Whatever she eventually did, she couldn’t keep lying on the ground, crumpled and uncomfortable. She pushed herself up into a kneeling position, grateful that nothing felt broken or sprained. A crow took off from a nearby tree, the snap of its wings causing Onida to flinch.
“A bird,” she whispered to herself at a barely audible level. “It was only a bird.”
She stood up and started walking, looking over her shoulder almost as often as she looked ahead.
It didn’t take long before she was running again.
***
Another night was spent crunched up in a human ball, this time wedged into the bottom of a hollowed-out tree. When Onida crawled out in the morning, every joint was stiff. At least she had slept a little more deeply that night, not waking up as often. It was probably her body rebelling against its recent treatment, forcing her to sleep even when she didn’t really want to.
Spending next to no time shaking herself loose or getting her bearings, Onida set off once more. Her stomach was a constant chasm. She ate everything she came across that was edible, even if it didn’t provide much in the way of nutrients, just to ease that feeling of having a hole in the middle of her gut. The previous night, she had almost caught an unaware pheasant, but it had escaped at the last moment in a flurry of feathers. Maybe she would do better today. At least she had found what she assumed was a deer trail to follow. The narrow path was much easier to walk along than hiking over the rocks and bushes had been.
The soft crunch of leaves ahead caused her to pause. Sounds behind her were always frightening, but ahead, they gave her hope for a meal. She proceeded slowly, walking on light feet as she had been taught. That was the lesson that had truly stuck with her the most.
Just past a small rise, she spotted a raccoon nosing about in the leaves. What it was doing out during the daytime, Onida didn’t care. She only cared that it looked like it would provide a decent meal.
The wind was against her, however. It carried her scent directly to the creature, who turned and gazed up at her. She expected the raccoon to run away, but it didn’t. Instead, it did the exact opposite. With only a dash of caution, the raccoon came toward her. Onida held her breath. The animal was curious, and she didn’t want to frighten it. The closer it came to her, the better the chance she had of grabbing it.
The raccoon came up to her feet, staring into her face. As she watched, it reached forward and touched her battered moccasin, as if confirming that she were real. When it stopped looking at her face in order to give her feet a thorough sniffing, Onida reached down and snatched up the raccoon by its scruff. The raccoon cried out in indignation, and uselessly flailed its limbs. With her free hand, Onida grabbed the knife out of the sheath on her belt.
“Put him down!” came the most terrified and hoarse screech Onida had ever heard. Instead of putting the raccoon down, she dropped it in fright.
Out of the woods, down a skinny trail she hadn’t seen due to the distraction of the raccoon, came a man dressed all in leather. Onida’s first thought was that she had been caught, that her pursuers had closed the gap between her and them when she had stopped to let the raccoon walk over to her. She was about to take off running, but actually managed to keep still. This man was clearly not one of those pursuing her. His leathers were inferior to hers and those of her pursuers, and his face was covered in a large, ratty beard instead of being clean-shaven. He bent down to the raccoon that had run over to him, gently cradling it in his arms and mumbling soothing words.
“I’m sorry,” Onida told the wild man. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was someone’s pet.”
The man startled, as if he had forgotten that she was there. His eyes turned into coals of hatred.
“What are you doing here?” he barked, so rapid fire that it was almost difficult to understand.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone lived this way. I’ll just go now and leave you alone.” She turned to walk off the path, to head across rough terrain again, directly away from this strange man.
“Stop!” he shouted, causing her to freeze in place. “What do you have in that pack?”
Onida turned back around to face the man. He had put down the raccoon—that was now scurrying up a tree—and had taken a bow and arrow off a strange rig he wore on his back.
“Nothing,” she told him. “I have nothing in there except for maybe a blanket and an empty water bottle. I swear, I have nothing. I would have left your raccoon alone if I had any food.”
“Don’t-” he shouted and cut himself off. His face twisted as he tried to hold back some awful emotion. “Don’t talk about eating him.” He had to force the words out, and his eyes had become shiny with tears.
“I’m sorry.” Onida had never apologized so much before. Looking at this man, it was clear to her that something was off about him, which meant she had to tread very carefully.
“How…” He had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could continue. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” she told him truthfully.
His eyes wandered and lips silently moved as he seemed to try to work something out. “How old were you when the dead came?”
Was he that incapable of math, or had he lost track of the years?
“I was six,” she told him.
He thought some more. “You have nothing in your pack?”
Onida couldn’t quite tell if he was asking a question or stating an affirmation, but she decided to go with the former and answer. “That’s right.”
The man looked around him. “Are you alone? Why are you alone?”
“Yes, I’m alone. Are you alone?” Onida ignored the second question.
“I’m not alone,” the man shook his head, baffled by her question. “I have Mask.” He gestured up the tree beside him, where the raccoon was watching the proceedings in safety.
“Mask, of course. He’s very cute.”
The man beamed. “Yes, yes he is, isn’t he?”
So the raccoon was a good topic provided he wasn’t referred to as a potential meal. “Is he as smart as he looks?”
