by Richard Dusk
"Where is it?" he walked around the room. "Right," he noticed it thrust in door handles to block the wind and any unwanted visitor from smooth opening. He pulled the pole out, opened the door, and felt the cold air hit his face.
"Great talking to you, Jared. We've got to repeat this someday," shouted Garrett towards his last week companion and walked outside.
The air cleared and revealed the town covered with layers of dust that settled down after the storm. He moved a few steps forward, gloomily watching the ground in front. Crouched rooks in puddles of drying blood struggled for breath. Some strived to wave wings in pain and kicked with legs in spasms, whereas others lay inertly. Overstepping them, he heard quiet cawing in his head. After a few steps, he stopped. Out of habit, he pulled out the knife. It was appealing to roast some fresh meat. Even though he's close, the journey may not end the way he wished for. He stood there still for a while and watched the rooks suffer. It's easy to grab any, cut off juicy pieces, and cook them on fire. He took one by the leg and raised it up. The rook didn't move. Its feathers got sticky from blood, but the bird looked infected. It would be a deadly choice to eat it, the same as refusing any freely offered food these days. Garrett examined others as well. They looked ill the same, and he put the bird back on the ground.
East, he began digging in the bag.
He pulled out a little plastic compass hanging on a twine. When he placed it on an outstretched palm, the needle ceaselessly spun.
"No, not again," his forehead wrinkled.
Squeezing the compass in a palm so hard that he almost crushed it, he rapidly shook it but got a no different result. It was no use to him, and he stuck it back into the bag. He looked at the sky, guessing which direction to go, but the diffused light in clouds didn't show where the sun is. Garrett took out the map and slowly turned around to get a sense of where the north could be. He compared streets with the map and waited until he got a feeling that it's definitely in front of him.
"If the north is there, then the east will be-" he turned right and began to walk down the first miles of the road twenty-four.
Outskirts were the only parts of cities where Garrett willed to scour for supplies, though other survivors looted most of the food already. They provided at least a bit of safety and took less damage, unlike the downtowns. Going deeper into the city equaled gambling with life. Most of the buildings stood one quake away from collapse. Highest skyscrapers of once busy capital cities tumbled down a long time ago. Bottom halves of some endured with cracks running up the walls and got closer to the same fate every day. Streets remained flooded with concrete debris, damaged cars, and armored vehicles from the days of first riots and the victims of these acts and nature. But it wasn't uncommon to see a derailed train spreading over seven blocks several miles away from railroads, cargo ships blocking inland highways crowded with abandoned cars or parts of planes crashed on the streets at full speed. No one ever had a reason to search for victuals. Everyone cared only about their own survival. Stores turned empty - without food, water, clothes. Cleaned out by people surviving in cities. They lived underground, coming up to the surface only to find something to eat. When a storm came, they ate what they found down there - rats, bugs, cockroaches, and centipedes living with them in sewers and subway tunnels.
Two hours he walked in circles, as the streets with all the debris turned into a concrete maze until he finally found his way out and continued down the road surrounded by trees. Half of the city behind him disappeared in another dust storm, but Garrett speculated about all events that happened. He mulled over it for the thousandth time, but it didn't fit into anything he knew. It was always a quarrel inside him.
"If it's… No, they proved it's not possible in the late nineties," he scratched his chin.
"Hmm, what if his theory was correct?"
"Then all would be shredded through the entire galaxy now."
"And if it's a million times stronger?"
"It still doesn't explain disappearing. It may not even be related. No, no. It's nonsense."
His mind wandered through every piece of knowledge he possessed, but he never got a satisfying theory.
"If Hikls is still alive…"
Garrett walked further hundreds of yards, thinking about the details he could miss, but didn't come up with anything new.
"Argh, I give up," he grumbled for the same thousandth time as before and reached back for a bottle of water to moisten dried up lips.
