Surviving The Perils

by Roman Shepp

  He hoped.

  Tony was eminently aware of his own breathing, and the heartbeat that thudded quickly, like the patter of heavy rain against a window. Groot rested by his feet, unmoved. Tony breathed deeply, but quietly. He turned the baseball bat around, its end shifting against the dirt. Tony tried not to be too obvious about looking up, but his eyes searched the darkness. To his left there was a noise. Without hesitation Tony rose and acted out exactly what had been in his mind, only for the baseball bat to hit nothing but air. Tony looked down and saw a badger scurry along the ground, disappearing into the darkness again. He took his seat, glad that none of the others had woken up. Groot cocked an eye at him though.

  “Don't say a word,” Tony warned.

  Looking down at his friends, he was filled with a deep longing to protect them, by whatever means necessary. Maybe being good in this world couldn't be measured by the weight of your own conscience, but by how much of it you were willing to sacrifice for others. If he could keep his friends alive, then he could be sure he was a good person. That was his aim. That was how he was going to be a hero.

  Soon enough the dawn sun rose, causing dappled streaks of light to shine through the gaps in the leaves. The rest of the forest was bathed in a green shade, and the warmth washed through the world. Through the gaps in the trees, Tony could see the cloudless blue sky. He breathed in the morning air and wished he could believe it all was perfect. In moments like these the world was peaceful, but somewhere close a murderer lurked, and it was impossible for Tony to relax and enjoy the natural surroundings.

  One by one, each of them woke. Jane looked a little worse for wear.

  “Why didn't you wake me for watch?” she asked.

  “You looked so peaceful sleeping there I didn't have the heart to wake you. Figured that we'd all been through a lot, and if you needed your rest you should sleep through it.”

  To his surprise, she seemed angry. “Don't give me any special favors. I'm just as capable as any of you. I don't want you to treat me any differently,” she barked. Tony apologized and let her have some space. There still was some meat left from the deer Jane had killed the previous night, and this was washed down with water from the river. In the morning light things didn't look as bad as they had in the darkness.

  “So, you think today will be the day when we find the bunker?” Phil said.

  “I hope so,” Tony replied, for the sake of all of them.

  “I hope there's someone there who can help me with this,” Phil said, waving his stump in the air.

  He wore a smile, but Tony could see the pain behind the man's eyes. It was hard not to pity the man. In the grand scheme of things, he was lucky compared to the victims around him, but Phil had lost something he never could get back. Despite his cheery outlook on life it was clear he was struggling. He hadn't been able to help much against the wolves or the snake, and when the masked man had attacked Phil had been dealt with easily. It couldn’t have been easy for him, but Tony didn't know how to make the world any better for his friend.

  “Have we talked about what we're going to do when we get to the bunker?” Saeed asked.

  “What do you mean?” Tony replied.

  “Are we just going to stay there for the rest of our days?”

  “I don't think so...” Tony said, looking around at the others for any help. Jane usually would speak at this point, but she was looking sullen. Tony didn't know why, but he thought it best to leave her to stew alone until she got out of her funk.

  “I guess we could stay there for a little while, wait for the country to settle down,” Phil said. “Maybe in a few months we come out again and try to get back to a place with potential. There's gotta be some resources we can use in the bunker as well, some maps or something. We can chart the surrounding area and figure out which places are likeliest to be safe.”

  “That's a good idea,” Tony said. “We can use the bunker as a base and rebuild. At least we'll be safe while the world goes crazy.”

  “And what if we come out and find that the world has turned to ash?” Jane said.

  “It was your idea to go to the bunker in the first place,” Tony said.

  “I know, but that doesn't mean it was always the best idea. Maybe we were wrong to come out here. All we're going to do is hole ourselves up and wait for something that might never happen,” she said bitterly.

  “At least we'll be out of the way of that masked man,” Phil said, looking around furtively.

  “Well, we shouldn't change plans now. We've come this far, so we may as well follow through. We'll spend the day walking along the river again. Hopefully we'll strike it lucky. If not, we'll have to camp outside again. We'll all have to be on the lookout for this masked man. I don't want to be surprised by him again.” The others nodded in agreement.

  Jane pushed herself up and started to gather her things. The others took this as a cue that they were moving on, so they did the same. Soon there was barely any trace that they even had been there.

  They made their way to the river and followed the path they had been walking, continuing to mark the trees in case they got lost. Tony took point, followed by Phil. Tara and Jane walked along hand in hand, and Saeed brought up the rear. Tony was glad to have seen a change in Saeed's mood. The man seemed to be working through his grief, and hopefully Tony soon would be getting to know the real Saeed.

  The sound of the river was comforting. Tony could watch it for hours, rushing by with no thought of anything else. The water was clear and occasionally fish swam by. To them, the world was no different.

  As they walked, Tony looked carefully for any signs of life. Aside from the masked man, he was sure there were other people in the woods but wanted to be prepared for any sign of trouble. It was almost too much to hope that any other people would be friendly. All through the morning there were no sounds, however, and Tony didn't have that skin-crawling feeling that something was watching them. He almost dared to hope that the masked man had lost their trail.