“Even smarter.” The man seemed very proud of this fact.
“My name is Onida, by the way.” Maybe he would be less likely to hurt her if he knew her name.
“Onida. Onida,” he tested the shape of it.
“What’s your name?”
There was a pause, the man frowning at nothing. It seemed he had forgotten his name, but it came back to him with a sudden raising of his eyebrows. “Shawn. My name is Shawn.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Shawn.”
His eyebrows descended again as he scrutinized Onida. “You’re…” He hesitated to say this next thing out loud. “You’re real?”
“Yes, I’m real.” Onida wondered just how long this man had been on his own.
“May… May I?” After putting away his arrow, he reached out and then withdrew his hand, a gesture similar to the way Mask had touched her foot.
“We can shake hands.” Onida held hers out.
Shawn took it tentatively. He didn’t really shake her hand so much as he caressed her glove and felt the shape of her knuckles beneath it. When he brought his hand back to his chest, his eyes were distant, as he became lost in thought.
“You should come visit my cabin,” he muttered, his eyes still far away.
“Um, okay. But I can’t stay very long.” Onida was hoping that maybe this man would feed her. A good meal could carry her far if the distance she had travelled already was any indication.
“What?” Shawn looked at her without understanding.
“You said I should visit your cabin. I said okay.”
Shawn nodded, his head bobbing up and down on a neck that was invisible behind his wild beard. Onida was thinking that maybe she should repeat herself again, that he still didn’t get it, when he suddenly turned and started walking away down the path.
Onida followed him, getting a good look at his strange pack. On one sid
e was a quiver full of arrows: some the graphite kind found in stores, others clearly homemade. On the other side was a strange setup made out of numerous materials that had probably once been trash. It looked to Onida like some form of quick release holster for his compound bow. The bottom portion of the pack was a large pocket with a battered zipper, not unlike the worn and faded backpack that Onida carried. Above the pocket, however, was a sort of cloth bucket she didn’t understand, and beneath everything hung several long strips of leather. She learned the purpose for these when Mask came waddling along after them. Without Shawn breaking stride, Mask was able to grab the leather strips and climb up to the bag. Gripping the fabric, the raccoon hauled himself up to the fabric bucket, and plopped inside. After some shuffling, the raccoon made himself comfortable, his face peering out over the top at Onida. His nose kept wiggling as he picked up her scent.
“How long have you had Mask?” Onida wondered.
Shawn flinched and glanced over his shoulder at her as though he had forgotten that she was there. Maybe he had. “A long time,” he answered.
Onida had figured out that much on her own based on how comfortable they both were with that rig. “How old is he?” she tried again, guessing that Shawn had probably raised Mask from a baby.
Shawn just shook his head, and Onida got the sense that he didn’t know. He had definitely lost track of time.
Onida attempted to think of another question to ask him, not wanting her existence to be forgotten and that bow to be drawn upon her again. But as she tried to come up with something, they reached the end of the path, entering the clearing that held Shawn’s cabin. It was certainly not what Onida had been picturing. She thought she would be brought to some small place made of logs, not all that different from most of the homes where she had lived, but this was very different.
Before her, a large deck loomed, at least a storey up in the air with railings draped in old camouflage netting. On top, what she could see of it, stood a small but solid cabin, the glint of solar panels just visible on its roof. Beneath the deck, filling in a large portion of what would be the overhang, was a massive slab of concrete, with perfectly smooth sides. A matching cement block stood not far away, although this one had no deck, and no cabin on top. Onida couldn’t see what it might be for; there didn’t appear to be anything on top of it, and no openings along the sides that she could see. Beyond the cabin, she spotted the cool waters of a lake. It had been a while since she had had anything to drink, and the sight of all that fresh water served only to remind her of that fact.
“Your cabin is very impressive,” Onida managed to say.
“Thank you,” Shawn replied without looking at her.
“Would you mind if I went down to the lake? I’m very thirsty.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. There are polar bears.”
“Polar bears?”
“Did I say something else?”
“No, I just didn’t think about them, is all.” Onida was glad she hadn’t run into one during her flight. They would be foraging for all sorts of food at this time of year, and Onida would definitely be food.
“I have boiled water inside. Come on.”
Onida wasn’t sure that she wanted to go inside the fortress in front of her, but she needed water so badly now that she followed along. By tracing the edge of the deck overhead, they reached a jagged section with no railing. Onida guessed that there used to be a staircase there, but that it had been destroyed at some point. She wasn’t about to ask about it.
Shawn stopped and reached one of his hands over his shoulder, wiggling his fingers at Mask. The raccoon didn’t seem all that interested in coming out of his pouch, but he did. Shawn carefully held his fluffy body and lifted him up to where some netting hung down. Mask reached up until his little hands could grip it, and then hauled himself up the rest of the way, climbing the netting until he disappeared over the edge of the deck. Shawn then stood there, waiting.
Onida didn’t like waiting, even if it was for less than a minute. She looked all about her, arms held tightly against her chest, a posture she had adopted a lot lately as she tried to make herself smaller. She felt exposed away from the sheltering trees, for the clearing’s growth of ferns around her legs wouldn’t hide her for long should she need to duck down. The shadows of the forest seemed sharper, now that she was out of them.
