It was hard to navigate my way down the small dirt path between the condensed woods, the thick black clouds above completely drowned out any light from the moon and the stars – night time in The Charred Lands was almost always pitch black. Tonight was no exception. I kept hearing noises all around me, rustling of bushes, crunching of twigs, but never did I see anything. I knew that wildlife in these parts were pretty scarce, which left me with two things in my mind. The noises were either from a volcano monster, or a monster spawned from my own frightened imagination.
Then another thought occurred to me, it could be something much, much worse. It could be my uncle, Timothy. I didn’t know what either I, or he would do should we bump into each other. The urge to tear him limb from limb for destroying half of my family would be almost overwhelming, of that I was sure.
Would he kill me? I really don’t know. But one thing I did know is that I would kill him. I’ve never killed a man before, even the thought of taking a life made me feel physically sick, but Timothy was different. Up until today I would have given my life for him – as would my father -, I would have done anything for him, because he was family. But not now. He was the devil to me. This man was just as bad as the beast from the sky.
I continued on down the dirt path as I played out thousands of scenarios in my head. Every time I heard a noise from off the path I would imagine myself being attacked by any number of malevolent beings. I thought about how I would quickly throw the huge dragon’s egg aside, aim my weapon and shoot dead whatever was attacking, or jump into the cover of the trees and dodge their bullets as I ran away. Of course, I doubted in reality either of these two would happen. I was a coward at heart; a coward alone in a harsh, deadly land. I felt any remaining hope inside me begin to drain. The ranger’s cabin really did feel like last chance saloon right now.
Despite how close my dad said the cabin was, it seemed to be hours before I eventually stumbled across a building just off of the small dirt path. The dragon’s egg had long turned my hands sweaty and arms achy. I stopped just short of the cabin, realising the door was slightly agar. A thin ray of light shone through the door frame – all of the windows had been covered up, aside from the thin strip of light, the cabin would have appeared to be in complete darkness.
I carefully placed the egg down in a bush as I readied my weapon. Taking slow, hesitant steps I tip toed towards the cabin. I was completely divided by contrasting emotions. Part of me felt full of joy that it appeared as though someone was inside the cabin, perhaps it would be my mum, brother and sister! Then again, it could be someone else. Timothy, raiders or murderers. As I had always been instructed to, I checked that the small handgun was ready for use before aiming it at the door.
“Hello?” I called out, instantly regretting it. I did have the element of surprise on my side, but not anymore. I cursed aloud at myself as I listened to any sounds from the cabin, but it remained completely silent. That didn’t do much to help settle my nerves.
“It’s Zachary.” I decided to add; just in case someone from Haven was hiding away inside, suspecting that I may have been hostile. For a few seconds I remained hopeful of hearing my mother’s voice shout out in joy, but once again, nobody replied. Content that nobody inside was going to alert me to their presence; I took a deep breath and approached the wooden cabin door. I felt like calling out once again, but I knew it was no good. Instead I completely focused on listening out for any sounds coming from inside.
I slowly reached out and grabbed the door handle before pulling the stiff, old wooden door towards me. It opened with a creak that seemed to echo around the woods. A flickering light shone from the inside, if the cabin was empty now, then somebody had definitely been here recently. With the door wide open, I stuck my head inside. What I saw shook me to my core.
I managed to hold my stomach until I reached a nearby bush before I unleashed a torrent of puke for the second time in recent days. I wiped away a few remaining juices from my lips as I turned back to the cabin. I could hardly believe what my eyes had seen. Though I only glanced inside for a brief moment, I saw in every tiny bit of detail, in all of its horrifying glory.
Though I wasn’t certain, I thought I knew exactly who the two corpses inside belonged two. I prepared myself to face the gory scene once again as I approached the cabin for a second time, fully stepping inside this time. I felt my entire body begin to tremble as I walked towards the first of the two corpses in the ranger’s cabin. Lying atop of a foldable bed was a girl, a pillow masking her face and a thick puddle of blood under her, matting her long, blond flowing hair. The sheets were stained red, with a single bullet hole cutting through the pillow which rested on her face. Though I was still yet to see her face, I was now positive as to who the girl had once been. I recognised her clothes. I decided I didn’t even need to move the pillow to know that it was my twenty-three year old friend from Haven, Laura Olsen. And behind her, sat up in a chair with a handgun clutched between her dead, cold fingers was her mother, Andrea. A mixture of blood, brains, and hair matted the wall behind her. A torrent of dried blood dripped down from her gaping mouth. It didn’t take me long to deduce that had happened here.
This was a murder suicide. Though I understood what this was, I couldn’t understand why, or even how. How had Andrea been able to murder her own daughter? I looked at the daughter’s lifeless body. She looked completely relaxed, as though she could have even been sleeping when Andrea placed the pillow over her face and blew her brains out. I bet she didn’t have a clue what was happening. Andrea then turned the gun on herself, ending their misery and pain once and for all. I did somewhat envy them a little – it was over for them now. They didn’t have to go on, struggling with the loss of their family, their friends and their home. They wouldn’t have to face The Charred Lands. They were at peace now. It seemed so easy.
