Squinting in Apollo’s splendor, you can just make out Dave and Connor speaking to one another under a large tree, with Captain hovering restlessly nearby.
The grass between your toes tickles but you ignore it, busy reveling in the joys of being alive. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, head spinning with the scent of earth. Wind lazily caresses your face and sunlight warms you in ways you didn’t think were possible, as if you had never seen the sun before, as if you were just now born into this world.
Next to you, Harley appears to be doing very much the same thing, standing with her head titled back and eyes screwed shut. She looks way more at peace than she has any right to, but you can’t hold it against her.
Dave beckons and you saunter toward him. He explains that the camp is a few days’ hike north, and that it’s more than okay to ask for breaks if your legs can’t handle the effort. You nod, of course, but you know you’d rather die than ask everybody to stop for you. You’re just… not that kind of bitch. He glances down at your feet and chides, “Why didn’t you grab shoes?”
Confused, you stare down at your feet, “There were shoes?”
The doctor laughs and points down to his grey hiking boots, then to Captain’s brown moccasins, then to Harley’s worn out Nikes, then to Connor’s bare feet. “Connor isn’t wearing shoes either,” You point out somewhat dumbly.
Connor laughs loudly, “Shoes are feet prisons!” That’s honestly kind of gross.
Dave ignores him and tells you there was a pile of shoes in the bunker, dummy. “Go grab a pair, we’ll put everyone’s clothes in our backpacks in the meantime.”
You blush and rush off back into the shelter, embarrassed beyond belief. It takes you a good few seconds to find the mountain of shoes but once you do, you waste no time and immediately start excavating. You eventually pull out a pair of stained white Adidas and shove them on your feet.
When you emerge, you’re relieved to see that the others are chatting amongst themselves, and not looking at/judging you for being a fool. Normally you’re pretty observant, too, but you guess after waking up from who knows how long of what is essentially cryosleep, you get a free pass.
Captain is the one to notice you first, and they nudge Dave to get his attention. The doctor glances at you and grins, “Hey, Flash! Ready to start hikin’?” Your cheeks heat, you nod, and you follow after the group like a rejected puppy.
Silently, you complain about the heat and the thickness of the air. The sun is high in the sky, nearing the apex of her journey with Apollo, so you figure it’s about midday. You’re no expert but you figure it’s as good a guess as any. An odd silence descends, filtering through the leaves and pooling on the grass. It’s almost oppressive as it weighs on your chest. You breathe deeply, with more difficulty than you should have at this altitude, and you furrow your brows.
Without birdsong and trickling water, you feel as if you’re in a waking dream. You float.
No one breaks the silence for some time. The longer it remains intact, the stronger it becomes, pushing down on your skull. It glues your feet to the ground.
Harley lags behind the group, slowing her pace to inspect any interesting plants that catch her eye. She picks up leaves, holding one and rubbing her thumbs along it until a better textured one comes along. Captain hovers near Dave and Connor, who are in the lead. You wonder what Captain’s issue is, sticking so close to the two men, like a personal ghost.
When you think about it, Captain’s strange attachment isn’t really all that strange. Dave and Connor saved all your lives, and are your only hope for survival. Why wouldn’t you want to stick close to them?
You eye captain wearily and think that, perhaps, you shouldn’t stick that close to them.
The apocalypse happened, you remember suddenly. Everything that was once important to you no longer matters, or even exists. The world you once knew is forever gone, lost to greed and war and the cruel march of time.
What the hell?
When they told you the world ended, you didn’t really absorb it, did you? It didn’t sink in, did it? Even now, you feel as if you’re dreaming, or reading a book, or watching a movie. When you go to sleep tonight, you expect to wake up in your bed back home. But where is home?
Home is here, now. The thick forests of North Carolina, or you guess what used to be North Carolina, are where you will live the remainder of your life. You’ll probably die here, too.
You trip over a rock. No one notices.
Is this it? Will you waste away to nothing amongst the trees and ferns? Will you decompose with the litter? Will you melt into the dirt?
After an hour and a half of silence, you grow tired of your own thoughts.
You clear your throat and the entourage stops, Dave turning to quirk a concerned eyebrow at you. “Do we have any water?” You ask, suddenly aware of how dry your throat is. It feels like you swallowed sandpaper, or just fucking ate sand. The doctor smacks himself in the head.