  They stopped for lunch and talked a little bit, but by now they had spent so much time together that there were long bouts of silence spanning the days. Tara chatted away happily, and Tony was glad they had rescued the little girl. In her company it was almost impossible to be moody, and as the day wore on Jane's mood improved, although she didn't talk about why she had been so crabby earlier that morning.

  The river was long, cutting through not just the state but the entire country, and the longer they walked the more Tony was afraid they never would find the bunker. What kind of bunker was it anyway? One carved into the side of a mountain, one that ran deep underground? Jane didn't know the answer, and Tony didn't know what he was looking for. In his mind he thought of a huge building, but he knew the reality was probably stealthier than that. It was as though they were looking for a needle in a haystack. Although he wanted to believe they were going to get lucky and find it, he had to consider the possibility that they were wandering through these woods hopelessly.

  Then, a stroke of luck.

  They came across a backpack. Approaching tentatively at first in case it was a trap, Tony picked it up and looked inside. There was no sign of anyone else around, so Tony rummaged through it and found a map. There were a few areas circled, with some notes scrawled on them, but Tony wasn't interested in those just yet. He unfolded the map and brought it back to the others. Phil looked at it with great interest, for he knew how to read maps. They turned it around until they managed to find approximately where they were standing, with the help of a cross scratched onto the map. Tony asked Jane to remind them of the coordinates. He and Phil traced them along the folds of the map until they found them.

  They were close, although it seemed they would have to turn back on themselves.

  “Should we take this with us?” Phil asked. It was a valuable resource after all, and there didn't seem to be any sign of the owner of this backpack. Tony couldn't imagine any scenario where anyone would leave their things like this.


  “I feel bad about it, but I think we have to,” Tony said. Phil nodded.

  Everyone else agreed, so Phil folded up the map and kept hold of it. Tony looked at the other things in the backpack, but there was nothing to take. He looked around once more, just in case he could see any eyes looking back at him, and then whispered an apology in case he had stolen something valuable from the owner.

  Feeling encouraged by their new discovery, the group walked briskly. Phil consulted the map now and then, until they were in the general area.

  “Now we hunt,” Tony said.

  The group spread out, looking for any sign of a bunker. Tara thought the whole thing was a big game of hide and seek, and Jane did well to rein in the child. They all still had to be wary in case the masked man lurked around, but as of yet there were no signs of anything else.

  It was Saeed who found the door. The dark green metal door was embedded in rock, with some vines draped over it to hide it from any general glances. Only people looking for this door would have found it. Once Saeed had called them over, the group stood outside the door and paused. After searching so long for this it was a strange feeling to be faced with it.

  “I wonder what's inside,” Tony said.

  Before he had a chance to answer Tara already was knocking on the door loudly. Tony was seized with fear at this reckless action, but it was what they wanted. He glanced at the others and gulped. Would anyone answer? They seemed to wait for an interminable amount of time, and it came to a point where Tony assumed nobody was inside. He reached out to grab the handle, hoping it was unlocked, when there was a metallic scraping sound from behind the door. It opened, and then Jane staggered back. The color drained from Tony's face, for standing before them was Frank. The last time they'd seen him, Frank had been left face down in an alley.

  “Well, I was wondering if you ever would show up,” he said with a smug smile, but his eyes burned with fierce anger. “And you've brought your friends. How lovely.”

  He turned, leaving the door open, beckoning them to follow him. Tony glanced over at Jane, who trembled with fear and anger. He was about to ask if they should turn away and abandon their plans, but Jane already was marching through the doorway, descending into the depths of the bunker.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Quentin stumbled into the darkness, clutching his face. How dare they try tearing away his true face. His fingers pressed against the mask. The strap was holding, and he breathed far easier when he felt it rest where it belonged. The constant pain was a companion now, but the shame he felt was new to him. He did not want anyone to see what lay under the mask, and that woman had come so close. He should have seen her coming at him, should have prepared himself for her attack. He'd been too confident after his earlier victories. He should have known that eventually he would come across people who could fight back properly. He'd almost killed one of them, almost snuffed the light out of their eyes. He'd failed, but he wouldn't next time. Next time he would be more careful. He would wait longer, and watch. Then he would take them out one by one. He had become too arrogant, thinking he simply could walk in there and kill them all.

  No, he needed to plan better, to think of strategy and tactics. He wasn't a mindless monster. He was a righteous warrior, and he needed to act that way. The night air was cool. He retreated to the trees. One of them had followed him, but he soon gave up. The one with the bat. He tried hard, but he was not a skilled combatant. Not like the woman. She reminded him of Carol. Carol always had been able to take care of herself, except against fire and a collapsing building.

  Quentin had told himself he wasn't going to think about Carol any longer. Who were those people? Had they really done all those bad things? The little girl with them...was she a captive? It would be just like those people to delude the girl with false ideas, to pretend that everything was right. Children always were fed lies. It was a grand conspiracy by adults to keep the world moving, turning the same wheel round and round. She needed to be shown the truth. Once their eyes were opened they would see the same things Quentin did. The adults all could die. But the children...there was hope for the children.

