by Megan Berry
“He didn’t do anything,” I deny, and Ryan gives me a look that I know means he doesn’t believe me in the least, but at least he doesn’t press the issue. Complaining about Silas to Abby is one thing, but I’m definitely not comfortable talking to Ryan about these things after everything that’s happened between us.
It’s nearly dark before Silas comes back. I’m relieved to see him safe, but I’m also still mad because I’ve spent the last two hours worrying that he already left on his own because I made him mad. Silas is swinging a skinned rabbit in his arms and doesn’t even acknowledge me as he walks through the cabin and into the kitchen.
His attitude ignites my temper and I stand suddenly, drawing every eye in the cabin towards me. “Silas is going up the mountain hunting for a couple days, and he shouldn’t go alone.” I pause to take a breath, and then I decide to just go for it. “I’m going with him,” I blurt out, and you could probably hear a pin drop, if anyone had one.
Silas chooses that moment to walk back into the room, and he freezes when he sees that he’s now the center of attention. “Aw hell, Blondie. Why’d you have to go and open your big mouth?” he demands, making me flinch. I can see Ryan’s face darken with anger at his words, but I shake my head at him, silently begging him to leave it be.
“Because you’re an idiot and you’re going to get yourself killed,” I fire back. I can’t help but notice Ryan smirk a little at my words.
“I’ll go with him,” Ryan volunteers, probably trying to spare me, and Silas shoots him a dark look.
“I don’t think so—” Silas starts to say, and I jump in before whatever he’s about to say next turns nasty. So far they’ve been able to keep their dislike for one another thinly veiled, but I’m not sure how much strain the relationship can take before they both start to say what’s really on their minds.
“I want to go,” I say again, and I don’t miss the look my mom shoots towards my dad. I feel a stab of anger. I see where my mom is coming from, as a mother, but I’m not exactly a normal teenager anymore. I spent days alone on the road with Silas and Ryan. I don’t really need her meddling now. It’s not like I want to go for romantic reasons. Hell, Silas has been such a jackass lately, I can barely stand the sight of him. Despite that, I care about him, and I know if I’m not with him then I’ll just be worried sick that he’s hurt somewhere.
“I’ll go too,” Dad blurts out in an attempt to soothe the worry lines between my mom’s brow, and Silas shakes his head.
“Hal, you don’t need to do that. Jane isn’t going either. I’ll be fine,” he emphasizes again, clearly trying to keep his annoyance in check.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Regg chimes in, surprising us all. “No one should be out there alone anymore, no matter what their skill level.” Silas bites his lip, like he’s trying not to argue, but even he has accepted Regg as the leader of our rag-tag group, so he fights back the urge. Regg stares at Silas for a moment, obviously knowing that his command isn’t being well received. “It’s something we just have to get used to,” he reiterates. “I struggle with it too. I know that I’m capable, but when I’m about to do something stupid, I stop and think about everyone that lives here and how my death might affect their survival.” Regg looks meaningfully at Silas.
“Fine,” Silas agrees, looking like his head is about to explode. Even in the firelight I can see the vein pulsating in his temple. “But we leave at first light,” he warns. “And if you’re still sleeping, then I’m going alone.”
I nod my head to show that I understand, and Silas turns away to go sit with Megan near the couch, purposely snubbing me because he’s mad. I stare at him until Abby gives me a gentle poke in the ribs, and then I turn my back on him and Abby deals another round of cards. Ryan’s been teaching us how to play poker, much to my mom’s disapproval.
Regg’s words are playing in my head, and I can’t help but think about how my death might impact everyone here. They would be sad, but I don’t think it would have any dire effect on their survival, not like if something happened to Regg, Silas, Ryan, or even my dad. It’s a little sexist, but they have life skills that I just don’t possess. Megan has them too, but she’s out of commission with her shoulder right now. I glance over at her laughing at something Silas is saying, and I frown. With that shoulder, Megan is really more of a hindrance than anything else...
