Part of me was already walking over there and setting down my bag. I wanted to get in the shack, take my boots off and sink to the floor, and I would have done anything to fill my belly with beans and then sleep for a week. I looked at the man again. He seemed genuine enough, but the bad ones always did. Everyone seemed honest, at first.
The only people you could count on to show you their intentions were those who didn’t care to hide their bad ones.
"How many are you in there?"
"Me, Dan and Faizel. My name’s Noah."
"I'll pass."
His voice changed and became patronising. "I don't know if you've checked your situation lately, but it's night-time. ‘Scuse me for being blunt, but if you're out here at night you are screwed. I don't know you from Jack, but I don't want to hear you screaming out here when I'm trying to sleep."
I needed to go inside. It was crazy to stay out at night, I knew, and I wanted the shelter, food and sleep so badly. I didn't want to spend another night shivering in the woods, not daring to shut my eyes. But I couldn't. I knew that in there, in the same room with three strangers, I would keep one eye open all night. There was no way I would let myself sleep.
I turned again and walked away. "Thanks for the offer."
My boots felt heavier with every step. The man called out behind me. "You're going to get yourself killed, you idiot."
Tell me something I don't know, I thought.
***
I carried on walking. I judged it to be around midnight, and being out in the open at this time was akin to swimming in shark infested waters with a steak on your back. To my right there was an oak tree that shot thirty feet into the air. It looked thick and solid but there was emptiness in the trunk, some kind of dark hole. I got closer and found that the bark was hollowed out. Whether it was through old age or the work of some forest animal, I didn’t care, I was thankful for it. It might not have been the Ritz, but it would do.
I lowered my head and climbed into the hole, squeezing my body into the tight space. The inside of the tree smelt like sodden earth and felt soggy on my jeans, and my back was bent so much that it hurt. I wasn't looking at a comfortable night’s sleep, but then, when was the last time I had one of those? When had I last shut my eyes for more than an hour?
I couldn't go on like this.
I thought about the shack and felt a pang of regret. Why couldn't I have just gone in? Plenty of people would have trusted the men, gone inside and got a good night’s rest.
I shook my head. Those were the kind of people who died. Every time you trusted a person you had another spin of the chamber, hoping this time it wasn’t your turn to take the bullet.
From my hole in the tree I had a limited view of the forest in front of me. If something suddenly spotted me, I would be screwed; there would be no way to escape, no back exit. It was still better than being out in the open, though. Out there an infected could come out of nowhere and bite you, or a stalker could leap from a tree and take a chunk out of your neck.
To take my mind off the infected and the stalkers, I put my pack on my lap. I unzipped it and looked and what I had with me. Somewhere at the bottom were some fireworks - useful for distracting the infected - and a lighter. I rummaged round the pack and took out the revolver that I had found a few months ago in the pocket of an infected whose skull I’d smashed. The handle was scratched and the brown paint had started to fleck away, and when I opened the chamber the smell of gunpowder cut through the soggy aroma of the tree. I only had three bullets left but that didn’t matter. I rarely fired the gun if I could help it; the sound of a gunshot might as well have been a siren call for the infected.
I checked my food. Two tins of bargain bin kidney beans in brine. As hungry as I was, the thought of the slimy beans put my stomach in a knot. My only alternative was a sachet of powdered chicken soup, but I needed to boil some water to cook it with. Right now, lighting a fire would be suicidal.
I dug down and felt the cold touch of metal on my hands. It was Clara’s gold bracelet. I had bought it for our five year anniversary, back when things were good. Now it was a grim reminder of what I had lost. I felt a sentimental wave start to wash over me, so I put it back.
Tucked at the bottom of my bag and wrapped in a waterproof plastic sheet was my prize possession, my GPRS tracker. I looked out into the woods, and seeing that nobody was around, I took it out. I pressed the ON button and within a second the screen came to life, a blue light that illuminated the darkness. I covered the top of it with my hand to stop the light being seen by anything that was lurking around me.
The GPRS loaded and the route displayed. It showed my current location, and the route I needed to take to get to the farm. Thank god that the satellites were still working, because without them I would never find my way. The farm was tucked away in a remote little spot in the countryside, so hidden away that it was impossible to just stumble on it.
The farm was my dream, my salvation. Once I got there, everything would be okay. I'd be alone, far away from people, and I would be self-sufficient. And the GPRS was my only way of getting there. I checked the mile section in the corner, and saw that I had 400 left to go. The thought of the journey ahead of me made my body feel heavy, but nothing was going to stop me.
As I enjoyed the images in my head of how good life would be once I reached the farm, my eyelids started to fall.
Later, I don't know how long, I jerked awake. I looked outside of my little tree hole. My breath instantly caught in my chest and I felt a shiver run through me.
Across the woods, a stone’s throw away, a stalker hugged the ground, its nose sniffing the earth for my scent and its agile body slinking in my direction, hunger on its lips and death in its eyes.
Chapter 2
I had nowhere to run. Even if I had a head start on the stalker, with the way those things could move it would be on me in seconds. I thought about grabbing my knife, but for all the good it would do me against a stalker I might as well have just used it to slit my own throat.
I reached for my revolver and put it in the pocket of my windbreaker. I wasn't going to fire it; to kill a stalker I'd need to get a head shot, and despite having three bullets I would only get the chance to fire one. My aim was average at the best of times, and right now my head was spinning so much it felt like I were on a boat.
Although my eyes stung I didn't feel tired anymore, as though seeing the stalker had shot adrenaline through my body. I felt wired; my pulse was racing and my legs were restless, and part of me just wanted to stand up and bolt through the woods.
I needed to think. I didn't have long before it caught my scent. Its head sniffed against the forest floor, and it's body slunk across the earth like a snake. It was strange seeing something that used to be a person moving in this twisted way, and watching it made my skin clammy and put my stomach in a knot.
I looked up and saw the night sky, black and endless. A few stars dotted the canvas, illuminating a dark sea that threatened to drown me. I needed a diversion, something to take the stalker’s attention away from me and give me just enough time to get the hell away. But what could I do? What could I cause a distraction with?
Then I had an idea, and I felt stupid for not thinking of it before. I still had the fireworks. What better time than now to light up the sky a little, to give that stalker fucker a show and send it off chasing an explosion? It would buy me the time I needed to make a careful escape.