Sam continued to walk, his shoulders slumped and feet dragging, their weight matching his leaden eyelids. The sun was just now peeking over the lip of the horizon, illuminating the darkened sky. Sam had not been able to sleep after last night's events, intense paranoia kept him from slumber. By now he should have found a bend in the beach… But it only continued on. Was this Cuba? This felt more like walking the shores of a small country… Yet, the idea of this being Cuba didn’t seem to take in his heart.

He’d only been about a day or two from the shores of the U.S, ending up in Cuba was just… it was just impossible! He stopped in his tracks, his eyelids dragging him down to look at the sand at his feet. Oh how he hated sand! It was in his jumpsuit, in his boots and even in his damn skivvies! Sam then decided to ice sand, once and for all. Using his new machete, he pierced the beach with a curse.

The blade sank deeply, standing upright in the corpse of the beach. Now that he had properly killed sand, he could get over how annoying it was. He plopped down and shook his head, rubbing at his tired eyes- not realizing that his knuckles were still coated in the gore of his slain adversary. No, not the blood of the madman he’d killed last night, but the grains of sand he’d forgotten to wipe off.

Sam hissed through his teeth and cursed, briefly considering washing his eyes in the ocean before he thought better of it. The salt would probably just make it worse, right? He wasn’t too sure, he hadn’t really been in the ocean all that much. Salt in the eye was bad, so salt water had to be bad too. He’d be fine, it was just a few measly grains of sand. Wiping his hands off on his jumpsuit, he went to work on brushing the grains from his heavy eyelids.

Sam wouldn’t have friggin done that if his brain was working right. He wasn’t someone that operated well on no sleep, not in the least. Once he was finished, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking quickly to dislodge any remaining sand before he sighed.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asked the beach he’d killed.

The beach, being dead, could not reply to his query. As such, he’d need to rely on himself to figure out what he had done to earn this new punishment. Well, just to name a few: arson, tax evasion, battery, assault, counterfeiting, grand theft auto, shoplifting, perjury, cyberbullying, extortion… murder.

Sam grit his teeth and stood up, drawing the blade from the beach before continuing his march. He had never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it, no matter what the courts or The Family said on the matter. That guy had it coming. Red started to emerge in the corners of his vision, and knew that if he didn’t pull away from his growing anger he’d go on a rampage. There wasn’t anyone around that he could hurt, true, but he would waste valuable energy by taking his rancor out on his surroundings. He inhaled deeply through his nose as he tried to calm himself, breathing out the mouth and repeating this rhythm until his thoughts were clear.

It was best not to dwell on the past.

Keeping that thought in mind, he stopped for a short break, knocking down another coconut before promptly opening and scarfing it down. His throat certainly felt less dry, but that did nothing for his lack of sleep. He’d kill for a cup of joe right now… something that would make his heart blow out and melt his stomach lining should wake him up. The back of his head thunked gently against the coconut tree as he slid down to sit, facing the beach with jaw slack. Maybe he could sleep now? It wasn’t a fantastic idea, but now that it was daylight Sam felt safer than he had been in the dark.

An illusion for sure, after all, now that it was daytime anything would be able to see him from the jungle no problem. Then again, it had been pretty easy for that freak when it was nighttime, though he had to admit the bright moonlight certainly hadn’t helped. In any case, he was far too tired to care. His heavy eyes closed, and he pushed the machete away in the sand as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to feel his face burning off his skull. Sam groaned as he hunched over, still seated as he rubbed at his eyes. The pain from his eyelids was excruciating, and he sucked air through his teeth as he pulled his hands away. He’d gotten sunburnt, and pretty badly from the feel of it. Even the mere touch of the sun's rays upon his reddened flesh sent his face into horrid agony. How could he be so stupid as to sleep out in the sun? He shook his head, the motion stretching the burnt skin of his neck. He had simply been too tired to think about the consequences of sleeping with the sun.

That girl always had a habit of burning whoever slept with her, and Sam sure as hell got the same treatment. His natural Sicilian tan had done little to protect him it seemed, but there was no use in lamenting that fact. He slowly stood up, popping his back while suffering through his face's pain. At least his jumpsuit had protected the rest of him from getting burnt, well, the rest of him save his hands and a bit of his wounded forearm. He looked to the horizon across the sea, seeing that the sun had dipped close to it. He had been sleeping out here for hours it looked like, and night would soon be approaching.

He wasn’t sure if that nap was worth it, but he had to admit that he felt a lot less tired. His eyelids no longer felt like stones had been tied to them after all. That was really nice, but his burning face made it hard to really appreciate his newfound alertness. He sighed before taking up the machete from the sand, turning to face the jungle and nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw what stood there staring at him.

Another man, just as large as Sam but with not a hint of fat on his frame. He was deeply tanned, with long feathery black hair that hung down to the middle of his back. His face was concealed behind what looked like one of them samurai masks. Sam had seen them in movies before, but he didn’t know what they were called. It was an awful, metallic demonic face with long fangs that curled up and down the mask, but what was worse was the man’s eyes. They were little white pinpricks in a dark cave, the sunlight didn’t seem able -or willing- to illuminate the mask's interior.

