Chapter VI: Life, Unseen(Part III)
(Music: "All Gone (Alone)", by Gustavo Santaolalla & Alan Umstead)
1 year in...
Winter
Thwip!
"Eeek!"
...
The forest went quiet, after the abrupt squeal and quick death of a rabbit had momentarily pierced the silent serenity. Waiting a few moments and looking around, I trudged up to the rabbit's body, picking it up and inspecting it. A clean kill from the makeshift bow I'd fashioned.
My first kill with a makeshift bow. A good omen.
Satisfied, I unsheathed my hunting knife (which I'd found while traveling west, in a Cabela's in Nebraska), and began skinning the rabbit's pelt, storing it in a pouch around my torso. I then picked up the rabbit corpse and strapped it to my tattered backpack as I made my way back to the improvised shelter I'd put together a mile or so away. I'd made it a habit to not fire my handgun around here (The Beretta I possessed during my thieving years, and which was graciously given back to me by the Southern Coalition as a means of defending myself. I had them to thank for that, at least). I wanted to keep my home area silent so that wildlife would be more inclined to travel and seek refuge around here; A great way of securing a steady supply of food for myself.
As my boots trudged through the densely-packed snow, I wanted to bask in the freedom I enjoyed for those many days after leaving Louisiana and heading west. Each day I had fallen asleep on my own sleeping bag, exhausted from the day's hunting and having worked on building my own house (however shitty it would turn out), and deeply enjoyed the freedom of making my own decisions. Every day was better than the last; For once in my life, I had felt a sincere hope in the way that things would turn out.
Though, inevitably, that would only last for so long.
To be replaced... by dread.
(Music: "It Can't Last (Home)", by Gustavo Santaolalla)
As the days passed, I was forced to ration what little food I had left- recent hunting trips proved fruitless, as most of the wildlife was in a state of hibernation or in hiding at this point of the wintry month. At one point in the passing weeks, I had resorted to eating only a few bites of tough jerky each day, and I suffered many nights with a grumbling stomach that demanded more energy for the increasing labor my body was giving.
Not only that, but my body was being forced to adjust to the extreme temperatures I had caught myself in. The sweltering heat of the summers had built resistance in my flesh, but the cold was another thing entirely. I had nearly lost my limbs to frostbite more than once, and I realized the absolute importance of keeping my body properly heated.
Aside from that, I was not lucky enough to find any more animals in my area. And so, two months into building my beloved home, I was forced to abandon it to find an area with more food sources. The ensuing weeks were brutal, as I had pushed my body further than ever before in terms of endurance, and only sustained it off what little crumbs of food I had left.
Then came a day when I felt that a miracle had been blessed to me; A great, large stag stood atop a hill, looking over the wintry landscape with beady black eyes. I salivated with delight as I saw the meat on its bones; If I killed this beast, I wouldn't have to worry about food for another few months, if I properly dried out the meat for jerky and rationed it well enough to myself.
But as I crept closer, and got within shooting distance of the stag-
BANG!
-I felt a surging rage overcome me as I saw a rifle bullet slam through its neck, sending the choking stag careening down the hill; Moments later, hunters crawled over the steep hilltop, looking down at the stag with hunger plain on their faces. As I was about to lash out and execute the two hunters to take back my meal, I restrained myself- Perhaps I could find where they lived and benefit from an even greater stash of food.
It was a risk, but one that I was willing to take; After experiencing the brink of starvation for perhaps the 50th time in a row, I was done with combating hunger. I could endure storms, bullets, and beasts if I had enough grit, but without food, I would be unable to fight back with the energy I needed to survive.
Food was the primary concern of this year. And I took advantage of it.
I followed the hunter duo back to their encampment as they hauled the stag onto a horse and cantered down the trail; I had to sprint a number of times to catch up with the trotting of the horses, and at one point I had considered abandoning the hunt because of the fatigue that overcame me.
