Page 5 of Far From Sherwood Forest
Somewhere far off is the faint rush of water, the river threading through the valley, and the occasional rustle of leaves surrendering to gravity. Other than that, it’s quiet. Quiet, but not silent.
That’s one reason why I like it up here.
To feel alone, but notlonely.
To watch something beautiful fall apart and know it’s meant to.
My life fell apart the day I ended up in this world. I still don’t know if it’s the same world but a different time or a different world altogether. Not that it matters. Because it still feels like itwas all for nothing.
By the time I woke up on that hill, there was no sign of Robin or John. I searched for them, of course, but I lost their tracks and never found them. After traveling for an entire day, I camped out in the woods for a while because I had no idea what else to do or where else to go. I knew I was so far from Sherwood Forest that I didn’t have any hope of finding my way back.
Some strangers came across my camp, hikers with odd clothes and bizarre belongings and devices. I wasn’t taking any chances, so I knocked one of them out so I could ask the other questions. Nothing he said made any sense. Then again, it seemed I wasn’t making any sense to him either.
After killing them both, I took their clothes and decided to move on.
I haven’t killed anyone since. I eventually learned how much that was frowned upon in this world.
I still miss hangings.
I still dream of Robin’s neck in a noose.
Huffing, I turn away and head back up the trail toward my truck, now in a sour mood. I came out here for a little solitude—something I used to dread—and now it’s backfired. With how much I used to hate being alone, it’s usually hit or miss these days.
The engine roars to life as I start the ignition and drive through the park to the office. Even though I haven’t done much patrolling today, I could still use a break to get my head out of the past, a place I try hard to avoid.
“Hey, Henry.” The receptionist peers up at me as I enter the office, and I can tell by her tight-lipped smile that she has work for me. “The visitor’s center just called. They could use some help over there.”
“I’ll go after my break.”
I can practically feel her eyes roll at my back as I continueinto my office and shut the door without another word. I’m probably her least favorite ranger this park has ever had, but ask me if I give a fuck. I’m an asshole, and I don’t need anyone to like me. I don’t give a fuck about much except making sure the morons around here don’t fuck up my park.
And finding Robin.
But I gave up on that a long time ago.
I gave up on that seven hundred and fourteen days after landing in this godforsaken place. That was the day I gave up oneverything.
After traveling through the woods for a few more days after my run-in with those hikers, I came across an empty cabin in the middle of nowhere, far away from any busy road. It didn’t seem abandoned or forgotten or rundown, just like whoever lived there hadn’t been there in some time. There was a strange, crinkly film draped over all the furniture and a fine layer of dust over everything else. I settled in reluctantly, building traps around the area that would alert me to another human’s presence.
No one came.
No one came for two years.
I hunted and planted for food. I cooked everything over a fire outside until I learned how to use the damn contraptions in the kitchen. After a couple of months, I figured out how to turn on the television.Thatwas an experience. It scared the shit out of me when that screen came alive, but I learned a lot more about this world after that.
But it didn’t help the loneliness that had settled over me like a dark cloud.
And here I am, continuing to torture myself by refusing to even try to connect with another human being. The only person I’ve even gotten close to having any kind of relationship with is Ivy—the woman who showed up at the cabin on that sevenhundred and fourteenth day. Short, black hair all windswept, eyes wide as she took in the sight of me—a strange man twice her size standing in her living room without a shirt. I probably looked like a damn caveman with how long my hair had grown.
It turned out she owned the place and was there for the summer. Any shock she had at finding me in her home vanished after she saw what I was planning on doing that night.
Unclipping my gun from my belt, I place it on my desk and take a seat. I lean back in my chair and prop my boots up on the desk, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair. I cut most of it off, shorter on the sides now but a little longer on top. I kept the beard, but I keep it trimmed and a hell of a lot neater than I ever used to.
I glare at my computer as I consider giving Ivy a call.
I fucking hate computers.
But she called them her own brand of magic, and I can’t help but think about her when I see one. Ivy and her damn computer are the reason I’m no longer trapped at that cabin, how I even have this job.
