by P. S. Power
Then, without warning, before Jake could even stand up straight, the guy vanished. Leaving him there. As soon as he could stand Jake dug into his pocket, and pulled out a capsule, emptying it to the slight breeze, hoping it would spread well enough in the dense trees. It wasn't an evergreen forest, so he couldn't really tell where he was at all. Trying not to panic he waited in place, hoping that Mort would be right back. He'd seemed a little out of it though, confused and like he didn't understand something.
After an hour Jake realized that he needed to move. He had to have some kind of shelter and ideally a fire, or he was going to die if no one came back for him. Just because there were no signs of the undead didn't mean he was safe, either. The nano compound did diddly-squat against bears for instance. The only thing was, even though he knew that he'd need shelter, fire and food he really didn't have anything to get that with. He did have some matches on him, in a little container that he carried almost everywhere, so there was that. A knife too, and he could hunt if there was anything to eat.
But a snow shelter? Even building a fire in the snow...
He didn't have much of a clue at all.
He didn't even have gloves on. It was cold already and would be more so as it got dark. The first thing he did, as silly as it felt like to him, was to take off his socks and put his boots back on, then the slightly damp things went onto his hands. It wasn't perfect, but better than brushing the snow with his bare skin. Then he quickly made a tiny structure just big enough to sit in, using tree branches and packed snow. It wasn't very good, but let him clear a patch on the ground.
Wood was a problem, since it was all buried under the masses of white. If he could get the thing hot enough any wood would do, even the green stuff, but he didn't have a lot of time to make mistakes. Once it got dark he was going to be stuck with whatever he had. The sun was still up in the sky nicely enough, but that could mean anything from a few hours of light to another half of one, depending on where he was.
He scrambled, activity keeping him warm for the time being. He had to set the fire up away from his little snow fort though, or it would melt. There was some dry bits and pieces under some logs, which he got to by kicking them over. His hands were freezing already, impromptu mittens or not. Those had to come off for the actual fire starting though, which still took him three matches. He had six on him. Once going he wasn't going to want the thing to go out at all.
He had a fire before dark, and managed to get a good collection of wood for it, including a couple of logs that weren't too heavy to drag around. Once the fire was hot enough, blowing on it for just a bit extra heat, he slowly lowered one of the logs onto the blaze. It dimmed for a little bit, the ice stuck into the bark melting, trying to damp the flames. Jake responded with more blowing, a frantic thing that alternated deep breaths of clean but frigid air with lungs full of bitter smoke. Coughing mightily he kept on, not knowing if he could get another flame going before dark if this one failed. After a while, dizzy and ready to just give up, the whole thing started burning pretty well. It even grew a little bigger. He wasn't going for a bonfire or anything, but he needed enough heat to reach the open part of his little structure. Not too much though, or it would all become water again. Just enough to get it above freezing. He propped some bark up behind the fire for that, then worked to cover the snow inside on the floor with leaves and debris. It would be warmer than just being directly on the wet after all.
That night he dozed a bit, not having anything to do, thinking about what had happened. Putting it all together piece by portion, information about things dripping into his mind slowly, as if frozen by the cold air around him. He busied himself as he could, drying his socks on sticks for entertainment, tending the fire and trying not to let his hand or feet freeze solid.
The key was with Morten though. It had to be.
When Alyssian had been kidnapped, one of the men, who was wearing a mask, had taken her away by teleportation, she'd said. That could be anyone though. Even a Technologist with the right toy. The thing there was that later, when they'd been about to be blown up by his mother's lookalike in the jungle, Mort had whisked them all away in a panic...
Not to his own home, but to the place along the Lake where Alyssian had been taken. He'd brushed it off at the time, saying that he'd been practicing going there for his job and indicating that when startled it wasn't odd to go to someplace like that. Even Cam had seemed to think it was reasonable.
What if it had been something like that, but different? What if Mort had been there, to get Alyssian, instead of just practicing?
On the good side, earlier he'd seemed confused and disoriented, like someone might have been talking to him, telling him what to do. OK, sure, that wasn't great for Jake in the moment, but if it was the case it might mean the man wasn't a traitor at all, just being controlled somehow. Not a fun or wonderful thing for him, but Jake might not have to shoot him for it either, if he managed to survive.
Which really, depending on where he was, didn't seem all that likely did it?
He kept the fire going and managed to stay nearly dry most of the night. It got cold, but the fire burned hot and there was no new snow. As morning came he kind of wondered what to do though. If it was Back Before he'd have stayed put, waiting for someone to come look for him, but there were no planes in the sky overhead, or anything and in a few days he'd be dead here anyway. The question was, did he just set off in a direction and hope it led to something, or stay in place, hoping that Mort remembered where he left him, and cared enough to come back?
At first light he set off. Heather had mentioned that things would be bad for him, hadn't she? It seemed that she wasn't talking about that happening in a few months, or anything handy like that. Even having more supplies, matches and a space blanket, would have helped a lot.
