Kiki growled, a deep and intense sound that rumbled out of her.
A flurry of sound, movement in the darkness. Kiki dashed forward, growling.
A scream. A woman’s scream, high-pitched and terrified.
John dashed forward to where the sound came from.
He ran, unable to see where he was headed, not knowing what he was about to face. But he knew he had to do it. This was the chance. Kiki had made the first move. The woman was close. Too close.
John tripped, falling forward.
He still couldn’t see. He fell against a body.
A flashlight switched on, nearly blinding his darkness-adjusted eyes.
He looked away.
Something smashed into his torso. A rock, or something hard. Or the butt of a handgun.
John hit back, punching in front of him, unable to see. The flashlight fell, the cylinder of light rolling across the forest floor.
John grabbed the flashlight, scrambling off of the body and rushing towards it. He took it, groping in the darkness, and when he finally had it in his hand, he shone it towards his attacker.
Kiki was still growling. The flashlight illuminated her head first. She had her jaws sunk into a human leg.
John turned the flashlight more, illuminating a woman lying there.
She was attractive, and her long hair had come undone and hung around her face.
But she had the most intense look on her face, both of pain and pure fury.
The wound on her leg looked terrible. Kiki was tearing away, doing everything she could to stop the woman.
She had a gun in her hand. She pointed it at John, but she was squinting intensely. She was blinded by the flashlight that John now held.
It was all happening so fast. There were just seconds to act.
John had his own gun trained on her. He squeezed the trigger just as her gun went off.
She missed, the bullet lodging itself into the trunk of a tree. The splinters of wood exploded outward, hitting John in the back of the head.
John’s round hit her in the shoulder.
Cynthia appeared in the light. She came suddenly, out of the darkness. Her hands went right for the gun.
“Drop the gun,” snarled Cynthia, as she pressed her own handgun into the woman’s head. The woman’s long hair fell around the gun’s metal.
She dropped the gun. Cynthia took it.
“Kiki,” said John. “Enough.”
Kiki looked up at him, but didn’t release her grip.
“Kiki!”
Kiki released her grip.
The woman didn’t speak. She glared up at John, probably unable to see him because of the brightness of the flashlight.
“There might be more,” said Cynthia.
“Kiki will let us know. She’ll smell them.”
“They’ll have rifles,” said Cynthia.
John switched off his flashlight. He felt like an idiot, realizing his own error. It had all happened too fast. There hadn’t been time to think of the consequences of holding the flashlight. He’d been fighting for his life, in the immediate sense.
“Let me go,” said the woman. Her words came out harsh and vicious. “Or my men will kill you.”
“You know,” said John, “I don’t think there are any others. I think we killed the ones who came with you already. Otherwise, I’d already be dead from holding that flashlight, as my friend here pointed out.”
“That’s what you’d like to think.”
“I think you’re right,” said Cynthia. “I just thought we should be extra cautious.”
“Definitely right,” said John.
John was breathing hard. His heart was pounding. He sat down on the ground, keeping his handgun out.
“What should we do with her?” said Cynthia.
“What do you think?”
“You can kill me,” said the woman. “But it’s not going to make any difference.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m part of something larger. It’ll live on without me.”
“You’re part of the compound?”
The woman didn’t answer.
“We can make this hard on you,” said John.
“I’m not just part of it. I’m the brains and the soul. I call the shots.”
“Well it’s not doing you much good now. Why were you hunting us?”
“I’m not doing this for personal gain. I want what we establish to live beyond us.”
“You were after Cynthia, weren’t you? We spoke to your friend, and he came back and told you there was a woman in the area, right?”
“Mark? He wouldn’t tell me anything unless it was for his own gain. He never understood the process. I had to torture it out of him.”
“So my brother, Max, really was at the compound then?”
“Max? Unfortunately. I wish I’d never laid my eyes on him.”
“You’re after me?” said Cynthia. “That’s completely sick.”
“It’s the world we’re living in,” said the woman. Her voice never lost the vicious, cold tone. “That’s the breaks, honey. Expect a lot more of it.”
“I might expect that from a man,” said Cynthia. “But you’re a woman.”
“How astute,” said the woman sarcastically. “You would have been perfect, since you don’t sound too bright.”
Cynthia was getting angry. “You’re disgusting.” The anger came out of her voice with force.
“We’re done with her,” said John. “Go ahead.”
“Wait,” said the woman frantically. “I can give you anything you need. Don’t kill me.”
“I thought you didn’t care if you died?” sneered Cynthia.
“She’s only human,” said John. “At the end of the day, she’ll do anything to try to save her own skin.”
“Anything you want,” said the woman. “You wouldn’t believe what we have available to us at the compound. We have more flashlights. Guns, more guns that you could ever dream of. Anything you want and I’ll give it to you if you just spare me my life.”
