The buzzing of the hair clippers filled the room, their mechanical hum echoing off the wooden walls. Przemek sat on a stool, his shoulders tense as Jonathan stood behind him with a focused expression.
“You sure you know how to do this?” Przemek asked, his voice filled with mild skepticism.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jonathan replied nonchalantly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.
“Don’t worry about it? I’m trusting you with this. Don’t fuck up my hair, alright?” Przemek’s tone was a mix of nervousness and teasing.
“I’ve cut hair before, you know. Besides, if I screw it up, I can always give you a buzzcut,” Jonathan shot back.
“A buzzcut? What am I, a day laborer?” Przemek quipped, his eyebrow raising slightly.
Jonathan grinned. “I could make a racist joke about you being Polish right now.”
“I’d answer back,” Przemek retorted with mock seriousness, “but you’re the one holding the clippers and scissors near my head.”
Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head as he started working. “Don’t worry. I know how to do a high fade.”
Przemek lowered his head obediently. Jonathan used the clippers without a guard, trimming the hair below the guideline with short, upward strokes, blending it smoothly into the longer top.
“I don’t know why you’re bothering with your hair,” Jonathan said, “It’s not like we’re heading out to town this weekend.”
“Hah, you never know who we’ll come across,” Przemek replied with a smirk.
“Judging by our last encounters, I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Jonathan said dryly.
“Hey, I prefer my hair short anyway. I hate the feeling of it against my neck or below my ears,” Przemek explained.
Jonathan switched to a slightly longer guard, fading the hair seamlessly and leaving a smooth transition between the shorter and longer sections.
“What kind of woman do you prefer, anyway?” Jonathan asked casually, avoiding Przemek’s gaze in the mirror.
Przemek smirked. “I don’t have a type. Met a few French women earlier in my life, though. Still mad nothing worthwhile came of that.”
“French, huh? Wait till you meet Danes,” Jonathan replied, focusing as he blended the sides and back, using progressively longer guards to create a clean, even look.
“I had my money on you and Sofia,” Jonathan said with mock sincerity.
“No way. That’s one of the worst things I could do right now,” Przemek answered firmly.
“Avoid growing attached to anyone in situations like this?” Jonathan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something like that,” Przemek replied, his voice quieter. He tried to catch Jonathan’s eyes in the mirror, but Jonathan kept working, his expression unreadable.
“What about you?” Przemek asked after a moment. “What’s your type?”
“Someone who doesn’t have weekly nervous breakdowns,” Jonathan said dryly.
Przemek laughed. “Bad history with your ex?”
“Pretty much,” Jonathan admitted. “I left that relationship more damaged than she was. I tried, I really did, but I learned too late that you can’t love someone enough to ‘fix’ them.”
“What happened to her?” Przemek asked, his tone less teasing now, more curious.
Jonathan paused for a moment, clippers hovering above Przemek’s head. “She was doing better when we split. Found enough friends to party with or comfort her. That was before… before all this shit really hit the fan.”
Jonathan turned the clippers off, staring at Przemek’s hair in silence. Przemek met his eyes through the mirror, sensing the weight of the conversation. For a second, he wanted to say something meaningful, maybe shake Jonathan’s hand—acknowledge he’d been in similar circumstances before. But before he could think of the right words, Jonathan flicked the clippers back on, breaking the moment.
He leaned in, using the trimmer to clean up the edges around Przemek’s hairline, sideburns, and neckline with crisp precision.
“Done!” Jonathan declared, stepping back.
Przemek inspected his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side. “Better than I expected! You want me to return the favor?”
Jonathan grinned. “Nah, I prefer mine long. Maybe in a couple of weeks.”
Przemek stood, brushing stray hairs off his shoulders. He grabbed Jonathan’s shoulder firmly, locking eyes with him. For a brief moment, Jonathan felt disarmed by the intensity of the gaze, but in a strange way, he felt safe. He nodded slightly, acknowledging the unspoken camaraderie.
