by Roman Shepp
“Well, do we get this working?” Jane asked.
She knew the bunker was in the forest somewhere. It would be an advantage to have a hot air balloon, so they could survey the land from up above. It also would be far safer as they wouldn't run into any wild animals, or wild people. The only danger would be from people taking potshots at them with guns. For Jane it seemed like a risk worth taking, especially as then they wouldn't be confined to their plan of finding the bunker. She didn't even know how many people the bunker could hold, or if they even would be welcome there. She didn't have the heart to tell them her concerns. Right now, the bunker was the only thing keeping them going.
Hope was hard to come by, and without a plan, without a purpose, Jane could see them losing all faith. They all needed to believe there was a safe place they could find, a place that would give them sanctuary for the future. Jane didn't want to go back into the city again, not with all she had seen. If they returned, it only would be a matter of time. It still was hard for her to look back at the city and think about all the lives that had been lost...all the deaths she could have prevented if she had been more willing to fight Frank. She was presented with a reminder every day by the presence of Saeed. He was a direct reminder of the consequences of her inaction, but she did not have the heart to tell him it was all her fault.
Tony looked anxiously toward the forest. Before he said anything, Jane knew exactly what was on his mind, and her heart sank. For someone who so rigorously claimed he was a coward, he was all too willing to put himself in danger. He was a strange one, unlike anyone Jane had known in her life. The important male figures in her life, ranging from her father all the way to Frank, had displayed alpha male characteristics. Tony was the opposite. He was strong and forthright, determined in his actions. Yet, he did not seek to dominate, and he was filled with doubt. Jane wondered if, had they encountered each other in their old lives, they would have been friends. Sadly, she doubted it. However, she was glad they had the opportunity to change.
“You want to go after him, don't you?” she said.
“I think it's the right thing to do. I mean, he's been dragged away, probably against his will.”
“We don't know that. He might have been with a friend who is taking care of him.”
“But we can't just take his balloon. That's stealing, and I'd rather not wait here for him to return, if he ever does. The place gives me the creeps.” Tony said.
Jane glanced toward Saeed, wondering if the man would give any input for a change, but he stayed as silent as a stone. “Sometimes it annoys me how good you are,” Jane said, frustrated.
Tony looked confused, evidently unsure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. Well, if he was going to get them into another dangerous situation she at least wanted him to feel some sort of effect. Of course, she simply could have walked away from them. There wasn't anything tying her to them, nothing except desperation, really, and the fear of being alone. The world seemed larger now than it ever did, and she seemed smaller. Every day was lived on the edge of fear, and she knew she wouldn't be able to cope with it on her own. That was frustrating for her to admit as she always had considered herself a strong, independent woman.
“By the way, I've been thinking about that gun you picked up. Are you going to keep it for yourself?”
“Well...I...” Tony stammered, reaching to the small of his back. The weapon had been used to defend them, but Tony hadn't drawn it since then.
“You might like to think yourself a hero, but I certainly do not think of myself as your sidekick. At least Saeed has his dagger. I took a few self-defense classes, but that's not going to do me much good if we're faced with more people with weapons. You've got a gun and a bat, I think I should get one of them,” she said. Tony looked at his two weapons, and then handed her the bat.
“I would have thought you'd keep this one for sentimental reasons,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. It was typical of a man to want to keep the gun, but understandable. The bat would do her just as well. It had a nice heft to it. She took a few practice swings. It was stained where blood had seeped into the wood. Now she felt a little better about defending herself.
“That's better,” she said. “Now we can go into the forest, if you would like.”
Tony turned and led the way, the dutiful Groot by his side as always. Jane followed, and Saeed brought up the rear. Jane glanced back at the hot air balloon, hoping it wouldn't be gone when they returned. There didn't seem to be anyone lurking around, but that didn't mean nobody was there.
