Blood flow was not under control of Spencer while he ran in the forest. And the darkness surrounding him was not helping him either. He could let himself come near to death for this occasion, though. That’s why he had taken such a risk.
“Just half a mile and I will be there.” Spencer grinned, holding his chest. Doing so, he lost his balance and fell on grass. Although his chest was hurting, his hands reached for the bag on his back. Spencer opened it and looked at his treasure.
It was fine. He closed his bag pocket and sprinted over twigs. His enthusiasm gave him a cramp which made him consider whether or not half a mile was achievable distance. The man who had come with him had died one mile behind.
“He was old. I will make it to there.” Spencer said and felt energized. He then ran through the woods till he could see some tents in distance. It used to be the time for the bunch of archaeologists where they would sit drunk around the campfire and talk about everything other than history. He knew tonight was a different case because there was no fire.
Celebration and chilling were not things people did when someone was missing in the forest. Spencer felt relief filling himself from head to toe. His hands reached for his thumping heart because of the same reason.
His hand felt wet.
Spencer realized severity of his injury after seeing his shirt smothered in his blood. He got scared when his voice dried. Somehow he screamed, “HELP.”
The dying voice grabbed attention of some people. Heads of those people who had heard the voice turned towards him. Archaeologists ran towards the source of sound. Spencer was surprised why anyone wasn’t able to tell his name. Then he understood there was mud all over his face.
Even his closest colleagues could not tell whether he was Spencer or someone lost in the forest.
Ray of flashlight fell on his face. Then only he heard someone say, “Spencer!”
“Call paramedics.” A woman yelled, “Spencer is injured.”
Spencer remembered some people putting him on a stretcher. This time pain, he cared of pain rather than the thing in his bag.
“Keep responding to me.” Doctor’s voice distorted as it reached to his ears, “Don’t sleep, Spencer. Don’t.”
Spencer’s eyes closed.
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