“Damn!” He admonishes, “I knew I forgot somethin’! Y’all need fluids, sorry I didn’t remember.” He gestures for Connor to extract the goods from his backpack, and soon enough everyone has a flask in their hands.
You wonder how good of a physician Dave was before all this ‘end of the world’ business.
“A flask?” You raise an eyebrow, teasingly. You take a swig of what turns out to be water, and relish the feeling of the cool liquid soothing your irritated throat, only slightly disappointed that it’s not whiskey.
The other two newbies are also gratefully, if somewhat noisily, chugging their water.
Dave politely waits for everyone to finish their glugs before asking, “Anyone hungry?” All three of you nod enthusiastically, and he laughs good-naturedly. “Alright, Connor’s got some deer jerky in his pack. Should hold y’all over until we stop for the night.” He rummages through Connor’s backpack and tosses everyone some jerky.
“It’s pretty fuckin’ good, if I do say so myself,” Connor huffs proudly as he wrings his gloved hands. “I added flavoring to it this time, so now it doesn’t just taste like a shitty, gamey meat stick.”
Taking a bite of the jerky, you agree that it’s pretty fuckin’ good. The cumin was a nice touch.
You munch happily on your jerky as the group resumes hiking. The second stretch of walking in silence doesn’t last nearly as long as the first one, as Captain gets winded after about 20 minutes and squawks while flapping their arms. They can’t speak yet, so they garble consonants and point to a large rock before hobbling over and slamming their ass down.
Connor looks pissed but Dave smiles softly, ever the saint, “Need a break, hmn?” Captain nods and looks at the ground, suddenly—and uncharacteristically—bashful. “Alright, let’s take a break then.”
You select one of the many rocks around you and scramble onto it, thankful for the respite. You weren’t gonna say anything but you were getting real tired.
Dave and Connor perch on a rock near yours, leaning against one another as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. What would you know?
Harley settles down on the ground and lounges against a tree—a smart choice on her part, you think. The sun shines brightly overhead and makes you squint. Hopefully this is a long break because you are really not made for hiking.
Minutes drag on through the silence. Connor and Dave are chit chatting, so you guess it isn’t actually silent, but the lack of sound beyond their voices is unsettling. Where are the birdcalls? If there’s no one around to hear you, are you truly making a sound? If there are no gods watching over you, are you truly alive?
Is this what the vacuum of space is like?
The heat makes your vision swim and you rest your face in your hands, weary. Your body just came out of stasis, you remember, so it makes sense that you’re struggling. Your carcass hasn’t moved in months, probably, let alone hiked through rocky terrain, so you really should cut yourself some slack.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Exhaustion nestles in your bones and you groan quietly. G-d, you hate hiking. You should probably get used to it, you’re gonna be doing a lot of it for the rest of your life, but in this moment, you let yourself hate it.
After half an hour of relaxation, Dave stands up and tells everyone to get a move on. You swallow down another groan and clamber off your rock, saddened by the resuming hike.
You, of course, do not speak of your exhaustion or hatred of hiking as the group continues along the trail. Wait, why is there a trail leading back to the camp? Doesn’t that seem a little convenient? You ask the two men at the front of the group and they both chuckle.
“Do you think we’d just wander randomly through the woods? You can’t think we’re that stupid,” Teases Connor, wolfish grin displaying his chipped tooth proudly.
Dave ignores his partner and tells you, “We don’t have a compass anymore, so we follow old hikin’ trails when we leave camp. Judgin’ by some of the signs we’ve seen, this whole area used ta be a national park, so it’s crisscrossed with lotsa trails. We figured trails are more likely to lead us to important stuff like bunkers and campgrounds anyway.”
“Makes sense. What happened to your compass?” You ask, curious. These two don’t seem the type to just lose shit.
“Rowdy,” Growls Connor, “The little idiot.”
You raise an eyebrow. Rowdy? Is that supposed to be a name? Then again, your name is Flash, so… can you really judge?
Dave takes pity on you and says, “Rowdy is one of the people back at camp. He’s pretty clumsy and ended up droppin’ the compass down a gulch; ended up breakin’ the damn thing. Connor tried to fix it but the magnetic bits were all messed up.”