Jake decided to try and take the fire with him, just carrying a mainly burned log portion along with him. It was down to smoldering, but had a long enough end on it that he could manage it without setting himself on fire. Maybe at least. It meant an extra burden of weight, being about thirty pounds, which was a lot to be carrying in his hands, and stopping every fifteen minutes or so to blow on it and rest, but it would save on matches and help keep him warm. It also made him smell like wood smoke, which was way better than the B.O. he was starting to develop.
He'd never been a Boy Scout, and didn't think he could find a direction to save his life, but then he remembered that the sun rose in the East and set in the West. So if he pointed at the glowing as it came up with his right hand, that should leave him facing South. It wouldn't last all day long, but it wasn't like that wasn't a pretty random direction anyway. For all he knew going South was the dumbest idea ever and he should have headed in one of the others.
He just walked, hoping that eventually he could reach someplace warmer if he did. For all he knew this was Russia or something. Siberia. Not the arctic at least, there were too many trees for that. He kept going, not seeing any animals at all. After five hours he popped the next capsule. Freezing to death wouldn't be made better by doing it with zombies.
He had snow so there was water, but until he had a fire there was no way to melt it. Even then he didn't have a cup or anything. Not even a bit of plastic. If he ever got someplace with people, he was definitely going to make a point of collecting some gear that he carried with him all the time. More matches, a plastic bag and something to carry water. He stopped for the night with hours of light left, finding a clearing that had a nice rock outcropping behind it. There was even a small stream. A little desperately he laid on the bank, sipping at the trickle of water that was no wider than his hand, trying not to get rocks from the bottom in his mouth. He was starving and cold, but the embers on the log were still burning, which meant he could get a fire going with only a little work.
That took two hours again. It was harder to start the log burning than not, even with some dry material from under a larger log he found. It was almost hollow though, excep
t for the animal living in it. He shot it out of reflex and found it to be a fox when he pulled it out. It looked a bit too much like something from a Disney cartoon for his taste, but he butchered it anyway, as soon as the blaze was going. Roast fox wasn't exactly a delicacy, not the way he did it, but it still tasted better than nothing. He nearly burnt the outside, trying to make certain it was done all the way though. Some meat had to be cooked really well, like pork. No one had ever mentioned fox meat being like that, but then who ate them? It didn't make him sick, and he had enough for two small meals.
Plus the log was big enough for him to sleep in. It wasn't comfortable, but it was dry and he could have the fire right next to it, if he was careful.
The next day he felt tired, like he couldn't go on at all. There was just nothing left it felt like. He was so cold and his body couldn't warm itself, even after he finished the meat. Jake got up and hoisted a new log portion to his shoulder, barely able to walk it felt like. He stumbled along, his head far from clear. It was hard to tell how often he stopped to check the log, but he didn't think it was often enough. He kept going though. It was what Heather had said to do, when it felt too hard to go on. Jake knew it wasn't that bad yet though. It would be getting worse soon.
That was obvious.
He had to stop sooner, just not able to keep going like he was in the cold. He'd started out worn down and too skinny, and now he was paying for it. He nearly dropped the log twice before he realized he was just about done. He found a single pine tree though, one not too big. The area under the snow-covered branches made a little hut for him. Too big really, but it would have to do. He scraped the pine needles from the far side for his fire, the whole thing filling with smoke rapidly. He was going to die from it, most likely, if he didn't get some fresh air.
Jake laughed and pushed a single branch to the side lazily, which made a chimney of sorts. He had to get more wood, so he made himself move, wondering where Rachel was. If she was going to haunt him in his darkest moments she should be getting her butt over there now, shouldn't she? Nothing happened though.
It was too bad, since he could have used the company.
It took forever to get just a little more wood. It was there, he just kept forgetting what he was trying to do. He'd pick something up and then come to himself a while later, with nothing in his hands at all. In the end he didn't know if what he had was enough to last the night, but the dark away from the fire was too much for him. He kept seeing things.
Secret things, about himself. Playing in the pitch black outside the leaves. How he was vain, and blind, because of the damage he'd done to himself. How he valued his own life more than that of others. Each scene from his life where he'd done that playing again, just to show him what an awful person he was. From the moment he tried to tell Rachel he loved her, singing that stupid song. Only it wasn't dumb, that much was clear. He could see it all right there, between the branches. It was in her basement, the one at her father's house. It had a beat up old couch in it that she was sitting on as he fingered the complex rhythm on the guitar.
When he sang, it was good. Better than anything he'd ever heard before and that was hard for him to admit, since it had ended so badly. The words were crisp and clean, happy and just the right touch of tentative. It spoke of so much more than he could have imagined. The hard thing was that he could also feel what Rachel experienced... The fear, tickling in her stomach, knowing that he wanted more from her than what they had. The pleasure at the song itself and the despair she felt, knowing that she was about to throw it all away. There were no words to explain the feelings, no reasons given as to why, but it was all there.
So was Colleen, standing out in the hallway with a tray that held some glasses of soda. She always served it in a glass for Mickey, one she chilled in the freezer first, since he liked his drinks cold. When she heard the song her heart broke. It was devastating to feel, as bad as anything he'd ever felt himself, worse than that. Right up until he killed his parents. She backed up, feeling horrible, betrayed, even as she knew it wasn't right of her to feel like that. Wanting revenge, but knowing that it wasn't possible. She wasn't loved, and never had been. It wasn't fair at all.