Walking with the pole, still considering all possible causes of things randomly disappearing and appearing in different places, the weather killing people by thousands, and physical phenomena he has never seen nor heard about before, the light slowly faded away. The wind blew feebly, playing with dried leaves in the cold air, leaving Garrett to think undisturbed for too long. His mind enclosed by theories didn't notice the fast-spreading gloomy haze behind him, veiling downtown in the murk. Strong wind gusts heading towards the city hit him hard and interrupted his contemplation. They pushed him back from where he came. Garrett turned around, seeing the dark falling on him.
"Blast it," he glowered from shrouded city to the sky above it.
A giant whirlwind funnel descended right into the area two miles behind him. Everything standing in the way flew up and vanished without a trace.
"Could it be any better?" Garrett growled and quickened his pace.
A flash of lightning crossed the dark sky, booming thunderclap spread over the land. He saw the map in front of his eyes but had no time to search for a place to hide. Running against the strong wind, he quickly lost breath and strength in legs. It was too hard and too far away to get to the building he marked on the map. The nearby forest became the only shelter at hand. He forced his way off the road to hide among trees. Breathing painfully, leaned against a trunk, he heard traces of high pitched scream coming from the forest. Frozen with pricked up ears locating the source, he heard it again, louder and clear. Squinting with fingers shielding his eyes, he spotted a figure running across the road. She screamed again.
"What the hell?" he broke into a slow run as silhouettes of three wolves were catching up to her.
The largest one jumped, knocking the girl down to the ground. Garrett forced himself to move as fast as he could, hearing the noises of the nearby fight.
"Leave me alone, you bastard!" screamed girl.
She pushed her bag against the mouth of a wolf standing above her and violently tearing it to pieces. Scrabbling for a knife on her thigh, she glanced at two other wolves approached her head from both sides. She looked at them with fear in her eyes, desperately trying to pull out the knife. The light brown with black tail on her left snarled and prepared to attack.
"Here you cur!" yelled Garrett with the pole above his head and bashed the wolf's back.
A quick whine followed the sound of the cracking backbone. Wolf fell to the ground and didn't move anymore. Only its legs tugged several times. The silver-gray wolf fighting with the girl released the bag from its mouth. It lost interest in her and jumped down. Walking straight to Garrett, the wolf looked straight into his eyes, challenging him. It grinned and showed sharp fangs to discourage him.
"Come on!" yelled Garrett at the wolf, swinging with the pole and slowly stepping backward.
The hunger, violence, and unbridled beast in wolf's wild eyes showed no fear of the enemy.
"Watch out!" he shouted to the girl.
She turned at once to face the black wolf snarling at her. Standing again, holding the bag as a shield, she pulled out the knife. The wolf began circling her.
"Fight me!" she shouted with a trembling voice. "Fight me!" she yelled again and stamped.
The wolf took a short run-up and jumped on the girl, knocking her down to the ground. Tearing the rest of the bag between them, it tried to get to her throat. She didn't wait anymore and stabbed the knife between its ribs. The wolf whined, released the bag and furiously tried to bite her face. She smelled its warm, foul-smelling breath and felt
saliva sputtering over her face. With the free hand, she held the wolf's throat and pushed the knife down to the middle, cutting its lung. When she felt the resistance of chest bone, she force-pushed the knife into its heart and twisted. The whining wolf began to shake, striving to get away from her, but she grabbed it by fur, forcing the blade inside. The warm blood ran down her hand, and the wolf began losing strength and balance. She didn't give it a single look of mercy, threw it on a side, and rolled over to get on it.
"I've said fight me," she shivered, watching life leaving wolf's eyes and pulled out the knife.
Garrett fought with the alpha bit into the middle of the pole. They pushed and pulled each other from side to side, Garrett couldn't hold the growling wolf for much longer. He kicked but missed the target as the wolf opened its mouth.
This must end quickly, he raised the pole.
The moment he moved to strike, the wolf jumped and sank its teeth into Garrett's right forearm.
"Aargh," the pain exploded in Garrett's brain.
