 
## **CONTENTS**

Title Page

Copyright

Episode 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Afterward

LOST EARTH

by Ryan Wiley

Copyright © 2014 by Ryan Wiley

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printing, 2014

Amazon Digital Services, Inc.

Ryan Wiley

Visit my website at www.RyanWiley.com

:: EPISODE 1 ::

Pilot

## **CHAPTER 1**

****

Brian Whitmore opened his eyes and saw the tops of trees, which was odd since he hadn't been in a forest in twenty years.

The sun beamed down. He moved his head to the right, but immediately felt a pain in his forehead. Smacking his lips, he realized that his throat was very dry.

Brian closed his eyes, having no energy to get up. He was groggy and just wanted to fall back asleep.

He felt the ground around him with his hands. Dirt. He never liked getting his hands dirty, so he brushed them off on the nice Armani suit he had on; the one he'd paid five thousand dollars for.

Something clicked within his mind, and he bolted back up. Why was he in a forest with his Armani suit on!?

He looked around, but nobody was there. In every direction, there were only trees with very thin trunks. The tops, thick with leaves, swayed fifty feet above. There was no chance of climbing them without superhuman strength, because there weren't any branches to use for leverage.

Brian got to his feet. He looked down at the once-shiny suede suit that was now covered in dirt. He took his jacket off, because even in the shade, it was a hot and humid day. Standing was making his head throb even more. He needed water, of that much he was sure. Anytime he had a headache, water was the cure nine times out of ten.

"Hello," he shouted. "Hello, is anybody there?"

Except for a slight echo and the occasional bird chirp, there was nothing but silence. He looked up again and saw a red robin flutter its way from one tree to another.

"Hello," he shouted louder.

Nothing.

He reached into one of his jacket pockets... nothing. The second pocket... three tissues, which he always kept for emergency sneezes. The inside jacket pocket... nothing again. He threw it down in frustration.

Brian then reached into his pants pocket for his cell phone, but it was gone. In a panic, he reached in his back-right pants pocket; his wallet was gone, too.

_Shit, I've been robbed_ , he thought. _I've been robbed, and placed in... a forest??_ That seemed pretty extreme, but he didn't have any other explanation for it. He couldn't remember anything about how he'd gotten there. His suit was an indicator that he had probably been going to a business meeting, because that's the only time he wore it. Nineteen days out of twenty, he'd wear casual clothes, because his wealth and lifestyle allowed him to go and do as he pleased.

None of that mattered now, though. What mattered was getting something to drink, and possibly something to eat. What he wouldn't give to be sitting at his granite kitchen counter-top, eating a huge bowl of fresh fruit. He could almost taste the sugary goodness. He imagined himself devouring it and his migraine headache going away.

Once his daydream dispersed, he saw that the forest was the same in each direction.

"Damn it," he muttered, frustrated. Why was this happening to him? What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

Brian was known for always having a good time and getting himself into awkward situations. At home in Miami, though, he could make one phone call and have Tony—a friend's brother—pick him up. He paid Tony twenty grand a year to be on call 24/7. Brian had a tracking device app on his phone so that Tony could always locate him. He'd learned firsthand that, when he was inebriated, he had a hard time explaining where he was. Having Tony there to save him from even one party-gone-wrong was worth his annual salary.

But Tony was useless now, since Brian didn't have his phone. Even if he was able to pluck a phone out of thin air, he didn't know Tony's number, and the thought of giving directions to where he was made him laugh. _I'm standing by this tree in the middle of this forest. It's a little browner than the others._ Somehow, he didn't think Tony would be able to figure out where that was, even though he knew he'd try his best. Twenty grand a year, for what amounted to about fifteen total hours of work, was a job that the guy put a lot of effort into keeping. Brian thought it was his only chance of having a good, stable income because Tony suffered from a strong case of autism. It made Brian feel good to help him out; he was a good guy after all.

Brian began walking, looking up occasionally to see if he could spot anything, anything at all, that could indicate where he was or how to get out of there. The more he walked, the more he hoped just to see a different style tree.

He made his way down a small hill, hoping he was getting closer to a water source. He was no survivalist, but figured water was more likely to be found at the bottom of a hill than the top.

Still, for the next mile, he couldn't see a creek or even a bush. Instead, only trees. Tree after tree after tree. He'd been awake for thirty minutes, and he was already damn sick of trees. He wished now that he was sitting on his patio, sipping a vodka lemonade, looking out at the water with a gorgeous woman next to him.

He reached in his pockets again, praying that his phone was there and that he'd just somehow missed it the first four times he'd checked.

It definitely wasn't there.

Brian continued down the hill. Why did it have to be so humid? The trees made it cooler, but the humidity had him sweating the water he so desperately needed to keep in. He wondered how he could even sweat when he felt this dehydrated.

He was careful to stay out of the sun as he made his way to the bottom of the hill. There wasn't a creek at the bottom as he was expecting, hoping. Instead, more goddamn trees.

He finally saw a bush and ran over toward it, hoping he might find some berries. He didn't care if they were poisonous or not, he was going to take the chance and eat them. That's what he told himself, at least.

It had thorns; that much he knew. As he was reaching in to look for berries, the bush cut his hand, making it bleed. The sight of blood made him nauseous. He pressed his hand against his suit, trying to get the bleeding to stop.

He realized the bush didn't have any berries, not even one. He was unsure if it was because it wasn't a berry bush, or because it wasn't in season for them to grow. Either way, it didn't matter.

He sat down and took a break to think about what he should do next.

He looked around, hoping to find any indication of where the best place to go was. After ruling out walking back up the hill, he still had three other directions to choose from. As he sat there, frustration set in. He wanted to get up and start kicking things. Why the hell did this happen to him? Why _him_? Yeah, he was a jerk at times, but no one deserved _this_. Especially with the wealth he had and the hundreds of people he could count on for assistance.

It was so damn frustrating. All the technology in the world to help get people out of trouble, and here he was, alone, with no way of communicating with anyone.

Once he'd gathered his strength, he got back to his feet. Doing so caused him to momentarily black out. This happened often when he stood up too fast. Not often enough that he'd ever mention it to a doctor, but it was a nuisance when someone was around and saw him stumbling. Usually he could blame the alcohol, and they'd laugh and forget about it.

Normally, his sight would return and everything would be fine. This time, it must have jarred something loose in his memory.

Because, all of a sudden, it was coming back to him.

## **CHAPTER 2**

****

Brian didn't know exactly how he got there, but at least he could now remember some of the events leading up to it.

It was a Tuesday. It seemed fitting that something as outrageous as this would begin on a Tuesday.

He remembered getting ready for work. On most days, he wouldn't have to be anywhere, but this day was an exception. He was selling a business that he'd started three years ago. When he thought back to it now, he laughed at the _ridiculous_ amount of money he'd made from it. He didn't know the exact figure, but if he had to guess, it was somewhere around ten million dollars. All he did was write a short ebook, describing how to make money online. Brian told only his closest friends, "If you want to make money online, make a book about making money online." It only took him a weekend to write it, then another six months to market it before it went viral.

On the Internet, once something took off, there was no stopping it. Soon, he was making more money than he ever thought possible.

Based on the success of the book, he then started an Internet marketing forum website. It was only seven dollars a year to join, and he had over twenty thousand subscribers. The best part about the forum business was that he literally didn't have to do anything except cash checks. The people running the site were all volunteers. They called themselves 'moderators,' but Brian thought of them as people without real social lives.

A few months prior, Brian had gotten an email from a major freelancing website, saying they wanted to buy his business. Brian knew he wasn't making nearly as much as he should on it. If he put forth any effort, he could go from receiving low six-figure annual earnings to at least a million dollars. Problem was, he was lazy and didn't want to. He had another income source. One that was far more profitable and easier.

Illegal trading.

One phone call every three months to a buddy he knew on Wall Street and twenty minutes of adjusting his investment portfolio, and his eight million-dollar investing account would get twenty percent returns per year. According to the math, that was $1.6 million he was making annually for two hours' worth of work.

Best of all, it was recession proof. His 'friend,' who he'd met at a lavish party at a bar near his home in Miami, got his cut in the scheme, a measly 10% of the profits. Brian was thankful that he didn't ask for more because he'd have no choice but to give it to him.

This little setup had worked flawlessly for five years now. Brian's life couldn't have been easier or more fun. It was one big party after another. Sometimes, it was at his beach house, which he bought for just under three million. Other times, it was parties at one of his millionaire friends' houses.

At least once every two weeks, he had a party on his yacht. He'd only paid a million for that. It wasn't as grandiose as his neighbors'. Brian called it his 'starter' yacht and planned on upgrading in a couple years when he had the money.

The yacht parties were always wilder than the ones at the house. There was something about being on a boat that made people do crazy things. He didn't know why, only that it was true.

Brian had thousands of different people attend his parties. It didn't take much marketing on his part to get people to come. All he needed to do was let a few of his closest friends know, and the message got out like wildfire.

Women. Sex. Drugs. Money. Brian was a modern day Gatsby. That was his life, and it was a life very much worth living.

He thought about the last morning he remembered. He was putting on his suit, ready to meet Freelance Inc. at their headquarters, which was only ten minutes from his house. He liked the guys running it, Dave and Paul. They'd been to many of his parties, and they threw some great ones themselves. Brian didn't know them well, but believed there was a compatible culture fit between them.

He remembered waking up at 10:30. Dave and Paul knew not to schedule the meeting before noon. He had breakfast and showered. Brian remembered being hungover from clubbing with a few of his closest buddies the night before. He'd gone home at 2 a.m., which was early by his standards, and he hadn't brought a girl home with him, which was another rare event. He just wasn't in the mood for it that night.

On a typical morning, Brian would wake up to one or more girls next to him. The maids were usually downstairs cleaning up the place. This particular day, though, there was neither. He had the whole morning to himself to get ready for the business meeting.

Dave and Paul were like him, but not _exactly_ like him. For one, they were about eight years older. Secondly, they still had some old-school mentalities when it came to business. When he'd gone there for the initial meeting, he felt out of place with everyone's corporate attire, executive desks, and cubicles. _Lots_ of cubicles. His collared shirt and shorts made him feel inappropriate and immature.

This time, he bought a new suit just for the occasion. As he was putting it on, he had noticed the tag was still stuck on it.

He was ready to leave, and then...

That's when Brian's memory went dark again.

He snapped out of his daze and into the forest surrounding him. He got up from the tree that he'd been lying against and walked forward, opposite the hill he'd come from.

His primal instincts were kicking on. This felt like the right direction to go. A burst of newfound energy picked up his step. He hoped for a lake or pond up there somewhere. Looking through the trees to the sky, he checked to see if there was any chance of rain, but there were only blue skies with not even a hint of a cloud.

He pressed on with his search to find water. He didn't have any way of tracking time, but felt he had to have been walking for about an hour. Lack of faith was beginning to creep in on what was once absolute confidence.

