Quiet. It was always quiet now. What she wouldn't give for some ambient noise. A car, an airplane, a train whistle. Something. Now all she heard was quiet. If she was in the wilderness, she heard birds, crickets, rustling leaves. She tended to stick to the wilderness as best she could, it felt comforting, safe, and predictable. Developed areas, not so much. So much had been scavenged, picked through. You might find a roof and four walls to keep you dry or warm, but inevitably, always, you had to leave. Whether it was people, or walkers, something would come, and you would have to move on. That's why she stuck to the wilderness. Especially now. It's been almost two years since it began. Two years of surviving. Two years of losing. Losing possessions, losing family, losing weight, losing hope. When would it be time to start getting things back?
She sighed as she reflected on things. What had brought her here? Her feet. Her stomach. Preservation. From the start, she felt that moving was key. Never settling long, avoiding larger groups. She stayed with one group, for a while. A few months. It worked well, but when it started to crack, it cracked fast. Food, that was the sticking point. People wouldn't stand to starve, but no one knew how to help themselves. So much entitlement. So much from before the fall. Things needed to change. People needed to adapt. She could see that, but the others wouldn't. So she left. Late one night. Packed her meager remains, tossed her satchel across her shoulder, slung her bow over her back. No one would stop her. Anyone that cared about her was long gone. Her Gramps would have been so disappointed in her. Giving up on others was not something he took lightly to. You give people a chance, you teach them to change, and they will. They need the tools, and if you have some of those tools, you share, you help, you contribute. You don't give in, you don't give up when things get tough. She had always had a tough time with that, even before all this.
But maybe this was better. She wondered to herself. The quiet. When had she last heard her own voice? It felt like too long. She thought about those days. When she would head to The Fox after work with friends, have a few beers and grab the mic and belt out some tunes. Some said she was good, some asked why she still had a day job. But she had loved her day job. Looking after people. The kids. Being there for people, families, holding hands, easing pain, saying prayers to Gods she didn't believe existed, begging and pleading for some sort of mercy for people who were suffering, being there when someone took their last breath and thinking what a beautiful privilege it was. Nowadays, it was a curse. There was no dignity in death anymore. No beauty in the passing of a soul. Only pain, only fear, only torture. It was hideous and it made her ache. The violent unrelenting anguish of death that exists in this world is unfathomable.
Yes, alone was better. She wasn't ready to let go, but she wasn't willing to watch others lose their battles. Survival and basic self-preservation was hard to turn off, even in the bleak circumstances of today. So she kept on trucking. Solo. Wherever her feet, the weather, the road, her stomach would take her. She wandered through the forest, bow slung over her shoulder, treading softly, watching the ground, aware of her surroundings. It had been two days. Two days since she had seen any wildlife. She heard the birds, fluttering now and then. But her bow skills were not what she wanted them to be to take on a bird in flight. She couldn't risk losing the arrow. She only had a few left. She would have to start making more. She heard a rustling and stopped mid stride, trying to get her bearings. It was to the left of her. Small. Maybe a rabbit. Excitement coursed through her at the prospect. She pulled her bow off her back, and slowly, carefully notched it. She snuck towards a small cropping of bushes, slowly and calculated. She paused, waiting to see if the animal would make an appearance from the bushes, when she first heard it.
Another footstep. Heavy, a man's. She froze mid stance, bow notched and ready, and watched. The rustling continued under the bushes, and then she heard it again, another footstep. Heavy. And then the unmistakable sound of an arrow, hitting its target. She swore internally. She had missed her moment. She ducked behind the bush, and waited. Held her breath, for fear that a breath out would give indication of her presence. It wasn't wise. Stay hidden, watch, until you know who you're dealing with. Observe. Take notes. Run if needed. She waited for the hunter to collect his prize. She watched from behind the bush, and that's when she saw him. Glimpses. Tall. Dark. Brown hair covering his face, only a chiseled stubbled jaw exposed. A well-worn jean jacket and leather vest. Cross bow, slung over his shoulder. He was quiet, almost floated over the dry leaves. His companion, not as well. Sure footed, but louder. Also tall, dark haired, but clean cut. No stubble, well groomed. Clean. Looked like he came straight out of a catalogue. A sharp contrast from his friend, who could have occupied any number of garages or sketchy bars. She did a quick scan with her ears and eyes, looking for more of them. Only two.