The weight bit into his arm pulled him down, ripping the coat. Garrett quickly kneeled, grabbed the wolf's head from behind, and pushed the limb against its mouth. He used his weight to knock the wolf down and turned it on its back. Kneeling over it, he forbade the wolf all movement and further damages. Placing the palm of his free arm on wolf's throat, he deeply pressed. Larynx cracked instantly; fear poured into veins of the choking animal. He heard the wheezing and felt the twitching, but even dying, it didn't loosen its bite a bit.
Garrett, lying on the wolf, waited for its end. The chest ceased to move, and its eyes stared into infinity. He pulled out the knife and cut its jaw muscles to release himself. Once free, he ran up to the girl sitting at the wolf. Weakened after the fight, she grabbed her bag when spotted him coming and firmly gripped the knife. He stopped at her with an outstretched arm.
"Are you going to sit here the whole-" he yelled to outshout the wind, but the pain coming from his damaged lungs silenced him.
She gave him a suspicious look, avoided his hand, and broke into run among trees. Garrett surprised with the prompt act followed her, holding the bandanna on the mouth, dodging broken branches falling from wind-bent trees. He focused eyes on the girl's back and pressed fingers against the chest to ease the pain. Tracking unclear movement to avoid losing her in the dust, he didn't notice a twig hitting him like a whip and scratching his face.
"Stop running," he shouted, but she couldn't hear his weak voice.
The storm gained strength in the woods, and the wind shoved him against the tree. Everything went black for a second. He fell on the back, seeing clouds furiously twist in the sky, while the pain spread through his skull. Garrett got on his feet and with the spinning head followed the way girl ran, leaning himself against trunks and stumbling over roots.
He recognized the shape of a building she ran into. An old log shack with a hole instead of door and roof barely holding on, hidden in the middle of woods, and standing alone surrounded by trees. This was meant to be his refuge with a stranger inside until the storm ends. A few hours, maybe a few days. He had no alternative where to survive oncoming hours and took the risk, no matter how dangerous she will be. Reeling, he walked into the dark room, hearing the wind whistle through gaps between logs.
"Stay away from me!" she shouted belligerently from the back of the room.
He saw movement in the dark, but couldn't discern it.
"I'm not here to fight," dizzy, he leaned against the wall and untied bandanna, but no response came back. "I saved your life a moment ago, so if you don't mind, I'll stay here till this madness passes."
The girl came watchfully out of darkness, pointing the knife at Garrett's face. He looked at her, wiped off the blood from his face, and noticeably put the hand over the knife on his side to show her that he's ready to fight if he'll have to. After seconds of staring at each other, he had to break the silence.
"I'm not gonna play this staring game with you. Can we get to this later and do something about that?" he pointed at the hole through which dust streamed inside. He certainly didn't want to breathe it for any unnecessary second longer.
"Yeah, use the bed," she said mockingly and sat in the middle of the other one.
Garrett looked outside, seeing cars being thrown out of the whirlwind, and pulled the iron bunk bed towards the hole. He turned it on a side and pushed it to plug the opening. Wind whistling subsided, but the roof kept banging under the power of the storm. They silently waited in the dark, listening to the movements of each other. Garrett heard her unzipping the remains of the bag and digging inside, searching for something. A click sounded, followed by rhythmical shaking.
"What are you doing?"
Shortly after the question, she blinded him with a strobing light coming from her flashlight.
"Hey, stop it!" he shadowed his eyes, but she kept dazzling him.
"Who are you? Why did you follow me?" the girl sounded ready to slit his throat.
"Put that away!" he barked out sharply.
"No, tell me what I want to know!"
"Don't make me angry, girl," he nearly whispered this time, and the coldness and anger in his voice entirely changed the tension inside the shack.
The girl hesitated for a second, but then she pointed it at the ceiling and switched on the solid light.
"Finally," he sighed, blinking to see again.