Brian didn't know how much further he could go. His headache had grown to the point where he could hardly even see ahead of him.

Then something happened. A sound he'd rarely heard before —water moving across rocks.

If he'd had any energy left, he'd have run. Instead, he dragged his legs toward the sound. It grew louder until finally his eyes confirmed what his ears heard.

A tiny stream.

When he put his hand in the lukewarm water, it was so shallow that he could barely submerge his hand. It was good enough, though. He took both hands and cupped as much water as he could, and he drank.

It was the best sensation he'd felt in his whole life. Better than a drunk threesome—ten times better.

He moaned as the water hit his mouth. After taking about ten sips, he got smart and stuck his face in, drinking straight from the creek. He felt like he could drink every last drop of it.

Once he'd filled his belly with enough water to make himself queasy, he looked around on both sides of the creek for some indication as to where it led. He didn't need to look far because about twenty yards ahead, he could see where it ended. There wasn't a pond or anything; it just kind of stopped.

He couldn't see where the creek began, but from the looks of it, it didn't look like it was far. Brian wasn't an expert in water sources, but he felt that this one was a little strange. He thought for sure it wasn't naturally formed here. It was, somehow, man-made.

He looked down at the creek's bottom for a closer inspection. Not knowing how to tell a natural one from a man-made one, it looked normal to him. If humans had dug it, it must have been done a long time ago, because all the rocks were smooth. He did know smooth rocks meant they'd formed that way from the water, over a long period of time. Jagged rocks would be a sure indication the creek was new, but that wasn't the case.

Now that he'd found a reliable water supply for the near future, he needed to find a food source. While the water helped his headache, his hunger pains still continued, and it affected his mood.

He was becoming more and more angry at having been thrown into these woods and not knowing how he'd gotten here.

He walked around, looking for a berry bush, or perhaps some nuts that a squirrel left over. He had seen squirrels on his walk to the creek, not many, but a few. They had to have gathered food from somewhere nearby, otherwise they wouldn't be alive. That was what logic was telling him.

Brian scoured every inch of the surrounding area, as far as he could go while keeping within sight of the creek. He didn't find food, though.

He thought he spotted an acorn lying on the ground. When he picked it up, it looked like a nut, but when he bit down hard into it, it didn't crack. Even though it was just one nut, his stomach would have appreciated even a few calories to help the immense hunger pains.

Brian thought back again to before he was in the woods. While he wasn't the healthiest person, especially at night during his wild parties, he'd always been into fitness. He loved going to the gym and looking good. It gave him confidence, which certainly helped him with the ladies.

Now that he was wealthy, he'd hired a dietitian to assist him with his meals. He liked eating out, and did so with friends often. When he was home, though, he wanted to eat the healthiest food that he could.

He knew he needed professional advice from someone that could go to the grocery and tell him exactly what to buy, how to store it, and how to cook it. So he hired Veronica Smith, the best dietitian in Miami, after finding her online. It was an easy sell; she was a super hot blonde in her early thirties.

When she came, Brian was also blown away by how intelligent she was. She clearly knew her stuff, which made her even more attractive.

It only took one night before they were sleeping together. Veronica made Brian throw out all the junk food in his house, but before that, he persuaded her to let him eat some of it off of her.

"Only if you promise to throw the rest out tomorrow morning," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin.

After that night, he did as promised. Then the following night, instead of chocolate syrup, he was eating fruit berries off of her breasts, which she approved of.

They ended up having a booty-call type of relationship that lasted a few months until they mutually parted ways. Brian was glad, because the whole kinky food thing was starting to get old, even though she had still been really into it.

Brian had occasionally asked for more traditional nutritional advice when he wasn't eating things off of her body. She had him eating five to six small meals a day, saying this was optimal to keep his energy and focus levels up. So that's what he did.

All of that was fine, and it did seem to help, except that it was quite inconvenient now, under his current circumstances.

He didn't know how long he'd been out there, but knew he'd missed at least a couple of his regular small meals, which was something he was unaccustomed to. For the past six months, since Veronica the Food Nympho had appeared in his life, he'd kept to a pretty tight eating schedule.

He needed food, and the dirt on the ground was looking more and more appetizing.

After walking and scavenging, Brian realized how hot he was getting. He'd kept his shirt on before because he thought that the sweat soaking into it would help keep him cool. Now he was ready to take the shirt off for good, because it was only weighing him down.

Brian began unbuttoning it, immediately feeling the relief of air hitting his skin. He closed his eyes so he could better feel the sensation. It wasn't until his shirt was all the way off that he opened his eyes and looked at the soaked garment in his hands. He wrung it out like it was a wet towel and laughed when he saw how much sweat dripped from it.

He decided to go back to the creek and take a much-needed bath. Getting all that sweat off would have to feel good.

As he headed toward the creek, he felt a slight tweak of pain in his upper chest. He looked down to see the cause, and his eyes bulged at his discovery.

There was a red puncture wound, as if he'd recently been given a shot.

At first, he was confused. How had he gotten _that_? He hadn't had a vaccination in years; he hated needles.

Then it all came back to him. The rest of the story of how he'd gotten to the woods began flashing through his memory.

## **CHAPTER 3**

****

Brian had gone to the meeting with Dave and Paul; he remembered doing that. He'd driven himself and hadn't bothered Tony since he'd assisted him on several late-night excursions recently.

When he arrived at their office, everything went the way he had expected it to. The office looked exactly like he'd remembered it. They sat in the same conference room. The only out-of-the-ordinary things he saw were the bottle of champagne on ice and the table of fresh fruit and hors d'oeuvres to celebrate the occasion.

Brian read through the paperwork. For something this official, he realized that he should have brought his lawyer. Dave and Paul must have thought he was immature for not having done so. He tried to make up for it by actually reading the printed material in front of him. He had really wanted to just sign it and get the heck out of there, but didn't want to look like a complete fool.

He also found himself hesitant, although he didn't know why. The acquisition, after all, meant little to him. He no longer cared about the business, and it was a mere fraction of his annual income.

Then the problem occurred to him.

Online Warrior Forum, the name of his site, was 100% legal and a legitimate business he'd built from scratch. Even though the earnings from it would never be able to provide him with the lifestyle that he wanted, he'd always thought of it as his fallback, should he ever decide the illegalities of his personal investments were no longer worth the risk.

Sifting through the material, he realized that he didn't understand most of the terminology throughout the fifteen pages of very small print. Had he been at home—and if he hadn't had two businessmen and their lawyer staring at him—he would have Googled at least twenty different words.

He decided he had to follow his gut; Brian had learned to trust his instincts at an early age.

"I'm sorry, guys. I'm still not sure this is what I want to do."

"Brian, it's perfectly natural to have some hesitancies about selling a business that you started. Believe me, I know," Dave said.

"No, it's not that," Brian said.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm just not sure I'm ready to sell. Besides, I really need my lawyer to look over this."

"We already sent these to your lawyer, per your request. He didn't contact you?" Paul chimed in.

"No."

"Well... I'm sure that means he didn't see any red flags. Feel free to call him now, though," Dave said.

Brian had taken out his phone, ready to call, but stopped.

"Guys... I'm sorry. I just need a few more days to think it over."

"A few more days?" Paul scoffed. "Look... we've been very patient with you through this process. You've rescheduled twice now. Are you going to sell us this business or not?"

Brian knew he'd rescheduled once. A buddy had invited him to Vegas for what turned out to be an epic weekend of partying, one of the best of his life. He was about to ask about the second rescheduling, but he could see the vein pulsing in Paul's neck. He looked like he was about to scream, and Brian didn't like confrontation.

"Just give me a couple more days. I promise I'll come in ready to sign then."

"You little shit!" Paul seethed.

"Calm down, Paul. It's okay. We'll give him all the time he needs, right?" Dave said, staring his partner down.

When he didn't answer, Dave got up and shook Brian's hand. "Sorry we couldn't reach an agreement today." He then walked Brian to the door while Paul and the lawyer stayed seated.

Brian was tempted to go back in and sign the papers, just so he wouldn't have to deal with another meeting like this again.

"Sorry about Paul. He's... passionate," Dave said once they got out of the door.

"It's okay, I get it." Brian said. "I don't know what's wrong with me. This is, you know, my baby."

"Completely understand. We've sold businesses before and know how stressful it can be."

Brian didn't say anything; he just shrugged. Dave broke the silence.

"Alright, well we'll hear from you in a couple days then?"

"Yes, definitely," Brian said, meaning it.

He walked to his car as fast as he could. He'd talk to his lawyer when he got back to see if he'd even gotten the papers or if Dave and Paul were lying about that. He wished that his night was free so he could think, but he was having about a hundred people over to his yacht. He'd planned on inviting Dave and Paul at the end of the meeting, but that obviously wasn't going to happen.

It was 1:30 in the afternoon, and he had told people to get there around 3:00. Few people would, of course, but he needed to be there to make sure all the booze and everything was to his liking.

Brian remembered getting home, still stressed from the meeting. He had thrown his keys down on the table by the door, as he always did. He'd already had a shower but thought about having another to help himself relax. As much as he wanted to forget about the meeting, he kept thinking about how heated Paul got. If Dave hadn't been there, Paul may have jumped over the table and killed him. Brian had never seen that side of him before, but then again, he'd really only been around him at his parties where it was hard to be in a foul mood.

He walked into the bathroom, about ready to shower, when he decided to call his lawyer first and get it out of the way. He reached for his phone, but realized he'd put it on the table by his keys. He didn't do that often, but it just showed how preoccupied his mind was.

As he stepped out into the main living room, he saw them. Two people, wearing all black from head to toe. He couldn't identify them, but based on their frame, they were both male and very similar in stature to Dave and Paul.

One of them had a gun, or what Brian had thought was a gun.

They fired, but instead of the loud noise of a gunshot, there was a swift "whoosh," the sound of something knifing its way through the air.

It had hit Brian in the chest, in the exact spot where he saw the bump now. He remembered falling backwards onto the ground, then reaching to where he'd been hit.

There was no blood, and he thought that was so strange. He couldn't feel anything other than numbness. Numbness that began at his chest and spread throughout his entire body. It wasn't long before he felt... odd, as if he was being put under for surgery.

He turned and saw that one of the masked men was right next to him, injecting him with something.

_How had he gotten there so quickly? He was on the other side of the room._

Whatever he had been injected or shot with quickly started to give him a carefree attitude.

Then everything went dark.

The next thing he remembered was opening his eyes and seeing the tops of the trees.

Brian shook his head, taking in this newfound knowledge. He inspected the wound further. A tiny hole had been pierced through his skin, as if a needle had gone through it. The skin around the puncture was red, about the size of a dime. It didn't look like a wound that would knock someone out cold.

He inspected his right arm, where the masked man had given him the injection. He looked and looked, but couldn't find where the needle had entered.