Nonetheless, I pushed down my worries, exhaustion, and hunger, determined to find where these rat-bastards that'd stolen my meal lived.
After a few miles, I was relieved to see a sizable, snowed-in town appear on the horizon, which the hunters approached and waved down the sentry guards at the front of the town. I looked around the area; Aside from a few barricades of barbed wire and sharpened spikes, their town was relatively exposed- I could see at least three points of undefended entry just from where I was watching.
And so, I snuck in. Compared to the risky conditions I had endured in the past, this was practically a cakewalk. I looked through several windows in the village until I saw the stockroom where they kept their food, guns, and ammunition stockpiles. I thought of the many ways to sneak inside, including killing the guard on duty, but I suddenly had a wild thought- I tried lifting up the small window that I'd peered through into the stockroom, and to my amazement, it was left unlocked.
Fucking idiots, I thought in euphoric glee, squeezing my small frame through the window hatch and creeping inside. I helped myself plentifully to their supplies, using one of their large leather bags to stuff all the supplies I wanted inside. Canned food, medicine, small firearms, and explosives...
And human flesh-
"Woah!" I muttered, almost stumbling back as I opened the bag, and several limbs and chopped human flesh careened out over the floor. I looked towards the front door of this little building, making sure no one had heard it- Not that they would have in a snowstorm like this. I turned my head back to the bag, considering a number of things...
Like firstly, these people needed to die.
Picking up one of the explosives, I felt a malicious thought pass through my mind and decided to adhere to it. Mischievously, I placed a considerable number of these explosives underneath the shelves of food, running a piece of flammable wire up to the window sill as I prepared what I needed to leave. I looked back at the remaining stockpile, feeling guilt that so much of it would go to waste.
Next time, don't take another hunter's food, I thought maliciously.
With that resolved in my mind, I shoved the bag of goods I'd collected through the open window, then used a spare lighter to ignite the flammable wire, laying it on the ground and letting it burn to the end as I hurriedly scurried out through the window slit, hauling the bag of goods along with me. I sprinted my way down the trail, but right as I calculated the explosion time in my head, I quickly swiveled my head around, unable to resist seeing the-
BWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
-Explosion...
There seemed to have been more explosive material in those bombs than I had realized. The entire stockpile had ignited and exploded outwards in a magnificent, swirling plume of smoke and burning rubble. The explosion was so powerful that the nearby low-hanging houses had been torn to shreds by the shrapnel sent flying in every direction. After the initial explosion, I could hear the screams of pain that erupted from the village, where undoubtedly several of those poor bastards had been injured severely by whatever debris came their way.
Aaah. It'd been a while since I'd heard those familiar screams. In a twisted, morbid way, it was... somewhat nostalgic.
I grunted. I was sure that was where they had put all of their food- It was a common mistake among new settlements, where rather than dividing their food stockpiles into multiple buildings, they would place it all into one big building. In a time of peace, where one didn't have to fear any warfare or sabotage, there would not be anything wrong with doing that.
I couldn't help but grin wickedly- knowing that I had condemned these demons back to the hell they came from filled me with a sense of twisted, almost-righteous pleasure. I had glimpsed the meat locker they used while in the stockpile room- it was in the same building, and proudly displayed the hanging human corpses on iron hooks that I had initially suspected.
Cannibals.
It wasn't the practice of cannibalism that I abhorred- it was the fact that these kinds of devils decided to make it a full-on effort, rather than a last-resort form of survival. They preyed on travelers and would butcher and feast on them, sometimes keeping captives for a number of days or weeks and force-feeding them for a larger 'harvest'. I was no saint myself, but if these kinds of monsters weren't considered kill-on-sight, then this entire world might as well be damned to the pits of hell.
I reflected for a moment- that I held any sort of morality after all I'd dealt with... it was almost offensive to me. Like it was some facade I was putting on to preserve some small shred of facetious ego inside me.
Oh well.