“I have a feeling that as soon as we step foot in your compound, that’ll be the end of us,” said John.
“The end of you,” said Cynthia. “Sounds like she wants to keep me as a prisoner there forever until I can reproduce enough times.”
“You don’t have to come in,” said the woman. “I’ll send the things out to you.”
“There’s no reason we should trust you. Absolutely no reason.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want, trust me. You can always trust a desperate person.”
“You’re a real snake. You can never trust a desperate person. They’ll promise whatever is necessary.”
“Come on,” said John. “Finish her, Cynthia. There might be others out there. We need to get out of here.”
“They’ll come looking for me,” said the woman. “You’ll never get out of the area alive.”
“Neither will you,” said Cynthia, as she pulled the trigger. Her gun went off, the shot ringing through the woods.
John turned on the flashlight.
The woman lay there, lifeless, her head blown in, blood flowing freely.
Kiki whimpered.
“Come on,” said John. “We’ve got to go.”
“You think they’ll really come for us?”
“Probably. If there’s anyone nearby, they’ll have heard the gunshots. We’ve got to move fast. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Same as before. Stay alive. Maybe find Max.”
“You think we’ll be able to find him?”
“I doubt it.”
“But he’s got to be close by. He couldn’t have gone that far.”
“If he has a car, he could. And there’s no way to reach him.”
“What about Dale’s radio?”
“What about it?”
“We could use it to find Max.”
“How? He doesn’t have a radi
o of his own.”
“Maybe he’ll come across one.”
“Who knows. I’m not holding out much hope.”
John’s spirits were completely sunk. The death of Dale was finally setting in. Now that the chaos had calmed down for a moment, Dale’s death stuck out as a senseless and cruel event. But that was the way things were now. That was the way the world worked. There wasn’t any justice, unless you created it yourself.
They found their packs, shouldered them, and set off. There were still hours before the sunrise, and they used the flashlights to find their way, to avoid tripping over the roots.
Kiki walked in front of them, glancing back towards them periodically. She would be useful. She’d be able to hear attackers before they would. But they couldn’t rely on her completely. She was just a dog, after all.
They were still within the compound’s territory. They were still in danger.
But they were used to that. As used to it as they could be.
John’s mind wasn’t at ease. It was likely there’d be more people after them. If the woman they’d killed really was the leader of the compound, wouldn’t the others come looking for her?
11
James
James was about to do something really stupid. Or really smart.
Either way, it was risky.
He’d walked for two hours, going farther than he knew he should have. The woods never ended. He never came to another road. He just walked straight, heading away from the road.
He was far from the campsite. As far as any of them had gone. He was way past the squirrel traps they’d set up.
James had marked the trunks of trees with his knife as he’d passed, leaving himself a trail so that he could find his way back. He had a compass with him, and he made sure that he was always heading due south.
To get back, all he’d have to do was head due north.
In theory, at least.
James was well aware that the woods could be deceptive. He’d learned it from his mother, who’d told him stories of her early hunting days, getting lost deep in the woods when she thought she knew exactly where she was.
At least James was aware of the possibility of getting lost. At least he was well aware of the risks. He was taking every precaution he possibly could.
Except for what he was about to do.
He was sitting cross-legged on the forest floor. Dead leaves were under him and all around him.
In front of him, there was a huge patch of wild mushrooms. They were growing out of an old log that had fallen years ago and partially rotted away.
They were good-sized mushrooms, a couple inches across at the cap. The caps were a light brown color.
But that was where James’s identification process began to break down. The field guide he had in front of him talked about cap size and color, but also about things like spore prints, and a dozen other characteristics that James couldn’t even pronounce.
From what James could make out, the mushrooms in front of him were either common honey mushrooms, or deadly Galerina mushrooms.
Both were common in Pennsylvania. Both looked superficially similar. Both were often mistaken for one another.
The only thing was that the honey mushrooms were edible. And the deadly Galerina mushrooms were extremely toxic, capable of killing four adult men with a small portion of flesh.
James was over his head. And he knew that. He’d racked his brains for anything he knew or had heard about mushrooms. But there was nothing there. They’d never been mentioned in biology class in school, except that he’d had to memorize the fact that fungi actually outnumbered all other forms of life by some huge margin. It had been on the test, and he’d passed, but it certainly didn’t help him now.
James had never learned anything about mushroom identification. Apparently, from what the field guide was saying, it took many years of study to be able to accurately distinguish look-alike mushrooms from one another.
He’d never been more frustrated. He had the guide, but it wasn’t much good to him.
The only way to know for sure was to test the mushrooms.
He’d take a bite and he’d either drop dead or have something edible in his stomach.