_Had he hallucinated that part?_

Brian thought anything was possible at this point. He had felt quite off almost instantly and was barely coherent when the man was at his side. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that his mind wasn't making it up. They had injected his arm with something, but why hadn't it left a mark?

Then he discovered it, a bump right at the top of his forearm.

Brian inspected it and, as he did, he thought about the two men again. _Were_ they Dave and Paul? From what he remembered, Dave was around 6'1" and thin, while Paul was shorter at 5'10" and more muscular. The masked men matched those descriptions perfectly.

Assuming it _was_ Dave and Paul, Brian wondered why they would do such a thing. He'd said he would get back with them in a few days. Paul certainly had the anger to beat the shit out of him on an impulse, but to do something as wild and elaborate as this? It didn't seem likely, and Dave wouldn't have been there to help him. You had to have a damn good reason to drug someone and leave them in the middle of a forest.

Brian realized he had no way of knowing if the masked men were Dave and Paul and wouldn't know until he got back home. He decided it wasn't worth thinking about anymore, not now anyway.

His stomach growled, as if to remind him of the _real_ problem he was faced with. His body needed food or he was going to die. He recalled reading somewhere that you could go without food much longer than you could without water. He'd found water. Now if he could just find food, he'd be able to at least live here a few more days until someone found him.

_Until someone finds me? What kind of attitude is that_ , he thought. _No one is coming to get me; I need to make my own way out of here._

That's the attitude he'd always had. The attitude he had been raised with.

"If something needs done, you best do it yourself," his dad always told him.

Brian wasn't sure if he believed that advice, because all the money he'd made had been from piggybacking off of other people's knowledge and expertise. But he was confident now that a helicopter wasn't going to fly over his head any time soon and take him away. For one, there was no way for anyone to see him through the thick trees. And secondly, this forest gave off a vibe he didn't like. The vibe that nothing good was coming from being here, which was completely opposite from the vibe he had in Miami, where nothing could go wrong.

He began walking back to the creek. All of this searching for food had made him thirsty, and he was far enough out that he was losing his sense of direction. The creek was almost out of view, and that was a mistake he most certainly couldn't make.

As he walked back, he thought more about the yacht party he'd missed. He wondered how long he'd been unconscious.

He knew he was drugged around 1:30. Factor in some time to drag his body to where he was now, that had to take an hour at least, so at the earliest it was around 3:00. The sun looked like it was at the top of the sky, signaling it would be noon, but was there much difference in the sun's location between noon and 3:00? He didn't think so.

However, his gut, again, was telling him it had taken a long time to get him to where he was now. While the temperature was about the same, it was way more humid now than it usually was in Miami. The weather felt different here, damp and moist, unlike anything he'd felt in southern Florida.

After momentarily losing the creek, he caught it in his sights again. Just seeing it made him thirstier.

He walked over with his head down, still thinking about how much he wanted to be back in his old life.

Then, when he was about fifty yards away from quenching his thirst, he heard something. It was so loud that he felt as if his heart jumped up to his throat.

He looked up to see his worst nightmare towering ahead. His first thought was to lie down, give up, and put himself out of his misery.

Standing next to the creek was a huge brown bear. It roared when it saw him, displaying its sharp teeth that were ready to carve into his flesh.

Then Brian's instincts finally woke up and screamed at him: _Run!_

## **CHAPTER 4**

****

Brian had never been more scared in his life. He stared right into the eyes of the bear as it hurtled toward him. Then, without conscious thought, Brian turned around and ran as fast as he could.

He could hear the bear grunting with each step as it came after him, closer and closer.

His mind began to calculate the number of seconds he had before the bear caught up to him. He knew that the moment it got its claws or teeth on him, it was over.

Brian looked for anything that would serve as a barrier between himself and the bear. It only took a second to find it.

One tree, unlike all the others, had branches that were within reach. He had to have walked by this very tree at some point during his search for food, but hadn't noticed it before. He'd been so focused on food that he hadn't paid any attention to the tree that could have given him a better view of where he was.

He ran for it, hearing the bear's snorts getting nearer. He felt that, at any second, it would snatch him.

Brian leapt up to the highest branch that he could reach. There were several to choose from, but he was able to get both hands firmly on a thin but strong branch. He scrambled to get his feet on a lower limb and hoisted himself up.

It all happened so perfectly, as if he'd practiced it a million times. He sped upwards, as if he were going up a ladder, and was anticipating the moment that the bear would make his leap up towards him. He thought it should have happened by now.

He climbed until he felt that there was no way the bear could reach him and then went another ten feet, just to be extra cautious.

When he finally got to a place where he was comfortable looking down, he saw the bear sitting, gazing up at him. It roared, standing on its hind legs, and their eyes met. The noise made Brian flinch, and he momentarily lost his grip on the branch, almost causing him to fall out of the tree.

His heart was racing; he thought he very well could have a heart attack right then. He watched to see what the animal's next move would be. It got up and began pacing back and forth, obviously frustrated that its next meal had escaped.

It pawed at the base of the tree. The bear was barely scratching it, but Brian could feel the tree move, showing just how massively powerful it was.

It then got on its hind legs again and leaned against the tree, this time with both its arms. Brian wondered if it would be able to climb up after him.

"Shit," he said, as the horror of the possibility sunk in. He had to hold on as tight as he could to keep from falling as the bear continued to ram its body into the trunk. Brian wrapped his arms and legs around the branch to better absorb the impacts.

"Stop. Stop. Stop!" he shouted over and over to himself.

Brian kept hold of the branch for several minutes as the bear continued to work on the trunk down below, but his arms soon began to tire, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold on. Adrenaline started to kick in as all the juice in his muscles began to run low.

"Please, just stop!" he yelled at the bear. "Go away!"

A few seconds later, he heard the animal grunt, and the tree went still.

Brian exhaled and felt a wave of relief as his muscles began replenishing. He guessed that, if the bear had continued for another twenty seconds, he would have fallen out.

The bear laid down about ten yards away. Brian sat up into a more comfortable position, making sure to keep his eyes on it in case it decided to try shaking the tree again or, God forbid, try to climb up.

For fifteen minutes, Brian watched as the animal hardly moved. His belly growled, reminding him of his desperate need for food. His heart began to slow down some, but he was still on edge. What was he going to do? What if the bear stayed there all night? There was no way he could get decent sleep up in the tree; it was hard enough to stay upright on the tiny branches.

Another fifteen minutes past, and finally the bear got up and began walking away.

"That's it. Keep going, you bastard," Brian whispered.

The bear wandered off, further out of the way. Brian began climbing down. He wasn't going to leave until he was sure that the bear was far out of the way, but in the meantime, he could at least get closer to the ground.

Then, as he took another step down, the branch he was standing on snapped off. He had to tighten his grasp on the branches above to keep his body from falling. He pulled himself up and looked down to assess where he could go next. It was a long step down to the next branch, a risky move that he had no choice but to make. He decided to take a break and prepare himself mentally before he continued.

He looked out through the forest and, to his horror, realized that the bear was walking back toward him. Had it heard him break the branch? It had been so far away that Brian doubted it.

It didn't matter one way or the other, because the bear walked back to the tree and flopped down on the ground, in almost the exact same spot it had been before. As it did, Brian felt the tree tremble.

"Damn it, no!" he muttered under his breath. He felt defeated, as if the animal was never going to leave. Why did it walk away, getting his hopes up, only to come right back?

Brian decided that he needed to do something, anything, to get the bear to move its ass away. He looked around and saw a thicker branch, on the opposite side of the tree, with stems hanging out from it. Without much thought, he jumped over to it. The carelessness of his action surprised him. Getting to the new branch was more dangerous than getting to the one below him, and he had been terrified of making that leap.

He scooted over to the object of his attention—a small, thick stem to break off. He yanked on it, but it hardly budged. It didn't take long before he realized it would take too much effort to break it free.

His plan had been to toss it as far as he could, in the hope that the bear would hear it and go running after it. It wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but it was the only proactive thing he could think to do.

He looked around for something else he could throw; there was nothing. Then he looked down at his feet and realized his shoe would make the perfect object.

He balanced himself and began removing his right shoe. He was scared that he would drop it, because he couldn't afford to mess this up.

Once he had successfully removed it, Brian got into position, wrapping his thighs tighter still around the branch. He gave one last look at the bear, which was still relaxing on the ground. Then, he gave his biggest boomerang throw and watched the shoe fly through the air, a good thirty yards away. The toss made Brian lose his balance, and he nearly fell off again. The shoe hit the ground with a loud thud. As soon as it did, the bear jerked his head over toward the noise, grunting. It stayed there, though, just gazing in the general direction.

"Get it. Go after it, you dummy."

But the bear remained. After a few seconds, it turned its head back around and began to lick its paw.

Brian didn't know what else to do.

Two hours later, Brian was still stuck on the same branch. The bear hadn't moved other than to lick his paws a few more times. _Didn't it get bored lying there?_ Brian thought. It wasn't like it was even sleeping. It just lied there, content to do nothing but waste Brian's time and lessen his chances of survival.

What he wouldn't give to have someone rescue him. He'd already changed his mind about getting out of there on his own.

He imagined a man wearing hunting gear coming out of nowhere, shotgun in hand, and killing the bear right where it was. What he wouldn't give for that to happen and to be rescued from this mess. The mere thought of it made Brian happier, which wasn't a difficult feat at this point. It didn't matter now if he was rescued or left there to survive on his own.

With time, again, to let his mind wander, he thought back again. He was more convinced now that it was the following day, which meant that he'd missed his own yacht party. There was no rule that said the party couldn't go on without him. His caterers weren't given the instructions "don't pass out drinks until I'm there." A few of his friends might have noticed he was missing. Emphasis on _might_. But they'd probably forgotten all about him once the party got going. Brian doubted that anyone would be concerned enough to do anything about it. The ones that knew him well would just assume he was having a ménage à trois in his beach house. Even then, it was hard to find people at his parties, with hundreds of people crammed together in a small place. It was possible that nobody had even realized he was gone.

The typical day after a yacht party, he'd get lots of texts from people saying how "awesome" or "epic" the party had been. Brian wasn't a dick and usually would at least respond with "thanks" or "lots more parties to come." Would people be concerned then, when he didn't respond? Again, he doubted it.

The more Brian thought about it, the more he realized it could be at least a week before anyone truly realized he was gone. After a few days, some people would begin noticing that he wasn't frequenting any of his usual parties, nor having any of his own. Brian was a free spirit, doing things whenever and wherever he damn well pleased. He didn't have any close friends, but thousands of okay friends that he met up with whenever _he_ felt like.

He then thought about the enemies he had. Who hated him enough to put him in a situation like this? Dave and Paul made the top of the suspect list, mainly because they matched the physical description of the masked men. But as he considered it, it just didn't make sense.

Online Warriors would be a big acquisition for Dave and Paul, but not _that_ big. They were both multi-millionaires already, and this deal was only around a single million. Someone had to be _really_ angry with him to do this, and a small business transaction gone sour didn't seem like a big enough reason.