Satisfied with my petty, partly-philosophical revenge, I left the township, moving onwards to find a new place to settle down with my new bag of goods.
"REEEEAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH!"
I wasn't surprised to hear the cacophony of Infected screams and shouts. Drawn to sound, Clickers, Infected, Bloaters and the like would be swarming this town in little time. Whatever Cannibals survived the initial explosion, would face a far worse fate if they didn't get out of there immediately. I couldn't help but grin maliciously once more.
With this new strategy, I wouldn't have to worry about food for quite a while.
(Music: "Cold, New Dawn", by Piotr Musial)
2 years in...
Spring
As the 2nd year of my self-independence came about, I had encountered another new problem to deal with. Hostilities.
In the previous year, though I was unaware of it, there had been brewing wars and constant conflict in the areas where I was traveling through; Territorial disputes, scarcity of resources, and aggressively-different ideologies inspired many bloody wars during my travel northwest. I had seen more unknown factions in that short period of time than ever before in my life. I remembered picking up their patches and other distinguishing insignias after watching them slaughter each other in skirmishes in the woodlands or on open plains.
My life became a lot easier during this time of strife, contrary to what most might think. I only needed to avoid being caught in most of these gunfights, and if I was lucky enough, I would get to witness these battles first-hand. Watching them kill each other with such vigor and aggression, seeing the desperation in their ordeal of survival, it was reinvigorating to be the one watching it happen.
In the aftermath of the deadly battles, once both sides had left or one side had won and finished looting, I soon came over to the bodies left behind, salvaging and scrounging for whatever loot was left. Guns, ammunition, snacks, new clothing- I was practically living in luxury compared to previous years. I had found a new place to settle, and once spring came around, I had a lot more materials to more properly build a makeshift shelter. This time, I was able to use tarps and rope to tie down the shelter, while stuffing clothing into the open cracks to plug the cold vents of air that came through.
Over the months, I grew to enjoy the tradition of going out and scavenging for dead bodies in previous firefights, or being lucky enough to stumble upon a gunfight and loot the corpses once both sides had withdrawn. Laughably, it was likely the safest period of time for me, as I was almost never directly forced to get into a confrontation. All I had to do was wait, and the resources would be there, ripe for the picking- The result of someone else's hard effort.
Though I didn't see it at the time, I realize now that I had truly embodied the values that I had picked up in my young childhood- of picking the remains off other people's diligence, or betraying their confidence, sabotaging their hard work and savagely taking the lives of those that wanted so badly to live as I did.
This was not what vultures did. Vultures only cleaned the remains, looked for the leftovers. In fact, this entire complex practice wasn't anything that any regular animal did.
These were things that humans did.
I felt a fit of uncontrollable laughter overtake me; Perhaps my mind was overwhelmed by the long period of peace I had been lucky enough to endure; Perhaps it was not attuned to living in such serenity and everyday mundanity. After all, I could hardly remember a day where my adrenaline wasn't pumping, or my mind wasn't entrenched in a desperate panic to survive.
Click.
"The fuck's so funny?"
(Music: "Soft Descent", by Gustavo Santaolalla)
Ah, fuck.
I felt the barrel of a rifle press harshly against the side of my head, as I was in the midst of searching a small metal chest in a security booth near a parking lot where a large battle had just taken place.
FUCK! I thought in anger. I should've double-checked for any returning patrols!
I felt the soldier lean in towards me, and considered the prospect of grabbing for the rifle; However, I couldn't see how many of his fellow soldiers were there, and so I waited until I was given reason to turn around and assess the situation.
"Get up."
I slowly stood up, as the unseen soldier pulled back the dark-green hoodie that sat over my head, and pulled down the red bandana I had on. Immediately, I saw only two of the soldiers; One standing outside the security booth, and the one that was holding me at gunpoint. I looked at their insignias to identify them-
SHIT!, I thought in rising fear.
