by S. E. Meyer
“Stop it!” Anna yelled.
“I saved you, remember? This is the thanks I get?”
Anna moved toward the crate a third time and Shadow bit her calf.
“Ow. You ungrateful little tramp!” she said, rubbing the back of her right leg above her ankle.. It was a gentle bite, not hard enough to puncture skin, but firm enough to bruise.
Anna let out a breath, shaking her head.
“What am I supposed to do then, starve?”
Her stomach grumbled and Shadow cocked his head.
“Ugh.” Anna stamped her foot at Shadow. “You're unbelievable.”
She returned to the clearing‘s edge with Shadow trailing a few feet behind.
“Leave me alone,” Anna called over her shoulder.
Shadow paced her, keeping himself between her and the crate of food.
Disgusted, Anna continued East.
I guess I’ll have to forage.
“Stupid animal,” Anna growled along with her stomach.
She only had to go a few hundred yards before she came to a road. There was a strong gate set across it, attached to the fence on both sides. Anna could only assume this was the northern drop point for convicts banished from the city.
Anna backed away and headed north, keeping the road to her right, but staying out of sight. She continued through the overgrowth for an hour before she came to another clearing, fenced with old split rail. Off in the distance she noticed a barn.
An old pasture. Good place to find mushrooms along the fence line.
Anna walked along the fence between the pasture and the treeline, looking for mushrooms. She tried to recall her survival training and what varieties of mushrooms grew into late fall.
Chantrell mushrooms are dried up and gone. If there is any Dryad Saddle, it'll be tough as nails. Might still be some chicken of the woods around as long as the animals haven't eaten them all.
Anna shook her head. It will be hard to identify anything else with certainty without a field guide.
She let out a breath. Or the internet.
She came to a place with several dead, rotting trees at a point where the pasture veered west.
This looks like a good place.
Anna scanned the ground around her and stopped. On the edge of the pasture below the rotting split rail was a large area filled with mushrooms. She bent over to get a closer look before picking one from the ground. She rolled it over inspecting its cap and stem.
Hmm, could be an edible mushroom. Gills or pores?
“Or was it ridges?” Anna said.
“Or was it ridges on the stem and pores below the fruiting cap?”
No, I'm almost positive it's not a polypore. It's a gilled mushroom.
Anna's growling stomach turned into pangs.
“Damn it. If I wasn't so hungry I could think straight.”
Anna collected the mushrooms, making a pocket with her shirt and filling it inside her jacket.
Her intuition told her something was wrong about them, but her stomach won the battle of reasoning with her gut.
As she strolled along the fence Anna gained a new vantage point towards the other side of the pasture. A small farmhouse became visible, nestled in trees on the other side of the barn. Anna made her way for the shelter, hoping to find something to go with her meal, and get out of the wind.
She entered the house with gun drawn in one hand, holding her mushroom filled shirt with the other. After looking through all the cabinets and cupboards with increasing frustration, the only things Anna collected was dust and cobwebs.
“Not even a can of carrots or ravioli?” she said.
Nothing.
There was an old cook stove centered on one wall of the kitchen.
Anna crept back outside to find sticks, knowing she would have to cook the mushrooms before eating them since all wild mushrooms have toxins that break down with heat.
While looking for sticks, Anna found a patch of wild onions.
“These will go perfectly with the mushrooms,” she said, pulling them from the ground while swallowing the abundance of saliva in her mouth.
Anna headed back into the farmhouse and lit a fire in the cook stove.
Needs to be a hot fire.
Anna recalled her survival training, adding small dry sticks, going up in size over time to avoid excessive smoke.
“Don't want to alert anyone that I'm here. Certainly not the crazies.”
With the fire burning, Anna went back outside to find water. She rounded the corner of the farmhouse, almost tripping on a hand pump.
Could I be that lucky?
Anna pulled on the handle and it slid freely. She pumped the handle several times, building pressure while clenching her jaw.
Please, I need a break here.
A trickle of rusty sludge erupted from the hand pump.
Anna wrinkled her nose.
She continued pumping and a stream of water appeared, clearing as it flowed.
Thank God.
Anna jogged back into the house and retrieved a bowl. She took long steady drinks of the cold, refreshing water before washing the mushrooms. She rolled them in the bowl, noticing a blue tinge where bruised.
Anna pulled out her pocketknife and prepared the onions and mushrooms before throwing them into the hot pan on the stove.
What I wouldn't do for a little oil.
She rummaged through the kitchen‘s pantry, searching each bare shelf before finding a salt shaker.
That'll have to do.
Anna tore off the lid and crumbled a few bits of the salt lumps over the pan as her saliva glands went into overdrive.
They could be poisonous, Anna‘s gut argued.
She looked out the window to find Shadow in the backyard, staring at her with unblinking eyes.
Shadow.
“Well, it's your fault if I get sick. You're the one who wouldn't let me eat the food out there. All the food. More food than I could eat, but no. You were being an asshole about it.”