There were a lot of people who hated Brian. That was true.

He'd slept with dozens of women who had boyfriends or even husbands. He never encountered any of the men, but some of them were bound to find out that it was him who had slept with their girl. That seemed like a more probable scenario: pissed husband found out that his spouse cheated and decided to take it out on Brian. Yes, that could have been it. Why there were two guys there didn't quite make sense in this scenario, unless the angry husband talked a buddy into helping out.

Then Brian remembered something else about the two masked men. It had taken mere seconds from when he first saw the men to the point that he was out cold, but the image he had in his mind was becoming more and more vivid.

The man that had injected the needle into his arm had an engraving on his chest, by his right pectoral. It had been hard to see because the logo was all black on the all-black vest. Brian hadn't had enough time to get a close look, but he did recall seeing the other man, who had been standing over the top of him, with a similar logo in the same spot.

The symbol had looked somewhat like fan blades, or maybe it was more like the Under Armour logo. Brian thought hard, but couldn't get a good visual of it. He thought he'd recognize it, though, if he saw it again.

It was pointless thinking, though, Brian decided. For now, anyway. He looked down and saw that the shadows were becoming more prominent. The bear had managed to turn its head to the other side, but that was the extent of its movement. It must have gotten bored with its view the past few hours and decided that a change of scenery was in order.

Brian knew the bear would have to leave at some point. After all, bears needed food and water just as much as humans did. The creek wasn't far away, but it was distant enough that Brian was willing to make a run for it and hide from the bear, if given the opportunity. If he got far enough away, maybe the bear would forget about him.

That was Brian's plan, the only one he had—out-wait the bear. The next time the animal left, Brian decided, he would make a break for it. He had to get out of there, because there was no way he could sleep in this tree.

He looked around, trying to see if there was another tree that he could climb up, one that might be more comfortable to sleep in and was safe from bears.

He spent the next thirty minutes looking at every tree, one at a time, but he couldn't find any. They all looked identical from the trunk up to his current eye-level. Thin trunks with nothing whatsoever to grab hold of for climbing. Even if he could, the branches on the other trees were worse than the one he was currently on.

This tree, this life-saving tree, was unique in an entire forest of similar trees.

Time passed, and his hunger came and went. There were periods of unbearable discomfort, mixed with half-hour stretches where he actually felt alright. During the bad parts, though, the fury in his mood was unlike anything he'd felt before. Many times he considered taking off his other shoe and throwing it at the bear's head. Brian knew that the chances of it hurting, let alone hitting, the bear were miniscule. It would feel good, though, to inflict _some_ pain on it. Maybe it would even feel threatened and leave. What was the point of having one shoe, anyway? Wouldn't it be better to just be shoeless?

Right as thoughts of doing this became stronger and stronger, the most unexpected thing happened.

A blast, as if a bomb had exploded, came from far in the distance. It made Brian jump, and when he looked down, it seemed to have scared the bear even more.

It got up, and much to Brian's delight, began running as fast as it could toward the noise in the distance.

Brian watched the bear run on all fours, amazed out how fast the big, heavy animal could go. He didn't have a speedometer, but he guessed the bear was moving as fast or faster than any human could.

It was only a minute before the bear was far out of sight.

With no reason to wait, Brian climbed down the tree. He needed to get as far away from there as he could.

## **CHAPTER 5**

****

As soon as Brian's feet hit the ground, he looked around for any other intruders. The bear was the only living thing that he'd seen since being in the forest, but chances were that there were other animals around, too.

Now that the bear wasn't waiting to eat him, Brian had hope again. Food was nearby; it had to be. The bear had to eat _something_ , after all. He just needed to find it, and fast, because his energy was running out.

First thing, though, he wanted to get his other shoe, the one he'd chucked in the direction the bear had ran. He felt stupid walking on the forest ground with his left foot in a Gucci shoe and his right in a fancy black sock. It just didn't feel right.

He walked in the direction of the bear and the noise. Brian could see a few of its tracks; it had been in such a hurry to go after that noise.

As he walked over to his shoe, he thought about what the blast could have been. It had sounded like a bomb, an ironically encouraging sign there were humans nearby. Whatever it was, it had been powerful to make a sound like that. He couldn't decide whether or not it was in his best interest to follow the noise, where the bear had gone, or if he'd be better served going in the opposite direction, where he'd just came from. He decided to move toward the noise.

He eventually found his shoe, but wasn't happy when he did. The bear, in its haste, had stepped on it with its big, vicious claws, tearing it to shreds. Brian picked up the shoe and, despite himself, had to smile at the extent of damage caused from just one bear step. He threw it down in disgust, having no need for it anymore, and started towards the creek. Brian filled up on water; he would have given anything to have a jug so he could go scavenging for food without constantly going back to the creek every time he was thirsty. He thought about taking off and filling his left shoe with water, but then noticed that it had tiny holes in the sides.

He did decide to do what he'd wanted to do earlier: take a bath. He stripped naked and got in. When he lied down, he felt greatly unsatisfied that he couldn't get his whole body submerged because of the creek's shallowness. He rolled around to get his entire body wet. Getting rid of the salty sweat made him feel much better. If the creek was deeper, he would spend some extended time soaking in it, but this was the best he could do.

Brian closed his eyes and listened to all the sounds that were heard in nature: the birds chirping, the rustling of the wind against the trees, occasional squeaks of bugs he'd yet to see. He couldn't help but smile, as this was nothing like what he'd experienced in Miami. It made him feel the part of him, buried deep inside, that was wired for these kinds of primal experiences.

He was still afraid that the bear would come back, so he opened his eyes back up. He called out to the universe to give him some kind of sign, some direction as to where he needed to go or what he needed to do to survive. He'd done this before, when he was struggling to find more income besides what he made from Online Warriors. He prayed to have a new business opportunity come to him, and it had the following night, when he met Charlie and launched his insider-trading career.

After Brian called out for help in the forest, he then waited. For the next fifteen minutes, he stayed there, forgetting his request for a sign.

But then it was answered.

Amongst the sounds of nature, he heard what sounded like footsteps. Brian jumped up, looking in the direction of the noise.

"Who's there?"

No response.

"Who's there!?" he yelled, but still nothing.

He got out and rushed to put his clothes back on. He looked for the tree he'd climbed, just in case the intruder was four-legged. It didn't sound that way, though. It was a crunch-crunch, like two human footsteps stepping on dirt and sticks, the same sound he made when he walked.

He slid his clothes on quietly so he could listen for more footsteps, and then he began walking in the direction of the noise. He would have given anything to have some kind of weapon on him, even a sharp stick that he could use to distance himself from the intruder.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Please come out if you're there."

Brian heard the desperation in his voice. He tried being more commanding, "I just wanna talk. I'm..." He was about to say "alone," but stopped himself in case it _was_ someone trying to do him harm. He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he stayed quiet.

He listened for more footsteps but there were none, and he began wondering if the noise had been a figment of his imagination. Brian seemed so sure, though, of what he'd heard. He'd asked for a sign, and that was what the universe had delivered.

He stayed patient and waited for any other sounds for several minutes, but ultimately gave up. Even though he hadn't seen anyone, he'd had the unmistakable sense that someone had been watching him. He no longer felt that now, but around the time of the footstep noises, there was no denying it. Whoever had been there was gone.

Brian didn't know how they'd left without making any more sounds, but he may have missed them when he was distracted with putting his clothes on. It had only taken seconds for him to get out of the creek and into his clothes, but those seconds were enough time for someone to get out of earshot. It seemed unlikely, but that must have been what happened.

Brian took a few more sips of water, making sure to drink away from where he'd bathed. He didn't think he'd be thirsty again for some time, so he began scavenging for food.

There really wasn't much he could do that he hadn't done before. He supposed he could start digging into the ground and maybe find a few worms. Yes, he was that desperate. He'd eat a goddamn worm, a whole handful of them if he could find them.

He began digging his hand into the dirt. The top layer was easy to sift through, but he couldn't go very deep; he needed a shovel.

As he crumbled the dirt in his fingers, he was unable to find a worm. He grabbed another handful, and then another. Nothing. No worm, bug, or anything of any kind.

Then he did it; he stuffed half a handful of dirt into his mouth. As soon as he did, he spit it out. It was too disgusting to eat, and his brain sent constant signals that it wasn't food.

Dirt was stuck in his mouth, and he tried to dig it out with his finger with little success. He walked back to the creek to rinse it out. That was the last time he would try eating dirt.

Brian looked up and noticed that the sun had set and was out of view. He wished he had a watch. All the shadows from the trees were gone, and he figured there was only an hour or so of daylight left.

He decided there wasn't much else for him to do in regards to food. He didn't want to stray far from the creek or the tree he could climb from danger.

Tomorrow, he'd have to lengthen his search for food. He had the idea to bring some rocks from the creek bed and set one down every hundred yards or so. That way, he could find his way back to the creek if he needed to. It seemed like a smart plan so he began gathering rocks. He'd leave first thing in the morning. If he kept in one direction, he thought he'd eventually run into some kind of food source, or even a new and better creek. He was confident in his plan, and more importantly, it gave him something to be optimistic about.

He piled up ten rocks that were just big enough to see, yet not too heavy to carry.

Once that was finished, he went to the tree he'd climbed and sat down beside it. He realized just how exhausted he was. Another hunger spell made it's way in his belly. Stress, hunger, and miles of walking had made for a very tiring day. He needed food, but he needed rest, too. Both were essential if he was going to make it out of this place alive.

He sat against the tree for half an hour, thinking again about how he'd gotten there. It was so crazy; never in a million years did he think something like this would happen to him. Third only to finding food and being rescued, the thing he wanted more than anything was to know who had done this to him and why.

The air cooled down fast. Before he knew it, the light faded and it was dark. It all happened in a matter of minutes.

The darkness was scary. He held out his hand and couldn't see it. He was unable to recall a time he'd been in such darkness.

His original plan had been to climb up the tree so that another bear wouldn't eat him in his sleep, but that idea was long gone. He'd break his neck climbing the tree now.

He didn't know how well he could sleep down here, with the constant worry of something coming to attack him. He told himself that, as dark as it was, bears may be unable to see anything either. He was unsure if it was true or not—it probably wasn't, since animals were so adaptable to their environment— but he convinced himself it was so that he'd be able to sleep.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. His survival instincts were in full force, listening for anything coming towards him. Eventually, he settled himself down, and in a matter of only a few minutes, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he'd almost forgotten where he was. Remembering sent a wave of depression over him. He wanted to go back to sleep and see if he could wake up to a different place.

It was still dark out, but when he held out his hand this time, he could see it. The sun was coming up.

Brian didn't have the energy to stand up. He'd only had half of a night's worth of sleep. In his normal life, he'd wake up, fall asleep, and wake up again multiple times in the morning. When you didn't have a job to go to, 'lazy Sundays' were every day.

