Chapter Text
Nate was falling. He was falling, and water was everywhere. It rolled down along with him in booming torrents, it hung heavy in the air he breathed, and then, suddenly, he was enveloped in it again, and the din of the waterfall was dampened as he submerged.
The effect of the waterfall, however, was not. The crushing weight of thousands of gallons of water falling on him, around him, pushing him down. Down into the murky, obscure depths of the pool, where the dim light of dusk failed to penetrate, pinning him to the bottom. Calling on reserves of strength he wasn't even sure he had, Nate willed his arms to move, his legs to kick, and he slowly clawed his way to the surface.
A gasp for air, and Nate sputtered and choked on the mist that hung heavy at the foot of the cascade, where water thundered against the rocks and was pulverized, forming billions of atomized particles that hovered just above the surface. Frantically, he fought to neither drown in the foam, nor slip into the unconsciousness that tugged at him and tried to drag him down like his soaking wet clothes were. With thrashing movements, he battled his way free of the mist and froth and took in hoarse gasps of air that burned his throat. His arm struck something floating on the water, and he seized it, throwing both arms over the object to hold him up, and as he drifted down the river, he finally succumbed to the darkness that was intruding on his vision.
A gibbous moon rose high as night fell in the mountains. Its milky light pursued the lone figure floating down the river, the soft glow occasionally falling on his face and illuminating his features. His expression was troubled, even as he lay unconscious and draped over a log, as if even his subconscious wouldn't allow him to escape the demons that plagued his mind. The battered adventurer was swept slowly but steadily downstream, curving gently around bends and obstacles as the roar of the waterfall grew faint and then disappeared entirely, replaced by the brooding sounds of darkness. As the goddess of night cast her shadowy cloak over the landscape, both time and distance became indistinguishable, obscured by the murky twilight. Miles passed without landmark. Hours passed without herald. Heroes were written in the stars, and then erased as they passed beneath the horizon. Among them, Orion soared high overhead before being slain by the scorpion. The celestial ship Argo set sail while predators of the night sang a siren song. Still the waters carried Nate on through gauntlets of branches and rustling grasses that stretched out their fingers, long and jagged, silhouetted evilly along the banks and dipping down to grasp at him. These shadowy specters like gorgon's tendrils reached out to take hold of him while river nymphs came borne on puffs of wind that sped him along beyond their clutches.
Finally the moon set, and darkness descended on the land in ominous gloom as the last vestiges of silky, silvery light were lost; the night, however, was now far spent. As dawn loomed ever nearer, the waterlogged treasure hunter was swept near to a cove. For a moment, his unconscious form faltered at the mouth of it, caught in the swirling eddies, before being gingerly drawn into its safety. The wind came in a breathy sigh, pushing him gently forward to be cradled on the shore of the river. He lay prone on its banks, eyes shut tightly, and for the briefest of moments he scowled and stirred. As if in response, the water swelled around him, then withdrew again, leaving him safely on the land while his features settled back to their silent distress.
Finally the last of the stars faded into the growing light. Helios charged triumphantly through the gates that Eos flung open, beginning his quest to escort the sun on its daily path, starting in the east and arching toward the west, to end where the earth itself ended- in a place where a solitary titan stood, bearing the weight of the sky on his shoulders.
The fantastical and disturbing visions of night slowly faded from Nate's mind, abandoning him to the almost stranger reality of where he now was. His lips parted to utter a groan of pain. The pungent smell of decay and death filled his nostrils as Nate opened his eyes, squinting from the light of morning, but also from the sticky river mud that squished up around his face, uncomfortably close to entering his eye sockets.
The mud was where the terrible odor was coming from. Pushing himself up, Nate groaned again and hunched over as his vision went black for a moment, then gradually came back in swirling colors that made him feel dizzy. Squeezing his eyes tight until the sensation passed, Nate was finally able to turn and wash his face in the river.