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/995880962359578784/1118689542908674128/ch._3_final_2.jpg]

A cold shiver went up his spine as the savage tilted his head like an owl, seeming to evaluate every inch of Sam’s being. He held up his machete wardingly, but if this intimidated the man, he did not show it. He noticed that, unlike the last freak, this guy was actually wearing a pair of camo cargo shorts, well-worn and tattered beneath the knees. Perhaps they were pants once, but it was hard to tell.

“Get lost!” Sam shouted, waving his blade menacingly, “I’ll turn ya into sashimi, punk!”

The man didn’t react, merely continuing to stare before taking a few steps forward. As he drew closer, Sam could see that he was covered in a latticework of scars. Slashes, claws, burns, and even old bullet scars marred his frame, making his flesh look borderline ghoulish. Just as Sam was about to charge the guy, he stopped in his tracks.

“You’re new.” He said in a low neutral tone. His voice was like a big bucket of rocks being poured onto an even bigger rock, booming yet guttural.

Sam’s jaw dropped and he almost felt relief before he remembered where he was. This dude was just as liable to be hostile like the last freak. Just ‘cause he could speak English didn’t mean he was a good dude.

“Ya speak English pal? Good, I wanna know where the hell I am.” Sam growled out.

If the stranger was offended by Sam’s tone, he did not show it.

“I am… Other.” The man said, as if that was his name, “And this place is The Crossroads.”

Sam blinked in confusion. The Crossroads? Crossroads for what? This ‘Other’ chump needed to tell him more.

“Okay. And? What else? Where are we at pal?” Sam asked, lowering his blade only slightly.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“It is complicated.” The Other replied, “Don’t worry, I will help you to survive.”

Sam frowned as his brows knit, “Complicated? The hell ya talkin’ about?”

“It is as I said.” Other replied, crossing his arms, “There are many answers and not all of them are accurate.”

“Quit dancin’ around the question and hurry up.” Sam growled out, “I’ve had a bad day and a fella like me don’t got a lot of patience.”

“Lack of patience will get you killed in The Crossroads.” He replied, unfolding his arms, “Never rush things here.”

Sam glared at Other, baring his teeth before snapping, “Tell me where we are! I wanna get out of here!”

The Other fell silent for a long, irritating moment before replying, “There is no ‘out of here’. I will teach you to survive if you can last through the month. Do not worry, I will find you alive or dead once this first month is over. Good luck, and keep this in mind: Once you’re in,” He said with a gesture toward the jungle, “It’s hard to get out.”

He then promptly turned, and fled back into the depths of the jungle with an almost superhuman speed. Sam cursed and gave chase, clutching the machete tightly as he stormed up the beachhead. First fella to speak a lick of English to him, and all he said was a buncha vague crap! He wasn’t gonna just let him up and run away, even if he was a psycho. Other’s back quickly began disappearing into the jungle, and only seemed to hasten at Sam’s beckoning calls.

Sure, he was throwing in a few choice insults and threats, but he was desperate to get this weirdo to stop fleeing in any way he could. His boots trampled green shrubbery and made deep imprints in mud, nearly causing him to lose balance and tumble headfirst into the ground on several occasions. It wasn’t long before The Other was completely out of his sight now, and Sam hadn’t the faintest clue of where he could have gone. He had been fast as lightning moving through all this green, there was no way he could keep up with someone like that.

His pace slowed, sweat beading at his brow as he sucked in air in huge mouthfuls. His lungs burned as badly as his leaden legs, and he braced hands on knees as he caught his breath. After a few moments, he stood straight, eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings. He’d gotten drawn into the jungle after all…

A faint feeling of terror welled within his chest as his head whipped here and there, trying to pick out any signs of movement aside from the shifting of plant life. It was not easy, for every leaf, bright flower and patch of grass seemed to be ever so gently writhing. His periphery turned the broad leaves of the trees above into snarling rabid apes, the bushes into crouched madmen, and the vines into wicked serpents. He knew his paranoia was playing tricks on him, but this place was dangerous. Who knew just what could be hiding amongst the greenery here, imperceptible to his untrained eyes?

He shook his head, taking a deep breath before wiping the sweat away from his brow. It had been muggy out on the beach, but the air inside the jungle was like breathing in hot soup. It stuck to his skin, mixing and becoming indistinguishable from his own sweat. He should probably head back to the beach, it was a straight shot if he followed the sun. The Other had run in what was essentially a straight line, it should be simple to get back. He gave up on any notion of catching Other now, unless Sam decided that he’d like to do a bit of blundering around in the unknown.

He was not a fan of blundering, though, especially not here.

Turning, he began walking back, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for anything that might take offense at his existence. After a few minutes of walking, he realized that he had bit quite deeply into the depths of the jungle in his mad pursuit. The beach was still out of sight, and after a few more minutes of walking, he grew anxious. Had he misjudged his course? It was possible, he had whirled several times in place after he had stopped to catch his breath. He had thought that the sun would have guided his way back, but no matter how long he followed it, the beach was nowhere to be seen.