Despite how much their bodies disturbed me, I decided to stick around for a while. I had a few reasons for this; firstly I wanted to make sure there was no chance of my mother, or anybody else for that matter, stumbling across the cabin. Everyone knew about this place – I didn’t understand why nobody else had come. Secondly, I was exhausted. Passing out hadn’t allowed me to rest at all, I was still physically and emotionally drained. A small dusty couch sat across the room from the Olsen’s, I could lie here and face the wall, and not have to worry about opening my eyes to the slaughter.
I slowly climbed onto the couch and did my best to make myself comfortable. Despite how tired I was, I couldn’t quite seem to drift off. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there were two bloody corpses a few feet behind me, or the countless things rushing through my mind about my newly deceased family members. I lay there for what felt like hours, crying and sobbing like a child. I eventually drifted off into a nightmare fuelled sleep.
Chapter Twelve
For a few brief sweet seconds, I awoke without a clue of the pain I had endured over the past day. I opened my eyes, heavy and groggy, staring at an unfamiliar wall. For a few moments I thought I had drifted off in the dining room back at the farm house in Haven. Then it all came rushing back to me like a tsunami, sweeping over my body of emotions, destroying everything in its wake. I was almost too scared to move from the couch, feeling unable to face the two corpses once again.
I eventually built up the courage to turn around and check on the corpses; of course they remained exactly as they had been last night. And of course, the cabin remained completely empty of life, aside from myself. A small, hopeful part of me had been praying on my mother, or my siblings, or anybody else from haven being here when I woke. But as usual, my ill hearted hope was soon to be crushed.
Pretty much every muscle in my body ached, and every bone cracked as I stood from the couch and let out a stretch. The room had already begun to smell a little, no doubt from the two bodies rotting away inside. I didn’t have the courage to move them, even thinking about touching the dead girls made my skin crawl. No, the only possible solution was for me to mo
ve on. The longer I lingered her, the more the bodies would rot and skink the place out - and god knows what the smell would attract.
I quickly had a search of the cupboards and draws; father told me we always kept an ample selection of supplies at the cabin for this exact reason. I quickly found a relatively large backpack, perfect for storing whatever supplies I can gather up, along with the dragon’s egg outside. I had almost forgotten about the egg, and cursed myself for leaving it outside – anybody could have stumbled across it and took the thing, leaving me without any options at all. With the other residents of Haven being no shows, I had no options but to set off alone. Surely, had they been heading for the cabin, they would have arrived by now. Yet still, I made sure to leave a small few supplies behind, just in case.
Overall I managed to take five tins of food, and just as much bottled water, a small box of medical supplies, as well as some batteries and a torch, there would be no end to the usefulness of that out in The Charred Lands.
It was a tough decision to leave the cabin, but a necessary one. Every part of my being hoped that other family members had escaped Haven and were still alive and well. I felt as though this cabin was my best chance of ever seeing my mother, or little Toby and Amber again, but they should have arrived by now; I hated thinking about my little brother and sister alone out here, perhaps they would be better off dead. Something told me they had either already left the cabin by the time I arrived, or headed in a completely different direction all together. A part of me was slowly beginning to lose hope of ever seeing them again, alive or dead.
I took one final look around the cabin, making sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, before heading back into the outside world. I was pleasantly surprised to find the sun high up in the sky. Seeing it there, shimmering in a rare opening in the smoke clouds gave me a tingling sadness in my heart. I thought back to the days in Haven where everyone would be out in the field enjoying the rare sun. I pushed those memories to the back of my head – they were in the past now. I had to focus on the here and now.
It didn’t take me long to forget about how nice the sun looked above, I soon turned to hating the thing. The backpack was quite heavy, making walking that much harder, coupled with the sun, they had me struggling within ten minutes of walking. My plan was simple. I knew of a large town, some three hours walk away from where Haven had been located, called Warrington. This is where the Charred Landers were located. They were a large community based within the rubbles of Warrington. From what I had been told, they were an unruly bunch of survivors with no clear leaders, no set laws, living off of a survival of the fittest policy. I knew it was a risky move, but I didn’t really see any others options. Once I got there I could get better directions to The Church of Fire, or at very least find out the best route to take to Manchester.
The dirt path between the woods seemed never ending. Trees on either side of the small road seemed to wind on forever, all I could say was that I was grateful for the cover from the sun that the tree line above provided.
Eventually, after a good hour of walking I reached a clearing in the trees, though it hadn’t always been this way. The ground was black for miles ahead. A fire had ripped through this part of the woods and destroyed everything in sight, flattening thousands of trees in its wake. The path became obscured by black dust and char – All I could do was continue on straight ahead through the charred wasteland. I could only imagine how ferocious the fire must have been, miles and miles of woodland had been turned into a flat, barren landscape. This being just one more example of the power of the sky dragons – I imagined that Haven probably looked somewhat like this by now. It pained me to think of my home in such a state. Once again I found myself focusing on the past, so I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind.