“I’m going to wash up,” Przemek said, breaking the silence. “I’ll clean the bathroom when I’m done.” He walked out, grabbing his rifle from the living room before heading toward the water pump outside.
Jonathan exhaled, sitting back in the chair and staring at the clippers still in his hand. The buzz of the blades had drowned out the world for a while, but now the quiet crept back in, along with everything it brought with it. He glanced at the door where Przemek had exited, wondering how much longer they could hold on to moments like this.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
A few hours passed, and the cottage remained quiet. Jonathan had been on watch for the past two hours, sitting by the window with an old Swedish book he’d found tucked away in a cabinet. It was some odd guide for housewives in the 1950s, filled with outdated advice and strange recipes. He wasn’t reading it so much as skimming, his mind wandering to the squirrels darting between trees in the distance. The forest was calm, nothing more than the occasional rustle of leaves and chirp of distant birds breaking the silence.
After being relieved by Sofia, Jonathan made his way to the kitchen. The warm, savory aroma of the sauce Przemek had made earlier filled the air as Jonathan stirred it absentmindedly. The sauce bubbled softly in the saucepan, and the pasta waited nearby, ready to be boiled. The simple act of cooking tugged at long-buried memories of happier times. For a moment, he felt transported, comforted by the normalcy of it all.
The tranquillity shattered when Sofia burst into the room. Her face was pale but alert. “Car! There’s a car in the distance!” she shouted.
Jonathan extinguished the gas burner immediately and rushed to grab his ballistic vest and rifle. He met Przemek, who was already heading toward the patio with his weapon in hand.
“What are you seeing?” Przemek asked Sofia urgently.
She pointed toward a hill several hundred meters away. “There,” she said, her voice steady but tense. A road wound alongside the hill, disappearing around its left side.
Jonathan stepped outside, handing Przemek his chest rig as he raised his rifle scope to his eye. “Got it,” he muttered. He adjusted the zoom to get a clearer look.
“There!” Przemek exclaimed. Two more vehicles appeared behind the first—a van and an all-terrain vehicle. They rumbled along the road in the fading light, the low growls of their engines faint but discernible over the stillness of the forest.
“What the fuck are they doing out here?” Jonathan asked, his voice low.
Przemek glanced at his watch. “6 p.m. Too late to be starting anything,” he said firmly.
“Maybe they’re heading back,” Sofia suggested. “If it’s that late, they’ll probably stay wherever they’re going for the night.”
Jonathan nodded, still peering through his scope. “Judging by where that road leads, they’re not going far. I studied the map earlier—this road doesn’t go anywhere significant. It just links some fields behind the hill to the smaller local roads.”
“Then what are they doing there?” Sofia asked, her tone uneasy.
Jonathan lowered his rifle, his expression hardening. “We’re doing this, right?”
Sofia and Przemek exchanged a glance. There was a mutual understanding between them, an unspoken agreement.
“We have to,” Sofia said firmly. “I can’t sleep knowing there are strangers just a hill away.”
Przemek nodded. “We’ll check it out. Be ready in ten minutes. Pack your bags—we’re dropping them off a few hundred meters away in case we can’t come back.”
Without another word, Przemek headed into the cottage. Jonathan remained outside, keeping an eye on the road as Sofia followed behind.
“I’ll stay here until one of you is ready,” Jonathan said, adjusting his vest as he scanned the horizon.
Inside, Sofia hurried to pack her gear. As she stuffed her backpack, Przemek’s voice broke the silence. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he said, his tone softer than usual.
Sofia stopped, turning to face him. “Did I seem scared outside?” she asked, her voice sharp.
“Didn’t mean any offense,” Przemek replied quickly, holding up a hand in surrender.
Satisfied, Sofia returned to her packing. She grabbed her m/45 submachine gun, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped outside. Przemek, already geared up with his backpack and rifle, followed her.
Jonathan was waiting, his rifle resting against his chest, his eyes never leaving the road. “You ready?” he asked.