He had let out a big yawn when he heard them again. More footsteps. Five or six of them this time, about a half football field away.

Brian looked toward where the noise was coming from, but couldn't see anyone. He got to his feet, fully alert now, waiting and listening. He felt like a predator stalking its prey, which was odd, because out here, he was more likely to be the victim.

He took a few steps forward, careful to be as quiet as he could. Step after step, he was soundless, listening for the intruder to make another sound.

Then Brian stepped on a stick and broke it, making a loud snap that reverberated through the forest.

_Shit!_ He screamed in his head. He stopped walking. He could feel someone there.

"Hello? Who's there?" Brian said.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the footsteps took off away from him.

Without thought, Brian ran after them. It was hard not to run into any trees, because it was so dark. It was also hard to chase after the sounds when he was making so much noise himself.

The footsteps were getting farther and farther away. He was afraid he'd lost them when he saw a shadow, or something that caught the corner of his eye, ahead of him.

Brian ran as fast as he could toward the shadow. He didn't slow down and merely hoped that his speed was faster than whomever he was chasing.

He ran and ran, but no longer saw the shadow. Also, he realized he didn't hear the footsteps anymore.

He stopped running, panting hard. Over his loud breathing, he listened for the footsteps again. Had they stopped to hide, or were they long gone?

He stayed frozen, listening for any indication of where they had gone, but there was nothing. He'd run as fast as he could for at least five minutes, running in all sorts of directions to avoid patches of trees. Now he was regretting leaving the creek. Why had he done that?

Brian lay down beside a tree, waiting for another sound. Deep in his heart, though, he knew it wasn't going to come.

An hour passed, and the sun was providing about as much light as it was going to that day. He looked in all directions, trying to figure out where he was. He couldn't find the creek, footprints, or any other indication of where he'd been. The direction of the creek could be anywhere.

He was lost.

He'd had a plan to discover food while still able to get back to the creek if he needed it. Now, that pile of rocks he'd wasted his time collecting would sit there forever. Brian decided then that his only option was to pick a direction and start walking. He'd found one creek... and a bear... and... a human?? At least, he _thought_ it was a human.

What he needed to focus on was nourishment; there were living things nearby, so food and water had to be close, too. It was up to him to find it.

And with no further thought, Brian began walking in the direction he was facing. No clue where he was heading. His hunger pains picked up, but he had to continue. His search for survival had only begun.

## **CHAPTER 6**

****

Brian hadn't been this scared since he first realized that he was in the woods. Now, he was much hungrier than he had been then and didn't have the faintest idea where he was headed.

In addition to the headaches and hunger pains, Brian felt dizzy and lightheaded. The trees in front of him began multiplying right before his eyes, and he was forced to lean against one of them.

He didn't need a doctor to tell him that wasn't good. Brian knew he was going to have some major health issues if he didn't get food and water soon.

As a boy, he remembered talking with his best friends, Marcus and Keith, about what the worst way to die was. Marcus had said drowning. Keith, who had a more imaginative mind, had said having your entire body paper cut and drenched in lemon juice, writhing in pain as you bled out.

Brian didn't remember what he'd said, but it was something he still thought about from time to time. What _was_ the worst way to die? He had never had a good answer—until now.

Dying alone of starvation and dehydration was a slow, painful way to go. That would have been obvious if someone had told him before, but as he experienced it first-hand, he began to realize how horrific it truly was. There wasn't a worse way to go; he was confident of that. It gave him extra motivation to continue his search, despite the fact he could hardly stand or see straight.

Brian kept walking, unsure if he was running around in circles. Being in a forest, it wasn't easy to walk a straight line since there were so many trees and other obstacles in the way. Doing this for hours was draining him of every last bit of his energy.

Then he took one more step, tripped over a stick, and collapsed onto the ground like a domino. Somehow the force of the impact spread evenly throughout his body. He laid there with no energy to get up.

_This is it_ , he thought. _I'm going to rot here and die._

He had picked a bad spot to fall over, because the sun was shining through the trees and directly down onto him. It felt like there was a magnifying glass between his face and the sun. The rays kept beating down, and it wasn't long until he couldn't take it anymore. He gathered the strength to bury his face in the dirt so that it was covered. When he did, though, the back of his neck felt like it was on fire.

This wasn't working. He had to get up, even though it didn't seem possible. Brian counted down from five and then pushed himself up from the ground. A rush of pain shot up into his skull, and it felt as though it was being split open. His headache had been bad, but this was the worst it had gotten so far.

He finally opened his eyes and looked forward. Up ahead, there was something peculiar. It had been a while since he'd seen anything other than trees and dirt.

He walked toward it, careful to keep from falling again.

Halfway there, he was still unable to quite make out what it was. If he hadn't been so dizzy, he thought he'd be able to tell.

It didn't matter. He got closer and finally realized what it was.

A tent!

A brown tent, as tall as he was and wide enough to fit a couple people, had been put up in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.

Brian was ecstatic to find a place where he could lie down for some much needed rest. Maybe that's what would save him—a good four-hour nap.

He unzipped the door and walked in. To his astonishment, it was even better than he had imagined. He felt like he was in his own personal fairy tale.

To his left laid a sleeping bag and a white pillow. On his right was something Brian wouldn't have imagined seeing out there in a million years. A box of Wheaties cereal was laying on its side along with five plastic water bottles, two of which were full. Brian fell to his knees next to them.

The first thing he did was twist off the cap of one of them and drink. He tried to do it slowly, thinking it was best to conserve water, but after a few big swallows, it was halfway empty. It took all of his willpower not to finish it.

He then picked up the Wheaties box. He had been pessimistic that there would be anything inside, but was thrilled to find that it was halfway full when he opened the package.

He grabbed a handful and shoveled it into his mouth, moaning with satisfaction. He hadn't had Wheaties since he was a kid, and he'd never liked it all that much, but today it was one of the best things he'd ever tasted.

Unlike the water, he didn't hold back on the food that his body so desperately craved.

He put handful after handful into his mouth, washing them down with an occasional sip of water. He decided he'd drink one full bottle now and save the other one for when he really needed it.

He couldn't slow himself down from eating if he tried. He felt like a vampire that had just tasted blood.

A couple of minutes later, the box was empty, and he was still starving. He was hungry enough to eat three full boxes, maybe even four, if they were available to him. What he had eaten, though, did make him feel better. The pains in his stomach were going away.

He glanced around the tent and saw clothes lying in the corner—a plain white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of flip-flops.

Brian longed to get out of his suit, which was the worst attire imaginable to wear in the woods. He undressed and put the new clothes on.

Both the shirt and shorts were slightly big on him, but they fit. The red sandals were the most exciting part to him. Being barefoot in the woods had been a nuisance. With every step, he had to be careful, avoiding anything that could tear his foot open.

Brian then laid down on the sleeping bag. The moment his head hit the pillow, he cried out with relief. He thought about how he had taken the little things in life for granted. Something as simple as a pillow made things so much better, and he had never fully appreciated it until he'd gone without it for a night.

Looking up at the top of the tent, he relished in how good it felt to relax. This was the first moment since he'd been in the woods that he truly felt like he could take a deep breath. Sure, he'd eaten his entire supply of food and would have to leave soon, but for the rest of the day at least, he could enjoy knowing he'd survive for a while longer—as long as another bear didn't sneak up on him and the owner of the tent stayed away.

Brian then thought more about the box of Wheaties. It was so strange that such a simple, everyday item was in a place like this.

Whoever put up this tent had access to the outside world. Brian checked the expiration date on the box; it expired eight months from now. That meant it had been purchased recently, if his understanding of cereal expiration dates was correct. This person had to have pitched this tent recently, which meant that he probably wasn't far from a town. Brian knew this wasn't an official fact, but his intuition told him it was.

After taking a long nap, Brian awoke feeling more refreshed. He decided it was time to explore the area and see if the person who had set up this camp had done so for a reason. He grabbed his final water bottle and tucked it between his hip and shorts, making his pants tighter since there wasn't a belt.

As he looked for more food and a new water source, he didn't see anyone or anything nearby. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The area he was in was similar to where he'd been before: a lot of trees, few bushes, occasional mounds and hills, but mostly flat. There were still birds chirping and the occasional rustling of a squirrel. Brian pocketed a couple acorns that he found at the bottom of a tree, so that was an improvement. He was unsure if he'd be able to crack them open, but the success of scavenging for food was enough encouragement for now.

After three hours, though, that feeling went away.

He had drunk the remaining bottle of water and still hadn't found any more food. So although he had a tent, he was out of water and only had a few acorns for his next meal.

The glee that there had been, when he first saw the tent and the possibility of meeting someone, was quickly slipping away.

It was early evening, and Brian realized that the tent was far in the distance. He figured he had better make his way back before sundown. Even though he hadn't found food, he wanted to get something positive out of the rest of his evening, and it looked like the best he could do was to get good night's sleep in the tent.

He made it back and sat there, in his cozy little home away from home. Brian noticed that, when he wasn't actively looking for resources, time seemed to stop. Life moved so slowly when there weren't computers, parties, and yachts to keep him occupied.

He didn't like it.

He wanted his old life back. There was a reason why he hadn't been out in nature for years; he didn't like getting his hands dirty. He was a city boy through and through. He'd always wanted and expected to be rich. That hadn't taken long to achieve, and it had been all that he'd dreamed it would be and more. Every day had been a joyous experience for him, living the life of abundance.

Nothing whatsoever gave any explanation as to why something like this would occur. He certainly hadn't wanted it. It went against the laws of the universe for something this terrible to happen to him.

He thought about calling out, screaming for anyone nearby to help him, but he didn't because he thought it was more likely to attract another bear than a human. So he stayed quiet.

He spent the rest of the evening in the tent, zipped up to prevent bugs and animals from sneaking in.

He knew that he would have to leave the tent in the morning. He could already tell that it would be too much of a hassle to take with him. How important was the tent, anyway? It was a convenience, sure, but a convenience that he could live without. He needed to find another creek and maybe some fruit trees. Miami had them everywhere.

Better yet, he hoped to find rescue, someone to bring him back to his old life. That was what he truly wanted.

Brian spent the rest of the night dreaming of someone flying in and taking him home. He thought that, if he wished and dreamed it and really believed it would come true, then it would. It had worked before in his life when he wanted to be rich. He demanded that it work again.

As he fell asleep, his positive thinking put him in a better mood. He was optimistic for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he'd wake up and finally get himself out of this place. That was his hope, at least.

Little did he know, the woods had no room for fulfilling someone's hopes and dreams.

## **CHAPTER 7**

****

Brian awoke to terrible hunger pains and a dry mouth. He'd give anything to be home and to be able to go downstairs to eat his huge bowl of fruit and scrambled eggs with a cup of coffee out on the patio, looking out over the pier. He loved seeing his yacht, which was parked off in the distance so that it didn't block his view.