They had the same insignias as many of the soldiers that had died at this particular battlefield; A snarling wolf with the abbreviation, 'W.L.F'. I had yet to know what those letters meant, but that wasn't my primary concern right now. I had just finished looting their brothers and sisters in arms, and the bag filled with all of their shit was sitting only a few feet away, sat against one of the corners of the small booth.
If they checked that bag, I would have to fight back.
"..."
I watched the soldier in front of me with focused eyes, waiting to see what his next move would be. He seemed to be assessing me, though I felt hope as I saw his face open up with guilt and horror.
"Y...You're just a kid... what the hell...!"
I wanted to both laugh out loud and punch this dipshit in the throat. Thanks for stating the obvious. Still, I was confused by his reaction; What kind of happy world had he been living in for the past 15 years that he didn't see children scrounging for food and supplies at places like this? Then again, I'd hardly ever seen other young scavengers like myself at these places...
Ah!, I thought in irritation. This is a waste of my time to think about!
I looked towards the setting sun in the distance, which was beginning to dip below the mountain range. I knew I had to get back home soon, or it would be far more difficult to navigate back to my place without any landmarks to follow.
"Y-Yes," I said, trying to be diplomatic. "I am... just a kid. Can I go now, please?"
I had thought the request to be simple and, frankly, I was far too terrified of them discovering the pack full of their friends' shit to be more thoughtful about my approach. The two looked at each other with suspicion in their eyes, but after a few moments, the first man nodded, lowering his gun and offering a handshake.
"Sorry I pointed a gun at ya, kid. Just try and stay away from battlefields like this, aye? If you need shelter and food, go further northwest and find the Washington Liberation Front. They'd be happy to help a young kid like you."
I was almost shocked at this sudden development- This had never once happened in all of my life. It was so shocking to me, that I had spent more than a few moments staring at his hand, unsure of how to respond. Was this a trap? Deceit? Was he going to shake my hand and then shoot me in the face? I didn't see any hidden malice behind their eyes or body language...
Once more, my gaze took me to the sunset. I was in unfamiliar territory, and I did not want to risk running into Infected in the dark.
"Okay, then," I responded simply, nodding to him. He nodded back, and I quickly left the booth, leaving behind the pack for now. I could easily wait an hour or so to make sure they were gone, then come back for the loot.
3 hours later...
Sighing in relief, I sat down inside my makeshift lodge; My housebuilding efforts only grew with each year that passed, and no matter how many times I had to abandon a shelter, I could always rebuild in other areas, using the experience I had gained from the previous ones. I did my best to keep the fire pit going through the coming night, as the cold winds endured in their diligence to try and freeze me to death.
I hovered with shaking hands around the warmth of the dismal fire; Despite the coming spring, the air still swept with chilling temperatures, and most winters I had to wonder if I was going to survive. Luckily, through the years I had learned the art of survival- through brutal hardships and grit that churned my body into iron and determination.
Crack.
(Music: "They're Still Out There", by Mac Quayle)
Immediately, my nerves went on edge as I heard the faint snapping of twigs- I had my handgun at the ready, and quickly went for the AR-15 I kept handy in the scenarios where I had to face multiple enemies. As soon as I had the rifle in hand, I scurried out of the hideout, leaving the flame blazing so as to not give away that I had noticed the intrusion.
On the hill, I crawled into the fox-hole I had designed, wedging about four feet into the ground and surrounded by bundles of sticks and logs I had accrued as a means of cover. Carefully, I laid my rifle on one of the logs, aiming for where I had heard the unusual sound, and waited silently for further sounds to be heard.
...
...
...
...
...-
KER-CH!
SQUELCH!
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I felt a morbid success overcome me; This dumb fuck had stepped into one of the several traps laid meticulously around my homestead. It was through experience and near-death encounters at my own shelter that I learned the importance of keeping my territory dangerous.
