Chapter One
The Dream
Run. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. They’re getting closer. I heard the crunch of leaves and twigs under my pounding feet. My arms and legs numb from the constant sting of branches I failed to move aside. Run faster. Suddenly I noticed a sharp pain in my right arm. I looked down and saw a small, metal arrow. There was also blood that, in the darkness, looked like small black rivers flowing down my arm. As soon as I saw the blood I immediately felt my stomach drop. All of a sudden I became extremely dizzy and could hardly stay on my feet. Keep running. Don’t stop. I could feel myself falling, scraping my knees as they struck the ground. It’s over. My vision blurred as my head collided with a rock. The last thing I saw was a black pair of Stefano Bemers. The kind of shoes that cost around $2,000 and were only worn at highly important business functions. Who would wear those shoes in the woods?
At that moment I heard a deep, monstrous laugh. It was the kind of laugh that would have made Heath Ledger proud. As quick as it began the laughter stopped, and the voice that spoke was just as bad. “Take her to Him.” The voice was very demanding, as if daring anyone to disobey. “He would like to talk to her in person.”
I slowly began to regain my vision. Though it was still blurry I could just make out a pair of hands reaching towards me. I tried to back away but my arms and legs wouldn’t move. I looked down and saw the glint of metal that made up the buckle to the straps that were the cause of my immobility.
The ground looked as if it were dropping away as the hands I saw earlier, none too gently, picked me up. My vision had mostly cleared and I could now make out what I assumed was a giant truck. The hands sat me down as they opened up the back.
The hands were connected to a very handsome, skinny young man. He looked to be about seventeen. He had dark brown hair with thin honey highlights cut short, but just long enough to have a shaggy look. He wore black jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt that complimented his biceps. When he turned around I could see that he had soft but fierce hazel eyes and charcoal black eyelashes that girls would die for. His cheek bones were subtly angular.
He began walking back over to me saying, “Stand up” I started to do so and almost fell from the pain. “Ow.” I breathed.
He came over and slid one arm under mine so I wouldn’t fall. His grip was firm but his touch gentle. “I’ve got you.” He walked me over to the truck and helped me climb in.
The back of the truck was surprisingly clean compared to the unwashed outside. There was nothing to sit on so I just sat down and propped up against the side. As I sat he climbed into the back and sat across from me.
I heard the roar of the engine as it started up and the sound of the tires beginning to roll. I looked over at him and found his eyes also looking into mine. I quickly turned my head and looked away.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I asked still looking away.
“That’s classified.” he said not looking at me.
“What does any of this have to do with me?” He had to able to tell me something.
His face hardened. “That’s also classified.” For a second I thought I saw the slightest twinge of guilt cross his face, but it was gone too quickly for me to be sure.
Must be something pretty important to chase me through the woods. I looked over at him, he was still looking away. There is definitely something going on.“Is there anything that isn’t classified?” I asked trying to get him to talk.
"Not that you need to know." He stated.
“Hmph.” I said crossing my arms.
He looked up finally moving. “What?”
“You’re not telling me anything, yet you expect me to just go along with it?” He nodded. “Well that’s not how I work. You either start giving me some information or I will refuse to cooperate with whatever you may have planned.” I finished feeling quite accomplished.
A smirk appeared on his face. “Well aren’t you a feisty one?” His voice took on a tone of mockery. “You honestly think there aren’t ways to make you cooperate?” He added extra emphasis on the word ‘make’.
This guy has seriously gone crazy. The Carolina’s haven’t used torture as a means of getting information for ages. “So, what’s your name?” I asked trying to ignore his last statement.
“Ryker.” His face was once again impassive.
“Blake.” He stared at his feet as if counting the stitches in his boots, his face still unreadable.
“No.” His voice beginning to match the look of his face. Blank.
“Will you please quit it with the one worded answers?” I asked frustration coloring my voice.
Once again he smirked as if enjoying my frustration. “Does it bother you?”
“If I say yes will you quit?” My frustration still showing.
“Nope.” He crossed his arms.
“Fine. You want to be that way?” He didn’t respond so I continued, “Well I can be that way too.” I declared defiantly also crossing my arms.
He looked over at me with the same smirk on his face from before. “Really?” He asked. His perfect eyes showing a great deal of disbelief.
Stop, right now he’s the enemy. You don’t know anything about him. For all you know he works for Him. “Yep.” was all I said.
He gave a slight chuckle then began playing with his shoelaces. Untying, then tying back.
I looked down at his shoes and screamed.
His head shot up. “What? What’s wrong?” For a second he sounded truly concerned.
“I, um I-I thought I saw a…” Quick say anything! “spider!” I blurted out the first animal that came to mind.
“Pft, girls.” He huffed then went back to his shoes.
I looked at them again just to be sure. Yep, they were there plain as day.
Ryker Blake was wearing a black pair of Stefano Bemers.