Dad and I are both up before dawn, much to Silas’s disappointment. It would’ve been a little hard to sleep in anyway since everyone in the cabin is awake to see us off. Mom insists that we all eat an enormous bowl of hot oatmeal before she’ll even let us out the door. I swear I can hear Silas’s teeth grinding with every bite.
After Dad and I both hug and kiss Mom goodbye, I step out of the cabin and find Silas scowling at me. I falter for a minute, but then I decide to ignore him. “Beautiful day,” I say instead, and I can’t help but feel a small stab of victory when his frown deepens again.
“I’ve been working on finding the best way to climb up all week,” Silas tells my dad, completely ignoring me, and I have to stamp down my irritation. “I’ve been going a little further every day.” Dad and I follow Silas single file through the tire tracks that lead to the clearing where Abby and I always cut wood. Silas usually spends an hour or so each morning helping us before he disappears into the woods nearby. I have a feeling this is where he’s taking us now.
I never expected hunting to be my new passion or anything, but I never thought it would be as terrible as it is! I grit my teeth and keep my mouth shut about it though. I can be every bit as stubborn as Silas, and I'm determined not to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much I hate it.
We slog through snow up to our knees, all the while climbing upward. The air is still freezing, but my body is overheating, and I'm practically swimming in a sea of sweat inside my heavy winter coat. I try to breathe as quietly as I can, even as I suck in deep, gasping breaths and try to smother the noise. I usually don't feel my pack when we’re out on a run. I’ve grown accustomed to it, but today it’s loaded down with my sleeping bag, a small axe, and a few extras. It feels like it weighs five hundred pounds. I'm actually a little scared the weight is going to pull me over backwards and I'll roll down the hill in a big snowball all the way to the bottom, so I walk hunched forward a bit to compensate.
Dad doesn't look like he's fairing any better than me—he’s actually probably worse off. His face is beet red, and his breathing is just as labored as mine, but he doesn't make any effort to hide it from Silas like I do. Silas seems to be in his glory. His cheeks are tinged with a healthy pink, and he's not even breathing hard!
I watch him catch sight of something and spring off the path to examine a group of branches, and I feel like strangling that abundance of energy out of him. Dad and I stop and watch him for a minute to see if he’s going to return back to the path, which it doesn’t look like he is. Then we start following after him with far less enthusiasm.
When we catch up, he's running his fingers along a branch that's been stripped of all its bark, and I can only assume it’s from some sort of animal.
Silas doesn't give us a moment to rest as he ducks underneath the branches and takes off in the opposite direction. Dad follows next and I take up the rear, bending low to get under the branches.
My backpack snags and I'm practically yanked backwards. The branches knock my hat off and tangle in my hair, and I let out a small squeak. I can't help it. For a minute it reminds me too much of being grabbed and pulled by reaching zombie fingers.
Silas turns around and gives me an ugly look. "You probably just scared everything away for a two-mile radius," he snaps as he walks back and pulls me from the branches.
Dad takes the opportunity to sink down onto a fallen log and as much as I hate having Silas come to my rescue, I can't begrudge the poor old guy his break. After all, he only volunteered to come because of me.
I take my time crawling out from under the branches this time. Slow and stea
dy wins the race, I remind myself with a small grimace, plus it looks like Dad is enjoying his break.
"Do you know where you're going?" I demand once I'm standing upright again, and Silas rounds on me with his hands on his hips.
"I told you, you didn't have to come," he tells me.
"That isn't what I asked," I retort, trying to think of something equally as cutting to add, but my dad stands up and steps in between us.
"Come on now kids, don't fight," he admonishes us both like we're ten years old.
I turn away and pretend to scan the forest around us, but in reality, I don't want Silas or my dad to see the hurt in my eyes. I take a deep breath to fight back the tears. Silas is already being a bit of a douche, if I actually cried on his manly hunting trip, he'd probably leave me out here for the bears and coyotes to eat.
I just don't get it. He was never sunshine and warmth, but at least I used to be able to tell that he cared about me.