Connor huffs, apparently annoyed about not being able to fix the compass, “I don’t even know how he fucked it up so badly. I can normally fix pretty much anything, I’m a mechanical engineer after all, but G-d damn I could not fix that fucking compass. It’s like that little idiot cursed it or something.”
“That was months ago, Connor. Tranquilo,” Chides the doctor softly, rubbing circles on the other man’s shoulder. He then stands up and stretches his back, cracking way more vertebrae than seems humanly possible. His toothy grin makes you think he can read minds, which is vaguely unsettling, and you avert your gaze.
The two men resume the hike without preamble and the rest follow obediently. You think of ducklings following their mother and shake your head.
Time passes slowly, arbitrarily, which kind of annoys you. You’re hyperaware of every second that crawls by and yet you somehow manage to lose count. You have a pretty keen sense of time but the raging sun and your burning muscles confuse you, and you’re not sure how long it’s been since you’ve had a break. Your calves say it’s been over an hour but your lungs say it’s been a half hour and the sun says you’re an idiot for trying.
Captain demands another break with wide gestures and extended vowels and everyone obliges, plopping down wherever there is shade. Harley seems to be in a similar state as you, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, which makes you feel better about how much you’re struggling. Dave and Connor are, of course, in perfect condition, but they’ve been out here for months so it only makes sense.
Connor is, once again, pissed. You hear him grumbling as he and Dave retreat to the shadow of a large boulder. He seems annoyed by Captain’s need for breaks, which makes you nervous. You honestly really appreciate the timing of them asking to stop—they always seem to squawk just as you’re getting a bit too winded.
You heave, trying to catch your breath, and you tilt your head back. The azure sky is empty, almost oppressively so. What if you’re the only ones out here?
What if you’re the only ones still alive?
The weight of isolation descends on you and you gulp for air. You can’t know what lies beyond the horizon, outside your limited perception of the world. Dave and Connor said they haven’t seen anybody but those back at camp, you recall suddenly, and suddenly you can’t breathe.
This really might be it, a few idiots in the mountains of North Carolina.
Are you ready for this? Probably not, but the inevitable passage of time doesn’t give you much of a choice.
Good luck, asshole.
The others seem equally lost in thought, except the two men of course. Those two are always chatting with their heads leaning together, seemingly captivated by each other’s words. Connor is absentmindedly rubbing his hands as Dave speaks, watching the doctor’s arms gesture wildly with every word, occasionally nodding at the other man.
It’s… Sweet.
Harley is fidgeting but staring at the sky, seemingly uncomfortable with the feeling of her shirt on her skin. You want to help but don’t know how, so you say nothing.
Captain is tracing patterns in the dirt with a tan finger. Furrowed eyebrows speak of intense concentration but the unfocused gaze tells another story, and you wonder what’s going on over there.
A few minutes pass before Connor decides it’s time to go, when he stands and offers a gloved hand to Dave, pulling him up with ease. You swear Dave’s cheeks turn a little pink at that, but you can’t imagine why, so you ignore it. After stretching his back, the doctor takes up the lead and continues along the beaten path.
Everyone lapses into a surprisingly comfortable silence for another hour as the sun sinks lower in the sky, weighted down by the sins of man. Or, technically, the Earth is spinning away from her bright countenance, but you like the sound of ‘the sins of man’ so you’ll stick with that.
Poetry already seems a lost art but there’s no one but you in your head.
Soft orange light filters through the trees and the air is slick, heavy with humidity and stillness. You hear the faint trickling of water and figure you’re near a stream. Throat suddenly dry, you sip water from your flask, scrunching your nose at the lukewarm liquid.
Your eyes meet Connor’s and he nods knowingly, doing you a real solid and saying, “Hey, Dave, we should probably stop for the night soon. These idiots are more tired than you think.”
The doctor laughs and agrees. He says something about muscular degeneration and fatigue but you’re way more focused on Connor so it’s in one ear and out the other.
Honestly, considering Connor’s reactions to Captain needing breaks, you thought he’d be more annoyed with you, or even just ignore how tired you are. You wonder why he’s so… benevolent with you.
Maybe he likes you.
Or maybe Captain just brings the worst out of him.