Anna threw her hands in the air.
“And Atticus be damned! Where the hell is he? He's the one who wanted me to come out here and he can't even show up? What am I supposed to do? I can't swim back, upstream, and I can't wait around forever.”
Anna swallowed as her stomach growled loud enough for Shadow to cock his head.
“To hell with it! And to hell with you,” she said glaring at the wolf. “I'm starving and this smells so delicious. What's the worst that could happen?”
Anna tore into the pan of food, not stopping until it she ate it all. She leaned back in the wooden kitchen chair and rubbed her belly, feeling better to have filled it. She got up and walked around the kitchen, looking for anything useful.
Anna rubbed her stomach, a sudden nausea creeping up her throat.
Wavy cap. Turns blue when bruised. Gills.
“Oh, no.”
Anna covered her mouth.
Anna, you're an idiot. You just ate a massive dose of Psilocybin.
“But I was sure,” she whispered.
You must be one-hundred percent sure with wild mushrooms, she argued with herself.
You know that.
Anna's pulse throbbed. She stumbled to the sink, forcing a shaking finger down her throat.
“What am I going to do?” she gagged on her finger, but nothing came up.
You‘re going to trip balls, a voice in her head responded.
“Shut up!” Anna scolded the voice. “That part is obvious, but what if I pass out, lose consciousness? It's not safe. There could be crazies anywhere.”
Yes, there are crazies.
Everywhere.
“I said shut up,” Anna continued to argue with the voice in her head.
The voice was coming from within her own mind, but yet, to Anna it felt like a different person. A different Anna. An Anna she could not recognize.
She placed a hand on her forehead. “I feel, strange.”
The walls in the small farmhous
e began to move as though made of gelatin and the floor slid away from her on a forty-five degree angle.
Anna looked outside.
She sucked in a breath as her eyes widened at the sight of the trees dancing along the edge of the pasture. They swayed back and forth in a line dance to the same motion as the walls. Bough to bough, as though arm in arm, they danced around the clearing. In and out. Back and forth. Anna continued to stare at the tree party, knotty roots two-stepping on the lawn as the walls breathed in and out to the same rhythm.
“It's not real,” she told herself. “It must be the wind. The wind is moving the trees, and it looks like they‘re dancing, that's all.”
What about the walls? Is the wind moving them?
Her reasoning mind fought the voice with logic. “Obviously it's not real, because trees don't dance and walls aren't made of Jell-O.”
Anna's eye caught a movement in the sky. She stared out the window for several minutes, brows furled.
“What the hell?”
She opened the farmhouse door and walked out onto the small deck.
“Butterflies,” she whispered.
Thousands of small white butterflies began to descend from the heavens. She put out her hand, palm up, and a tiny butterfly landed between her third and fourth finger. “It's beautiful! No, it's incredible!”
Anna lifted the insect to her face, and it disappeared. She scanned the ground with the wonder of a child at the thousands of white butterflies littering the ground. They fluttered their minuscule wings to the rhythm of the trees.
With heart pounding to the same joyous rhythm, Anna stretched out her arms and spun in a circle with her face to the sky. Everything around her was moving in perfect time. Like a symphony, every atom in the universe played their part, connecting all of nature into one multi-verse orchestra of peace, love and harmony.
A butterfly landed on Anna nose and she stared at it, cross-eyed, while it fluttered for several seconds before disappearing.
“Amazing,” she whispered.
The voice returned in Anna's head.
I told you, it said.
“Told me what?” Anna asked, continuing to spin around in slow cautious steps.
That you would trip balls.
Just wait, it's only the beginning.
Anna felt dizzy and stopped turning. The deck tipped to one side, throwing her off balance.
“Whoa. I need to lie down.”
Anna turned around and walked through the parallelogram-shaped farmhouse door, remembering to lock it once inside. She swayed to the same rhythm as the universe as she made her way to the back door and pulled the deadbolt.
“There. At least I should hear anyone trying to get in.”
Anna found the couch and lay down. She closed her eyes, losing complete consciousness.
◆◆◆
“I can't believe we only found two cans of beans,” said a woman through blotchy cheeks.
“It's getting worse, Jane,” the man on her left responded. He turned to the man on his right, looking at him with red eyes. “We’ll have to go farther next time. We can't survive like this, Jim.”
“That or we‘re going to have to hunt,” Jim replied before going into a round of coughing. “I have had no meat in weeks,” he added, licking his lips. “We need to find a gun and some ammo.”
The trio crossed a pasture and made their way towards a small farmhouse.
“And now it‘s snowing,” Jim added, lifting his reddened arm and placing a blemished hand out to catch a snowflake.
“And the wind is picking up,” the second man noted.
“Hey guys,” Jane said. “Let's go to the basement first.”
“But I‘m hungry,” the man on her left replied.
Jane stopped, staring at the man with bloodshot eyes. “Mamas hungry, David.” Jane gave him a longing smile and then winked at Jim before wiping drool from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Fine,” David replied.
