Sarah was thankful for warm summer nights, but the afternoon heat was a different story. Even sitting underneath the trees, she felt like she was sweating out all the water she had left in her body. She would have to take her chance and head to the lake. It wouldn't be so far away, but it would be smart to find something to store water in for later. In all the junk in the bomb shelter, or hideout, or whatever, there had to be a canteen or some kind of bottle.
She lifted the door open slowly, but it still let out a horrid screech. She left it open this time and hurried down the ladder. She wanted to hurry. There was no point staying down there longer than need be, to run into the man in the mask.
She shifted some things out of the way, looking in and around the furniture, but she couldn't find what she needed. Empty cans littered the floor but if they weren't caked in old food, they had holes in them. She threw them to the side and looked around the room for anything else useful. She found a knife stuck in the wall behind the grindstone. It would be useful to skin any animals she caught. She tucked it inside her pants and moved on. In the end, there was nothing she could find that would serve her purpose and not poison her in the process. If she had to travel to the lake once a day, then that's what she would have to do for now.
She left into the bright sunlight and let the trap door slam shut. The travel to the lake didn't take as long as she had thought. She was there in fifteen minutes, give or take. She waded out into the lake, cupping water into her hands and drinking deeply. The water was so blue, so clear, besides campers peeing in it, it had to be fine to drink.
Campers! Why hadn't she thought about that before? They would have to have food, maybe cans that they had left behind! Flashlights, bottled water, she drooled at the thought. As she circled the lake, dread began to creep back into her stomach. What if she was spotted by one of them? Would the police have put her picture on the TV? Surely they would have thought she would run to the woods. Still, they weren't pursuing her. Wouldn't they have come already? Dogs or helicopters? No matter. She would keep her expose to the night, where she could duck away into the darkness before anyone knew what happened.
The first campsite she came to was a group of cabins. Her body couldn't wait until night. Her stomach grumbled; her throat wanted more water. It looked vacant enough. She stepped up to the back of the cabin and looked in the window. No one inside. She walked around to the front and stepped inside, listening for the lightest footstep. When none came, she walked inside. It was empty. She checked the first three cabins and find them as barren as the last. Only when she walked into the fourth cabin did she come across a few cans of corn. She sat on the ground and stabbed the can with her knife. It took several desperate stabs for her to pull up the lid, and when she did, she sliced her finger open. It didn't matter. Her hand dug into the corn. It didn't satisfy her hunger, but it took the edge off. She tucked the remaining can in her pants and left.
As she left out the back, another smell filled her nostils. A rancid, decaying smell. It didn't take long to notice the source. A woman, or what used to be a woman, laid on the ground ahead. There was no blood, none that she could see anyway, but there were three long gashes in her back. Sarah's mind immediately flashed to the blood soaked machete. So the man in the mask wasn't hunting game after all. Or maybe just a different kind.
Sarah backed away, into the camp and ran out the front, wanting to put distance between her and the smell. That and the woman's eyes. Open and staring. Just like the old woman she had let die. The guilt crept in again and she fought to send it away, to the back of her mind where she wouldn't have to deal with it. There were more pressing matters. Food. Water. Shelter. The man in the mask. But the thoughts wouldn't go away. The eyes. The shallow breaths. The blood.
She stopped only once she was underneath her trees. She laid down in the dirt and let the guilt feed on her.
Lightning flashed across the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming. If she didn't seek shelter soon, she would be drenched. The trees would not offer shelter from the lightning, nor the rain. It was becoming clear that her only option for shelter was with that man.
She crept to the trap door and opened it. The grinding sound filled the forest, but she was used to it. Her feet felt down the ladder and she landed softly at the bottom. She clicked on her lantern and set it down beside her. Maybe she would just stay here, nearby. If she needed to escape, it would accessible. She hadn't seen the man in the little while. Maybe he had somewhere else to stay. But, if he was anything like her, he was going to want to get out of the rain. That meant that she would have to make sure to remain silent.
She sat with her back against the ladder, the soft light bouncing around the walls. Then, a loud thud. At first she thought it was thunder, but something didn't seem right. It sounded like it was right above her. She climbed up and pushed on the trap door, but it wouldn't budge. She slammed her body into it but something held it firmly down. She was stuck!
Terror filled her body as she heard a loud thud of a door closing nearby.