She let out her breath slowly and shakily. She might be able to handle two, but she didn't want to. She might not need to "handle" them, she reminded herself. They weren't all bad. That inner voice was trying to keep her grounded, realistic even. Naïve maybe. This life, this situation, had really brought out the worst in people. She saw more of that, than the opposite. Faith and optimism were crippling, outdated ideals. That shit could get you killed, raped, tortured. Bad people, and bad things, were everywhere.
She risked another glance over the bush from her spot of cover, and noticed the first man was quiet. Stopped still. Listening. Like he knew she was there. He knew what he was doing. His partner looked at him, recognizing some sign, and paused, surveying the area, his ears perked. Subconsciously, reassuringly, she fingered the knife hooked to her belt. Very carefully she turned around and stood up, revealing her position. The first man whipped his gaze on her, steely blue eyes that froze her in her tracks. His partner froze as well, staring at her with his mouth ajar, shocked to have seen her pop up out of thin air. His expression quickly changed though, and a smile crept over his face. It was warm, welcoming, and friendly. There wasn't much of that these days. They both felt safe, in different ways. Welcoming. Protective. Warm. Strong. All words that popped into her brain, but not powerful enough to turn off the flight or fight instinct that reared its head. She made eye contact with the taller, rugged, dirty man, whose eyes subtly narrowed as he scanned her, almost reading her robotically. She imagined a Robocop vision appearing in front of his eyes, identifying threat from friend. She didn't wait around to see what conclusion he was going to come to. After a moment of brief eye contact with each of them, she turned and bolted in the opposite direction.
She ran until her lungs burned, and then ran some more. She had a general idea of where she was going, she had been tracking these woods for days. Heading south, towards the river where she had last made camp. She could hear the sound of the river to her left after running for what seemed like forever. Her lungs burned with every breath, her calves tightened, sweat poured down her neck. She was not going to let up until she put a good amount of distance between them. She did not want to be followed if she could avoid it. If she came across them again, she would maybe engage with them, but she wasn't taking too many chances these days. The last time she had done that, it had been a huge mistake, and she was extremely wary. So she ran, hopping logs and narrowly avoiding boulders, keeping the stream to her left. She was so focused that she didn't even see it coming. She underestimated the dip in the trail, took a hard fall and twisted her ankle. She let out an expletive as she tumbled to the ground in a heap of sweaty limbs. All of her stuff went flying around her, her satchel opening and spilling its contents.
Again she swore, as she collected herself, breathing rapidly and rocking over onto her butt. Her ankle throbbed, swelling rapidly in her leather boot. She gave herself a moment, collecting her breath and calming her nerves as tremors threatened to overtake her limbs. She reached over and grabbed her water bottle, downing the last of its contents swiftly. Chucking the bottle in her overturned bag, she began to gather up the remaining spilled items. It certainly wasn't much, but it was all she had. A photo, a small amount of food, some arrowheads, twine, bandages, a scarf and fingerless gloves, socks, matches, a flint, a flashlight, and a book. She filed everything back in her satchel methodically, and then felt a sudden moment of panic. Her locket. Where was it? A hard lump formed in her throat as she scanned the area around her. Tears formed suddenly and unexpectedly in her eyes, welling up and threatening to spill over. She frantically scanned the area, but saw nothing. No hint of black or silver. Her heart thrummed in her chest at the thought that she had lost her most prized possession.
Possession, ha. Nothing was a possession anymore. Nothing was forever. You had it for a moment, and then poof it was gone. Memories were the only tangible possessions left in this world. She could not afford to mourn the loss of her locket now, she needed to move. She had already been still for too long. There was a good chance the men had not followed her, but was she willing to take it? She shakily rose from the ground, readjusting her satchel and her bow and quiver. She delicately put weight on her ankle and took a hesitant step. A dull ache shot up her ankle to her calf, and she chastised herself silently. She knew she had crippled herself in more ways than one. She needed to make camp, wrap her ankle and get off it for a few hours, but she was unsure she had put enough distance between her and the two men. Again she chastised herself. She was being paranoid for no reason. There was no indication they even intended to follow her. They had the prize – dinner; she was the one that ran.
