Abandoned In Wasteland, He Rode To Me

Chapter 4

For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him.

"Damian, are you serious?" My voice trembled. "You're just going to leave me here?"

Damian dismissed my concern, saying, "Don't say it like that. I'm not abandoning you. I'm just asking you to wait here. Once I get back to the weigh station, I'll call to have another car sent to take you to the county."

He paused, then added, "You don't want an innocent person to be left with a permanent disability because of you, right?"

Listening to his words, An iron fist seemed to close around my heart. "What do you mean 'because of me'? I didn't cause her injury..."

"That's not what I meant," Damian interrupted impatiently. "We've known each other for so many years. Don't you trust me?"

My mind was a chaotic mess, but I reflexively replied, "Of course I trust you, but this is the Dead Zone..."

Before I could finish, he cut me off again. "Then just wait here. Someone will come to pick you up in less than two hours."

Because of that one word, "trust," I didn't even get a chance to say "no" before I was shoved out of the car.

The vehicle sped away, leaving me choking on a cloud of exhaust. I watched it until it vanished completely, leaving me in the middle of a boundless, empty steppe.

A wave of panic surged through me, but I forced it down. I trusted Damian. Growing up, he had always taken such good care of me. When my mother passed away, I couldn't eat; Damian had made me a bowl of noodles himself and watched me eat them. Back then, he had told me earnestly, "You don't have to grow up overnight, Celeste. I'll take care of you until you do."

I was only thirteen at the time. And it was those words that made me fall for him. Over the years, he had never broken that promise.

Trying to calm my heart, I found a rock on the roadside and sat down to wait. It was daytime, and although I had no signal, I could at least use my phone to take some photos of the landscape. I was determined to finish the documentary my father had dreamed of making in the Northwest.

Two hours passed by quickly. My phone flashed a low battery warning. Yet, there was still no sign of a car. The anxiety I had forced down began to bubble up again.

It's just a delay. Maybe they got held up in the city. Don't overthink it.

Though I told myself this, I couldn't settle my nerves. Time ticked away, second by excruciating second, and my unease morphed into full-blown panic. I had no signal and no way to reach anyone. In this desolate expanse, it was so quiet I couldn't even hear the wind.

It finally dawned on me: what if Damian didn't come back?

I refused to give up, waiting until nightfall. The temperature plummeted. My jacket was no match for the bitter cold that bit through my skin and chilled me to the bone. I curled into a ball in the endless darkness, hugging myself in a desperate attempt to retain some warmth, but it was futile. This was the Dead Zone, a place where life itself was forbidden. If I didn't freeze to death like my father, I might be eaten by wild wolves.

I was on the verge of madness, consumed by despair. I couldn't hold back anymore and burst into tears. "Damian... how could you do this to me..."

Just then, the clip-clop of hooves approached, accompanied by the faint tinkling of a bell.

I froze and looked up. Through the night-shrouded steppe, a tall figure rode slowly toward me on a white horse, bathed in the cascading moonlight. The man was draped in a tribal robe, the green teardrop earring on his left ear catching the light as the little chiming bell on the horse's chest jingled crisply.

In that instant, the vast steppe and the night sky seemed to fade into the background, leaving only him.

He halted before me, looking down from his saddle, and reached out a hand. His voice was low and gravelly, like the wind sweeping across the plains:

"Come up."