I nearly bolted out of the foxhole as I heard the panicked voice of one of the intruder's compatriots, keeping myself low to the ground and rifle at the ready to kill these intruding scum. This had happened before with other Hunters, but I most usually waited until their screams attracted Infected to come over and put their wailing to an end. However, if they had more than one person there...
There wasn't time to wait for that to happen. I needed to kill these sons of bitches before they outflanked me.
My soft-padded boots made minimal noise in the lush grass, but that quickly changed as the rain began lightly pattering across the ground. I realized I didn't have long before I would get hypothermia with this brutal combination of cold and water, and so rushed more quickly towards the source of the screaming intruder.
BRRRRRRT-T-T!
I managed to pull my head back at the last second, as a flurry of machine-gun bullets whizzed past my face from further down the hill.
"STAY BACK, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
His voice echoed from downhill, yet despite the close distance, the thick foliage prevented the forest from being fully illuminated; I could only make out their general position. I clicked my tongue in disappointment- It became that much more difficult when they noticed my presence before I could ambush them. I swept water droplets off of my AR rifle, pulling back the charging handle to ensure I had a round chambered.
Click!
I took my rifle off safety, aiming around the corner-
"Huh-!"
BRRRRT-T-T-T!
I nearly got my head shot off once again, whipping it back into cover behind the tree, another burst of machinegun fire zipping past me by mere inches. More obscenities and curses were shouted at me as I glimpsed in the moonlight, the familiar faces...
Of the same WLF soldiers from earlier.
"WE'LL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!"
"YOU'RE DEAD NOW, MOTHERFUCKER!"
I tried to think as they continued launching insults at me, as one of them tried desperately to help the other out of the bear trap that clamped down on their leg. I eagerly peeked my head out a few times to make sure the shooter had taken his attention off me- he seemed to realize his great mistake as I pointed the rifle barrel at his head-
BANG!
I felt a bullet graze the side of my head, jarring my senses and causing me to stumble and fall backward into the drenched grass- In the next moment, the wrathful gaze of a screaming WLF soldier filled my vision, as he placed his hand around my throat and began to choke me.
I beat desperately at his arms, the clear difference in strength made obvious to me even after all these years of teeth-gritting battle; I was but 14 years old, and this man was likely in his prime. My desperation increased rapidly as I felt my throat close up, and flashes of white began appearing in my eyes as my consciousness began to fade. In those few, fleeting moments, I thrashed around for my knife holster, unsheathing the blade-
SHICK!
"Ugh-!"
And sticking it into the man's side. His grip around my throat faltered momentarily, and I used that to my advantage, sticking him with the knife again, and again.
Shick-Shick! Shick!
Each time the blade stuck into his side, I was quickly coming to the realization that I was exhausting myself, and feared that I would pass out before ensuring I was safe; I felt myself being crushed by his dead weight, and in one last desperate attempt, I cut the straps to his armor and stuck the knife in between his exposed ribs to gain leverage in pushing him off me.
Thump.
His heavy body slammed into the ground, and I choked and gasped for air, coughing profusely.
"G-George? George, did you win?!"
,,,!
,,,!
,,,!
B-A-S-T-A-R-D-.
I could not describe the unfettered, malicious rage that overcame me in those fleeting moments. If I hadn't been so seized up with sheer fatigue and exhaustion, I would have taken up the knife from this pissant's body and pounced on the fuck with his leg maimed by the bear trap. With the grating wrath I felt in those moments of near-death, I could have poked holes in the bastard for minutes on end.
Restraining myself from screaming in the anger that came from betrayal and the grief of one who was nearly killed, I breathed deeply, trying to bring energy to my limbs. In under a minute, I had regained enough strength to propel myself up from the ground, a stinging pain erupting throughout me as every nerve in my body prickled with renewed sensitivity. I reached for the knife embedded in the soldier's ribcage and strained to pull it out, until it dislodged suddenly and left me tumbling to the ground in my steeped exhaustion.