She shook her head at herself, and began to limp ahead slowly. The more she walked, the less pain she seemed to have, but she knew once she slowed it would rear its ugly head. Getting her bearings, she decided she would head east towards the area she had last made camp. A few days ago she had come across an old hunter's blind, which had been in place for many years. Weathered slats of wood formed the small hut that was approximately 4'x6'. It had a roof, protecting her from the elements, and a viewing cut out for her to keep an eye on her surroundings. Looking up at the late afternoon sky, she could see clouds forming that threatened rain. It was starting to cool off, the Indian summer had turned to fall, and the nights were getting cooler. Soon she would have to consider making her way back to the closest town and looking for a warmer spot to lay her head. But not yet.
She stopped at the river to fill up her water bottles and wash the dirt off her hands and face. The cool water felt good against her skin after the sweat bath she had just given herself. She took a moment to enjoy the sound of the rushing water and scanned the opposing shore line. Nothing. No wildlife, no people, no walkers. With reluctance to leave the peaceful scene for a more secluded spot, she turned and headed towards the blind, which was about a half a mile east of the river. Her thoughts traveled back to the two men, trying to make sense of why they were by themselves in the middle of this place, but then, why was she? The last group she had run into was a handful of questionable men. They had almost cornered her, but she managed to get away before they completely circled her. She could feel something bad, leeching from them before any of them even opened their mouths. She knew if she didn't run, she wouldn't have been able to run. And that wasn't something she was willing to risk.
She approached the hunting blind from the west, slowly taking in its surroundings, making sure it was uninhabited. It looked just as it had when she left it three days ago, empty and unoccupied. She eased inside, dropping her pack and her bow, feeling almost at home in the familiar little hut. It was basically big enough for her to lay down, it would have been tight to house two. But it held a roof, and kept out her most imminent threats. She tied the door shut, and then unpacked her satchel, unlaced her boot and wrapped her ankle. She lay down and propped her foot up the wall, trying to get some height to it so the swelling would come down. Breaking out a granola bar, she munched quietly, and her thoughts again drifted. She subconsciously picked at the nail on her right index finger while she thought about her locket. A gift from her grandfather, the last physical piece of him she had in her possession aside from her bow. She missed him every day, heard his voice in her head encouraging her, chastising her, she missed his wisdom. She beat herself up over the loss and then closed her eyes and counted down from ten to one. An old trick that had worked well to refocus her thoughts. She would give herself time to reminisce and mull over her regrets, but she would not wallow. It did no good to focus on things that she could not change.
Closing her eyes brought forth the fatigue she had tamped down over the last hour. Her eyes were heavy and a distinct pressure began to build in the middle of her forehead. She took a deep breath in, and decided to try and catch some rest while she was safely locked in the little hut. With her foot up the wall, she settled in as best she could and closed her eyes.
The rustle of leaves woke her with a start. She struggled for a moment to comprehend where she was. It was dark out, impossible to tell the exact time of the evening, or how long she slept for. She listened attentively for a while, deciding that the leaves rustling was just the wind. There was no sign of movement, no footsteps or drags, no moans, it wasn't a walker or a human. Reassuring herself, she slowly edged herself up to look through the viewing hole. She let her eyes adjust to the dark and take it all in, her heart pounding in her chest. Nothing. A cool breeze caressed her face. She tried to see above the trees but could not glimpse any night sky for the clouds. The scent of rain permeated the air. She eased back down, and turned her attention to her ankle. She rotated it and winced at the pain that greeted her from the movement. Her brain was already formulating a plan. She was close to a water source, but short on food. She would need to find a food source or risk a more serious problem. She decided in the morning she would try to see if she could catch anything down by the river, and if she had success she would stay here, otherwise she would head towards town. She lingered on the last thought with a bit of hesitancy. Town meant people, and people meant problems. Subconsciously she chewed on a fingernail while she pondered, trying to reassure herself that maybe there was a place that wasn't picked over, that wasn't threatening, where she could rest up and give her ankle a break. She settled into a more restless sleep, the sound of raindrops lulling her to sleep.