Ricky Turner's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

One hour ago, Ricky Turner was setting up a board game on his kitchen table. Now he sprinted through a dead forest, a guitar bouncing on his back, and he had no idea how he got here. He only knew one thing. He needed to get home and finish that game. But two rotting badgers wanted to eat him first. Ricky glanced over his shoulder. The pair chased him low to the ground. Their fur hung in ragged strips. Their eyes glowed sick green. One snapped its jaws, and drool flew off yellow teeth. They were gaining. Guater ran at his heels, barking. The shepherd looped in front, then behind, herding his master away from the snapping teeth. Ricky's fine beard was slick with sweat. His legs burned. He couldn't outrun them. He knew it. Then he saw the shack. It leaned in a clearing ahead, its boards warped and gray. A broken window gaped like a mouth. The door hung crooked on one hinge. It looked ready to fall down. Ricky didn't care. It had walls. "Guater, go!" he shouted. He hit the door with his shoulder. It swung open, and he tumbled inside. Guater shot in after him. Ricky spun and slammed the door shut. He dropped the guitar and jammed its neck through the door handle, wedging it against the frame. The badgers slammed into the wood. The whole shack shuddered. Dust rained from the ceiling. Ricky pressed his back to the door and pushed with all his weight. Claws raked the boards outside. One badger shrieked, high and wet. "Come on, hold," Ricky said. His voice shook. "Please hold." Guater growled at the window. A badger's snout pushed through the broken glass, snapping. Guater lunged and bit its nose. The badger yanked back and screeched. Ricky grabbed a rotten plank off the floor and swung it hard through the window. It cracked across the badger's skull. The creature stumbled off into the trees. The second badger threw itself at the door once more. The guitar neck bent. Then the badger stopped. Ricky held his breath and listened. He heard scraping. Then quiet. He risked a look through the window. Both badgers had backed off. They circled the shack slowly, eyes fixed on him, but they did not charge again. They settled into the dead grass and waited. Ricky slid down the door and sat on the filthy floor. Guater licked his face. Ricky wrapped his arms around the dog and laughed once, a raw and shaky sound. "We made it," he whispered. "They can't get in." Then he looked around the shack. Broken furniture. A cold fireplace. No back door. One window, too small to climb through. He was safe. He was also trapped. The badgers had him boxed inside, and he had no food, no way out, and no idea where home was.