Meet Me In The Woods - Lord Huron
A soft drizzle of light streams down onto the rusty dirt that surrounds me as I lay on the bed, slowly waking up after a short night of sleep. The drones have been more active than usual in the recent weeks, causing me too much paranoia to get a complete night of sleep. The small boulder above me shields my home from the outside world. I've gone nearly four days now without sunlight and don't know if I can survive another day without. No matter how active the drones are, I prepare myself for a quick, risky venture up to the outside world.
As I raise myself out of the bed, I suddenly feel the toll my body has taken from lack of sleep and food. My back aches like a stiff wooden board forcing my spine one way and no other. A sharp pain attacks my temples and no matter how hard I rub them, it won't budge without a drink of fresh water. As I stand, the world shifts in too many directions, and I stumble forward across the dirt floor. So far, not great, but manageable. The small kitchen holds only a handful of dried berries which I chew down as fast as I can. The soft berries stick to my teeth and dry throat as I force them down. My stomach begs for more, but it's all I've got until I make the trek up the tunnel.
This has been my home for the past seven years - a hole in the ground - walls, floors, and ceilings made of dirt and rock, hidden underneath the most dangerous place on Earth right now. The drones live up there on the island, tracking every movement in the expanse of woods that surrounds the mansion. This is where the apocalypse began more than 100 years ago. And thanks to my previous circumstances, it is now my home. I walk over toward the south wall - a tall, long wall of dry dirt with thousands of tally marks from left to right. I pick up the flat stone that sits beneath the artwork and etch in another deep line. 2,429 days since last human contact. 2,429 days since I hugged my aunt's dying body. 2,429 days since I crawled down into this hole, fearing for my life, waiting for the drones to give up their search for me.
Don't give up, Mira. It's too late for me, but it's never too late for you. Please, don't give up.
I haven't. No matter how difficult this life is now, I must keep fighting. I have no home. No tribe. No purpose - except to survive.
I pull my thick, long braids up into a loose bun to clear my vision before grabbing my backpack. It's olive green, stained with mud, and has endured many years of forest life. I pack it with an empty canteen, a sharp pocket knife, and a few traps I've created out of washed up metal from the beach. Hopefully the traps I set last week are full, because my stomach is really hating me right now. The climb up the tiny 5-foot hole is made easier by metal rungs like a ladder leading to the top. The hardest part is lifting the boulder that blocks the entrance, shielding me from the drones. My home is completely hidden and the closests I've come to being spotted happened when I lifted the rock without listening for drones first. It was hovering about a quarter mile away and nearly shot me, but got confused when I disappeared beneath the ground. Since then, I've made it a habit to wait 30 seconds before going up.
It's clear today, finally. But I know I'll only have about ten minutes, to play it safe. Which I do. Always.
Mustering all the strength I can from my weakened body, I lift the boulder, barely, and watch as the light pours into my dark cavern. I stay still for a moment, breathing, basking in the illuminating sunlight that warms my cool pale skin. I haven't had much time to enjoy the sun since I stepped foot onto this goddamn island. Ironic, since we were hoping to find the City of Light.
Finally, I brace myself for the chance of death, and climb onto the grassy dirt that surrounds the entrance. The dirt is wet and sticks to my hands in the best sensation imaginable. The scent of fresh rain pours into my mind and I lose myself for a moment. The island is so lush, bright green, alive with chirping birds and crashing waves from the distant beach. If only it weren't infested with killer drones.
I push myself up until I'm standing and slowly begin to walk. My joints feel like rust after days of laying in bed, preserving what little energy I had. While I'm happy to be walking amongst the thick forest, I know I only have so much time. The first trap is just meters from my dugout. I climb over twigs and small pebbles, cautious of the noise of my boots against the earth. The drones wake easily, but if there aren't any around, I should be fine to snap a twig or two.
The trap lay open, bare, useless. I curse under my breath and move forward to the next one, hidden near the base of a large pine tree which usually houses a good amount of active squirrels. I step carefully toward it and keep my gaze direct until it comes into view - a small but worthwhile catch laying dead in the closed trap, it's metal teeth biting deep into the creature's tail. Lunch time.
I unlatch the hook and set the trap open again, eager to find more prey tomorrow morning. I pocket the squirrel and debate checking the next trap. It might be smarter to focus on water and firewood for today and gather the rest of the meat later.