Sheathing the knife, I got up and began limping around the tree bend, where I could see the sheer horror in the entrapped soldiers' eyes as I carried myself with malevolent intent; He began erupting into frantic whimpers, throwing hate-filled curses and insults at me as I came closer to his crippled figure. I saw him reach for his gun holster, and in a quick rush I sprinted over and stomped my boot down on the bear trap.
SKLCH!
"AAAAAAHHHH, FUCK! FUUUUCK!"
The familiar man erupted into screams of guttural agony, his body seizing up with pain and allowing the handgun to fall out of his grasp, plopping into the snow. I wasted no time mounting the upper torso of the WLF soldier and launching blow after blow against his face, kicking the handgun further away from his reach.
After enough blows, I gasped for air as I rolled off the soldier, who was moaning in pain from the numerous injuries dealt to him. Had I not been fueled by an indignant fury so ardently, I would not have stayed conscious for much longer.
Yet still... I needed to end this.
(Music: "Temporal", by Elephant Music)
I used what little strength I had left to weakly plant my fists into the snow, pushing with considerable willpower and grit and eventually getting my feet underneath me. Walking over to the handgun I'd kicked away, and picking it up, I eyed it with consideration as I looked back at the soldier in agony. I stood up shakily, walking over to the soldier and staring at him, almost in disillusion with reality. I could see his face turn up towards me, his eyes filled with a broiling mixture of hatred and primeval fear.
I walked around him, towards his legs, and planted my boot on the top part of the trap once more.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! FUUUUUCCCKKK, STOOOOPP!"
He wailed in agony as the iron spikes drove through his leg, severing tendons and muscle, separating sinew and gnawing into bone. If I hadn't been so angry with this man, I likely would have become nauseous at the sight of it.
"So," I hissed at him with loathsome sarcasm, teeming with biting rage as anger coursed through my mind. "Even the best of us can sink so low as to track a child to their place after making them think they were safe!"
I could see him opening his mouth, and that filled me with such vitriol that I reversed my grip on the handgun and used the blunt end to strike him across the face, causing him to yelp in pain.
"SHUT UP!" I seethed at him. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! I don't want to HEAR your inane self-righteousness."
I pressed with more intensity onto the bear trap, sending the soldier into a fit of sporadic terror and pain.
"I don't need any more reminders of you shit-rats living on the same continent as me."
I aimed the barrel of the gun at his head, as he threw countless profanities at me to end, when suddenly I heard the faint sounds of wailing and clicking...
I grinned maliciously, adjusting my aim and pulling the trigger twice.
BANG! BANG!
The soldier winced and cried out, shaking uncontrollably for a few moments as snow splattered across his face- I had fired into the ground next to him. His eyes fluttered open as he brought his quivering arms down, steeped in terror and confusion for a moment. I wasted no time, turning my back to him and stuffing the new gun I'd collected in my waistband.
"Wha... HEY! YOU FUCKER, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE AND-!"
Reeeeaaaaahhhhhhhh!
Clk! Clk! Clk!
The soldier's face drained of color as he morbidly realized what was happening; And in a desperate silence began looking around for some way to hide, groaning in pain as the bear trap's claws continued to entrap his leg. I didn't need to look back to know he had nowhere to go. As the sounds of Infected crept rapidly closer, I found some nearby shrubbery to take cover behind as I watched the Infected descend upon the area. The soldier's desperate silence was finally shattered by piercing wails and sheer cries of terror as he realized the Infected were sprinting at him with haste, and the Clickers just as quick to follow in their erratic motions to come and devour the WLF soldier.
...
As that day passed, more as it came. The further northwest I went, the more faction wars that came about- Many of them involving the WLF, more ruthless factions like the Rattlers, and several minor factions that formed after large groups of established communities broke down due to a number of political and social reasons. During this year, warfare was constant, and it was likely the longest period in my life where I had put so much effort into scheming against other humans- Be it traps, deceiving more kind-hearted groups to spare me (and later infiltrating their settlement to subsist off of their stolen food), or leading groups of hostile factions into each other through trickery.
