Crawl

Are they gone? He moved his hands. Untied. Opened eyes. No light. His swollen face throbbed; touching the bruise made him scream. The scream echoed for way too long. In his head, it never stopped. Sweat dripped down his palms. The air smelled of damp stone and his own blood. His hands slid down the moss as he tried to lift his body. Unsuccessfully. Fell face down on the stone. His lips touched the moist moss. His tongue darted out, seeking water. A few drops. Dried out in his mouth before he swallowed. Moldy taste filled his mouth. He retched. Pressed forehead into the cold stone. Stand up. Or crawl. Come on. Three, two, one. His nails dug into the moss. Pain in his left leg erupted as he took a step. Fell to his knees. Crawl.

He crawled, probing the space before him with his hands. His right shoulder pressed against the wall. Always turn right. You will get out somewhere. His fingers sank into jelly. Jelly with sticks. Covered in sticky carpet. Fur. Rotting flesh. The smell of the rotting animal hit his nostrils as his nails punctured the carcass. He retched again. Backed off. Wiped his fingers into the moss. Couldn’t get rid of the stickiness. He clung to the wall and held his breath as he passed the corpse. The rotting smell followed him. He wiped his hand in the moss every few steps. Smelled it and retched. Tried to remove the stickiness by rubbing his hand with the soil. It stuck to the skin. The hand smelled even worse.

Around the corner, a draft of air hit his face. Flowers? Flowers! He took a deep breath. I definitely smell flowers. Vanilla? Vanilla and hay. Are there flowers like this? He smelled woodruff, but didn’t know the name. His crawl gained pace. Bare feet dug into sharp rocks as he pushed his body forward. He didn’t mind anymore. He braced against the rocks, tried to get up on his legs. Fell again. His nose hit the wall.

Did I faint? The echo of his own scream rang in his ears. He tasted something metallic on his lips. Metallic and salty. He touched his lips. Moisture and soil. Blood scab under his nose. Sweat burned his eyes. He sat on the ground and blinked until tears washed out the sweat. The draft of air got colder. Do I smell pine trees? He leaned on the stone wall. Waited. His breath slowed down. His pulse finally slowed. Water? He heard a stream, a water main, some flowing liquid. Somewhere. Where is it coming from? Could be in his head, could be real. Unsure, he continued crawling.

The pine tree smell got stronger. Light! A single point in the darkness. A star. He pressed his head to the hole between the rocks. The star split into three lights as tears filled his eyes. Now, he could hear the stream, smell the pine trees. Took a deep breath of fresh air. What he couldn’t do was fit his body in the narrow space. He stuck his arm out. Touched wet grass. Tore a handful and pressed it to his nose. Grass! He tore more. Wiped his hands with grass blades. Finally got them clean. He tore all the grass he could reach and licked the dew off the blades. Cold. Tasted like soil mixed with scallions. Best water he ever had. He pushed the rocks to the sides. The hole didn’t get any wider. “Help!” He yelled into the night.