Memory brings me to the nearest freshwater creek less than an ⅛ mile west - close, but in the same direction the drones come from. With every step, my heart pounds faster, and my adrenaline keeps me moving forward as my brain fights with me to turn back.
You need water. Focus, get the water, and run back quick.
My aunt's voice replays in my mind, reminding me of my strength, of my purpose, of my parents.
Your parents didn't die just to have you do the same. Think of Azgeda when you feel like giving up.
My pace quickens as the trees pass in my peripheral. I stop, just for one moment. Silence. It's safe - for now.
The creek is running heavier than usual, probably due to the recent rainfall. Setting the backpack down against a boulder, I reach for the canteen, twist it open, and let the fresh water stream into the metal bottle. Just as it reaches the top, a twig snaps behind me.
Prey? I turn, hopeful at first. But my hope turns to sheer terror as I scour the empty woods.
Another snap.
I quickly twist the top back on and shove it in the bag. I frantically shovel through the bottom of the bag until I pull out a long, heavy rope and my bronze spear. I crouch down into a squatting position, hidden behind the large boulder that stands between me and the sound.
Another snap. Leaves crushing.
Whatever it is, it's large enough to make noise as it walks.
My head pumps blood and adrenaline so fast it dizzies me. I fight the urge to swallow the fear that has risen in my chest. Slowly, I peer my eyes above the boulder and grip my hands tight around the rope and the spear. The noises grow louder, and so does the fear in my chest. My body feels tense, like a rubber band pulled as far as it can without snapping. With every footstep, my heart jolts, ready to fight.
The steps are far too close for comfort now.
And I see it. A human. Not ten feet in front of me.
My subconscious response takes control and before I can stop it, I stand, sprint, and throw the rope at the human with an accuracy I didn't know I had. The end of the rope catches around their neck and I pull back as hard as I can. Their head jolts backward and their body follows, dragging across the forest floor with a muffled scream.
"What the fu-"
Their voice cuts out as I pull the rope tighter. I run toward the squirming body moving every which way, gripping the short grass with their bloodied knuckles.
It's a boy. A man. Not much older than me. Long, dark brown hair. Scarred cheeks. Angry and confused all at once.
"Wha-"
I pull the rope again and his throat closes.
I panic, unsure of his origin. I have to be safe. I have to assume he's one of them. Chipped. Hunting me down to make me one of them.
With no other option, I position my body on top of his, clench my fist, and send it soaring down with all the weight I can muster. The force smashes into his left cheek and the scar on his face gushes open. I pull away in shock as his eyes flutter and close. To be even safer, I send one more punch in the same spot. He's out, but not dead.
I don't think I could kill him if I tried.
I spend a moment still, silent, catching my breath, still hovered over his sleeping body. I stare at his face, his sharp features, his dampened hair. I stare in awe.
A human.
I begin to wonder if I'm seeing things. Have I lost my mind finally? Is seven years enough to make up imaginary people? I'm probably dehydrated past the point of no return.
At once, the birds stop chirping and are replaced with the distant roar of drones. I pick up my backpack without hesitation and begin running. Behind me, the boy coughs.
"Hey," his voice cracks, weak under the stress of the previous incident. He coughs again, this time nearly choking. The drones are still audible, but don't appear to have gotten any closer than before. It's possible they are traveling the opposite way.
"What happ-"
"Shut up!" I whisper, as stern as possible.
"Wh-"
Before he can ask another question, I knock him out with one swift swing to the temple. His head rolls over on the dirt and I don't have any other option but to bring him with me. If I don't - and if he really is one of them - he might wake up and search the area for my whereabouts. He obviously didn't seem to care about bringing attention to the drones.
I tie the rope tightly, but not too tight, around his neck and position the other end of the rope over my shoulder. I walk with slow, long steps, heaving his heavy body behind me through the path of trees and rocks. His back drags against the ground in such a loud noise that I consider taking a leap of faith and leaving his body here on the forest floor. But I can't. My aunt would scold my poor decision making. If it's the wrong decision, I'm dead. Or taken. I don't know which is worse.
The rope burns the rough skin of my hands. With each pull of his weight, my skin tears open in painful blisters. But the sound of the drone behind me keeps my vision focused ahead.
I can see the boulder that marks my home. My safety.
I made it.