Thanks to clograbby and sugarbowl for editing tips.
Chapter 2
Thanks to Xena for being a big fat poo poo head and not liking my story
Chapter 3/4
Thanks to Dreamworx95
Criticism wanted!
The rain did not let up. Despite his best efforts to remain at the lodge until the intensity of the downpour slowed, the games ended and soon Mark was forced to trudge home through the dirt path which was now essentially a small river. Had he been keeping track of time, Mark would have arrived at his cabin at around 2AM, but of course he wasn't. Considering he had been going to bed at 10PM every night for the past three months, he hardly made it to the door before collapsing upon his bed, wet clothes still dripping, and falling straight into a deep sleep.
The farm was dead quiet. It seemed as though the constant, droning noise of the falling rain had lulled all of its residents into sleep, or at least into hiding.
Mark had been asleep for a few hours. The mud at his heels had caked to both his pants and his sheets, softly gluing him in place. The sullied condition of his wardrobe, however, didn't prevent him from having perhaps one of the most relaxing night's sleeps he'd had in a long while.
The hours crept by, unnoticed by Mark, when suddenly, the sound of a fist on the moist oak of his front door rapped out three times. It was loud enough to wake Mark, but he was in no condition to be answering the door. He repositioned himself and drifted back to sleep.
Four more knocks. Mark turned over, his eyes had crusted over, and even after rubbing them with the backs of his hands, he struggled greatly to focus in the dark, hardly moonlit room.
Mark began to wonder if he had locked the door, but was somewhat reassured, telling himself that he was the only person who knew the special extra step required to open his door.
“Open the door!” Mark shot up. He didn't recognize the voice, which sounded quite perturbed.
Mark's heart rate jumped and three choices came to his mind. He could ignore the voice, he could get up and open the door, or he could hide.
There was really no point in deciding, however, because as Mark sat, weighing his options, the visitor grabbed the doorknob and wrenched it back and forth violently. Mark heard a click, a click which made his heart stop the very second it arrived at his ears.
The door swung open, the wind filled the room and four figures burst in under the shadows. One rushed over to Mark and put what felt like a bag over his head. Mark felt a sharp crack across the side of his head. The muscles in his neck tightened and he struggled to breathe, then came darkness, in every sense of the word.
---
“The hell did you do, kill him?”
“Just a whack across the head, same as always, maybe he's just a pussy.”
“Whatever. Where's Rone at?”
“Not sure.”
“Is our friend awake yet, boys?”
“Rone! Uh, not quite, genius over here got a little too excited, put him into a coma I'll bet.”
“Shut up, look he's moving a bit.”
The bag over Mark's head was pulled up and off. In front of him stood three large men. When his eyes finally focused, he could see that two were in military attire, wearing helmets with face shields which had a mirror finish, keeping Mark from seeing who they were. The other man was wearing nice clothes, nicer than any of the farmers, with a thick vest over top.
“Welcome back sweetheart” The suit-man spoke in a questionably friendly voice.
“What is this?” Mark tried to say, his throat was dry and sore. He felt a sting across his face and his body was thrown to the side as a strap lashed across his face.
“Shut up! We'll do the asking, you do the answering! What do you know about this?” The man held up what looked like a brightly colored weed.
“What, weeds?”
Another slap across the face.
“Don't fuck with us kid, we'll kill you to get it out of you if we have to, I swear to god!”
“What are you talking about?” Mark's face was starting to bleed.
“You know exactly what I'm talking about!” The vest-man dug the barrel of a pistol into Mark's temple, it clicked as he cocked it. Mark cringed.
“There's something to this, something you're keeping from us. We found the stash on the farm, we found the equipment. What do you know?!”
It was at this point that Mark started noticing something about the plant in the man's hand. The wind was blowing through a window nearby, and each time a gust blew hard enough to blow open the curtains and moonlight was able to flood the room, the plant glowed brilliantly. At first he thought it was a trick to the eye, but after a few seconds he could see that there was a definite correlation and it was definitely glowing.
“Listen, I have no idea what you're talking ab...”
Mark stopped short, a sound erupted from an adjoining room, it sounded like a flock of birds running in high speed at full volume, it became a shriek. The three men and two guarding the door diverted their eyes from Mark to the direction of the commotion.
“It's unstable!” Someone shouted.
The door blew apart in a burst of shrapnel, and a shock wave threw Mark over in his chair. The men in the room were thrown to the floor. Without thinking, Mark pushed himself up to his feet, not an easy task with one's hands tied, and bolted out another door, he ran as hard and as fast as he could. He couldn't even see where he was, or where he was going, he just ran. He didn't think, he didn't breath, he ran.
Mark had no idea where he was, it was too dark to even think about seeing anything. His legs pumped back and forth as he ran mindlessly into the dark of the night. After a good fifteen minutes running with all his might, Mark slowed down and took a second to breathe.
He looked around, he saw nothing. He also heard nothing, which was a good sign, it meant that he had probably eluded his captors, whoever they were.
He played around with the ropes on his hands, they were tied poorly, as if whoever was tying him up was in a rush to do so. After adjusting his shoulders and wiggling his wrists around he was able to put some slack into the rope and it dropped to the ground.
Finally calming down, Mark had nothing but his thoughts to entertain him while he walked in no particular direction. What was the story behind the glowing plant? Who were those men, and why did they think he had anything to do with anything?
Obviously Mark had no answers for himself. A seemingly boring night had turned into a big bag of questions and a bad situation.
Mark looked to the sky, the moon was out but it was dim and hazy from the low clouds. It was arcing toward the horizon though, so he knew the sun would be rising soon.
Mark found himself walking through a brushed area with several large trees and lots of fallen limbs. He took a seat on a fallen tree and after a few moments resting his eyes became heavy and he slipped off into the sleep he had been so violently pulled from earlier.