Jim knew there would be no arguing with the woman, or her insatiable appetite and he was feeling a touch peckish himself. “I'm up for that.”
“But then we eat, I'm starving.” David said.
They walked to the back side of the farmhouse and stopped in front of the outside basement entry. David pulled open the storm door, and the three descended the concrete steps. There were two large beds set up in the middle of the basement, pushed together to form one giant sleeping area. With just enough light coming down the stairwell for her to see, Jane lit a candle.
“Close the door. You're letting the cold air creep in.” she said. “Then the both of you get over here.” She coughed, gargling thick phlegm in her throat.
“What is that smell?” Jim asked. “It‘s making me really hungry.”
“Smells like onions,” David replied, wiping bloody drool from his mouth.
The three looked at each other and a wicked smile grew on David's lips. They bolted for the second basement stairway leading to the kitchen.
“Someone's in our house.”
Jim rubbed his hands together as they climbed the stairs.. “Fresh meat.”
CHAPTER V
A black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the gate at Raze Demolition Inc. The gate guard advanced to the car's driver window as it lowered. Wesley squinted in the bright beam of the guard's flashlight. ”What's your business here at this time of night?” The guard asked.
Wesley offered the man his ID. “City security. We believe terrorists are trying to acquire weapons and explosives. We're here to check your perimeter and ensure your C-4 is secure.”
“Under who's authority?”
“The chief of city security.”
“Come back in the morning when there's more staff here. I can't let you go wandering around without an escort.”
“We received intelligence they will target this site tonight. We have to come in now.”
“I didn't see any warnings come across my tablet. This is unusual. I will have to verify your credentials and get authorization to let you in.”
That guard leaned in the window and pointed his flashlight into the back seat. “And who are you?” he asked George and Isabelle. “I need to scan all three of you.”
Wesley shot his arm up, grasping the man's full head of black hair while raising the window to his throat.
“What are you doing? I can't breathe,” the guard choked as the window tightened against his windpipe.
Wesley opened the car's door and swung the man out of the way as he flailed his arms, reaching for his weapon. George and Isabelle exited the car as Wesley pulled the guard's gun from his hip.
“Sorry about this,” Wesley said, stretching the guard's hands behind his back before snapping handcuffs around his wrists. “All you had to do was let us in.”
Wesley reached around and lowered the window, freeing the choking guard while George lifted the guard's ID swipe card from his belt. The man fell to the ground, coughing.
“Hurry,” Wesley urged. “Let's get him back in the guard shack. We won't have much time now.”
They drug the man inside and taped his mouth. George swiped the guard's card, opening the gate.
The three got in and Wesley sped the car through the facility.
“What are we looking for?” Isabelle asked.
“Can't miss it. They store explosive in a separate building and it'll be well marked.”
They drove through the complex coming to a smaller shed littered with bright placards.
'Danger. Explosives. Authorized personnel only.' George read.
They exited the car, swiped the card and entered the building. Wesley turned on his flashlight, finding what he was looking for. “Over here. These containers. Start loading them while I look for the detonators.”
◆◆◆
“Sir, we have a hit on the terrorists.”
“Where?” Cornelius barked.
“Gate camera at Raze Demolition picked up George and Isabell
e.”
“Demolition company? What the hell are they up to?”
Explosives.
Regret for not killing George and Isabelle when he had the chance and allowing them to escape throbbed through the raised vein in his temple. “Dispatch City Police immediately. Tell them to send everyone in the area. We have known terrorists on the loose.”
◆◆◆
George jogged back into the building. “It's all loaded. Are you ready?”
Wesley jabbed his light into the dark building's corners. “As soon as I find the detonators. Damn it!”
“What?” George asked.
“They're not here.”
Sirens wailed in the distance as Isabelle ran through the doorway. “We have to go, now!”
Wesley shook his head. “We can't leave yet. That C-4 is about a good as play-dough without the detonators.”
George directed his flashlight along the far wall. There was a wire frame cage with a door. “What's over there?”
Wesley bolted for the door. “I figured they would keep the detonators away from the explosives, but I didn't expect they would use something as archaic as a padlock,” he said slapping his hand on the square box attached to the door's handle.
The sirens grew louder as George rattled the door. “Can we cut the wire?”
Wesley looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you want me to use? My teeth?”
“You didn't bring a bolt cutter?” Isabelle asked.
Wesley threw his hands in the air. “No, I didn't have time to swing by the antique shop on our way here.”
George bent down and pulled on the wire. “Hey, it's not attached to the floor. Izzy, if you were a little skinnier you might wiggle in there.”
“You calling your girlfriend fat, George?” Isabelle said.
George pulled hard on the wire, thinking how women always seemed to take offense to references of size and Isabelle was no exception. “Never. I'm saying the crack in the floor is really small.”
Isabelle got down on all fours. “If both of you pull it up towards you, I can get in there.”
The two men strained against the wire as Isabelle slid along the concrete floor below it.