Welcome to SNOWBOUND, a new interactive fiction story on Steemit.
Did you miss the first installment? Click here to find out what the hell is going on.
We return to our intrepid protagonist hiding in a barn with a stranger, nearly beset by murderous children.
>run!!!
Let's be honest, here. Even if you had sufficient weaponry (which you don't), and sufficient numbers (which you lack), the idea of engaging children in mortal combat just doesn't sit right with you. Regardless of how ruthless and bloodthirsty they are, they're still children, for God's sake. As the adult, you're supposed to represent civility and rationality. Remember Lord of the Flies, man!
Thankfully, it appears as though your companion is on the same page, as he quickly makes his way over to the other side of the barn and opens the small hatch in the back. He looks out at the snow-covered field in thought, then turns back to you, his eyes sparkling with frantic, adrenaline-fueled cogitation.
"I've got an idea about how we can lose them," he says. "There's no time to explain right now. You go first. Run as fast as you can in a straight line towards the sunset. I'll be right behind you. I'll tell you when to stop."
Just what you need -- another stranger who is calling for your unquestioning loyalty. You would really rather hear the details of this plan before committing your life to it, but it seems like you're not going to have time. You nod, line up with the last visible flare of the sun on the western horizon, and take off at the greatest speed you can muster.
Your lungs and throat burn as the frigid air courses through your body. The wind whips at your face, stinging your eyes as frozen trickles of moisture form along the tops of your cheeks. Even behind the shade of your hand, the glare from the sun off of the blinding white snowbank leaves you without any strong sense of your surroundings. You certainly hope that your companion knows what he's doing.
Before long, you hear shouting behind you, telling you to slow down. You come to a stop, breathlessly gulping in the painful frost, and ask what's up. Your companion points to a large, snow-covered log and some brush a short ways off, and tells you to walk towards it. You make your way over and the stranger tells you to stop again. He leans back against the log, then vaults his legs over it, standing on the other side, facing you. You ask what he's planning.
"No time," he says. "Keep going towards the sunset. You'll see a creekbed with some dead brush on the other side of the next hill. Wait for me by the fir tree there. That's where we'll lose them."
You're about to ask how exactly a conifer is going to cover your tracks when your companion, curiously, starts running at full speed. Backwards. You watch in equal parts amusement and bemusement (with perhaps a dash of ceemusement), then resume your mad sprint forward.
As you crest the next hill, you see, albeit barely through the glare, the creek that the stranger had mentioned. You run towards it and are soon panting at the foot of a large fir tree. You look behind you to see if you can spot the children. No sight of them, fortunately. You look around for your companion. No sight of him either, unfortunately. You start to wonder if maybe you've been duped when you suddenly see him round a bend in the creek, running carefully backwards. He jogs up and stops directly in front of you. You ask what the hell he's doing as he hunches over and cups his hands behind his back.
"Nevermind that. Boost yourself up into the tree."
You look up for a branch to grab hold of, then step into your companion's hands and launch yourself upwards. You scramble to get a footing on the slick bark as the stranger looks up anxiously, tucking the hatchet into the back of his trousers.
"Alright, now help me up," he says, extending an arm. You reach down and heave with all your might as the stranger wedges his boots against the trunk of the tree. After a few moments of excruciating effort, you're both sitting in the tree, trying desperately to catch your breath. You try once again to ask what the hell is going on when the stranger puts a finger to his lips, motioning to the hill behind him. You listen closely and can hear the voices of several children. The stranger points up, and the two of you continue to climb until you can no longer see the ground.
You sit in agonizing silence for several minutes as the voices of the children get closer. Soon, you can hear them directly beneath the tree. You hold your breath and wait, hoping that your companion knows what he's doing. Before too long, the voices start to trail off again. As they get more distant, you heave a sigh and ask, in a hushed whisper, what just happened.
"It occurred to me that the kids only thought they were chasing one person. When you started running, I ran in step so that my bootprints would overlap with yours. When we reached the log, I had you keep running towards this tree while I ran backwards in a loop to approach it from the other side. That way, our tracks would match up, so that when the kids got to the tree, they would keep following my tracks back to the log. I doubt they noticed my prints on the other side of the log the first time they passed it. Their own tracks will have covered our original tracks from the barn, so they'll probably assume that I doubled back that way. It will be night before they think to come back this way, assuming they do at all. We should be able to make good our escape by then."
You have to hand it to your companion -- that was some pretty quick thinking. The two of you lower yourselves out of the tree and your companion winces, suddenly grabbing at his arm. In the heat of the moment, it seems that both of you forgot that he's been shot, and the blood is starting to soak through his shirt. He waves it off as you give him a concerned look, but you'll need to find some medical assistance for him before too long.
The two of your trudge out of the shadowy underbrush of the creekbed and crest the next hill. Not far off, in the last flickering of twilight, you espy a small cabin with a trail of smoke rising from the chimney.
Perhaps someone there could help you.