The slope was steep, and Jack cut his arms on the rock, but he didn’t even notice. He pulled himself up as far as he could, which was enough. He realized that he was on a cliff, surrounded by thick, misty forest. He found himself feeling almost claustrophobic. The mist was so dense that he couldn’t see more than a few miles, but he was still disappointed when he realized there was no apparent civilization.
Civilization? Jack was unsure as to what to expect. He could hardly remember what ‘civilization’ was supposed to look like. He had been lost in these woods for as long as he could remember. Wait a moment, he thought. He couldn’t have been here that long. His left leg was broken, and he knew, even in his fragmented state, that a man couldn’t last very long alone in the woods with a broken leg.
Jack stopped to breathe, and think. At least the breathing part seemed natural. He had much more trouble with the thinking part. The word amnesia came to his mind, and he was able to recall the definition. He discarded the idea of amnesia, however, since he did have some memory of some things. He remembered a city. He remembered a person yelling “Jack, Jack!” to his face, so he assumed that was his name. Jack also had an urge to do… something. He felt he was supposed to do something, be he didn’t know what. He couldn’t keep a chain of thought very long either.
Jack looked around, and realized he was lying on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by trees. He looked down at his arms: bloody. He looked back at the path he must have followed: also bloody. His leg was bloody, his arms were bloody, and the path he’d followed was bloody. Jack decided that being unconscious was probably a good idea.