Kelly froze, her breath catching in her throat. It was John Doe’s voice—rough and broken from years of total disuse. He was standing near the edge of the dense woods, whispering into the dark. She took a slow, quiet step forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. Was he having a psychological break?
Given his unknown medical history and profound amnesia, a sudden regression wasn’t out of the question. “John?” she called out softly. “It’s freezing. Let’s go inside.” He didn’t turn around. He just kept staring intently into the treeline. Suddenly, the dry brush snapped. Kelly gasped as she saw a flash of movement—a dark shape running through the bushes, disappearing into the blackness of the forest. Whoever it was, it was fast, vanishing before her flashlight beam could catch it.
The old man finally turned, his eyes hollow and vacant. He didn’t speak to Kelly. He just allowed her to gently guide him back inside, his hands shivering fiercely.