They reached the edge of the forest. Jane noticed that frantic footprints led in various directions. People had run away swiftly, seeking shelter in the forest. How many had made it? Was the danger still lurking there? The air was a little sweeter than it had been by the hot air balloon, but fear rippled over her skin. Her eyes darted about and she found that her hands were tightening around the handle of the baseball bat. Her throat ran dry as the shadow of the trees fell upon them. There were no sounds, aside from the slight rustling of the underbrush as Groot walked along. The trees seemed undisturbed, and in this scene, it was as though nothing had taken place. Looking at this part of nature humbled Jane. It showed her that although people were hurting, the world was carrying on as though nothing had happened. It reminded her that whatever fate had befallen them was their own fault, a result of their own mistakes.
They had been walking for a while when Groot growled. Jane tensed. He pointed with his nose in one direction. Jane's gaze followed, and she saw smoke rising through the trees. Thin wisps curled and danced, twining through the air like a coiled spring. The group froze. It was no wonder they hadn't seen this smoke rising through the air from the empty field, since by the time they reached the trees the thin wisps were almost invisible. Tony drew his gun, and Saeed took hold of his knife. It was upsetting for Jane to have to react this way when they had no idea about the people by the fire but given what they had seen in the field they couldn't afford to be careless.
“It's gotta be them,” Tony said in a low voice and strode forward.
Jane was about to tell him to stop, but it was too late. Groot bounded by his side. Jane hurried to catch up with him, but he already was speaking. Thrusting the gun out in front of him, he confronted the people sitting around the campfire.
“Stop what you're doing,” he said in as commanding a tone as he could muster.
A few men were sitting around the fire, and one child. The men looked nondescript. They were chewing on some food and looked at Tony without batting an eye. One of the men had a wounded leg and was sitting with it laid straight out over a log. The other two had similar features and appeared to be related in some way. One wore a wide-brimmed hat that sat askew on his head. He held a long knife in his hand. It dripped with the juices from the meat. The child shuffled toward him. She was a young girl, perhaps about eight. She had golden hair and looked too innocent to be damaged by this world. Jane couldn't help but feel they had made a mistake by showing such aggression early on.
“You want to stop us from eating dinner?” the man with the wide-brimmed hat asked.
“Please, don't hurt us. You can have anything you want. There's no need to use violence,” the wounded man said. Jane glanced at Tony and noticed how scared the child looked.
“We're not going to hurt you,” she said, glaring at Tony this time. “I think we were just a little spooked. You know what it's like nowadays, especially after what had happened in the field. Do you know anything about that?”
“Might, might not,” the man without a hat said. They didn't seem to be a talkative bunch, but Jane couldn't blame them, given they had a gun pointed at them.
“We've obviously gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Jane. This is Tony, Saeed, and Groot,” she said. The little girl stared at Groot intently. Jane hoped Groot would be friendly to these strangers. She placed a hand on Tony's gun and made him lower it. She let the end of the baseball bat thud against the ground.
“It's nice to meet you,” Jane said. She gestured to a log, and Rick nodded for them to sit down. Jane warmed her hands by the crackling fire. “So, do you know what happened in that field?”
Shawn shook his head. Rick seemed to be the one who was doing most of the talking. “We kept away from that for the most part. Big fire. Don't know what caused it. There was a lot of screaming, though, and a lot of people running through the forest. We tried not to get involved. We like to keep to ourselves.”
“I'm glad you didn't keep completely to yourselves, though,” Jimmy said. Jane turned to face him. The man was slender and he looked tired.
“We couldn't exactly ignore a hot air balloon,” Rick said. “Tara wouldn't let us anyway.” The little girl grinned.
“You're the pilot?” Jane said in astonishment.
“Actually, the preferred term is aeronaut,” Jimmy said. Tony shot Jane a smug look.
