Lost

I opened my eyes. Where am I? I can see sun rays coming through the tree branches that are laid without pattern high above me. I can a few small birds on top of them, but I can hear the song of a lot more in the area around me. I tried to stand, but with difficulty; the effort left me dizzy. I must have hurt my head, but how? And more importantly, who am I?

That was the great question, who was I? I tried hard to place a name on me, an occupation, a favourite food and color, but to no avail. I looked around, but nothing helped me to remember. Left with no other choice, I got to my feet and tried to find my way through the thick forest. I walked and walked, all the while my stomach echoed loudly. I passed over many trees’ roots, fallen branches and small bushes. Once or twice I got a glimpse of small animals fleeing when I approached. But I met nothing that I could eat, and nothing that could make me remember who I were.

Suddenly noises were heard ahead. I came to an abrupt halt and hid behind some bushes. I waited as the sounds came near me. Finally, I saw a man with a riffle appearing on the other side of my hiding place. He looked like he just had a fight; a huge purple bruise appeared on his left eye. His way of moving, betrayed his intention to look for something, or someone. Why did I think of that, now? I feel sure, he is looking for someone not something. But why am I so sure?

Maybe he could help me. Or, not. I could not be sure, he seemed dangerous. While I tried to make up my mind, the man almost stepped on me. When he saw me recognition appeared on his features.

“You! I thought you dead!” he exclaimed while pointing at me with his riffle.

“Me! I am not dead!” I answered, while trying to look relaxed and confident in myself, like I knew perfectly well everything about him and me. Like I were dangerous too.

“Didn’t he kill you? He promised he would take care of you and I would take care the other bitch!” he whined while still pointing at me with his riffle.

“I am afraid I am still alive” I answered as laconically as possible. Who is he? Who is the other one? Who am I? Why is he pointing a gun at me?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. If Mike didn’t kill you, then I can kill you myself, too. I will get all the bounty money for me, no splitting in half with that oaf” he raised his gun and aimed straight at my heart.

I never really understood how I disarmed him and snapped his neck. All happened like a flash, all the right movements came to me involuntarily, instinctively, like the steps of a dance I had walked a thousand times, even though the effort left me dizzy again. The only thing that mattered was that he was dead and I was alive.

I bent over and searched his pockets. I found a bottle of water, which I drunk quickly; I hadn’t understood how thick my throat was. I also found a pack of chips and a folded paper. I unfolded only to see two faces with names beneath them, I suppose the one belonged to me, I would check on the next river to see which one exactly. I read the next lines. I whistled at the price of the bounty and the crimes. I read quickly the long list and looked over again to the dead man. I guess ain’t not time for the wicked.

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