During this year, I had mastered the art of deception.
(Music: "Promenade", by David Garcia Diaz)
3 years in...
"Ah, shit!"
During this year, I believe I began thinking more about family. I wasn't sure what brought it about, but after a long period of silence, and passing by a litany of homes, I began thinking about what 'family' meant. In truth, I had no concept of the idea at the time- it might as well have been the same as teaching a carrion bird the importance of respecting the dead.
For every living moment that I'd been in this world, rarely had I given thought as to why families had ever been a concept to exist. Humanity, from my perspective, was entirely cynical to the point of no return. The sheer selfishness, greed, and desperation to survive that I'd seen on practically every single face since my miserable birth into this world was the evidence for that conclusion.
But... after 15 years of enduring this routine of killing, starving, and fighting to survive by the skin off my bones, I was getting tired of it. I wanted... a purpose in my life now. Something that would raise my spirits and lift my desire to fight another day.
During my roaming of one particular neighborhood, I decided to break into one of the more cozy-looking homes, simply to take a look at the portraits of the long-ago past. I picked up various pictures, memorabilia, sentimental pieces locked inside boxes. One particular picture caught my eye- That of four people smiling happily for a photo; A father, a daughter, a son, and a mother.
Four happy, trusting people.
Crack.
And look where that got them.
I placed the partly-shattered family picture back onto the shelf, imagining how such a happy family like this would have perished. Over the many years I'd spent wandering the country, I came to know a little bit about its culture, history, and natural beauty through museums, statues, and landmarks...
When I wasn't fighting for my life, or desperately scrounging for food to avoid starvation, or fending off Infected and other perils on the path...
When it was silent and serene, and I was left to wander the great, vast wilderness of the New World...
This is when I began to understand why life was given to me. The beauty of it all, in its natural form. The flow of water over rocks in the creek; The lush winds that carried through the valleys and hills; The timid yet active life of the crickets and insects, of the small animals and vegetation and predators and prey that roamed these great lands, in all of their majestic silence...
I understood now why it was necessary for me to live up to this point. I had come to a sort of divine revelation about my place in this world, and the beauty of the world I had killed to see. I truly saw then, that only those who could fight for every fiber in their being to live, would be allowed to enjoy the fruits of this paradise.
And in this silence, I thought most about what it would be like to share this love with... family.
I thought about Tess. My mother. How much I would have given just to share this serenity with her. There weren't enough pages in the world to fill with words of how badly I missed her. The only true person in my life. I thought of my father, whose name I always remembered from my mother's parting words...
Joel.
(Music: "Longing", by Frida Johansson, Henrik Oja)
...
Oftentimes, I could think of nothing to say when it came to the thought of my father. I simply didn't know enough to feel any way towards him, or about him. Was he alive? Dead? Why wasn't he there for us? What did mother mean when she said she would go be with him, and that we would all be together soon?
The inner turmoil filled me with frustration, and eventually resentment built towards him. Regardless of his situation, he was not there for me and my mother. And that was enough for me to resent him.
As I came upon romantic memorabilia at an overgrown park, I pondered the idea of a lover. A girl, that could lighten the burden of everyday misery, a companion who'd share the adventures, the happiness, the sorrows, the ups and downs. Someone... who could bring me peace.
And so, I carried on with a more jubilant stride to my step as these thoughts proliferated in my mind. In the coming months, the world didn't seem so dreadful, so miserable, so egregious.
It felt as if... I had developed a harmony with the world-
KRCH!
(Music: "Infected", by Gustavo Santaolalla)
"AAAAAHHH!"
I yelped in shock, pain and anger as I felt a searing pain in my hand- A Stalker had successfully fooled me and jumped up from its corpse-like position, biting down on the side of my hand and holding on with ferocious fervor. I beat at its head, and it unlatched its jaw, lashing its arms out to grab for me wildly-
Shick!