  Moaning to himself, Quentin staggered through the forest until he heard a small animal rush through the underbrush. Reaching out, Quentin grabbed it and snapped its neck coolly. This time, he built a fire to keep himself warm and roasted the meat over the fire for a little while, then tore into it, tearing the meat away with his teeth. The juice ran all over his fingers and his mouth. His clothes were in tatters, stained by dirt, and he smelled rancid, for he had not bathed. Ashy remains were lodged in his fingernails. His breath was heavy. His teeth were yellow, and his eyes burned with vengeance.

  They were the ones who had caused him so much pain, who had spread death and destruction throughout the woods. He would see to it that they were punished. One of them already had lost an arm. Maybe he was a captive too. He'd tried to attack Quentin. They all had tried to hurt him, and that was something Quentin could not abide. So many people had hurt him, and Quentin was not going to put up with it any longer. The rules had changed.

  So many times, in the old world, Quentin had wanted to hurt people, to use his particular set of skills to deal with people who had wanted to hurt him. Like Carol's brother. Like the people who stared at him when he shuffled along the street. Like the people who refused to give him a job, or a chance to better himself. He'd given everything he had to protect this country and now it was burning. That was all they deserved. That was all any of them deserved.

  Quentin tossed aside the mess of bones and fatty flesh, letting the flames envelop them. Smoke rose into the air. The animal had settled his stomach, but there was a deeper hunger that no animal could satisfy.

  Quentin slammed his fist against his head and clawed at his scalp. The voice inside his head tried to come back again. He wouldn't let it. It wasn't Carol. Carol was dead. It was some kind of demon trying to sway him from his path. He was stronger than that. He had to be stronger than that. He had been left alive for a reason, for a purpose. The voice was part of the old world and it should have been burned away like the flesh of his face. It was so powerful, though, so intoxicating, and so insistent. It took all of Quentin's willpower to silence and he was not going to be caught in another argument with it. He was NOT.

  Quentin lashed out with his fists and dragged dirt across the fire. It licked and crackled and taunted him. In the amber flames he almost could see the terror on Carol’s face, almost could hear her anguished screams. He kicked out, drowning the fire in dirt. The flames subsided, slowly dying, being suffocated until there was nothing but a hiss and a wisp of smoke. Plunged into darkness, Quentin felt relieved again. Peace.

  Sweat clung to his skin. In time it would dry, with all the rest of the dirt and grime that had collected on his flesh. He turned his head and looked in the direction of those people, wondering if he should return now and slaughter them all. No, they probably were waiting for him now. He had to be patient, had to wait for the right moment.

  They had a fire. They had laughter and happiness. They all had the things that Quentin didn't have, but soon enough they would have one more thing. Death.

  It took some time for Quentin's raging mind to calm enough for him to sleep, but eventually he was able to rest. Through the night, his body jerked with violent dreams, and he only slept for a few hours before he was awake again. Watching the morning sun rise, Quentin was filled with fury. There was no appreciation for nature. All he could see was the torn carcass of the animal he had eaten, the dirt scattered over the fire, and the rotting bark of the trees. The best thing for this forest was to be bathed in blood. Quentin already had spilled much of it, but there was far more to be spilled.

  Knowing his prey undoubtedly would be moving, Quentin walked back toward the camp, but kept his distance. They seemed to be heading down the river. He stayed far enough back so he couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were careless and made more noise than they probably
thought they did. They also left marks on trees, which helped Quentin follow them. It almost was as though they wanted to be caught. Perhaps it was their guilty conscience calling to him, beckoning Quentin for the moment of reckoning.

  They could laugh and joke to their hearts’ content, but it didn't change a thing. They were monsters. Their very existence threatened the world, and they already were corrupting an innocent girl. Quentin hoped it wasn't too late for her. If it wasn't, he could rescue her, and teach her the truth about the world. There would be a day when he no longer could fight, when he would have to pass the mantle to someone else. It was unlikely that he could wipe out all the human plague in his lifetime. A protege was needed. But if these adults already had seduced the girl with their lies and their false promises, it would be too late. She only would grow up to be part of the problem, and Quentin couldn't allow that.

  The river rushed by him as he traced their path. He looked down at the fish with disdain. The animals were ignorant about what was happening to the world. They did nothing to help their own cause and were almost as bad as humanity in that regard. As he was tracking them, the voice inside his head became easier to manage. He was focused, alert. It was only when his mind was unoccupied that it came back to haunt him. Always choosing his weakest moments.

  It was so tempting to approach them and pull them back, to give into the fury that turned his blood to ice and kill them. They already had proven themselves able to withstand his assault. The next time he faced them he was not going to give them any chance. He needed to wait until they separated, when he could pick them off one by one. That was the smart thing to do, and Quentin was smarter than anyone he knew.

  “Help me! I was attacked by an animal,” a man said, limping through the forest. Another weak example. Another flame that needed to be extinguished. “Please, I had to drop my backpack, but it still got me. I just need your help. I can help you. I know things, but you have to help me.”