The whole thing changed to a point years later, his parents at dinner trying to get him to go and get a job. It wasn't, he realized, that they cared about the money, that wasn't what they were thinking at all, just stopping his growing depression. Their light and fun child had turned, for some reason they didn't understand, into a totally different person. It wasn't drugs at least, they were certain of that. He'd have to leave the house to get those. No, it was something else, they just didn't know what.
The rest of what had to come he didn't need to see at all.
But he was going to anyway.
It wasn't what he thought though. It was a thing he knew had never happening in front of him, though he watched it like he was there. Rachel and Colleen coming into the hardware store. With Derrick Holsom.
His mother talking to them, happy to see the Rachel, Mickey's little friend, was looking so well, noticing the ring on her finger, and congratulating her. The smaller girl asking after him, though Rachel felt embarrassed about it all. Because she'd blown it. Colleen planning to steal Derrick from her, to punish her, writing her own song. Jake didn't see it all, but it was clear anyway. Derrick feeling...
Amazed that anyone female even noticed him. It was all thanks to that woman, the one that had given him that pill...
That had happened just before he met Rachel, the woman explained it to him, but it didn't really make sense to Derrick, who wasn't after all, very bright. It was supposed to make him irresistible to women. All he had to do to earn it was take a pill one time, then date Rachel for a while. Since then Derrick had been able to hit one or two women a week without doing more work than saying hello. He'd even nailed Rachel's sister, with her in the other room, and she didn't even care.
It was in the man's thoughts that Jake saw what had happened, how a strange woman had approached the man at a party, her clothing a little odd, but attractive enough to get his attention. How she handed him the pill, assuring him it was safe. He was a cop, and should have known better than to take something from a stranger, especially with a bullshit story like she'd told him, but it was just the one pill and didn't even make him feel funny.
Jake had to focus to see the face, but once he did his stomach fell. She was dressed like a Technologist, but the face was one he recognized after a bit. It... Couldn't be though, because she just looked so much different now.
Older. So much so that he had to be wrong. When she spoke though, he got it. There was no doubt, it was her voice.
Lois.
From the House.
Chapter seven
Jake wasn't in a habit of making life decisions based on fever dreams or hallucination, ghosts of Rachel notwithstanding. In the morning though, after all the scenes had replayed a dozen times in different orders, showing slightly different events, or in a few cases things that he hadn't know had happened at all, he got himself going. There were things in the visions... like a younger version of Lois living next to the hardware store, just down the street in a duplex, for years. Watching them. That, and Colleen coming to the shop to see him almost every day, just looking through the window, even after the whole thing with Derrick was over.
Just making sure Mickey was Ok. Because she still loved him.
There was no fire left, not even a bit of glow in the middle of the ashes. Jake would have to spend a match later then. He stuffed some of the charcoal in a pocket though, since it would burn better than damp leaves or twigs and headed out, hoping that something would break soon. Other than his mind.
The idea that Lois wasn't herself... it was insane. The only thing there was that he recognized her now. She'd come into the shop a lot for a while, talking to him sometimes. Her voice was odd. Cool and logical, like the others of her people he'd met. Provided it wasn't just imagination of course.
Soc
ks on hands, he trudged for hours, stopping only for water, no longer certain he had the right direction at all. On a whim he released another capsule, not knowing if he was still in a clean area or not. He hadn't seen anything at all. Nothing dead, or undead, except the fox he'd killed. Forever ago.
The second break he'd had as far as things went had to do with an old bottle he found. It was heavy and filthy inside, but made of glass. That meant, with work, he could melt snow in it. He packed it tight and put it in his jacket pocket, knowing that wouldn't be warm enough, but also knowing that he both needed water and couldn't afford to lose the heat putting it inside his coat would cost him. It was maddening, but he kept going. He'd found streams before. On the next one he decided to just follow it. He should have already he realized, even if it went East or West, just in case it led to a larger river or something.
The day was one of miracles apparently because he managed to make a fire and shoot a pig for dinner. It was big and well fed, coming along with a partner that he also shot several times. He wasn't that hungry, but he just couldn't afford to be injured and the female had seemed a little upset about the loss of her mate. Jake felt horrible about taking their lives, but forced himself to cook them anyway, even as he swallowed guilt over the death with each bite. It was like he didn't have enough energy left to hide from himself anymore.
It was screwed up. He had to eat, regardless of his emotions.
The food and warmth kept him going though, and he made a better shelter that night, packed with snow that was partially melting. If it was getting warmer he couldn't tell otherwise, but it seemed like it had to be. He shivered through the night, great wracking things that didn't allow for rest at all. It kept him alive though, most likely. For a few more hours.
The nights were the worst though.
As soon as the sun went down he'd start seeing visions, sometimes of things he recognized. Things from the past that he'd done, people that he'd hurt somehow, normally by not paying enough attention to them or by being scary. Each person he killed had been very afraid when it happened, at first. Some found peace as they slipped away, which was good to know. He hadn't wanted them to feel bad, most of them had just had to die for one reason or another.