He unzipped the tent, taking in the fresh sunshine. It was already starting to get hot.

He kept telling himself to truly believe that he was being rescued today. That made decisions, like whether or not he should take the pillow, easier. Doing so would be telling the universe that he lacked the faith that it would give him what he wanted, so he left the pillow in the tent.

He stood there for several minutes, closing his eyes, asking for a sign to show him which way he should go or what he needed to do.

At first, there was only silence. Then, with his eyes still closed, he heard something behind him.

He opened his eyes and saw a squirrel lying on the ground; it must have been scratching and clawing its way down from a nearby tree. Now it just lay there, motionless.

Brian couldn't believe what had just happened. _Now that was strange,_ he thought. He walked over to the squirrel, which still hadn't moved. As far as he could tell, it was dead.

"How in the hell..."

Brian had seen a few squirrels in the past and was amazed at how effortlessly they moved up and down trees. It seemed impossible that one of them could fall, but that proved to be untrue.

He inspected the squirrel more closely, looking for any reason why it had collapsed. Its claws were big and sharp. There were no wounds of any kind. Nothing stood out as out of the ordinary.

_Strange_. This wasn't the kind of sign he had been expecting from the universe. He thought he'd get a bird chirp or something like that, but who was he to judge? He knew the direction he needed to go now—from where he was standing towards where the squirrel had fallen.

It wouldn't have been his first direction to go. He'd already walked a good distance that way yesterday and knew there wasn't anything for the next several hundred yards, but he had to trust fate that this was where he needed to go.

The real question then became: should he take the squirrel with him? He really didn't feel like carrying or even touching the disgusting animal, one that might be carrying some kind of disease. It was a food source, he had to admit, but Brian didn't think there could be much meat on this tiny animal. Besides, he didn't have a clue how to build a fire, and taking it would also send another signal that he didn't trust the universe. So whether the reason was because he really didn't want to or because he thought it was helping fate, he decided not to take the squirrel with him and left it there for nature to take its course.

It wasn't long before the tent was out of his sight. There was no turning back now. Brian felt like time was ticking faster than ever; he needed to find a way out, and soon, because he couldn't handle being without resources for much longer.

He kept to a straight line through the woods as best as he could. For the next hour, he didn't find anything that was worth stopping for.

Then, as he crossed over a small hill, he finally saw something besides more trees and nothingness. Brian ran, as best as he could in flip-flops, to the gap in front of him. He was unable to tell what it was yet, but felt that anything different was good at this point.

Once he got past the last layer of trees, he saw it. After spending a day and a half of exploring, he'd begun to think this forest was never-ending, but here it was.

A huge cliff.

Down below, he could see a river that was at least thirty yards wide. It went as far to the left and right as he could see. Beyond that, the forest continued for miles. Far in the distance was a mountain.

Brian looked down, trying to find a way that he could get to the river. Jumping now would likely be suicide. The river _looked_ deep, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to find some way to safely get himself down there.

Brian paused for a moment to take in the spectacular view. It brought a smile to his face, but it also gave him new concerns. Seeing what he did, he now knew that this place was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The trees below were unlike anything he'd seen in Florida, and he'd flown over the state countless times. Nor was it like anything he'd seen in the U.S. It was more like a jungle, something he'd imagine seeing if he traveled across the Congo.

"Where am I?" he said out loud.

The jungle began right on the other side of the river behind a tiny beach. He had to find a way to get there. He leaned over the cliff and saw that, if he kept walking to the right, he could go down the hillside. He had a lot more walking to do, but at least he knew there was light at the end of the tunnel. Hope—that was all he needed. It was amazing how much a little optimism could do. The universe was giving him an appetizer. It still hadn't delivered a ticket out of here, but at least it gave him a way to survive until the main course arrived.

For the next hour, he walked in the direction he had set. He'd walked more in the last couple of days than he had in the last five years.

Brian looked extremely fit, but it was more of a façade. He had done some lifting and sprint workouts, but he wasn't nearly as fit as he looked. He'd dipped into some supplements that weren't exactly available over the counter. It was one of those 'friend of a friend' things; a guy named Judd, who he'd met at the gym, hooked him up with what he called "steroids without the side-effects."

Brian took them, and they worked fantastically. He'd gained fifteen pounds of muscle in a month, which was his initial goal when going to the gym. He was smart, though, and stopped taking them after that initial great success.

Judd had continued taking them and had become huge, which made Brian jealous. He couldn't believe Brian had stopped. For six months, he had great results. No acne, uncontrollable rage, or smaller testicles that one normally got with prolonged steroid use.

However, after those six months, Judd had kidney failure and had to have his right kidney removed. Brian never saw Judd at the gym again and was thankful he'd stopped when he did, before the 'non-existent side-effects' took over.

Brian stopped to take a break. There was a big rock leading out over the cliff, which had an amazing view. He sat down, his feet dangling over the edge. He'd always been scared of heights, but this view was too beautiful not to take in.

As he did so, he noticed something he hadn't seen before. Further to the right, far in the distance, was a gap in the trees. It was the only break in the miles upon miles of forest. It was cut out in a perfect circle, and there was smoke rising from the center.

He couldn't see much of the inside because the tops of the trees were blocking it, but Brian knew that the circle had been man-made. Trees just didn't form clearings like that with such precision. The smoke only reaffirmed those beliefs.

He told himself he was, perhaps, drawing far-fetched conclusions, but it didn't feel that way. There was something very mysterious about that place. His instincts were screaming to him that he needed to go there.

He looked down again, assessing the jump into the river. It wasn't nearly as high as it had been a mile ago, but still not quite close enough that he thought it was safe. If he knew for a fact that the river was deep enough, he'd consider making the leap. Without that knowledge, though, he thought it was best to take his chances of finding a place where he didn't need to jump at all.

He turned around and continued his walk, looking for such an opportunity. He needed to go in that direction, anyway, if he was going to find the place with the smoke.

_It should be easy to find_ , he thought. Head in the direction of the smoke and within a few hours, he'd be there. Brian couldn't help but let his mind wander. A village of people, a pig roasting, and everyone getting ready to eat all the pork and bacon sandwiches their bellies could hold. He could handle living like his primitive ancestors for a few weeks. As long as there was food, water, and no threats to his survival, he would think of it as a free adventure vacation.

His investments didn't need updated for another month, and it wasn't like they'd fall apart if he didn't get to them. They would still do well, just at a much higher risk. The worse thing would be upsetting and losing Charlie, his insider contact, but Brian was good at both persuading and charming when he needed to be. Charlie would get a good laugh out of Brian's situation when he explained it.

While Brian was lost in his daydream, he stopped paying attention to what he was doing in the woods.

"Oww, damn it," he said. On his forearm, he saw that a hornet, or maybe a wasp, had stung him. A couple others were swarming around him.

When he looked down, he panicked. He was standing right next to a goddamn nest on the ground. It must have fallen from the tree. He decided they must be hornets, because they looked just like the ones he'd seen growing up.

Brian carefully moved his foot out of the way, hoping not to disturb any of the other thirty or so that were swarming around. Right as he picked his foot up, another one stung him, this time in his neck. He jumped and lost his balance, which resulted in him stepping right on top of the nest.

In that moment, a lot of things happened at once. Another sting, then another, and another. Thirty hornets became a hundred in short order. The nest had been full of them.

Brian ran as fast as he could out of there, but he wasn't fast enough. They were swarming him now, stinging him on his legs, arms, and face. He even felt stings inside his shirt. He ran, swatting them with his hands as he did, screaming.

Instinct told him to run towards the cliff he'd just been at. Yes, that was what he needed to do to lose them. He sprinted to the cliff, still getting stung repeatedly.

Without any pause to consider what he was doing, he leapt.

In midair, with all the adrenaline that was flowing through him, he thought he'd jumped too far and would land over the river. When he looked down, though, he saw that he'd done it just right. In fact, if he hadn't leapt as far as he did, he would have hit the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.

He crashed hard into the water below.

## **CHAPTER 8**

****

Brian was surprised at how little resistance the water gave as he entered. He sunk down twenty feet before stopping when he hit bottom. His right leg took the brunt of the fall, and he thought he felt it snap.

Broken leg or not, he had to swim up. He could feel the pressure of the water against his head, especially in his ears. As fast as he could, he swam up. If he'd known better, he would have taken a deep breath before entering the water. Instead, his lungs were empty.

He was afraid that he wasn't going to make it. His lungs burned and screamed for air. Despite the pain, he kept swimming up to the light.

Then, he got to the top and gasped. It was the greatest breath he'd ever taken.

Brian had never been good at treading water, so once he'd caught his breath, he swam to the bank. He had to swim using only two arms and his one good leg, because his right leg no longer wanted to move at the knee.

When he got to land, he laid flat on his back with his arms and legs spread out, sucking in more air. He looked up at the bright, blue sky. The sun beat down on his wet skin. It was so beautiful.

Then the pain started.

The hornet stings began to throb all over his body, literally from the top of his head to his feet. In a dozen different places, he could feel the pulsating pain.

Not knowing what else to do, he sat up. The redness was spreading over his arms and body. His skin swelled around each sting. Brian had always had a great immune system, rarely getting sick, but his body had its work cut out for it this time.

After he assessed all the damage, he actually felt thankful. He'd thought he had been stung a lot more than he was.

He recalled the time when he'd been stung as a kid. His mom had immediately taken him to the bathroom, grabbed a pair of tweezers, and removed the stinger. Since he didn't have a pair of tweezers, and wasn't planning on having them anytime soon, he began picking at the wounds with his fingers. It gave him something proactive to do to keep his mind occupied. He worried that the number of stings he had could lead to serious consequences. That much venom in his body couldn't be good.

He began with the sting in his forearm, which hurt the worst by far. He figured it was because the hornet had more time to really sink its stinger into him. The one in his neck hurt, too, but he'd been fast to swat that one away. The rest of the stings came while he was running, and the hornets must have been unable to get him as well as they'd wanted to. For that, he felt fortunate.

He worked on it for several minutes and was eventually able to get the minuscule stinger out. He held it up to look at it, barely believing that this tiny object could inflict so much pain.

Most of the others were much easier to remove; some had even fallen out on their own.

He rolled his body over to the river, careful not to bend his right knee, and rinsed away some of the residue. The water looked clean, so he cupped his hands and took a drink. It tasted clean, too!

Now that he had a moment to think, he realized that his plan had worked, even if it _was_ at high risk. The hornets hadn't followed him down here, and he'd accomplished his goal of getting to the river.

With the sun out in full force now, Brian got to his feet, keeping his right leg straight, and hopped over toward the trees for some shade. Once he stepped in, he saw some of the most glorious things he could have imagined—banana trees!

There were dozens and dozens of them, each filled with more than enough bananas to eat. They covered the ground, from green to yellow to brown. He didn't need a course in scavenging to tell the good from the bad. Brian picked up a yellow banana, unpeeled it, and stuffed it into his mouth. His stomach, which he had gotten good at ignoring, was pleased that it was finally being given real food that it was accustomed to.

