Page 8 of Snow Blind
Chapter 3- Misadventure
Elliot Parker neededto clear his head. Pieces of the puzzle were coming together faster than his mind could process the results. If the person he thought was in charge of one of the largest trafficking operations in the Great Lakes was whom he believed it to be, then shit was going to hit the fan. He was no whistle-blower, but there came a time when a man needed to take a stand for the little guy. The courage required to make such a statement needed support. At this point, he needed his head examined, which was why he wanted the weekend away- to put things in perspective.
He wanted to hike a few trails at Burgess Falls and camp out over the weekend, and then on Monday, a decision would be made. The idea to save on fuel by riding his motorcycle and towing his compact trailer. The trailer was large enough for him to sleep inside and big enough to carry the necessary camping supplies. He'd made it to the campsite, securing his spot for the weekend and feeling better about his decision to get away. Once he settled in, he planned to hike the 1.5-mile strenuous trail to see the waterfall. The gorge, he'd heard, was closed indefinitely, and he had no plans to venture in that direction, but a few photos would work nicely for his album.
Arriving at the spot where he planned to camp for the weekend, he began to search for stones to make a small fire pit. He'd only brought four wooden logs with him so he’d have to find more wood if he planned to stay warm. Content with the progress, he wanted to stretch his legs after the ride out on the bike. All he took with him were a bottle of water and his camera, since it was only a mile.
Midway up the trail, he noticed no one else was out hiking or walking. An uneasy feeling came over him, making him look around to see if he was being followed or hunted by something with four legs. As far as he knew, there were no large predators in this part of the country. He nearly made it to the waterfall when he noticed pilings of brush over the path.
"Going back," he said, looking over the edge of the cliff.
As he turned, a sound startled him. His body was hit with a thud and he stumbled, grabbing his shoulder at the delayed pain reaching his brain telling him there was an injury to his person. The sight of the blood had him turn in the direction the bullet came from, causing him to lose his footing and go over the edge. Pain was all he remembered as he hit rocks on his way down the cliff. A snap came from his leg, indicating a broken bone, but when he landed, the wind was knocked out of him and he lost consciousness.
His eyelids fluttered. He groaned from the pain radiating through his body. Trying to move, he realized he was no longer on the ground, nor in the woods. He was in a home. It wasn't his home. He made an attempt to move his leg, discovering it to be in a cast. He wanted to sit up, but his belly ached, his ribs hurt, and his face was in pain.
A shaky hand went to his face, feeling the gauze over his nose, chin, and forehead.
"Are these staples?" he whispered as his hand ran along his cheek.
Curiosity sent his good hand under the covers. His underwear was on, but a catheter was inserted into his junk. Fear set in. He wasn't in a hospital.Where am I?A new fear was unlocked when he felt his shoulder and realized he wasn't imagining things; he'd been shot.
"Where am I?" he said softly.
"You're here with us," a voice replied.
"Who is us?"
"Your guardian angels, I guess," the voice said. "You have a lot of recovery ahead of you, and you're hidden for now."
"I was shot," he said, swallowing hard. He felt dehydrated in his mouth, but his eyes saw the IV in his arm. "Am I in a hospital?"
"Someone tried to kill you," the lady said. "Before you do anything or say anything more, we need to give you time to wrap your head around what has happened before you start talking."
He didn't know who tried to kill him. He didn't know the voice of the woman who was his supposed guardian angel, but life had taught him to trust few, say less, and shut up. He'd seen this movie, telling the person everything they needed to know, not knowing that perhaps the person being his savior could also be his captor.
She asked, "What is your name?"
"I go by Bryan," he replied, uncertain if she had his wallet and ID. "My mind is fuzzy. Where am I please?"
"Bryan, you're with me," the feminine voice repeated.
"Yeah, but are you my savior or my captor?" he asked before blacking out.
Passion Fruit couldn't answer the question because she honestly didn't know herself. The fax machine had gone off in her office on Saturday issuing a work order for the same area where the man was camping. In the world where she existed, no one believed in coincidences. The perplexing portion of the day occurred when a body came tumbling over the rock face where she was staging a scene for the accident of a man who would come tumbling over the same rock face. However, in her scenario, the man didn't have a bullet in him.
She had more than one problem. One, the work order she received had not been executed and she had no results for her boss Azrael. Two, the likelihood that her target and this man were connected held a high probability of what the fucks. And last but not least, her target could still be out there, so she went and looked this morning.
In her hunt to find clues of the person for whom she had been staging the accident, the only things she found at the campsite were the motorcycle, an extra pair of boots, and a backpack. Any identification for the man had been removed. When the Cranberry had cut away his pants, there was no wallet to be found in those either. She could only go by the name he gave her, which was Bryan. She would keep her eye on the news for a missing man whose last known location was Burgess Falls.
Passion Fruit exited the room, carrying the collected bag of urine. There was a pink tint to it, but it wasn't a cloudy deep pink. She concluded the internal injuries weren't severe enough to warrant opening him up to search for damaged organs. Cranberry waited for her in the living room.