By figure, a skinny twenty years old girl sat on the bed, watching every Garrett's move. She had face wrapped in a torn cloth, but the amber eyes below the black cap, he saw only one like these before and will never forget. Clothes dirty and worn out. The military green jacket missed the right sleeve and worn out black jeans and brown sweatshirt had seen better days. But her boots looked like new ones. They were not her size, and she used a few pairs of socks to make them fit. Garrett turned away from her piercing eyes and looked through a slit at the storm outside.
"It seems we're gonna spend some time here together."
The girl silently scowled.
"I don't fancy that either," he looked around the place - a wide hornbeam bed she sat on, table with chair in a corner, and a wood-burning stove.
"You didn't happen to see some wood to burn here?"
"Behind you," she replied, not taking eyes off him.
Garrett turned around, picked some firewood, and threw it into the stove. He reached into the bag and pulled out a magazine he packed in the bistro. While he tore the pages, she moved closer.
"There aren't many people around still reading Charming Bride," she smirked. "I hope you don't cry at night, man," she mocked him and wiped the wolf's blood from the wrist into the mattress.
Garrett shook head and blew air to help the fire burn, "I found it in the town. It's easier to start a fire with it and serves to me as insulation as well. It would keep you warm. Just stuff your pants and jumper, and thank me later. It might save your arm as well," he checked the wolf's damages in light of the fire. "It hurts like hell, but it's just bruised," he picked up bits of shredded paper and threw them in the fire.
The girl began to rummage through the bag, and Garrett heard familiar can clinking.
"Throw me the can," he drew old ash aside to make a place for cans. "I will warm it if you want. Fire's strong."
"Get real. I'm not taking hands off my cans. Despite, I ate an hour ago," but her belly rumbled.
"Yep, I hear that. You feast every morning."
"Piss off."
"I don't need your wretched cans. I just offered to warm them," he stretched out a hand, but she didn't move. "Whatever, take your course. FYI, I've got my own," he took out one of his.
When she saw he has some food too, she reached into her bag and rolled a can towards Garrett.
"What took you so long?" he picked it up.
"I don't know," she sighed. "What do you think?"
Garrett said nothing, just opened the can. The smell immediately reached his nose, and he lost his whole appetite.
; "Is that..." he began the question in disgust.
"Dog food, right? Enjoy, I see you're drooling."
"I had some too, but this one smells, well, bad," he checked the label highlighting the dogs' preference for the natural taste of chunky beef cuts in gravy. When he examined the jelly surface, he concluded that most of the dogs would rather remain hungry as well.
"Maybe, I don't know. It's the second one I'm having after three days. It's not perfect, but at least I won't be that hungry. I've also found some sprouting potatoes."
"You won't eat this junk," he pushed aside the bed and threw the can outside.
"What the hell, man!? What's wrong with you?" she got furious and grabbed the knife again, but Garrett reached into the bag and pulled out another two of his cans.
"Take these," he opened and placed them on red-hot embers.
"What's inside? Why?" she asked suspiciously and stretched her neck to see whether the cans are real.
"Why do you object?"
She silently gazed at him, trying to understand.
"I don't want it. I don't need your charity. Get out and bring me my can."
"Would you prefer to vomit blood?"
Her eyes threw daggers at him.
"Eat first," she commanded with an icy voice.
"As if I had a chance to poison them," he mumbled and scooped up from both cans. "I presume you've got a name," he said while chewing.
The girl didn't answer and waited till he swallowed.
"What's yours?"
"Garrett."
"Yeah," she nearly whispered. "It's… Jillian. Jill. J. Whatever," she watched him picking up the hot cans by the cold lid.
"Is it the real one?" he raised brows, and she almost unnoticeably nodded. "Here. Eat. You have pasta in yours," he handed her the soup.
"What do you want?" she expected a high price for the food.
"Nothing."
"I've got bubblegum. I chewed it for a while, but the flavor's still there," she unstuck it from behind her ear and showed it to him.
"Just eat," sighed Garrett.