How was this possible? His sense of direction couldn’t be this bad… could it? He paused, bracing against one of the jungle's many trees as he took a short break to contemplate. The sun had risen above the horizon facing the beach he’d woken up on… Wait…

There was something seriously wrong about that. Sam’s brows knit together as he thought on what it could be. A few moments later, his eyes widened as the realization struck him. The sun had set in that same spot last night! Why the hell did it rise back up where it had set, instead of rising from the east? There was something seriously wrong with this place, and it wasn’t just the freaky lizard man or the crazy people running around here.

“Mama mia…” He muttered with a shake of his head, “Focu ‘ranni…”

Maybe he was just tripping? The heat and his exhaustion were surely playing a part in his delirium, why would it not also distort his memory? That was it, the sun hadn’t just risen again in the same spot, he was just weary and thought that it had, that was all. With that settled, he began to calm down somewhat. There was still the problem of getting out of here though… What was he going to do if he couldn’t get back to the beach? Camp out in this humid hellscape? He was going to have to if it came to it.

Hopefully it wouldn’t, he’d try and get back to the beach for a few more minutes… and if he couldn’t, well… he’d just deal with it. With a long sigh, he continued to plod onward, keeping an eye out for any tracks he may have made during his pursuit of Other. He knew that he had certainly made a few, he’d had to stomp through mud and trample shrubbery during the chase, but so far he’d encountered nothing. It was as if the jungle had flipped around on Sam to confuse him. At this point he was beginning to wonder if it really had. His exhausted mind conjured up all kinds of supernatural reasons for why this occurred.

Perhaps the trees had moved around while he wasn’t looking? Maybe Other was some kind of druid that had lured him into his domain to be lost? Why hadn’t Sam heard the trees moving if that were the case? Maybe they were super quiet… ninja trees… He yawned. He didn’t dismiss the idea of druids and ninja trees right off the bat, after all, he had almost been eaten by a cloud monster, and that had most certainly been real. His encounter with the demon had been when Sam was in a clearer state of mind, with nothing to worry about save the possibility of police pursuit. He couldn’t have hallucinated the creature unless he was somehow exposed to something to cause him to trip during his escape.

Which was just not possible. Just in case, he thought back to that day he’d busted out of the joint, retracing all his steps in his mind as he went along his way. He hadn’t huffed any gas or eaten anything strange by accident, nor did he think that the guards fed him anything hallucinogenic in his meal the day beforehand. No, he did not accidentally get high.

And crazy wasn’t in his genetics, at least not the ‘I see dead people’ kinda crazy—just the criminally violent kind.

After that extra few minutes of walking were up, he came to the realization that he was indeed lost. He could just continue walking in a straight line until he hit the beach again, but with his sense of direction being skewed it was likely he’d just end up delving further into the wilderness. Sam considered, rubbing his chin as he idly whacked a bush with his machete. His head hung back as he stared upward, seeing the broad leaves and vines hanging down from the treetops…

Oh right!

He could just climb up a tree to get a vantage point! Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Oh yeah, he was exhausted. Even after his burning nap on the beach he found that he felt fairly tired, his muscles ached and his eyes, while not leaden as they had been, still felt heavy on his burnt face. More sleep would be nice, maybe there was a nice pair of branches up there that he could sleep on without falling off? Not likely, but if there was, he’d definitely seize that opportunity. He gently laid the machete on the ground, not wanting to risk cutting himself by climbing with it.

He then found the tallest tree closest to him, overgrown with moss and decorated with hanging vines that looked thick enough to support his great weight. Sam cracked his knuckles before he began to ascend, gripping the thickest vine before bracing his legs against the tree’s mossy trunk. It was a very tall tree, perhaps around seventy feet high at the peak if he were guesstimating right. There were other larger trees that were further away than this one, yet Sam hadn’t desired to climb one of those. He didn’t think that he’d have the energy to ascend them easily, and while not afraid of heights, he didn’t want to risk falling from them.

When he finally reached the first thick branch, he stopped to take a break, catching his breath before continuing to climb. He repeated this several dozen times over, not wanting to push himself to exhaustion to reach his goal. Eventually, he prevailed, reaching the peak of the tree before staring out across the surrounding jungle.

He had to hold back the urge to scream.

As far as his eyes could see, there was only jungle. Neither the beach or the ocean was anywhere in sight, as if he’d somehow covered miles of ground during his pursuit of The Other. That wasn’t all though. In the distance, he could see a massive snow-capped mountain looming over the greenery. It looked like a gray spike that had pierced through the earth, and no other peaks joined the pointed tip to form a range. It looked completely unnatural in a way, and even from this distance Sam was able to tell that it was far too… smooth, there were no jagged cliffs or uneven edges that he could see from here. Perhaps up close it would be a different story, but he found himself unwilling to get too close to the mountain. It looked ominous, his imagination conjuring up all sorts of terrors that might come from that cursed spike.

Sam took a deep breath to calm himself, but it was futile. His hands shook as he clung to the trunk, terrified.

“I’m so screwed.” He muttered to himself.