Bananas weren't his favorite, but it didn't stop him from eating them. He collected a pile of good-looking ones and sat under a tree to enjoy his feast.

He felt relieved now that he had food _and_ a water source right in the same place. He knew he'd eventually get sick from eating a diet of only bananas, but they'd do well for now.

Brian ate eight of them before his belly was full. He didn't know if it was because he ate so many, or if one or more were spoiled, but he started to feel nauseous.

He lay against the tree, his forehead sweating; it wasn't from the heat. He put his hand against his head and realized that he was feverish.

The pain in his body increased where he'd been stung. Brian thought it was his body's way of telling him it wasn't the bananas, but the stingers that were causing all the pain.

If he was in Miami, he would have called an ambulance and been on his way to a hospital. What he wouldn't give to have world-class medical treatment now.

He tried to get comfortable, but it was difficult. His body needed rest, but it was hard with all that had gone on. His adrenaline was still pumping from running away from the hornets. Even thinking about it spiked his heart rate. He never wanted to see another hornet again.

He closed his eyes, trying to relax. On top of the mild fever, he also felt dizzy. The nausea was picking up, too. Brian tried to fight it off for several minutes, but eventually lost his banana lunch.

He realized that throwing up sober was a lot worse than when he was drunk. He'd rather have been stuck in a tree with a bear below him than put up with this.

He was still hungry, but couldn't bring himself to eat another banana—not yet, anyway.

He created a pillow out of some of the nearby fruit and rested his head. Whether from exhaustion or fainting, he quickly fell asleep.

When he woke up, he didn't know how long he'd slept. Not having a clock was frustrating. He had tried to become more aware of the sun's location, but to him, it always seemed to be in the same place for the majority of the day.

His belly growled again, so he attempted to eat a few more bananas, even though they didn't sound appetizing.

He was able to hold them down this time and after he ate, he went to the river for a drink of water.

Then he wondered if it was the water that had gotten him sick earlier. It looked clean, tasted clean, but he didn't know what kind of diseases could be swimming around in it.

Brian decided to take his chances and drink from it anyway.

Bending down accentuated the pain in his right knee; being unable to bend it was a nuisance.

He tried walking, but eventually got tired of limping around, and his fever began to signal him to take it easy. He went back to his tree and sat there, having nothing better to do.

Brian tried to recall anything else that his memory could conjure up from the past few days. He remembered getting a text message from Sara, an old fling he'd had. She told him she was coming to his party with some friends and was hoping for some alone time with him. It came across as needy and desperate, just the way he liked girls being toward him.

Brian had played hard to get, hinting that it was a possibility. The truth was, he was pretty excited for some of the dirty possibilities. Sara was a super hot redhead. A bat-shit crazy personality, but an incredible, pale body with amazingly soft skin. Just thinking about it got Brian hard.

He had been perfectly fine with their booty-call relationship, but the last time they were together, she'd said she wanted more, which was why it had ended between them.

Brian felt depressed as he thought about how, instead of banging Sara in the captain's cabin of his yacht, he'd spent the night hiding from a bear.

His thoughts then turned to the person he thought was spying on him in the woods on the first night. Despite never actually seeing anyone, he was sure someone had been there. He'd definitely heard footsteps and was sure they were human. He'd also seen a shadow, further convincing him that it wasn't all in his head.

Then, all of a sudden, for no apparent reason, he had a flashback to an event that happened almost a month ago. He remembered it vividly.

Being wealthy, most of the daily mail that he received was junk—just like everyone else, except now he got ten times more of it. It was hardly worth the effort to even get his mail anymore. His neighbor had signed up for a digital delivery service, where all his mail would automatically be opened, scanned, and emailed to him. Brian had been looking into that before he was kidnapped.

On this particular day, he had gone to get his mail. There were a few pieces of random junk, which he ignored, but then there was something else.

A small, white envelope. No name, address, or postal stamp on the outside.

If Brian had taken the time to think about it, he wouldn't have opened it, in case it was filled with anthrax, but he was hungover and not thinking straight.

He opened it up, and there was a sentence written on very fine, white stock paper. The message was simple:

_Your wish will be granted._

__

That's all it said, centered in fancy typed letters.

Brian had little time to deal with crazies, so he threw it away and it hadn't crossed his mind after that. What struck his memory now, though, was a detail that he'd paid little attention to before. It was the image on the back of the message. A logo. No ink, just the embossment, pressed into the paper.

He hadn't made the connection until now; it was the same logo that had been on the vests of the two men that had taken him. Their logos didn't have any colors associated with them, but it was the same design. He remembered it more clearly. It was almost like a swastika, but with more lines to it.

He sat up, wondering if it was true that the logos were the same or if his mind was making things up. Brian was confident, though, that they were identical designs.

That brought up a whole new set of questions. First of all, what the hell did "Your wish will be granted" __ mean? What wish? He had wished a lot of things, but being chased by bears and stung by hornets wasn't one of them, and never in a million years would he wish to be anywhere near a forest.

Second, why send that message to him at all? If the same people that captured him had sent him the message, it was telling that the message had arrived a month before. That meant it was much less likely that Dave and Paul had done this to him, which wasn't that big of a surprise. They were two successful entrepreneurs with better things to do than tie people up and throw them in the woods over a petty situation.

No. Whoever did this must have a much bigger problem with Brian; but who?

He couldn't even begin to think of who could hate him that much. The people that _should_ hate him most were a group of individuals on Wall Street. Those he bought stocks from at a low price and sold when they were high. Or, in most cases, bought high when he knew the company was in major trouble. With stocks, he could make a lot of money if he knew for sure which direction a company was going to go.

When he finally got out of the forest, he would find out who did this. That and make some serious upgrades to his security. He would be more than happy to spend a few hundred thousand a year on bodyguards to make sure he never saw a forest again.

Brian spent the rest of the day relaxing and recovering. He wanted to do more exploring, but his knee was still in pain. He'd also started to feel nauseous again. The redness from the hornet stings was spreading, and the wound on his forearm looked like it was infected.

Something like infection had never worried Brian before. After all, he could rub some Neosporin on it or, in the worst case, go to the doctor for more heavy-duty stuff. Being out in the jungle, though, he knew small infections could lead to very bad things. He remembered Veronica, his dietitian, talking once of all the various ways people died in the Paleo era. It was initially a tough sell for Brian to go on a diet that was used by people who rarely made it to their fifties, but Veronica said that was mostly due to the lack of modern medicine.

After she had finished describing life back then, he was glad he hadn't lived during those times. Simple surgeries and medicines today prevented countless deaths. Now that he was in the jungle, though, his forearm was really starting to worry him.

There was nothing he could do about it, of course, so he decided to ignore it. That was his favorite way to deal with problems—pretend they didn't exist.

Night fell quickly, as it had before. It was hard to sleep, not knowing what all was out in the jungle. The various sounds of the forest were different down here, which Brian didn't take as a good sign.

He hoped he'd feel better tomorrow so he could do some exploring. While he was much more at ease knowing he at least had bananas to eat, it wasn't something he wanted to live off of for very long.

He'd demanded that he be rescued, and it hadn't happened.

Brian prayed again, telling the universe he was a patient man, and would give it twenty-four more hours.

## **CHAPTER 9**

****

Brian had a rough night of sleep, constantly woken by the sounds of the jungle. At one point, he thought he had felt a tiger or bear walk right by him. After that, it had been impossible to fall back asleep.

Morning came and he stood up without thinking. He realized that, aside from a dull ache, his knee was _much_ better! His fever had gone down, too, and there was no nausea. Physically, he felt great, which meant that the river water wasn't disease-ridden.

Brian ate three bananas, had a few gulps of river water, and then began exploring.

He first looked for footprints, but couldn't find any. He didn't think that the sound of something brushing against the trees and ground had been a figment of his imagination, but the ground was soft, and if there had been an animal, the prints should have been easy to find.

Going deeper into the jungle, it didn't take long for him to realize that it was _much_ different here than in the forest on top of the cliff. That forest had been easy to walk around, but now he was in a scattered mess of forestation. He had only gone about fifty yards in when he knew it wasn't going to work out. He'd get lost if he went further, which was the last thing he needed.

He'd also seen a web with a _huge_ black spider—the size of two fists—hanging from it. It was, by far, the biggest spider he'd ever seen. That had been the final straw that prompted him to turn around and get back to the river. He felt defeated, going back. He hated himself for it.

When he had been looking out over the cliff, it looked like it would be a short, easy walk to the circular opening in the jungle. Now he knew it was nearly impossible to get anywhere without a bulldozer to clear a path. He was going to have to stick with surviving by the banana trees on the river.

When he got back, he picked up a few pieces of the fruit and stuck them in his pocket. He tried to ease the tension, saying to himself, "Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

He wished he still had the water bottle from the tent, but that had disappeared when he dove into the river. It would've been so much easier to drink from that than from his hands.

Brian followed a path by the river. He told himself repeatedly that he just needed to buy himself time, to survive as long as he could, and eventually someone would come to rescue him.

He walked a couple of miles up the sandy shore, not seeing much of anything. He reminded himself that, if he wanted to go back, he faced another two miles of walking. Brian weighed the pros and cons of being safe and turning around or pressing forward, hoping to find something better.

Then at that moment, his decision was made up for him, because he saw something up ahead. He was unsure of what it was, but knew it was worth investigating.

As he got closer, he began to get excited. He couldn't tell exactly what it was until he stood right next to it. He covered his mouth.

A dead hog was lying there, most of its body torn to shreds. He wouldn't have been able to tell that it was a hog if it weren't for the head, which was untouched. A hundred or so flies swarmed around it. The smell was rancid. Brian didn't think he'd ever be able to think of bacon the same way again.

As he glanced around nearby, he noticed a black pit, a campfire! There weren't many ashes left, but it was definitely a standard campfire. He looked over toward the jungle and saw what looked like bed sheets and a cluster of sticks, positioned to hold it up. It looked like someone had attempted to make a tent.

Brian looked around to see if anyone was nearby. He was excited by the prospect of meeting someone, and he wondered if this person was in the same situation as he—thrown out in the jungle, left for dead.

He didn't see anyone, so he looked for footprints instead. Sure enough, this time he caught something—a human print! A few of them, in fact. He put his foot beside one of the tracks; they were about the same size.

Unlike Brian's bare feet, though, this person had what appeared to be hiking boots. _How convenient._

The footprints led further down the river, so Brian followed them. He noticed that there were several tracks coming to and from the campsite. The person must not have gone farther down the beach, because Brian hadn't seen any other prints until he got here.

Brian continued to follow the tracks. When a clear path into the jungle appeared, it was obvious where they were leading. The trail had been carefully carved to make it easier to enter. It wasn't done by machine. Instead, it looked like someone, or several people, had taken a machete and slashed any branches or shrubs that were in their way.

