"Sara! Stop!" Kenny yelled, sprinting after her with Dean beside him
The sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs echoed through the forest as they chased her deeper into the woods. She didn't look back once — not even when Dean shouted again. Whatever she felt, whatever she knew, was driving her harder than reason ever could.
Kenny's voice came out between gasps. "Where the hell is she going?"
Dean pushed forward, ducking under a low branch. "I don't know — but we're not letting her go alone!"
Up ahead, Sara stumbled, nearly tripping over a root, but she caught herself and kept running — straight toward a patch of crooked trees where the light bent strangely, warping the space around them.
"Sara!" Dean yelled again, his heart hammering.
But she didn't stop.
Not until she reached a small clearing — and the moment she did, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Dean and Kenny caught up seconds later, breathless, sweat running down their necks — and then both of them froze.
A few wild dogs were circling something on the ground. No, someone. A man lay motionless in the middle of the clearing, half on the patchy grass and half in the dirt. His clothes were torn to shreds, face smeared with mud and blood.
The harsh midday sunlight broke through the trees, glinting across his skin — just enough for them to see who it was.
"Jim," Dean breathed, disbelief cutting through his voice.
"Holy shit," Kenny muttered.
The dogs hadn't noticed them yet. They were growling, low and guttural, one of them nosing at Jim's arm. Another barked sharply, teeth flashing in the light.
"Back off!" Dean yelled, grabbing a branch and hurling it with everything he had. It hit the dirt near the closest one, scattering a few rocks. The dogs jumped back, snarling but holding their ground.
Kenny snatched up a rock and hurled it hard enough to make one of them yelp.
The sudden noise worked. The dogs hesitated, growling, tails stiff. Then, finally, one after another, they backed off — still watching — before turning and darting into the brush.
The clearing went silent again, the tension fading just enough for them to breathe.
Dean hurried over to Jim, dropping to one knee. "God…" he muttered under his breath. "He's a mess."
Kenny crouched beside him, already checking for signs of life. He leaned in close, hand near Jim's mouth, and then his eyes widened. "He's breathing. Barely, but yeah — he's alive."
Sara stayed a few steps back, watching carefully. She wasn't panicked — just focused. Her eyes scanned the woods before landing on Dean. "We should move him. Now. Before those things come back."
Dean nodded. "Agreed."
He glanced up at Kenny. "Grab his legs. I've got his shoulders."
As they lifted Jim carefully off the ground, Dean winced. Jim was lighter than he should've been — cold, weak, his head lolling against Dean's arm.
The three of them started moving, slow and steady, the sound of their boots crunching against the dirt and leaves. The forest now had become too quiet.
Dean nodded, sweat beading at his temple. "We'll make it. Just keep moving."
It didn't take much time— but step by step, they pushed through the trees, the sunlight breaking through again as the edge of the forest came into sight.
By the time they reached Mark's house, Jim was still unconscious. His breathing came out shallow, his pulse faint but still there.
Sara didn't waste a second. The moment they stepped out of the trees, she broke into a run, sprinting toward the center of town.
"I'll get Kristi!" she called over her shoulder.
Dean nodded, adjusting Jim's limp body in his arms. "Go! We'll take him to the post office — it's closer."
Kenny grunted, shifting his grip on Jim's legs. "Good call. Kristi treated Julie there last time — she'll have her supplies set up."
They moved fast, every step heavy and uneven, but they didn't stop. Jim's breathing stayed shallow — weak, uneven gasps that made Dean's stomach twist tighter with every one.
By the time they reached the post office, Dean's arms were burning. "Set him here," he said, lowering Jim onto the same worn table Julie had been treated on just a few minutes ago. Dust motes drifted in the sunlight coming through the broken window, and the silence in the room felt heavier than ever.
"Come on, man," Dean muttered, patting Jim's cheek lightly. "Stay with us."
Kenny checked his pulse again. "Still there. But he's cold."
Dean pulled off his jacket and threw it over Jim's torso. "That'll help till Kristi gets here."
A few minutes later, the door burst open. Sara came back, panting hard, and right behind her was Kristi, her medical bag slung over her shoulder.