"I found some fresh droppings over here," Silas says, completely unaware of my inner anguish as he enthusiastically points to a pile of dark brown pellets in the snow. "This is definitely an area frequented by big game,” he confirms, and I try to look excited.
In truth, the only exciting thing that could possibly come from finally finding something to shoot is that we’d get to go back to the cabin.
“Let’s try this way,” Silas says, heading deeper into the brush, rather than back to our original path. The landscape levels out a bit, so there’s that at least.
We walk in silence for another hour, maybe longer, before my stomach starts to growl. “Silas,” I whisper, trying to be quiet. Silas stops, turns around, and looks at me with what can only be described as utter frustration. I ignore him as my stomach growls again—
“When’s lunch?” I whisper, making him roll his eyes and put his finger to his lips. I fight the urge to scream… It would only make whatever we’re tracking run further away and then who knows how long I’d have to stay out here.
“I think we just go until we find something he wants to shoot,” Dad murmurs to me, sending me a commiserating look. He pulls a stick of gum from his pocket and hands it to me. It isn’t food, but it’s better than nothing. I send my dad a grateful smile and pop the gum in my mouth, tucking the wrapper in my pocket.
The temperature on the mountain dips by late afternoon. I accidentally swallowed my gum at least an hour ago, which really annoyed me, but at least the snow has finally decided to cut us a break. I don’t notice it at first, but eventually I realize that it isn’t such a struggle to walk. The snow is harder here, more packed down and covered with an icy crust that makes it just like walking on solid ground. It’s almost like taking a break, even though Silas doesn’t actually stop to give us one.
Walking has become a mindless act, one foot in front of the other while my mind wanders all over the place. I can’t help but think about the people I used to know and guess at who survived and who didn’t. I don’t like these thoughts, but it’s what pops into my head and stubbornly refuses to leave.
I’m thinking about Mr. Pummel, my old science teacher, when my foot sinks down, surprising me back to reality, and I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. My arms flail as I feel the ground shifting beneath my weight, and I accidentally let out a small cry of alarm.
I sink through the ice-crusted snow and find myself hip deep in a snow drift. I wiggle my legs, trying to get free, but I’m wedged in pretty good. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. For a minute, I’d thought I was being swept away in an avalanche. Silas turns towards me and I shrug. This wasn’t my fault!
The brush rattles behind Silas, drawing all of our attention. I let out a girly scream of terror that would do any horror movie proud as something huge and brown explodes from the undergrowth. At first I’m sure it’s a bear—one of my biggest fears out here in the woods. Silas is the closest one to it, only a couple feet away, when it charges into view, but he has no time to bring his rifle up. The thing is going too fast. Silas dives to the side, throwing himself out of the way of the rampaging animal, and lands harmlessly in the snow on his side.
With Silas out of the way, I can clearly see that it isn’t a bear. It’s a moose, less terrifying than a bear, but no less dangerous, and it looks super pissed off. Its ears are back and it’s running towards me. Thankfully the same snow that sunk me up to my hips is slowing it down. My dad gives a shout of terror and starts desperately trying to pull me up by my arm. I struggle to kick free and work with him, but I know in my heart that I’m not gonna have enough time to get clear of this thing.
“Get out of the way!” I scream to my dad, but he shakes his head, not ceasing his struggle. I know without a doubt that I’m not the only one in danger here. Dad would never leave me behind. If anything, he’ll throw himself over me without hesitation if the moose reaches us. I bring my gun up from the holster at my hip and use it to motion for my dad to get out of the way. At first, he looks dumbstruck, like he thinks I’m using it to threaten him. Then understanding dawns in his eyes and he jumps to my side.
He doesn’t go farther than my right shoulder, though, and I know it’s because he isn’t sure my plan is going to work. I’m not sure of it either. “Run, Silas!” Dad shouts to warn him to get out of the way of the bullets.
I raise the handgun, aim, and start firing as rapidly as I can. The moose is so close now that only a couple bullets miss its enormously broad chest as it kicks to get clear of the snow.
