” He remarked.

He picked it back up and drank from it again… and again.

Druknet’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table, watching and waiting.

After several minutes passed, Bjorge’s speech slowed, while his shoulders relaxed. His head began to fall forward, as his grip on his mug loosened. Soon Bjorge was slumped forward in his chair, as the room fell quiet.

Druknet didn’t move. He just sat and stared. Once he was certain that Bjorge was fully asleep, he stood.

“I’m no safer here than I am out there.” He muttered.

He looked toward the door, then toward the tarp over the window bulging. An eerie feeling passed over him as the image of the gray lifeless hand flashed into his head.

Trying to shake the feeling off, he picked up his crutch and went over to the door.

As he reached for the handle, a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. His vision blurred.

The shore. Echoed in his head.

More images of water sweeping over the deck of a boat filled his mind.

He let out a gasp, as a sudden clap of thunder snapped him out of it. Breathing heavily, he stood still for a moment, before finally opening the door.

Icy droplets pelted his face, as cold air rushed through the doorway. He took a step outside, knowing exactly where he needed to go…