It was tough to navigate across the burnt opening, with each step brought a crush and a snap beneath my feat. I was also weary of any charred corpses. Fire turned everything it touched black; I kept expecting to stand upon a burnt corpse, buried in the rubble of the woods.
As far as I could tell, the fire had most likely ripped through here a few weeks ago, probably sometime before the heavy downpour we recently experienced. We had three days of constant rain, without that I could have seen this blaze heading straight for Haven. At the time the rain was quite annoying, but now I supposed I was quite thankful for it. Then I remembered, it didn’t matter anyway, Haven had perished nevertheless. Once again I found myself thinking back to Haven, but before I could shake my head to vanish the thoughts, somebody spoke out.
“You there.” A voice called, husky and deep. I instantly froze in my tracks. My gun was tucked into my belt. Even an experienced drawer wouldn’t be able to get the drop on whoever was behind me. I didn’t recognise the voice, and I had always been told not to trust people you didn’t recognise in The Charred Lands. All I could do was raise my hands and turn around to face the stranger.
Standing a few feet away, with their guns aimed at me, stood two men. I squinted against the unusually bright sun to try and make out any details about them.
They were comically different in size. One of them, a bald fellow, his face covered in stumble and dirt, wearing a tattered black shirt and grey joggers stood several feet shorter than the other, a tall, slim redhead with pale skin and a boyish face with a well looked after blue polo shirt, accompanied by what had once been a nice pair of jeans. Though neither of them looked particularly threatening, their guns certainly did.
“That’s right, keep your hands in the air, boy.” The smaller one said, his voice mumbled, but harsh.
I did as instructed as they began to take hesitant steps towards me.
“Aren’t you a little young to be travelling alone?” The ginger one asked, though his tone didn’t sound particularly hostile, he kept his gun trained on me.
“I’ve been living somewhere, but it’s gone now. I’m heading to Warrington.” I said, my voice almost getting caught in my throat. I was worried sick. I had absolutely no way of turning these odds in my favour. These two men had their guns aimed right at me, and mine was tucked away in my belt. I was theirs to do with whatever they pleased. All it took was one wrong answer, one quick movement and they could squeeze the trigger and end my life in a matter of seconds. Sweat began trickling down my forehead as my heart rate seemed to double.
“So you’re alone then.” The short, balled one replied, with a tingle in his eye and a smirk on his face. I didn’t like that one bit.
“I am.” I confirmed, I didn’t see any point in lying; doing so might just end up getting me shot… faster.
“He’s alone.” The short one repeated to his ginger friend, as though he hadn’t heard it the first time. They both exchanged a small smile between themselves.
Suddenly they both lowered their weapons.
“I’m Oliver Bell.” The ginger one said.
“And I’m Phil Webb.” The short one added. Though they no longer had their weapons trained on me, I still felt just as uncomfortable.
“This is the part where you tell us your name.” Oliver said, sparking a giggle from Phil. Without a word Oliver gave Phil a somewhat playful slap over his bald head.
“Excuse him, he’s a little git when he’s baked.” The taller of the pair smiled. I had no idea what he meant by baked, and I didn’t fancy finding out either. They were quickly acting less and less hostile towards me, but I still wanted to be out of their company as soon as I could.
“So, where are you off to then?” Phil asked, rubbing the spot on his head where his companion had whacked him.
“I’m not sure.”
“You certainly look like you were heading somewhere specific.” Oliver replied, almost instantly.
“How would you know?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in suspicion. Now that their guns were pointed at my face, I suddenly felt a little confidence return, though I was still quaking in my shoes.
“We’ve been following you.” They both said, almost in perfect synchronisat
ion.
“For a good half hour.” Oliver quickly added.
Suddenly I grew infuriated. Not only at them, but also myself. I had let my guard down, and as a result of that, anything could have happened. I had always been told to keep an eye on your back in case you were being followed. Had I been heading back to Haven, I could have led literally anybody back to our front door step. It was an amateurish mistake. Amateurish mistakes get you killed out here – I was yet to discover if this one would be fatal, that all depended on Oliver and Phil’s true intentions.
“Why were you following me?”
“We figured it would be irresponsible of us to let such an unprepared child roam The Charred Lands alone.”
“I’m not a child!” I snapped, losing my temper and clenching my fists. I noticed Oliver clock my fight ready fists with his red, glazed eyes before tightening his grip on the gun, but never for one second did the lukewarm smile slip from his face.
“Of course you’re not. But you’re not prepared, that much is true.” Oliver said.
“I am.” I said, shaking my backpack to prove the point.
“Nope.” Phil said, and without warning his right fist swung around and hit me in the face. The blow knocked me sideways, I fell to one knee, but managed to avoid falling flat on the ground. I knelt there for a few seconds, feeling a numbing pain whiz through my jaw. I instantly felt my eyes fill with tears.
“Wasn’t prepared for that, was you?” Phil laughed.
“Why the fuck did you just hit him?” Oliver spat, slapping his bald companion over the head once again, this time a little harder, and without a hint of playfulness.
“But he’s right.” Oliver quickly added, turning back to me with his mocking smile returning to his face once again.
The Charred Lands: Apocalypse of Fire Page 7