A clattering caused her to jump, to flinch away from the source of the sound. When she turned, her eyes wide, she saw it was only a rope ladder unfurling itself from the break in the railing. Mask’s little face was peering down at them from the top of it, his big, dark nose jiggling as he scented the air.
Shawn turned to look at Onida, his face beaming. “I taught him to do that,” he said, pointing up the ladder at Mask.
“Very clever,” Onida smiled weakly back at him, her heart still hammering in her throat.
Shawn scrambled up the ladder with ease. Only once he had disappeared over the edge, did Onida take hold of the swinging rope and wood. It was all very soft and worn, previously used many times. A few slats appeared newer than others, replaced over the years. Shawn had been here a very long time, perhaps since the infection spread. But had he always been alone?
The ladder swung as Onida climbed it, as the bottom wasn’t anchored to anything. It was difficult. She had never had to climb a ladder like this before, and Shawn wasn’t offering any advice. When she reached the top, however, he grabbed the straps of her pack and helped pull her up. And then he kept pulling, sliding the bag up and over her head, off her arms.
“Stop!” For a second she thought it was an accident, which gave him enough time to steal her backpack completely.
“I need to see what you have. I need to know you’re not a liar.”
As Onida pushed herself upright on the deck, Shawn scuttled away and searched through her bag. There wasn’t much to search through; it had only two pockets, and she hadn’t been lying about what she was carrying. He pulled out the empty water canister, and then the blanket, which he shook. There was nothing else but some dirt, a few flakes of pinecone, and the cap off an acorn.
“Satisfied?” Onida asked, as Shawn felt along the fabric of the backpack, making sure there were no secret pockets. “Can I have my stuff back now?”
Shawn nodded and dropped her bag. As Onida went over to it to put her blanket and water container back inside, Shawn switched places with her to draw up the rope ladder. He carefully rolled it and settled it above the opening in the railing, using a small wire to make sure it wouldn’t unroll accidentally. Onida guessed that getting back down must involve jumping in order to keep the ladder rolled up.
Now that she was level with it, Onida got a better look at the cabin. The deck stretched all the way around the squat building. Along with the solar panels, one edge of the roof peak had a small windmill protruding up from it, barely turning in the calm air. The door she saw was unusual: it was a metal hatch she imagined would be more at home on a submarine than here in the woods. Then she realized she couldn’t see any windows. The wood planking that made up the siding appeared quite sturdy, but remembering the other security measures she had seen, Onida wondered if there was something even stronger beneath it.
“Would you like to come inside?” Shawn asked her, stepping toward the door. Mask was already sitting in front of it, waiting patiently.
Onida hesitated. The cabin seemed like the kind of place in which she could become trapped. No windows, and so far, no other doors, meant no alternative exit. But then Shawn had offered her water, and it was the first time she had felt even remotely safe from her pursuers. She stepped toward Shawn and the door.
Through the metal hatch, they entered some sort of mudroom. Heavy winter gear hung along one side on hooks above some boots. All of it was dirty, some of it was torn, but most was still in surprisingly good condition. Onida figured he wore the leathers in order to save the outerwear for the coldest days. It’s what she would do. Shawn took off his leather boots, so
Onida followed suit with her moccasins.
Before closing the door to the outside and cutting off the light, Shawn opened the inner door. Onida was immediately drawn by the electric glow she saw. Ignoring the space that was a kitchen on one side and a living room on the other, she went straight to the stone fireplace. Beside it was a bin of dirt with green shoots of various sizes thrusting up. Above them, glowed a sunlamp. Onida was enraptured by the light. It had been a long time since her family had given up on electricity, and even longer since the bright lights of her childhood.
“Those are my potatoes,” Shawn said, mistaking what had drawn her over there.
When Onida gave them a bit more attention, she saw that he had cleverly planted several at various different times, so that there were always some nearly ready to harvest. She also saw the dangerous looking wire configuration that attached the solar panels and windmill to some sort of battery, and from there, to the light. She moved away, distrusting it.
“Come sit down, I’ll make you something to eat,” Shawn said, as he revealed the only window in the place: a porthole in the kitchen that had been covered by a hatch.
Onida didn’t need to be asked twice.
***
The meal was eaten in silence. They had a potato each, some blackberries, a bit of dried squirrel meat, a few acorns that weren’t very good, and some maple syrup that was. Shawn kept glancing across the table at Onida, as if she might disappear. Mask also ate on the table, munching his way through a small bowl of the same food they had, minus the potato. Onida drank two large glasses of water with her meal.
“That was very good, thank you,” Onida finally spoke again once she finished. “It was very nice to meet you and Mask, but I should get going.”
“You’re leaving?” The hurt in Shawn’s voice was clear. “I have an extra bed here. You can have your own room, and stay as long as you like.” His voice cracked. Here was a man so desperate for company, he was willing to offer his home to a complete stranger.
Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct Page 4