If the mushrooms were the poisonous ones, he’d suffer liver failure very quickly. He’d likely never make it back to camp, dying alone in the woods. Maybe his mom, sister, and Mandy would never find his body. They’d never know what had happened to him.
But James had already made up his mind. He was going to do it. He had to do it.
He was doing it for his mom and his sister. And for Mandy. They needed food. The occasional squirrel simply wasn’t going to be enough. If they were going to be at the campsite for a long time, they weren’t going to survive without more sustenance.
Mushrooms weren’t especially calorically dense, but there were enough here that they could provide at least a day’s food for everyone. The field guide said that mushrooms actually contained protein. Not a huge amount of protein, percentage wise, but the guide claimed that the protein was easily assimilated, and very high quality. They also contained high concentrations of vitamins and minerals, which James imagined would be good for his mother’s recovery.
If these mushrooms proved to be edible, it was likely that James could find another patch of them. Maybe mushroom hunting could save them all from starvation.
His mom needed the food most of all, if she was going to recover and grow strong again.
If James gathered up the mushrooms and took them back to camp, he knew that Mandy would never in a thousand years let him try them. She’d tell him that it was simply too dangerous and that they’d have to go hungry rather than eat the mushrooms.
Neither James, his mother, Mandy, or even Max was a mycologist. None of them, as far as James knew, knew anything more than he did about identifying wild mushrooms.
James reached out and picked the mushroom closest to him. He held it to his nose and smelled it. It had a strange smell, sort of like an old shoe.
It was time to do it.
James took a small bite, chewing it thoroughly. It didn’t taste particularly good, but it didn’t taste bitter or particularly odd either.
James swallowed the piece and waited.
He didn’t start hiking back. If he was going to die from the mushroom, he wanted it to be out here, away from his family. He didn’t want them to have to see him suffering through liver failure, if that was what was going to happen. He’d die alone in the woods like a man. He was taking the risk for a good reason and he was prepared to deal with the consequences.
James waited and waited.
He felt a slight discomfort in his stomach. He tried not to let his imagination run wild with this.
He knew that it was better to cook mushrooms, even the edible ones. Raw edible mushrooms could provide mild stomach discomfort. That was what was happening now.
James waited for about an hour.
He was still alive. Nothing had happened to him.
James didn’t waste any time. He didn’t celebrate. He knew it’d been a serious risk that could have easily gone the other way.
He set about gathering as many mushrooms as he possibly could, stuffing them into his pockets and his nearly-empty pack. Within an hour, he’d gathered every single mushroom that he could see.
Now all James had to do was find his way back.
He’d been away from camp for a large part of the day. The sun was getting lower in the sky. He needed to get a move on it, or he’d be stuck out there in the dark.
At first, it wasn’t too hard to find his way. He held his compass in front of him as he walked, making sure that he was heading south.
But as he walked, he began to second guess himself.
Hadn’t he been this way before? He could swear that that moss-covered boulder looked too familiar. Hadn’t he passed it already? Hadn’t he seen that tree with the strange branch just a few minutes before?
Was he walking in circles?
It didn’t make sense. The compass was pointing the right way, and James could see the marks in the trees that he’d left with his knife.
He sat down, setting his pack to the side, and closed his eyes. He concentrated on his breathing, trying to calm himself.
As part of his school’s initiative for newfangled physical education, the gym teachers had introduced a meditation course.
James and his buddies had laughed and scoffed. Hardly any of the students had taken it seriously.
James had used the meditation time to crack jokes and generally just annoy the teacher.
He’d thought it was a waste of time then, and maybe it still was. But it was the only thing he could think of.
His mind kept wandering, and he kept pulling it back to his breathing, which he was noticing was ragged and intense with the anxiety of getting lost in the forest.
James opened his eyes after ten minutes, feeling calmer.
The sun was noticeably lower now than when he’d left the mushroom patch.
He re-approached the situation mentally, this time from a new angle.
Sure, it seemed like he was wandering in a circle. But that was probably just because James knew that everything rode on his ability to get back to his family. If James got lost, his mother and sister wouldn’t have any food, not to mention what else would happen.
Walking in circles was very common in the woods. So common, in fact, that James had convinced himself that that was what was happening to himself. Even though he knew it wasn’t.
He was heading south. There was no way he could get lost. He was following the marks he’d put in the trees.
James shouldered his pack and set off again, this time with a renewed confidence in his abilities.
Maybe the meditating from gym class was hippy nonsense, but it had worked.
It was more likely, though, that James had simply taken some time to think things through. It hadn’t really been the “meditation.”
James tucked that knowledge away for the future. Next time he was doubting himself, he promised himself to stop and think about it.
The problem was that since the EMP, there usually wasn’t enough time to think things through.
Of all of them, Max was the best at making decisions on the fly. But he wasn’t there.
Surviving Chaos Page 7
