Chapter 140 The Man in the Rain
The forest was pitch black.
Veyra had been trekking up the mountain path for hours, her legs burning from the constant climb. The trail was narrow, the ancient pine trees grew thick on both sides, and the night air was bitterly cold and damp.
Her original plan had been to reach the high cliffs well before midnight. That was when the rare Heart Vine would finally bloom, its blood-red leaves glowing faintly under the moonlight so she could harvest what she needed for her grandmother.
Unfortunately, the mountain weather was unpredictable.
Without any warning, the sharp wind picked up, howling through the tall trees and causing the temperature to plunge drastically. The clear night sky quickly filled with heavy, dark clouds, blocking out the moon and stars entirely.
Then the rain began to fall. It started as a light, freezing drizzle, but within minutes, it turned into a heavy, blinding downpour.
Veyra pulled her rain hood up tight around her face and clicked on her heavy flashlight. The strong beam of light cut through the thick sheet of falling rain and darkness.
She pressed on, refusing to turn back.
The trail became increasingly steep and treacherous. The jagged rocks grew slick with water, and her heavy climbing boots kept slipping against the deep mud.
She was about half an hour away from the cliff crevices when she suddenly froze in her tracks.
Just at the edge of the tall river reeds ahead, there was a dark shape lying motionless in the mud.
Veyra stood completely still, her chest heaving as she held her breath.
Slowly, she raised her arm, sweeping the beam of her flashlight over the shape. It was a man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and lying facedown in the freezing grass.
Her heart began to hammer violently against her ribs.
She took a cautious step closer, keeping the light focused directly on his still frame.
He was wearing a heavy dark jacket that was completely torn to shreds around the shoulders. Dark crimson blood stained the wet fabric, washing away into the muddy grass beneath him. His face was turned away, buried against his forearm.
Then, as the flashlight beam moved down toward his hip, she saw something that made her blood run completely cold.
Lying in the wet mud just inches from his limp fingers was a heavy black pistol. Sleek, matte, and dangerous.
Veyra took an involuntary step backward, her boots squelching in the mud.
This was no lost hiker or local guide who had slipped on the trail. This was a dangerous man involved in something terrible, a man who carried a deadly firearm into the middle of nowhere.
Every single instinct in her body yelled at her to run. She should turn around right now, head back down the mountain, and pretend she had never seen a thing tonight.
She took another step back into the dark shadow of the trees.
And then, right as she turned her shoulder, she heard a sound over the drumming rain.
It was a low, painful moan, barely audible over the howl of the wind.
He was still alive.
Veyra stood there in the pouring rain, completely frozen.
Her mind was at war with itself. She had to leave right now. She had her own mission, her grandmother was waiting for her, and getting involved with an armed stranger on a dark mountain was absolute suicide.
She took a breath to turn away, but the man moaned again. This time it was louder, filled with pure agony.
She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a frustrated sigh. She simply could not leave a human being to bleed to death in the cold mud, no matter how dangerous he looked.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she stepped out from the shelter of the trees and crouched down in the wet grass beside him.
Before touching him, she carefully reached out and scooped up the heavy black pistol from the mud. She had never held a real gun before, but she made sure to keep her fingers far away from the trigger, setting it down on a flat rock out of his reach.
Then, she placed her hands on his uninjured shoulder and rolled him onto his back.
His face was deathly pale, his lips were blue from the cold, and his dark hair was plastered against his forehead. He was bleeding from multiple serious wounds, and his jacket was completely soaked through with blood.
"Hey," she called out, shaking his shoulder gently over the sound of the rain. "Can you hear me?"
The man gave no verbal response, his head tilting uselessly to the side.
"Who are you?" she tried again, leaning closer. "What happened to you?"
Nothing.
Suddenly, his eyelids fluttered open. His dark eyes stared straight up into the black sky, but they were completely unfocused, cloudy, and glassy.
He was entirely blind.
Realizing he couldn’t see her or speak properly, Veyra quickly reached into her canvas backpack and pulled out her worn paper notebook along with a ballpoint pen.
She grabbed his icy, trembling right hand, pressed the pen firmly into his stiff fingers, and guided his hand down onto the dry paper under her jacket.
The man seemed to understand instantly. Using what little strength he had left, his hand began to move across the page. His fingers shook violently, making the lines crooked, jagged, and messy, but he forced the ink into the paper.
It was a string of ten digits. A phone number.
Veyra stared at the shaky writing under her flashlight beam. He was desperately asking her to contact someone for him.
She looked back down at his pale, shivering face. His breathing was shallow and ragged, his skin felt burning hot despite the freezing rain, and his entire body was trembling from shock and fever.
If she didn’t get help to this spot soon, he wasn’t going to last through the night.
Veyra set her jaw, her decision made.
She looked around the grass near his hip and spotted his cell phone lying in a puddle. The screen was badly cracked from his fall, but the battery light was still faintly glowing.
She picked it up, wiping the water and mud off the glass with her sleeve, and pressed the power button. The screen lit up instantly, prompting for a passcode or face lock.
Veyra quickly raised the phone, pointing the camera directly at the man’s pale face.
After a brief second, the lock icon opened, and the main home screen appeared.
She opened the phone app and typed in the exact string of numbers he had just written down in her notebook. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the green call button and lifted the phone to her ear.
The line rang once through the speaker. Then twice. On the third ring, someone picked up the line with a sharp click.
"Who is this?" a voice demanded immediately.
The voice on the other end was old, sharp, intensely suspicious, and heavy with authority.
Veyra’s heart slammed against her ribs, and her hand shook slightly against the cracked glass of the phone.
She opened her mouth, rain streaming down her cheeks, and prepared to answer the voice on the line.