“Always,” Sofia said, her voice calm but resolute.
“Let’s move,” Przemek said, taking the lead. Together, the trio disappeared into the forest, leaving the comfort of the cottage behind as the shadows grew longer and the distant thunderclouds began creeping closer.
They had dropped their bags in a shallow pit, carefully covered with a bush, a few hundred meters from the cottage. If they ever came into contact with hostiles or their cottage was compromised, this would be their rendezvous point. It was a quiet, agreed-upon fallback. From there, Sofia took the lead, relying on her familiarity with the map. Being the lightest of the three, she was tasked with finding a safe route to the top of the hill.
Przemek followed close behind her, his eyes flicking between Sofia’s movements and Jonathan, who trailed behind. His mind worked through the tactical situation, occasionally whispering advice to Sofia on the best way forward. Every step was deliberate, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth and scattered leaves.
As they crept up the hill, Jonathan kept his rifle aimed toward the direction of the road the cars had taken. When Przemek padded his magazine twice, it was the signal for Sofia and Jonathan to move across the road. They crossed quickly and quietly, each step carefully placed. Once on the other side, Przemek gave another double tap to signal Jonathan that the road was covered, allowing him to cross.
The trek up the hill was grueling, their pace slowed by the incline and the need to remain silent. The road curved around the base of the hill, and the fields behind it were likely where the vehicles had stopped. As they climbed higher, Sofia and Przemek began to hear a low rumble. It wasn’t constant, more like the steady hum of an engine or generator. Sofia paused and turned back, tapping her ear and pointing in the direction of the sound. Przemek nodded in acknowledgment.
At the crest of the hill, they positioned themselves behind a large rock, which provided both cover and a vantage point overlooking the plain and forest below. Jonathan stayed behind, keeping an eye on their rear while Sofia and Przemek crawled forward to peer over the rock.
The sight below was mesmerizing and strange—a makeshift settlement nestled in the valley. A long, improvised wall encircled the area, constructed from scrap materials, pallets, and bits of fencing. It wasn’t pretty, but it looked sturdy enough. At the front of the settlement, there was a gate where a few men stood smoking and talking.
An improvised dirt road led to what looked like old cow stables. Scattered throughout the settlement were a handful of structures surrounded by tents, their ragged forms flapping faintly in the breeze. Near one of the vans that had arrived earlier, a small crowd had gathered around a generator. Thick cables ran from the generator to one of the houses, from which light emanated—a stark contrast to the otherwise dark surroundings.
“Someone should tell them to switch to solar,” Przemek whispered dryly to Sofia.
“What do you see?” Sofia asked.
Przemek adjusted his rifle scope, scanning the settlement. “I can count 40 of them outside. Probably more inside the houses. It looks like a farm, but they’ve turned it into a fort with that wall. How many do you see with weapons?”
Sofia squinted, her sharp eyes sweeping over the scene. “The guys at the gate have rifles. The rest just look like civilians.”
Jonathan crawled forward and joined them, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. “They seem sane, right?” he asked.
“Define sane,” Przemek replied under his breath.
Jonathan frowned. “What do we do now?”
Przemek’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Jonathan. “How the fuck should I know? I’m not your dad,” he snapped in frustration.
“We could snatch one,” Sofia whispered suddenly. Both men turned to look at her, surprised.
“And then what?” Przemek asked, his tone skeptical. “Ask him questions? That’s a hell of an introduction. Not sure they’ll take that kindly.”
“Either we leave,” Jonathan said quietly, “or we figure out their intentions. They’re way too close to where we’re staying for me to sleep easy.”
Przemek sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Fucking Jonathan is right. We can’t risk antagonizing them,” Sofia added, her voice steady but low.
“Who knows?” Przemek said, half to himself. “They could either shoot us on sight or invite us in for stew.”
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, watching the settlement below. The generator’s hum blended with the faint murmurs of the men at the gate. The question lingered between them, unspoken but heavy: What kind of people are they dealing with this time?