Paradigm

Part 1: Genesis

The man awoke with a violent cough, spouting a mist of water that had collected in his mouth. Rain drove into his eyes, falling from the night sky, the bright moon barely breaking through a thick layer of black clouds. He blinked away the moisture, yet it returned within seconds, and as he tried to sit up, he flinched and cried out in pain. Gasping and laying flat, he raised his head to find he was covered in blood. The darkest blood and the greatest pain came from his abdomen. My blood, he thought.

Slowly, he rolled onto his stomach. Pain flared through his legs and his chest as he lay on the cold, wet ground. The dirt was hard-packed, as if compressed from years of traffic. Wait. This isn’t dirt. It’s stone. This is a road. He ran his hand over the tough granite blocks.

He sat up slowly, managing to keep the pain at bay. Squinting ahead through the dark, rainy sky he saw nothing but trees.

“Where...” he managed before he began to cough uncontrollably, launching his body into violent spasms. When it subsided, he wiped the back of his hand on his mouth, and it came back bloody. As the blood dripped off, scrubbed clean by the rain, he noticed his right arm was covered in a large, jagged tattoo that spiraled around his forearm from his wrist to his elbow. From there, he studied the rest of himself. He had average, yet strong-looking limbs, long and tanned. He wore a dull grey cloak that was nearly ripped to shreds, and both his feet were bare.

It was then that he realized he had no idea who he was or where he now sat. Only one way to find out, he thought grimly.

He finally managed to stand up, although he was nearly doubled over from the pain in his chest. Without a second thought, he stumbled forward into the night, a steady downpour still falling. After a few minutes of slow limping, he managed to straighten up, an ember of pain still burning, and paused to observe his surroundings. Although the darkness impaired his vision, along with the driving rain, he could make out dark trees with droopy branches and needles that exuded a pine-like scent.

The only sign of civilization so far had been the road, the rough, straight, and endless road without any signs. As he stepped forward into a small clearing, a feral growl reached his ears and he froze. The full moon cast a dim light onto the dark eyes of a wolf not two feet from him. He eased out of his half-step and tensed his body, raising his hands, as the wolf began to circle him. Its growl became a quiet purr, and the man had trouble keeping track of it; the moon barely shone through the dark clouds, providing minimal but adequate vision. The wolf’s fur shimmered with rainwater; it prowled with slow, powerful steps and let loose a snarl that rumbled from a primordial depth. 

As fast as lightning, the wolf leaped at him. The man ducked and grabbed the wolf, hurling it over himself. The animal twisted in midair, trying to land on its paws, but instead slammed into the hard stone with a yelp. The man was on it quickly, pounding the wolf’s face over and over. The beast bit his left forearm, sinking its long fangs deep into his flesh, and the man fell back yelling, the wound on fire. The wolf quickly got to its feet and came low at him, as he swung his fist downward and caught it in the eye. The wolf barked in pain and stopped the assault momentarily; that was all the time the man needed. He leaped onto the animal, wrapping his legs around its body and forcing it to the ground. He grabbed its head, his hands grasping its skull and jaw, and twisted, breaking the wolf’s neck with a resounding crack.

The man dropped the carcass and stumbled back, surprised by his own strength. Resisting the urge to retch, he held his stomach and grimaced in pain, surveying the damage done. The bite on his arm was beginning to bleed freely. I need to stop the blood flow. He stared blankly at his arm for a few seconds before his brain began to work again. A tourniquet… I need to wrap my arm up. Using the sleeve from his cloak and a stick at his feet, he made a simple bandage, which managed to slow most of the blood loss from his arm, but he was already starting to feel light-headed. The man stumbled forward down the road, having no other place to go. The rain eased, and a light mist fell on him through the trees, cool and damp against his burning skin. Adrenaline and blood loss were beginning to take their toll, and stars burst in his vision.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity of stumbling through the rain, the tourniquet began to loosen, and he encountered a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness. He coughed softly, his throat burning, and he swallowed with difficulty. The bandage fell to the ground, and he stared deliriously at the ragged flesh. He fell to one knee as he began to gasp for air. I… just need to rest for a bit… I just need to lie down for a few minutes.... The man fell to the ground, but as his mind drifted away, he heard something: a hum, low and steady, and then a voice. He couldn’t understand; everything was muffled. He thought he saw a shimmer in the air, but his mind must have been playing feverish tricks on him. He slipped into unconsciousness.