The cold mountain stream helped bring his mind into focus and temporarily deaden the headache that throbbed in the back of his skull. Scrubbing a hand over his face as the last of the chilly water drained from him, he felt the raised skin from a cut on his cheek, and the scratchiness of the stubble growing out on his chin. Peering down into the water as the ripples fanned out from him, he almost scoffed at the reflection he saw. His face was now more or less clean, but his clothes were a mess: the front of his grey Henley smeared with mud and torn along the hem on one side, his pants filthy from the bombastic events of the last several days, he cut quite the image of a ragged traveler. He stood, wincing at the pain in his knees and the stiffness in his back, and began hobbling upstream, hoping that he hadn't gone very far from the mining compound.
Hours later, it was clear that he was not so fortunate. As the sun climbed higher and the heat became sweltering, the river snaked ahead for miles, sometimes diving between sheer mountain peaks, and sometimes meandering through grasslands or forests. All the while, Nate plodded along the banks, sticking close to the river for ease of travel but still struggling for every yard gained toward his destination. His gait became heavier by the hour- and sometimes almost by the minute.
I survived a trip over a waterfall.
He shielded his eyes from the sun that glared angrily down at him, obscuring the lines of the jagged pinnacles of rock by its sheer intensity. Running his tongue over dry lips, Nate shuffled on.
Why?
Why did I survive that?
Picking his way over a boulder felt like a Herculean task. He half jumped, half rolled off the other side, and landed on his backside on the grass. He allowed his head to flop back against the rough stone and rested for a minute in its shade.
My mission is over. I saved my friends.
Wouldn't it have been better to just die?
Mountains towered above him: vast, ominous, and dark.
Elena left me- or did I leave her?
Entering a rocky field, Nate stumbled over a small boulder lodged in the ground. As he picked himself up, he noticed the scowling face of a Barbary leopard watching him, a wraith prowling through the forest of evergreen oaks. He instinctively reached for his handgun, but found an empty holster. Perfect.
Alone.
Defenseless.
Good as dead.
Tire tracks in the valley gave him pause. Someone was out there besides him- and recently. He pulled out his pocketknife- a meager token of resistance. As he walked on, he scanned his peripheral for danger lurking nearby.
Elena's gone.
What do I have left?
His brain was saddled with fog of a type he normally only felt when he spent too much time at the bar, making his vigilance feel lackluster at best, and knowing that made him even more nervous and on edge. As he staggered out of the field and back into the relative cool between two peaks, he realized that he was probably overheated. Croaking out his need for water in a voice that felt like sandpaper, he fell to his knees by the river and cupped handfuls of the cool liquid to his mouth. After slaking his thirst, he rose to continue on his way.
Is it all worth it?
Should I give up now?
Something stirred in the woods nearby, and Nate paused, carefully scanning the tree line. Against his better judgement, he approached the the location the sound came from, looking for signs of his mysterious stalker.
Broken branches, high up off the ground but close together. Something tall and thin. Nate touched the broken tip of the twig. A person. A person was watching him from the woods. He clenched his jaw and his fist briefly tightened around the branch before letting go and moving on.
Keep moving.
Gotta keep moving.
Another pop of breaking limbs, this time from behind him. He whirled around, eyes wildly searching the forest. A bird screeched and flew away.
Where?
More sounds on the other side of him. They were playing with him, or maybe there was more than one of them. Nate turned first one way, then the other in a desperate bid for survival, the mouse trying to spot the cat that was slyly sneaking up on it. Arms raised slightly in preparation to fight, he walked slowly backwards while uttering curses under his breath until he stumbled over a log on the ground.
Suddenly, everything fell silent. No more breaking branches or rustling leaves, and the deathly still that ensued was somehow more eerie than all of it. A chill crept up Nate's spine, and the shadows seemed to close in around him despite the sun being now over the tree line.
Then came the all too familiar sound of the slide being drawn on a handgun, and the feeling of the muzzle pressing into his back between his shoulder blades. His eyes widened, and a familiar female voice spoke the simple greeting- "Hello Nathan."