Captain is pretty annoying, and you’re not easily ruffled, so you can’t really blame Connor for being snippy.
Dave’s voice drags you out of your thoughts and back into the warmth of dusk. He announces that everyone will make camp in the next clearing, which should only be a few minutes away.
As promised, a few minutes later, the trail opens up into a round clearing, and you smile despite yourself. Thank G-d all that hiking is over, at least for today.
The two men immediately take off their large hiking packs and groan in relief. They both dig through their bags and start pulling out sleeping bags, tents, Tupperware containers, toothpaste, flashlights, pots and pans, water bottles, plates, utensils, towels, and bars of soap. You absently wonder how they managed to pack all of that into just those two bags.
Dave sets off with Harley to collect kindling and build a fire and Captain—whose syllables are starting to form intelligible words—mumbles something about dirt and wanders off in search of the trickling stream you heard earlier.
At least, you think that’s what they’re doing. They said “dirt” and then some gibberish followed by “river” so you just nodded as they strode off into the trees.
Connor asks you to help set up the tents and you, ever polite, acquiesce despite never having put up a tent before. You can’t be sure that you’ve never done it but the fact that you can’t tell the front of the tent from the back speaks for itself.
Noticing your struggle with the tent fabric, Connor laughs and shows you the different parts of the tents. Together, you both manage to put all four tents up and unroll all five sleeping bags.
“Why only four tents?” You ask Connor, who smiles knowingly at you.
“Dave and I share that big one,” He points at the largest tent, “You can each have your own but we always share.”
You want to ask why, but you don’t. You just nod. No need to pry. These men saved your life, after all; they don’t need to be questioned by the likes of you.
Harley and Dave return in that moment, carrying armloads of sticks and dead leaves. The two pick a spot in the middle of the clearing and make a temporary firepit. They start stacking the kindling and light it with a lighter Dave fishes out of his pocket, cheering when the fire starts in earnest.
You and Connor use the time it takes for them to start the fire to prep dinner. Connor is in charge of cooking at the camp, he informs you proudly, but has trouble actually dealing with food because of his gloves. “I don’t want to take them off if I can help it, so maybe you can handle all the chopping and stuff,” He suggests shyly, avoiding your gaze and rubbing at his hands.
“Sounds good,” You reply simply, not wanting to embarrass him further, for which he seems grateful.
The two of you settle into a groove, with Connor telling you what to do and you doing it with ease. You zone out while chopping, mouth hanging open and muscle memory taking over.
If Connor notices, he doesn’t mention it.
Soon enough, there’s a large pot of vegetable soup bubbling over the fire. Captain returns looking very pleased with themself, which puts you on edge. You feel a bit bad about your reaction but there’s nothing to be done about it.
“I washed up,” They say slowly, carefully. It seems practiced. “I can… help clean later. Because I did not… make camp.”
Dave grins his brilliant, radiant grin. “You can talk! I’m proud of ya, Cap, well done. You can take care of the dishes after dinner, then, yeah?” Captain nods bashfully. They make no sense, and it’s kind of annoying.
“’Bout time,” Connor huffs, “They were driving me crazy with all that grunting.”
Captain, by all rights, should be pissed at Connor’s comment, but they aren’t. Instead, they look quite pleased. You wonder why that is. Dave’s eyes are twinkling knowingly but you can’t figure out what it is that he knows.
After a long day of hiking, dinner is a quiet affair, everyone sitting in the dirt drinking their soup. It’s a peaceful sort of quiet. It’s nice.
Cap takes the dirty dishes down to the stream, which is in fact quite close by, while everyone else prepares for bed. The sun is no longer in sight but her light remains.
The men explain that there is a toothpaste shortage, so you’ll have to make do with a pea sized amount and your finger, because Connor forgot to bring toothbrushes again. Dave scolds Connor but doesn’t seem angry in the slightest, fighting to keep a smile off his face. It warms your heart and you blush.
Fatigue sets in as you mimic Dave’s night routine, brushing your teeth, changing your clothes, and washing your face and pits. You’re too tired to do much else and you crawl into one of the empty tents. You sprawl out on top of your sleeping bag and fall asleep soon after, night too warm to bother crawling inside the bag.
You dream of the ocean, and the stars.