"If you're not traveling all this way because of the cave, then why?" the driver asked after a while of silence. The older man was obviously enjoying having someone to talk to for once.

It was unsurprising, as Ryker didn't think people were often on this bus. It was simply in human beings' nature to be curious.

Some people enjoy such situations and opportunities to chat with strangers with whom they can talk without shyness, perhaps because they know they will never see them again anyway.

"I'm here for a job," Ryker replied, perhaps for this reason more easily than usual. But he kept quiet about the fact that it was a favor for an old comrade. Even if the chances of seeing this man again were close to zero or he could jeopardize his mission, it was still better not to reveal who, or rather what, he really was. Sometimes, it was better to be safe than sorry. "I'm a self-employed craftsman, and I'm supposed to do some repairs at a cottage near Silvershore," he used as his alibi.

"At Pinewood Cottage?" the driver replied. "Oh, forget the question. There's only one pension in Silvershore." The bushy eyebrows drew together as the elderly man frowned. "If I remember correctly, the old lady's niece recently took over the management."
"Riona O'Brien"
"Yes, exactly, that was her name."

"Do you know anything about the landlady? I'm driving into the blue and want to know who I'm dealing with."
The driver looked up and scrutinized him briefly for a few moments through the rear-view mirror. "No, I'm sorry, son. Everything I know, I've only got from the passengers."
Ryker realized he had been too bold when his attentive gaze returned to the road.
"I see, but there must be something-"

He was interrupted by the shrill screech of the brakes.
The pedals were depressed so suddenly that his body flew forward. He managed to grab the seat in front of him just in time and protected himself from a violent impact by pushing his elbows into the seat to keep himself halfway upright.

Next to him, the rucksack flew forward like a rocket. A dull thud sounded as his luggage fell against the seat and crashed to the bus floor, which skidded a little further along the graveled road and then came to a juddering halt.

"I'm sorry, son..." he finally heard the driver say after a few breaths had passed, and the shock slowly wore off. "I almost missed your exit point and was startled..." he confessed, explaining the abrupt braking.
"It's okay," Ryker gasped softly, although the opposite was true. Still caught off guard, his body coped much worse with the jerky movement. His muscles felt stiff and his nerves were literally screaming with tension. They were already sending the slowly sprouting seeds of his suffering into his nerves. This time, it wasn't just him who felt it; the driver obviously recognized it, too.

"Is really everything okay?"
Ryker pushed himself out of his seat and maneuvered his luggage into the aisle with his foot. Leaning more firmly on the brackets, he squeezed through the narrow passageway. Ray had to force a fake smile onto his lips before he heaved his rucksack onto his back.

"Yes, don't worry," he tried to convince the driver. Apparently, with success, because he nodded briefly before pressing the button, and the door opened with a squeak. With difficulty suppressing his staggering, Ryker went down the stairs and looked around.

He was surrounded by a forest as thick as the unwelcome embrace of an intrusive grandmother. Although the foliage gradually turned red and the dense crowns were already thinning out, the sun's rays barely reached the ground. In some places, the leaves were already piled up at the side of the road. All that was missing to transform the landscape into a fairy-tale picture was the famous white mist. The road looked out of place like a grey snake, like snow in summer.

'You have to follow the road over there,' the driver's voice snapped him out of his momentary admiration. The older man had left his seat and stepped out of the vehicle's front door. Now, he was standing next to the bus on the grey asphalt.

With an outstretched arm, the driver pointed to a road that the former soldier would never have recognized or called a street. Only after a while was he able to identify the way, although the driver pointed directly in that direction.

"The road is rarely used. The locals often keep to themselves. If you keep to it, you should reach Silvershore in just over an hour. In Silvershore, you can be picked up by the cottage owner. It is best to call the Pineview Cottage from the Bluebird Café. Mobile phones don't usually work here; the signal is terrible."

🍂🗝️🍂

A short time later, the leaves rustled softly under his shoes. It swirled and danced around his legs as Ryker followed the narrow road. There was just enough space for a little more than one car, and it winded its way through the dense greenery. The gravel was barely visible, and the leaves orange and reddish autumn tones almost wholly obscured the small, moss-covered stones.

Occasionally, more leaves fell from the treetops and swirled through the air for a few heartbeats before falling to the ground. There was something fairytale-like about the scenery, yet he couldn't enjoy the beauty.
Ray sucked his breath into his lungs through his nose with difficulty and then exhaled shakily. The straps of the heavy backpack cut through the thick anorak on his shoulders, but that wasn't the problem.

He had felt it since the sharp braking maneuver. The tiny, sharp needles were pricking his back. They seemed to dig deeper with every step he took until the pinpricks turned into little knife stabs that kept maltreating his nerves.

'No...' it flashed through his mind as he felt the pain spreading further and further. The muscles in his legs and arms cramped, and his steps became slower. Then, the seizures spread to his upper body. Of his own accord, the man fell into a slight limp as his right leg increasingly refused to work. After a short time, he was forced to stop at the side of the road.

'Damn it, why now?' he thought agonisedly as Ryker shifted his weight onto his left side. He hoped it would ease the pain, although he knew better.

A bitter taste settled on his tongue, causing him to gag softly as his usually stern features contorted in pain. His body was now stiff as a board. His breathing was fast and shallow. Black dots danced before his eyes as he bent forward, panting. Ray used his elbow to prop himself up on his healed leg to find support. At that moment, another wave exploded in his senses, causing his right arm to tremble. His elbow gave way, and his whole body wobbled.

'No ... no, no!'

His teeth grinded as he pressed them tightly together. Ryker fought against the seizure that overwhelmed him and caught him unprepared in its ferocity. He should have realized it when he was almost thrown against the seat, and his spine rebelled. 

The tingling sensation of fire ants was always the first harbinger—the first sign that the past was catching up with him, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. The world around him blurred and faded more and more into the background.

'Pull yourself together, Ryker, ' he hissed to himself. Using all his self-control, he forced his body to straighten up a little. With his left hand, the former Seal felt for the breast pocket of his tan jacket and the place where the small box of pills that could ease his pain was located. 

He found the zip, the teeth of which felt rough under his fingers, and he managed to pull it down with a clumsy movement before feeling for the small silver metal box. With some relief, he felt the smooth, cool surface. He reached for it and...

Suddenly, a screeching noise rang in his ears. 

Shrieking brakes that were pushed hard so that the wheels locked.

Adrenalin shot through his veins, numbing the sharp pain for a heartbeat and forcing him to turn his head. He only vaguely recognized the source of the shrill noise. 

A pick-up was skidding over the uneven graveled road straight towards him.