Its arms went limp as I had snaked my knife up through the underside of its jaw, pushing the dead Stalker off me as I hunched in pain around my wound, quickly hobbling for a place to hide as I heard the sound of other Infected screaming distantly in response to the sounds made here. I groaned silently in aching pain as I quickly wrapped the bite around my hand with a sturdy cloth. Coincidentally, I had noticed a corpse sitting across from me, a noticeable bite gash in his neck and a bullet hole through his head, the handgun still clutched in his rigid grasp. In morbid humor, I let out a silent cackle.
Thirteen years ago, that should have been me, except with someone else having pulled the trigger.
It should have been.
I sighed, huddling behind a large couch and quickly looking for something small; I hastened to grab a half-crumpled soda can, peeking over the couch ever so slightly.
My nerves were suddenly on edge- More than a few Infected had come running into the spacious house, and were now wandering the rooms in that indescribable, alien ferocity to hunt.
Though it was certainly not comforting, there was a certain excitement to these interactions. Despite their numbers, these things were far more predictable, and usually easier to deal with than humans and hostile environments. Intellect meant variations in behavior, erratic decisions or actions that could break a set pattern of dealing with them. With Infected, there was often no variation outside of their frenzied search to spread the infection. They walked around in predictable patterns, and they could be deceived so easily, it was practically a cakewalk compared to humans.
If I so wanted, I could take the time to lure each one of these Infected to their own deaths, or orchestrate it myself. But that would take too much time, time that could be spent hunting or consolidating resources for survival.
(Music: "Cause and Effect", by JD Mayer)
I closed my eyes, tuning in my listening ability; The shuffle of the footsteps, the guttural noises they emitted...
7 Runners, 4 Clickers.
Using this information, I peeked over the couch, seeing two Runners and one Clickers immediately entering the living room I was in. Steeling my nerves from panic, I lightly tossed the can over their heads.
Clank!
Hitting the tile of the main hallway, the sound caused every Infected in the house to screech in a scattered cacophony, before they all began sprinting over towards the source of the sound. I used this opportunity to maneuver around the couch until I was hiding behind an armchair adjacent to the hallway. Once I was well-positioned for staying unseen, I took out a small cooking timer from my bag, covering the object in a cloth to muffle the clicking sound as I twisted the timer back to 15 seconds. With haste, I quickly tossed the timer around the armchair and onto the main floor of the living room.
...
...
...
...
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-!
The timer went off, and I covered my ears as the Infected released a piercing, staggered number of screeches and shouts of ferocity, rushing with such aggressiveness towards the living room that I feared they would overturn my only cover and devour me alive. To my deep fortune, I managed to slip by the end tail of the small horde, rushing for the open front door and slamming it behind me, making a quick sprint for the open road as the sounds of their moans and screeches echoed from within the house.
...
Much of the year was filled with this kind of interaction, and I soon found out it was the influx of faction wars that'd caused this; As refugees formed from broken factions, Infected had a field day on unprotected civilians, and the number of Infected seemed to inflate incredibly during these times. I had come to learn how to deceive Infected in the most cunning ways, using their strengths against them and more often than not leading them to their own deaths. Being able to minimize the danger that I had to directly confront was a refreshing breath of air, though the amount of unlucky souls I had seen wandering the regions I traveled was a disheartening experience; I had closed much of my heart to the suffering of other humans, only because it was an incredible weakness to possess in such dangerous and unpredictable times.
In the wake of all this death and destruction, I had found my bounty of supplies to be more plentiful than ever before; Corpses littered with entire family fortunes, from vagabonds and refugees that wanted to seek solace elsewhere- only to meet their end in a snowed-in forest with Infected and starving predators surrounding them.
And yet, even as I enjoyed the growing strength of my body from my maturing, along with the influx of supplies and ease of dealing with Infected as compared to hostile humans...
The universe was simply... unrelenting.