It was narrow, barely wide enough for him to follow, but it was the only way to get deeper into the jungle.

As he walked, careful not to step on anything, a snake slithered along in front of him, not noticing he was there.

Brian was about to scream but caught himself. Spiders scared him, but snakes downright terrified him. He'd never seen one in the wild before, only in a zoo as a kid, and his father still teased him about how he cried the entire time they were at the park.

The snake in the jungle was thin and yellow. Brian remembered learning in a biology class that snakes didn't have to be big to be lethal. In fact, some of the most poisonous snakes were small.

Bottom line, Brian thought that, if it moved in the jungle, it could probably kill him. It didn't matter if it was a snake, a spider, or something that looked as harmless as a ladybug. It was survival of the fittest. Animals and insects without any defense mechanism would be extinct out here in short order.

Seeing the snake tempted Brian to go back to the river. It hadn't occurred to him until now, but if he could find a way to fish, he could live a long time on fish and fruit.

He was surprised by how quickly his primal instincts were kicking in. Intuitively, he was figuring out how to survive in the wild, without the Internet or an instruction manual to guide him. He still very much wanted out of here, but he was slowly growing more confident that he could survive out here if he had to—assuming that the infection in his forearm went away, which he thought it would, because it didn't look any worse than it had yesterday.

He continued forward, following the path for at least a mile into the jungle. It wasn't a straight route, often requiring him to swerve to avoid thick shrubs or other forestation. The further Brian went, the more convinced he was that the path led to the opening he'd seen from the top of the cliff. He thought if the path did, in fact, keep going in this direction, then he was sure to get there soon.

Now that he had a deeper understanding of what the jungle was like, he realized that the creation of that big clearing must have taken the work of machines, or thousands upon thousands of hours of manual labor.

The further he went, the more excited he became at the possibility of coming to the opening. He wondered if someone had seen the clearing as he had and carved this path until they got there.

He was imagining himself meeting people who could explain to him what was going on. It would feel great to finally get answers. His daydream brought a smile to his face.

Then the fantasy ended as, up ahead, the path ended abruptly. He wasn't going to get to the opening.

That was disappointing, but not nearly as upsetting as what Brian saw at the end of the path.

Where it stopped, there sat a giant pool of blood. Lots and lots of blood.

## **CHAPTER 10**

****

Brian bent down and inspected the blood; it was dry. There was no way to tell if it was from a person or a large animal; all he knew was that there was a lot of it.

He looked around, trying to find a clue as to where the blood was coming from. He finally found one when he circled back around.

Underneath some shrubs, there was a gap that was wide enough for someone to get through. It was also where the trail of dried blood led.

He got down and squeezed through the opening. Doing so reminded him that his knee hadn't fully healed yet.

Once he got through, he saw that the path continued. It wasn't as clear as the first one, but the blood continued along it. Whatever had been killed had been dragged this way.

He followed the trail for about a hundred yards. The further Brian got, the more uncomfortable he felt. There came a point where he wasn't even sure if he was on the path anymore, as the blood streaks had faded into—nothing.

There were no longer any cut off branches or bushes, but he kept going, curious to see where it would lead. Was _this_ the way to get to the opening he'd seen?

Brian looked down as he walked, careful not to step on anything with his bare feet. As he did, he saw something that gave him a jolt—a machete!

He picked it up and saw that it was covered in dry blood. It was the same dark red color that he'd seen on the ground, suggesting that it was what had killed whatever had been over there.

The edge was dull, likely from overuse. He tested it on a nearby branch and cut through it after a few tries.

Brian held the machete in his hand, wondering what exactly it had killed. An animal made the most sense. He had just seen a mutilated hog by the river, but this blood trail wasn't from that. Something else had been slaughtered.

He looked ahead and saw that there was nowhere else to go. If he went further, he would be trusting dumb luck that he'd know where to go and what to do, and that was a risk he was unwilling to take. Not out here, where there were a million different things that could kill him.

Instead, he turned around to go back, but when he did, he couldn't find the trail. Panicked, he searched, but he had no idea where he was. He looked for his own footprints to no avail.

After murmuring a few choice words to himself, he took his best guess and walked in the direction from which he thought he'd come. As he did, he spotted more blood on the ground and knew he was headed in the right direction. He sighed with relief. He wanted to be back at the campsite with his endless bananas, water, and safety.

He picked up his pace, thinking he'd soon be in the gap where the blood trail began, when he heard something.

It wasn't the usual clatter of the jungle that he'd learned to tune out; this was different. Something big was lumbering its way toward him. Then, there was a deafening roar, a sound that Brian had never heard in his life.

It sounded like it was a comfortable distance away from him... or was it? Brian wasn't going to take his chances. As luck would have it, there was a tree next to him that he could climb. He did so as fast as he could. He was unable to get very high, but ten feet would be out of reach from most predators. Based on the sound, though, he wasn't sure if it was enough. He didn't want to find out.

His view from the tree was limited. There were too many trees and shrubs in the way. If he wanted to see more, he'd have to get much higher; on this flimsy tree, that wasn't something he wanted to do.

He stayed quiet, listening as the beast moved ahead. This thing had to be huge—no doubt about that. Images flashed in Brian's mind of a T-Rex, stomping its way through the jungle. He certainly hoped it wasn't that! But after all that had happened over the past couple of days, nothing would surprise him.

The beast got closer, and then it stopped. Brian froze, wondering if this was the calm before the storm, wondering if it would burst through the shrubs, poised to attack him.

He could feel every molecule in his body, every bead of sweat resting on his arms and head. Brian held the machete out, praying he wouldn't have to use it.

_Go away. Go away. Go away._ He begged.

Then, another deafening roar. Brian flinched and covered his ears.

Whatever it was, it was angry.

Brian waited, unable to take the thought of being eaten alive. That was another terrible way to die. He wondered how long it would take. Would it be quick? Or would he survive for a lot of the painful process?

He was so scared, and what felt like the last of his adrenaline began pumping. He grabbed the machete in both hands, ready for the beast to emerge.

It got quiet again. No roaring. No movement. This lasted several minutes. Then, Brian could hear branches cracking from the ground, signifying that the beast was still there. It was close, but perhaps it didn't know he was there. Maybe it sensed him but couldn't find him.

He stayed in the tree for several hours. His belly began growling, and he was terrified that the beast would hear it. He was getting thirsty, too. Being out in this heat was torture; even in the shade, the humidity was unbearable.

The sun started to go down. Brian began wondering if he'd have to sleep on the branch.

His question was soon answered.

Much further in the distance, a different animal squawked. This one sounded much smaller and less intimidating. As soon as it heard the noise, the beast roared again and took off after it. Brian could feel the ground vibrate from its initial takeoff. It was running further away. Then, there was another squawk from the defenseless animal, as it no doubt realized it was prey for the beast.

Brian was immobilized, listening to the encounter unfold. He heard a squeal of pain, then grunting—lots of grunting. Another final squeal, and then silence.

Brian was sure the beast had captured his meal. That could have been him, _would_ have been him, if the beast had found his hiding place. He got down from the tree, thinking there wouldn't be a better time to leave than while the beast was preoccupied and a safe distance away.

He got down as quietly as he could. As he followed the bloody trail, he'd never felt so defenseless. Even with the machete in his hand, he realized it would be useless if the beast attacked him.

With darkness setting in, he remembered that he still had a long way to go to get out of the jungle. The path was hard enough to walk barefoot along in the light, plus it was easier to see snakes and spiders during the day. The last thing he wanted was to walk face-first into a spider's web or to step on a snake. He shuddered at the thought.

He did find something that cheered him up, though—the opening to the trail. He hunched down and went through.

Brian looked over at the thickly bloodstained ground and then to his machete. He was sure that this was the murder weapon. He just hoped that its target hadn't been human. The jungle alone was enough of a problem; he didn't need human murderers to deal with, too.

He tiptoed his way down the path, still concerned that the beast would hear him. It had been silent for quite some time, but he wasn't about to get careless when it could cost him his life.

He remained quiet for as long as he could, but with the darkness coming in quickly, he decided to pick up his speed. There was no way he could sleep in the middle of the jungle; he would die for sure. The trail would soon become impossible to follow without light.

He stepped it up to a brisk walk and then a jog when the trail became clearer. There was a huge chance that he would step on something bad or trip over something dangerous, but he had to get out of there.

Fortunately, after an hour, just as darkness was fully setting in, he made it out of the jungle and onto the beach.

He went over to the river, which was reflecting the light of the moon, and drank, hoping there weren't any alligators nearby since he wouldn't be able to see them coming.

Brian was starving, but knew that food would have to wait until morning. If he survived the night, he was going back to his banana trees. That was his short-term plan; he was unsure what he'd do after that.

Once he got the water he needed, he cozied up in the sand, lying on his back. As soon as he lay down, he knew he didn't have the energy to get up. If an animal wanted a late dinner, this would be the time to get it. He couldn't imagine trying to fight off anything now. His strength and willpower were depleted.

He swiveled his head back and forth, looking to see if anything was coming, but nothing was.

Brian put his hands behind his head, looking up at the stars. Astronomy had always interested him, and one of his favorite phone apps had told him what each star was.

As he lay there, he didn't let his mind wander, because he knew there was nothing good to think about. He was getting impatient with the universe.

Instead, he closed his eyes, thankful he'd survived another day out here, and fell asleep.

## **CHAPTER 11**

****

Brian woke up startled, thinking he'd heard something. He sat up and looked around, but it was so dark that there was nothing to see.

He lay back down, putting the machete on his stomach and holding it tightly with both his hands. The attacker might get the first blow, but he'd be ready to defend himself. He fell back to sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes, he saw sunlight. The hint of a smile spread across his face. He told himself that, out here, it could have been much, _much_ worse.

He sat up and looked out at the river in front of him, taking it all in. He was surprised by how grateful and optimistic he felt. He kept thinking what an incredible story this was going to make when he finally got back home: city-boy Brian, surviving a couple nights in the jungle. How he got there, he didn't know. But that didn't really matter anymore, as long as he survived.

Then he realized something... the machete—it was gone.

He looked around, wondering if he'd put it aside in his sleep, but it wasn't to be seen.

Then he felt a sharp prick against his back.

"Get up," a man's voice growled.

Brian did as he was told, as slowly as he could, to indicate that he wasn't going to try anything foolish. His heart was already beginning to race. He raised his hands into the air.

"Turn around."

Brian still felt the machete digging into his back as he turned. He wondered what he would see. Would it be a native of the jungle, looking like someone who belonged on the Discovery Channel?

No.

As his eyes found his assailant, the blood drained from his face and a chill went down his spine.

To be continued...

## **AFTERWARD**

****

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Whether you did or not, I'd love to hear from you. Visit www.ryanwiley.com/contact to send me an email and tell me what you thought. I PROMISE I'll read it and respond back. Seriously, try it. I dare you.

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Ryan Wiley