"How is he?" Kristi demanded, eyes scanning the room before locking on the cot.
Dean stepped aside immediately. "Right here. He's barely conscious — pulse is weak, breathing's shallow."
Kristi dropped to her knees beside Jim, her hands already moving fast — checking his pulse, opening his eyelids, assessing injuries. "He's dehydrated, maybe in shock. Get me water — and something clean to wipe this blood off."
Sara nodded and darted toward the back room without a word.
Dean turned as the door flew open again — this time it was Tabitha, with Ethan close behind her and Julie limping as fast as she could manage.
"Jim!" Tabitha's voice cracked as she ran forward, dropping to her knees beside the cot. Her hands hovered over his face, trembling, afraid to touch him in case it made him vanish again.
Ethan stood beside her, clutching her arm. "Dad?" he whispered, his voice small and shaking.
Kristi glanced up, her tone steady but urgent. "He's alive. But barely. Give me some room to work."
Tabitha nodded, tears streaming down her face, moving back just enough for Kristi to start treating him. Sara returned with a bowl of water and a few clean rags, handing them over quickly.
Kristi worked fast — cleaning his face, checking his vitals, making quick notes in that calm, focused way that somehow steadied everyone else. "He's got cuts and bruises but nothing fatal," she said. "He's exhausted — probably from whatever the hell happened to him. His body's fighting to catch up."
Dean exhaled a shaky breath. "So he'll make it?"
Kristi didn't look up, but her voice softened. "He'll make it."
Tabitha gripped Jim's hand, pressing it to her forehead. "You hear that?" she whispered. "You're okay, Jim. You're okay."
Ethan stood close, clutching his toy tightly, his eyes never leaving his dad's face.
Kenny stepped back toward the door, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'll go tell Boyd and the others we found him," he said quietly. "They'll want to know right away."
Dean and the rest nodded at that whereas Kenny headed out, jogging back toward the forest.
As his footsteps faded, the room fell quiet again — the only sounds were Jim's unsteady breathing and the soft scrape of Kristi's instruments.
Sara leaned against the wall, her expression unreadable. Dean caught her eye, and she gave a small nod — tired but relieved.
Tabitha sat beside the cot, whispering to her unconscious husband. "You're safe now," she said softly, voice breaking. "You came back to us."
Dean looking at this wondered whether they were really getting a divorce soon as they definitely didn't look like so.
He quietly stepped back, giving the family some space and walked over to the old couch by the wall, dropping onto it with a thud. His arms and shoulders ached from carrying Jim all the way back. His hands still trembled slightly, adrenaline slowly fading.
As he leaned back and rubbed his face, a faint ding echoed in his head — a sound only he could hear.
××
Quest Complete: Save Jim Matthews from inevitable death
Status: Complete
Reward: +500 Points
××
Dean's lips curved into a small grin as relief washed over him. Finally.
He wasn't sure what comforted him more — Kristi saying Jim would live, or the system confirming it. Either way, it meant one thing: Jim wasn't dying today.
He closed his eyes and gave a silent command. In an instant, the familiar translucent interface appeared in his mind.
He started scrolling through the options. He'd been waiting to buy a few skills for a while, but he hadn't had enough points until now.
His gaze landed on the first skill he wanted.
[Primal Combat Flow – 180 Points]
In life-or-death fights, your body moves on instinct — fighting, dodging, and reacting with precision even without training.
Dean selected it immediately. A warm rush spread through his body — muscles tightening, senses sharpening. For a brief second, it felt like his instincts had been rewired — quicker, smarter, ready.
He kept scrolling and stopped at another ability he'd wanted for a while.
[Iron Stomach – 200 Points]
Eat or drink almost anything without getting sick — unclean water, rotten food, spoiled rations — your stomach can handle it all.
'Perfect,' he thought quietly, tapping confirm.
Dean leaned back on the couch and let out a tired sigh as he closed the interface. He still had a few points left but he decided to use them when necessary or when he was in trouble and needed some special skills or ability.
He closed his eyes and decided to rest for a while.
***
For 5+ advance chapters visit my patreon.
patreon.com/narrative_ninja007
***