The moose collapses with a huff. Flecks of blood splatter, staining the once pretty white snow. Unlike the deer I once shot, I don’t feel a moment of remorse. This thing was definitely trying to kill me. It’s entire body shudders, but it doesn’t get back up. It’s so close that I could reach out with very little effort and touch it—I don’t.
“Holy shit!” I yell, and my dad doesn’t even try to correct me. He’s staring at the cow moose with wide eyes, like he can’t believe we actually survived. Neither can I.
Silas runs up like a maniac and yanks me out of the snow with a couple hard, unforgiving tugs. I kick off out of the snow and collapse into his arms. He pulls away and stares down at me, examining me from head to toe to make sure I’m alright. “You could’ve been killed,” he tells me, but his voice sounds weird. It isn’t hard and mean like it’s been all day. His words are accusatory, but his voice is soft.
I stare up at him, not saying anything, and neither one of us move an inch. My dad finally snaps out of it. He yanks me out of Silas’s grasp and wraps me in a huge hug. I can feel him still trembling, even through both of our heavy coats, and I squeeze him back with every ounce of strength I have left.
“What do we do now?” I ask when I finally pull away from my dad, and we both turn to Silas for the answer.
Silas is staring thoughtfully at the dead moose, but he looks up at us when I speak. “We get this thing quartered and hung up in a tree for the night, then we make camp.” He reaches into his belt and holds his skinning knife out towards me. “Since you killed it, you can have the honors…”
Chapter Six
I stare at Silas for a moment, trying to gauge if he’s messing with me or not. His face isn’t giving anything away. Finally, I decide that I don’t care if he’s being serious. “Forget it,” I tell him, turning and walking away to sit down on the stump of an old, rotten tree. I’ve had about all the excitement I can take for one day.
Silas doesn’t argue. He hunkers down and starts cutting open the stomach right there in the snow. I swivel on my perch and stare off into the forest. I know it’s crazy to be averse to a little blood and guts these days, but I’ll avoid it when I can. Dad offers to help Silas, but Silas doesn’t need him yet. We’re assigned to setting up camp instead.
“Silas. Where's the tent?" I ask, wrinkling my forehead in confusion.
Silas looks up at me, his hands coated in blood up to his wrists. He nods towards the blue tarp lying on the ground, discarded in my search of a tent.
; I follow his gaze and shake my head. "That's not a tent," I tell him as if he doesn't already know that.
"It's what we have," he tells me with a shrug, and my heart dips into my stomach.
"You didn't bring a tent?" I demand, my voice going shrill with panic. Both Dad and Silas wince. I try and reign it in a little, taking a deep breath instead.
"Did you want to carry the extra weight of canvas and tent poles?" Silas asks, his attention back on the moose, and I let out an annoyed huff.
"Yes!" I tell him, and he actually laughs.
"You could barely carry what you already had," he points out, and I flush. Just because he's right doesn't mean I'm going to agree with him.
"Why don't you tell me how to set it up?" my dad says, interrupting our argument and playing the peacemaker. He sounds tired and looks even worse. I feel like a jerk.
"What do you want me to do?" I ask woodenly. Silas motions towards the woods, using the bloody knife as a pointer.
"We're gonna need firewood," he tells me. "A lot of it—we don't want to be out looking for more after dark." I bite back my annoyance at never being able to shake firewood duty and instead just accept my fate. Complaining won’t do me any good, and it definitely won’t keep us warm tonight.
"Don't go too far," Dad tells me.
I nod, dropping my pack on the ground and grabbing the small axe that's hanging off the carabiner clip.
Behind me, I can hear Silas instructing my dad on how to set up the tarp. I roll my eyes. I'm not holding my breath that it's going to provide any kind of protection or safety. Thank God the zombies are frozen, or I’d be having a panic attack right now. I just hope I'm not a popsicle in the morning, or murdered by another homicidal moose.
I take Dad’s advice and don't go too far from our makeshift camp. Thinking about the moose that charged me earlier keeps me from straying—plus there's only so far I'm willing to carry an armful of wood.