Paradise Lost

How did it feel, finally reaching your destination?

The relief was instantaneous. The place was perfect. The tower was beautiful. It was all wood – it must have been built in the thirties or something. Square and slanting with four posts driven into the earth at an angle and with a decent-sized cabin perched on top. There was a thick staircase built into the framework, but the bottom portion had been replaced with a sliding aluminum ladder. To keep tourists out, I guess. It had no windows – only open space – and was painted Forest Service Brown. A radio antenna atop it swayed in the wind. The paint was peeling and the joints looked a little rusty, but the tower was formidable. Our hopes sank just looking at it.

Why was that?

It was obviously inhabited.

A little metal shack had been added near the base, presumably to give rangers a more comfortable place to sleep. A generator was evident, and cans of gasoline were stacked next to it. Smoke trailed languidly from a tiny chimney and a vegetable garden had been sown throughout the clearing. Sophie plucked a green bean; it was the first fresh food we'd seen in days and she didn't care much for the rehydrated stuff. A shout rang out.

[She pounds the table for dramatic effect.]

"Back! Get away!"

We all jumped and edged away, but then Micah took a purposeful step forward. A face had appeared in the shadows of the tower's overhanging roof. A rifle glinted from within that enticing gloom. "Hello-oo!" called Micah, trying to sound particularly friendly. Pravar stepped up to join him. "Look, we just want to talk. We have lots of supplies. We're not gonna touch your stuff!" Sophie was shaking her head, pawing at my sleeve and trying to pull me back. She was getting ever more nervous since we left Max behind. Yoko didn't seem to mind. She was running around, sniffing at everything and wagging her tail. "I'm warning you!" yelled the voice. It was definitely a man, and older too. Pravar raised his hands slowly, tugging down his sleeves. "It's OK, we haven't been bitten." The rifle flicked from Micah to Pravar, then back to me and Soph. "You aren't coming up!"

The boys took another step forward, attempting to look casual. What did we want? To share the space? To drive him out? I'm not really sure. They both had the guns strapped to the back of their packs. The only way to reach them was to swing the entire bag around or call for me or Sophie.

Maybe I was imagining it, but I swear I heard a click. The next moment, the ground at Pravar's feet exploded. "Aaargh!" he was screaming, dancing around on one unbalanced leg. "What the fuck!? What the fuck!? What the fuck!?"

Now, firing a warning shot into the ground is perfectly legitimate, I'd say. But that idiot didn't even think about the birdshot. Blood spurted and mixed with the dust in the air. The pellets had ripped holes in Pravar's jeans, and apparently his leg as well. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" echoed Micah, gripping Pravar by the shoulders. "FUCK OFF," boomed the reply.

We hightailed it out of there. Micah and I had limping Pravar by the arms and still managed to drag the beans. I tossed the shovel to Sophie, and she got it together and even remembered to call Yoko to us.

[She looks affectionately towards the bed. Yoko is snoring breathily.]

She's such a bad judge of character.

How would this compare with your other interactions with people?

We hadn't really dealt with anyone yet, but that was a pretty normal response for Old Man Sam.

Old Man Sam?

We never found out his real name, so we just called him that. Each of us would talk to him once in a while, whenever we got really bored or just needed to let off steam by yelling at somebody. He felt pretty bad about shooting Pravar, but that certainly didn't stop him from being a crazy old man. Sometimes we'd leave each other books. I'm pretty sure the army hauled him off in the end.

What makes you think that? They let this colony be.

Hauled off or just dealt with the easy way. He's certainly not there anymore. Nick's started moving stuff over to the tower, but I don't think he'll ever really leave. He put too much work into his place. But yes! Old Man Sam. That's who we were talking about. He was a crazy old man, and time just made him crazier. The crazy kept him alive though. I guess that's just the way it has to be.

Some of the other people we ran into were nice though. There were those backpackers… Let's see, what were their names?

[Lilly taps her chin thoughtfully.]

The guy was Adam… And then there was Carissa…

[She searches for another name.]

And Ashley.

Friends of yours?

Acquaintances. We ran into them on one of the trails – ate lunch together one day. We all shared a beer they had been saving. We ended up going our separate ways; each side thought the other was heading for disaster.

[Her lip twists into a grimace.]

They didn't make it.

How do you know that? You kept in touch?

We, uh, ran into some zombies with hiking racks. It wasn't that unusual, but these ones looked rather familiar. They were in pretty bad shape.

How so?

Skinny and shredded. They certainly didn't get a quick death, I can tell you that. And zombies don't fare too well out in these woods. There's so much to trip over and twigs and branches to gouge your eyes out. A zombie arm isn't going to look prettier if a pine tree scrapes off all the skin.

That's a… charming picture.

Pravar's leg didn't look much better, I can tell you that.

[She frowns into her cup.]

Bastard.