“I was getting a bit low on food and water and I had to land. I got distracted by the sight of the building and landed roughly. I feel silly for saying it, actually, but I jarred my ankle and then hit my head against the side of the basket. It knocked me unconscious. The next thing I knew I was being dragged into the forest. These folks saved my life. And before you ask, no. I don't know what happened in that field either, but it was something terrible. I'm glad I arrived after it all had happened.”
Rick handed some meat to them. Jane took it, the fatty juice running down her hand. The meat had a strange texture, and when she bit into it she found it was a little on the tough side. It had a strange taste as well. When she remarked upon it, Rick and Shawn shared a glance, then a chuckle.
“City folk,” Shawn muttered.
“We're guessing you haven't tried much wild meat before? That's what you get out here,” Rick said. Jane shrugged and continued eating. It probably would be a while before her taste buds adjusted to this type of food.
“Do you know what's happened in the city?” Tony asked.
“I've been telling them a little bit about it,” Jimmy said. “I was there the night everything went wrong, and I knew I'd never stand a chance. Everything went crazy so quickly that I couldn't see any order being restored. As soon as I could I made my way to my balloon, and it was a miracle I made it that far. A few people took potshots at me as I flew over the city, but I think most of them were too concerned with their own fights to make any serious attack on me. I was trying to get to freedom but, well, I suppose there's not much of that left down here.”
“You're welcome to stay with us if you like,” Rick said. “There's no sense wandering out in the forest when it's getting late. We have the room, just try not pointing the gun at us.”
Jane found it difficult to tell if he was joking or not. She looked toward Tony, who shrugged. They didn't seem threatening, and they had Tara with them, so they couldn't have been that bad. Moreover, they already had helped Jimmy, and just seemed to be minding their own business. Jane nodded and thanked them for their offer of hospitality.
They talked a little more about the state of the world, and then took them back to their shelters, which were made from a few tents. Rick and Shawn said they would share with Jimmy, while Tony and Saeed had to squeeze into another tent, and Tara and Jane had their own. Jane felt a little guilty that she had more space than anyone else, but she wasn't about to protest. She wanted to talk to Tara about Rick and Shawn, but Tara was asleep as soon as she curled up underneath her blanket. Jane followed soon after.
During the night, Jane awoke abruptly. She was sure she heard some kind of disturbance and a muffled moan. Tara was sleeping soundly, so Jane crawled carefully to the entrance of the tent so as not to disturb the young girl. Peering out into the darkness, Jane turned to either side, but couldn't make out anything. Shaking her head, she chastised herself for letting her fears get the better of her.
Sometimes, when all was quiet and still, she was convinced Frank was coming after her. She should know better by now. She was far from the city, and Frank wasn't anywhere near. The last she had seen of him he had been lying face down in an alley, having been battered by the same bat that now was lying beside her. Something about it struck her as poetic, because she felt safer with the bat beside her than she ever did with Frank. The city probably had swallowed him up by now, and she felt little remorse for him.
The following morning, Jane yawned widely and noticed that Tara already had left the tent. She woke up to the smell of sizzling meat and wondered how Rick and Shawn had had the time to go hunting. Tony and Saeed were just rising as well, while Tara was playing with Groot. As she passed their tent, she glanced inside and noticed that Jimmy wasn't there.
“Where's Jimmy?” she asked. Shawn shrugged.
“Woke up and he was gone. Maybe he went back to his balloon. Might just have hobbled off somewhere. That's the way with people, they just come and go.” The answer wasn't entirely helpful, and Jane was sure there was more to it than that.
“Maybe it was the bad man,” Tara said, not looking up from Groot.
“What bad man?” she asked, then looked toward the two men and repeated the question. “What bad man?”
Chapter Six
Quentin stalked through the forest. He pushed past trees and branches. His shuffling feet kicked up leaves. The footsteps of the retreating enemy had led in many different directions, leaving him with his pick of targets. Behind him he left the burned temple, the broken building, and hoped it would remind everyone of humanity's folly. Carol's body was deep within the ruins. Perhaps one day he would trawl through the ashes and find her again, but as far as he was concerned the shell was dead. Her soul had been carried to the next life, to a beautiful place where she would be happy, and never would have to be burdened by Quentin's love again.
