Shannon bent down over it for the last time. What had he done? What would he do now? Should he be asking these questions? Probably not, time was short. There were more important things to take care of, his heart was racing. Still the whimpering little sissy that he had always been, a tear welled in his eye as he wiped the blood and other fluid on his sleeve.
Blackness welled into his vision accompanied by the uneven beating in his temples. His head grew light and he felt suddenly like vomiting. A car horn blasted and the sudden flash of headlights brought him lurching back to consciousness. The car barreled by making a sticky noise on the pavement in the cold and rain. Shannon looked back into the ditch and trees beyond the road. How long had he been standing there?
He suddenly realized that he was cold and only then that he was wearing no clothes, with the exception of the flannel button down shirt that hung open exposing his torso. Then he remembered the car horn and the headlights … had they already started the search? Between the biting cold and his headache he was feeling rather uncomfortable.
He started off at a quick jog along the roadside - he couldn't remember which direction was which, but going downhill was a hell of a lot easier. Time passed slowly and the wet blacktop began to cut into the numbness of his feet. From somewhere back in the distance an engine cut through the blanket of rain and night, glints of light shining over his shoulder. The ominous, throaty noise of the diesel made him doubt that this one would pass him by.
Shannon's head jerked back as he flashed in and out of consciousness. Visions of a childhood stigmata tormented him. Was he conscious during the vision? Was he conscious at all? He began to sweat despite the cold and he could feel the bottoms of his feet tearing with each step, blood specks covered the backs of his legs. He was still on his feet and moving so he figured he was still alive. The sound of the truck mixed with the wet spattering of rain in his ears, the road blurred out of focus and he stopped running.
Suddenly he found he was staring straight into the headlights. He wanted to lunge out of the way but found his legs were too leaden - his body freezing cold and beaded with rain and sweat. And blood. His head pounded and his vision muddled by exertion and moisture, but he could make out the silhouette of a man standing in front of the headlights. How long he had been parked there staring, Shannon had no idea. He grinned foolishly thinking of how this must look, and started to laugh a little manically.
The man in the light began to move toward him. Shannon waited. He moved closer and Shannon, filled with a sudden burst of nervous energy, darted off of the road and slid down into the ditch, disappearing into the heavy and tall weeds. The man continued toward the place where Shannon had been only moments ago. The weeds were thick but a small opening afforded a relatively good view of the road. There was no time to look back though.
Shannon ran headlong through the thick brush as fast as he could. Thickets and occasional small trees bruised and cut his body. The flannel shirt snagged on a branch as the trees grew thicker, and Shannon left it hanging there - a tattered testament to his frantic passing. In the distance he could here an air horn sounding, and guessed that the man must be raising an alarm. Tripping over a muddied root and falling headlong into the morass of the swampy forest he thought to himself - if he had it to do all over, he might have just said 'no' to the offer he'd accepted that morning.
He started to raise himself but as he got to his knees he heard a slight rustle in the weeds just in front of him. Then, a low growl. Was that a sound a man could make? He didn't know and was pretty certain he didn't have the time to make a detailed analysis. What he did know was that he wasn't alone in that ditch.
There was a loud, explosive clap and the woods flickered in and out of existence. Without being certain, Shannon guessed that the man had followed him and only now exposed himself by shooting the wild animal that threatened them both. 'He shot that thing..' Shannon repeated to himself in a daze. Slowly, all consciousness drained from his mind. As he rolled out on the ground, the last thing he saw was the shadowed figure of a man standing over him.
"How's it feel now," rolled into Shannon's mind in a thick, unfriendly voice. The stigmata again slammed into his reality and he presently saw the memory as the wounds opened and slowly crept across his skin. He began praying to an unknown being, in an unknown place … a being that had long since forgotten him. Shannon opened his eyes and the gunman was lying next to him motionless. A smoking pistol that seemed out of proportion to its surroundings lay on the ground between them. It was starting to make sense.
