LifeWild

Arthur feels like he’s in the middle of a storm. The only sound he can hear is a roaring thunder so loud his mind tells him it can only be coming from inside his head. He perceives an incomplete darkness, almost able to see but it is as if something is preventing him from doing so, like being in bright sunlight and then stepping into a dark room and trying to focus on the surroundings. The roaring is so intense and the darkness is so overpowering it is all he can focus on. There is no feeling, nor is he aware of any tastes or smells. His whole world is in the middle of this unending thunderstorm. Trying to remember something else, anything else, but unable, he wonders if this is all he has ever known. Concentrating as best he can, he struggles to feel anything other than the darkness and hear something besides the rhythmic roar of the thunder.

Suddenly, a sound rises above the chaos.

Something just snapped, he swears he heard it, but didn’t feel anything. There is no way he can tell if the noise originated from him or somewhere else.

Again, the same snapping noise occurs and along with it this time there is a rustling sound. Realizing he is on top of the noise somehow, Arthur strains to focus and hopefully feel something.

Wind.

Air is rushing by him. It is cold on his face. The thunder is starting to diminish. It’s definitely inside his head.

The pounding of his heart inside his chest is suddenly discernible over the declining thunder. It is beating so fast…too fast. Breathing is now a struggle, he is not sure if this just started or if it has been going on for a while. All he wants is to know what is happening.

The snapping noise occurs once again.

Arthur begins to realize he is moving. No, not just moving, running, and from what his body is telling him, running at full speed. The reason is unknown to him, he just knows it is what he needs to be doing.

Vision is beginning to return now as blurs of black, white and grey are now rushing by him.

Suddenly one of the dark blurs slams into his face. His head starts throbbing to the point it is like his face is going to explode. Against the advice of his body to give up, he tries to focus on figuring out what hit him.

It is then he realizes he is no longer running, but rolling. Pain is covering every inch of his body, a liquid of some sort, he assumes it is his blood, is pouring down his face and all of his senses are screaming at him to stop moving. Extending his arms out in front of his body, Arthur first attempts to stop rolling. One hand slams hard against a rock and the other continues to slide along either loose dirt or dried leaves, causing him to begin rotating around the rock. As his speed decreases, his face makes contact with the ground and his body slows to a stop. The pain threatens to overwhelm his senses. Not wanting to move ever again, he remains on the ground, motionless in the dirt.

All at once, it starts to come back to him. Remembering what he is running from, he tells himself he must get up and get away. If they catch him, they will take him back there again. He can’t let it happen, but he knows they can find him, but can’t remember how.

Forcing himself to think, the answer comes to him from one of the lectures they often gave at the Compound. They were told if they were ever lost there was a chip inside all of them which would guide the technicians directly to them. Finding it hard to concentrate with his body screaming at him, he struggles to recall where the chips were inserted into their bodies.

Arthur cannot remember ever being in such pain. Blood is dripping down his face, distorting his vision. Only twice in his life has he bled, and neither time as bad as he is right now.

His body implores him to rest.

Rest is not an option for him yet, though, the chip needs to be removed from his body. If he can focus enough to remember anything, he might be able to reason things out. Knowing the only place the chip would be safe is inside of him, they must have put it underneath his skin. Recalling the only time the technicians cut him open, he searches the outside portion of his left forearm. They had inserted the chip there, halfway between his wrist and his elbow. If he is not able to get it out, they will catch him.

They are probably already on their way.

Becoming increasingly tired and weak, his body tells him to close his eyes for a few minutes. He will feel better if he’s able to rest for a while.

Blinking, Arthur tells himself he can’t sleep yet, something is supposed to be happening now. Every second, it is harder and harder to focus. Shaking his head ushers in a tidal wave of pain slamming him back into the moment.

As long as the chip is inside him, they can find him and bring him back, so until he can remove it, relaxing cannot be an option.

Examining his left forearm, he locates the small scar about six inches above his wrist. The slight indentation informs him the position is correct. Attempting first to dig into his arm with his fingers, little more is accomplished than a slight scratch and red lines along his arm. Wondering if a sharp rock might work better, Arthur searches the ground nearby. The blood running into his eyes is nearly blinding him, and attempting to wipe his face as best he can does little to clear his vision. Feeling the ground around him for anything sharp, he manages to find a couple of jagged rocks, but even they can’t cut his skin. It seems incredible to him, at this point, anything could have cut his face this badly when he can’t even cut his own arm. Deciding his last option is to try biting it out, he puts his arm into his mouth and clamps down. His teeth pierce a two inch gash into the skin, but the chip is nowhere he can see. The additional pain reminds him of his desire to slip into oblivion.

The battle between the tremendous urge to sleep and the need to keep going continues to wage throughout his body, but knowing he will be caught if he stops, Arthur has no choice but to keep going. They could be here already.

Practically blind from the gash on his forehead and now finding it hard to hear over the returning roaring in his head, he tells himself he needs to continue. With each breath coming in ragged gasps, he knows he needs to calm down, but realizes this cannot happen yet.

Once again remembering the chip, he bites down onto his arm, deeper this time. A loud roar startles him until he realizes it is his own voice crying out. Through blurred vision, he notices a sizable gash has been opened in his arm. Sticking a finger into the opening, he begins to feel around for the chip. After what seems to be an endless moment of excruciating pain, sharp metal presses against his finger and he is able to pull the chip out. Quickly putting it into his mouth and biting down as hard as possible, he barely even notices as the shards push on his cheek and gums. After satisfactorily obliterating the device, he spits out what seems to be mostly blood from his face and small pieces of metal and wire.

Telling himself he should finally be able to sleep now since the chip is destroyed, Arthur begins to relax. He is hurting everywhere.

Doubt creeps in and he begins to wonder if they have already traced this location. They could be coming right now. He decides the only option is to keep going.

Attempting to argue his choice, his body demands he get some rest. He can’t go far. His body is past screaming at him now and is threatening to just quit altogether.

Overriding all pleas from his body and requiring more effort than he thought he had in him, he pulls himself to his feet and begins stumbling along, willing himself to keep going even though each step sends shockwaves of pain through his entire body.

After what seems a lifetime of enduring the excruciating pain of movement, his body tells him it cannot do this any longer. Not knowing if the last distance he covered was ten miles or ten feet, there is nothing left in him. He needs to sleep.

Water!

Hearing water nearby and heading toward the sound with a small amount of renewed energy he comes upon an old road and a wooden bridge. Arthur stumbles toward the bridge and quickly crawls under it. The creek is cool and wonderful and he drinks what seems like a gallon of the much needed elixir. As he tries to clean his cuts and gashes, he begins falling out of consciousness. Yearning to rest, he tells himself he will only sleep for a few minutes…