He remembered a time when he used to like the woods, when he was a boy. In another life. It almost felt as if he had the memories of someone else within him. The woods seemed to be so magical, home to nymphs and centaurs, fairies and pixies, hiding from the mortal realm. All that wonder had been taken away from him as he grew up, replaced by a steely resolve. In the distance he could hear some people trying to run away from him. They all were scared. None of them deserved to live, and he would see they got what was coming to them.
As he walked, branches whipped his exposed skin. Animals scurried, burrowing into their hiding holes. A few birds cawed overhead, and some of them landed on high branches. Trees swayed, green waves of leaves rippling along, but Quentin was blind to the beauty. He only could see the darkness that lurked within the shadows. The only parts of the leaves he noticed were the jagged edges, and it was just as much a place of horror as the desert had been. Covered in mud, he moved on instinct alone, not caring where he was going or what he could find. He knew that nothing could defeat him. He had transcended humanity now, had become something purer.
It only was a matter of time before he would come upon someone else. Before then, however, he needed to eat. Yes, sustenance. The body still needed sustenance. It was one of the few links to humanity he had left. It represented the weakness of humanity, how it always needed to consume to keep going, how it would die if it was starved. Quentin walked purposefully, embracing the pain that throbbed on his mottled, burned flesh. It was a part of him now, and that pain joined the rest of the agony that had been contained within him for as long as he could remember.
Quentin's path had taken him to a bubbling stream. A glove lay on the ground, indicating that someone had been here recently. He didn't bother to pick it up. There was nobody else around now. They all had scattered to the winds, but none of them would be able to escape their inexorable fate. The water in the stream was crystal blue, flecked with foam. It was clear enough that he could see the stones below the surface, smooth and round, almost perfect.
There was so much water. He remembered back in the desert when he craved having a stream like this. Reaching down, he dipped his hand in and saw some of the mud under his fingernails drift away, spinning around as the water took hold. It felt soothing against his skin.
For a moment Quentin closed his eyes and enjoyed the tranquility, but in the darkness of his mind Carol's screams echoed and suddenly a fire blazed. His beloved was caught in the inferno and she was dragged down into the flames. His hand thrashed against the water. Liquid burst up, splashing against the mask that covered half his face. Some of it dripped down to his mouth, cooling his tongue. He placed both hands in the stream and pulled up some water, gulping it down. He slurped, and the water dribbled down his face.
A rumbling sounded in his stomach just as a fish swam by. Its tail wiggled as it glided under the surface of the water. Then it was interrupted as a clawed hand punched through the water and grabbed it by the neck. Its gills flapped wildly, its mouth gaping open as it struggled for air. The fish writhed in Quentin's meaty hand, convulsing wildly. Quentin sneered at it. The fish was so fragile, so weak, just like humans. It was nothing to him. He tightened his grip, squeezing it so much its eyes bulged. Its scales were slick, and it almost popped out of Quentin's hand, but he kept hold of it. He was not going to let his prey go now. Quentin brought it up to his face and breathed in its pungent scent. The fish's eyes darted wildly this way and that, striving to escape the clutch of this monster and return to its watery home.
Quentin continued squeezing until he felt the crack of bone, until the scales split open and blood seeped out. Before the fish had taken its last breath, Quentin sank his teeth into its underbelly, the salty taste of its innards spilling into his mouth. The fish puckered its mouth as the indescribable pain swept through it, and then the life slipped from its eyes. Quentin scavenged through the fish, ripping out its innards, then chewing on the fresh, raw flesh. It slithered down his throat, blood following the tracks of water around his mouth. He spat out the heart. Gradually, the fish was emptied. It was crushed in his hands, a mix of bones, scales, guts, and eyes.