The Pits (10/12)

With the old man incapacitated, Max dropped the sledgehammer and walked into the back room. He did so slowly as Max had a feeling that he was already too late to be any real use to his friend. At this point, Max felt he would only be able to say his goodbyes.

            It was very dimly lit in the small room. There was a fine layer of dust on every surface, and even more dust floating in the air, glittering in the single ray of moonlight shining through the boarded-up window. Max’s eyes did their best to adjust to the darkness. Before they could he heard a quiet moan coming from somewhere near the left wall a few feet ahead of him.

            “G…Gio?” Max called into the darkness; he was still having trouble seeing. He decided to try to feel his way toward his best friends, hoping he didn’t accidentally touch anything sharp on his way over.

            “Max…” Gio whispered softly. He likely wouldn’t make it much longer. Gio’s voice sounded so weak. He sounded defeated. The fighting spirit of the strong guy he was had left him, and his soul would soon follow.

 “I’m sorry…didn’t mean…to…leave…you guys…” Gio wheezed between breaths.

“Don’t apologize, bro,” Max had finally reached the edge of the bed and grabbed hid friend’s hand. “I should be the one apologizing. I dragged you guys out here. Figured it’d be a long time before we’d be able to meet up again.”

“…You said…Simon…didn’t make…it.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that, too.” Max’s eyes began to tear up as he realized he would soon be the only member of his friend group left alive.

“How?” Gio’s voice rasped in the darkness.

Max wasn’t sure how to tell Gio about what happened. Should he tell the truth, or let his dying friend thin he did the right thing by trying to save Simon? Max decided to go with the truth. Either way he’d have to live with it the rest of his life.

“Gio, I…I tried. I mean, I wanted to.” Max said quietly, trying not to cry. “The big guy grabbed him, and I wanted to take him back, but Simon told me to leave. And I did. He wasn’t gonna get far on his messed-up leg. They’d just catch us again. But, I didn’t wanna leave him there…”

“I know,” Gio said, turning to face Max. The old mattress springs creaked under his weight as he turned to place his right hand on Max’s.

“What?”

“I was…waiting for…you guys…to catch up. But…the cult guys…caught you. I saw the whole thing. But, I couldn’t help. I saw…what you did. It was…the right…thing.”

Despite trying his hardest not to cry, Max felt his tears rolling down his face and falling on his hand next to Gio’s. He felt a sense of relief that Gio wouldn’t die hating him. But, he also felt a bit of anger that Gio did nothing to help them. ‘He couldn’t have done anything.’ Max repeated the thought over and over, trying to convince himself that his current anger was misplaced. There was nothing Gio could have done to help Max and Simon in that moment.

‘But, he could’ve tried.’

Max looked over at Gio’s legs, and realized they were no longer attached to his body. A glance at a large bucket near the foot of the bed showed the new location of Gio’s legs. Gio watched as his friend looked at his injuries. Max knew the old man had cut his legs off, but a large part of him was hoping it was a bluff.

“Canyon Lake…” Gio whispered.

“What about it?”

“You have to go there, and ride around…in an inflatable kayak…like we always…said…we would…”

 “…Even if there are trees in the water like everyone says,” Max finished Gio’s sentence. “I will, buddy.”

“And tell my…parents…”

There was a long pause making Max think Gio had passed away, until the injured boy continued, “I’m sorry…I was a …bad son…”

Max could hear Gio expel his last breath. He couldn’t believe Gio was gone. Or Simon, for that matter. Max stayed where he was, kneeling next to his best friend’s body. He didn’t want to leave, anymore. He didn’t want to live knowing his best friends were dead in these woods. For a while, Max thought about going to the place where he and his friends had originally met the cultists and ask them to kill him. But, he realized that wasn’t what Simon and Gio would want for him.

Standing up, Max wiped the tears off of his face. He took deep breaths as he walked out of the back room, ignoring the smell of rot that permeated the air. Nothing mattered anymore, except getting home. Before he left, Max looked at the sledgehammer he dropped on the floor. He thought about bringing it in case he was attacked again but decided it would only weigh him down. Besides, the cultists had arrows. All Max could do was run. Fast.

He walked down the stairs, two at a time, trying to get the hell out of the old house. However, Max slipped when he was half-way down and tumbled to the base of the stairs. As much as it hurt, he refused to stop. He forced himself to stand up, and almost pissed himself. When he got himself into an upright position he realized he was face-to-face with Gabriel, the biggest of the cultists.

“Oh, shi--!”

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE, WEIRDOS!” Yelled a raspy voice behind Max. There were loud footsteps coming down the stairs, causing Max to jump to the left and out of the way. The old man jumped off of the stairs near the bottom, swing the sledgehammer that Max left behind down on Gabriel’s head. The large man dropped to the ground, bleeding from a massive hole in his head.

The old man looked around all of the other cultists that felt it was okay to break into his house; all armed with knives and swords. Then, he looked to Max.

“If you’re still here when I get done with these fuckers, you’ll be next…”