Five weeks have passed since we were reunited with our old camp members. While I can’t vouch for any outstanding progress, I do believe we’ve made a little bit of headway in making sure we don’t freeze to death. The night we finished the lean-to, which ended up having about a five yard diameter, the heavens opened up and a downpour of many days worth of rain poured down on us. Luckily we were able to keep the fire going under the laavu, which is built up about three feet on all sides before the roof bends off into a cone shape. The days since then, we’ve been scavenging for materials, building miscellaneous tools, and trying to find as many people as we can. In regards to them, we haven’t found much. But we did find bodies— a lot of them. Their pockets sometimes brought us useful items like pocket knives, but we would always leave the corpses themselves so they could return to the earth on their own. Strangely, very few died of wolf attacks. Many died from slipping on the wet ground and cracking their skulls open on sharp weathered rocks. Others we found signs of poison where they ate something they really shouldn’t have, or that they didn’t eat enough. But natural deaths or not, we’re still glad to find no bodies having been killed by other survivors.
“We’ve found something, Trevor,” says Robin. He approaches from behind and taps me on the shoulder.
“Eh? What’s up?” I ask.
“At the base of the valley, we found signs of recent campfires. Do you think we’ll find more survivors?”
“Can’t say I’d know one way or another,” I reply.“Can Tom track ‘em? Why’re you asking me all this, anyways?”
“We elected you leader, and... we need supplies to make the run,” he replies. “They go further down into the valley, and we might be forced to go overnight. We’ll need food, water-skins, and a couple of weapons.”
“You don’t have to run that shit by me,” I mutter. “Just take what you need— but only what you need. And bring back fresh meat, if you can. Got it?”
“Aye-aye, sir!” he salutes, and marches off in an overly-exaggerated stride.
I return to my work, to a menial task I’ve given myself since we’re taking a break from woodcutting. I’m stripping the remaining rotting flesh off of the great deer Tom and Robin brought in. I’m just about done, which means I’ll be able to hang the skull. I’m trying my best to show respect for the animal, and I guess this’s the best way I can do it.
Meanwhile, a few others have also taken to creating their own work. Harris is crafting probably his fiftieth hatchet so far. I’ve told him a few times that we have enough, but he shrugs and keeps working. Otherwise, there’s another guy named Olson who, conveniently enough, was a construction overseer back in the old world. He knows his way around a sturdy structure, and can’t help but gripe every time he looks towards our shoddy lean-to. He’s been working on some sort of project for a few weeks now, but has yet to shed any details on what it actually is. That is, until he suddenly waves me over just now. I set down whatever I’m doing.
Olson Nakagawa is a middle-aged man of Japanese descent. He’s bald, save a ring of jet-black hair around his head. He’s also prone to being rather crotchety, even though he’s less than ten years older than me.
“Trevor, come,” he says, beckoningly.
I approach. He’s oddly excited at the moment, which is a strange sight to behold.
“I’ve done it. Finally, I’ve fixed our problem,” he glimmers.
“Problem? You mean you’ve figured out how to get us home?” I mutter.
“Oh, quiet you,” he huffs. “Our problem— is that we have no way of binding materials, therefore we cannot create more advanced structures. But my solution is...” He opens his arms in unveiling.
“It’s, uh... well, it’s a nicely cut block of wood, but I don’t see how—“
“You know, my grandfather was a keeper of an ancient art— one he taught me as a child during my four years of living in Japan,” he says. “It is what you would call, ‘Japanese joinery.’ It uses intricate interlocking patterns to bypass any need for nails or adhesive.” He moves the block and I realize it cuts cleanly in half. He flips one end on its side and the other straight upright. There is an audible ‘clack’ as the two pieces are fit together.
“I already know about joinery, but I struck it out cuz we don’t have the tools to make so many of them. Sure, that’d be nice, I guess... but how practical is this? You know how to make a whole building using this?”
“You think too little of me, Trevor,” Olson wavers. “I can teach Dead-Eyes there how to do it. He may be slow, but he works delicately with his hands— and that is all it needs.”
“He’s got a name, and he ain’t stupid,” I mutter. “But yeah, I can see him being pretty good at that. Show me you know what you’re doing, then we’ll talk large-scale.”
He comes back two hours later with sweat on his brow, but a look of overarching pride nonetheless.
“You need proof? This is the best I can give you,” he says.
He takes me back to the part of camp he’s claimed for himself. Sitting atop a crude table he’s made himself sits a strangely-ornate model of an oriental building. He looks to me expectantly.
“Well? If we divert work forces now, we will be able to make at least three climate-protected housing units before fall.”
“I know you’re, err... prideful... of your culture, but I’m not sure ‘oriental’ is what we need right now,” I mutter.
“My people’s architecture is an art!” he retorts. “It is the embodiment of elegance in itself!”
“He’s not wrong,” says Harris. I jump. He’s standing behind me. I hadn’t noticed. “Functionally. Most of Japan shares a similar climate to here. If it worked for them that many years, I say we give it a try.”
Olson, awed for a moment in Harris’s sudden display of intelligence, clears his throat. “E-Exactly. And I can build many more architectural marvels of my people’s work should the need arise. Soon we will no longer simply survive; We will live in bliss of our own creation.”
“...Alright, fine,” I mutter. “Just don’t expect me to start sipping tea on my knees.”
“Racist fuck,” he grumbles. “Ehhh... So do we divert labor now?”
“Now? Do we even have the tools we need to process the wood?” I ask.
“I did it, didn’t I?” He motions to the example he’d made earlier.
“Well yeah but that’s, what, three feet of wood you made? I just don’t think we can put the energy into that strenuous of a project yet.”
“Ah, piss off. I’ll do it myself, if I have to,” he sighs. “And you, Dead-Eyes? How about some well-planned work?”
Harris, who’d been blankly staring out at the lake, nodded without turning his gaze.
“This one really isn’t playing with the full set, is he,” Olson mutters, obviously referring to Harris. He lets out a laugh and turns away.
“Whatever,” I huff. “If I see progress, then maybe I’ll consider lending a hand. But as of now— well, I can’t help but feel like you’re in over your head.”
“You underestimate my skill,” says Olson, shaking a finger at me.
“I hope you’re right,” I wave. “Have fun.”
Along the way I catch a glimpse of Heidi’s designated area in the corner of my eye. She’s there, and like usual, she’s idly stripping the bark off a long stick. Her hair’s grown quite a bit, and she’s let it go disheveled. For some reason, whenever I try to look in her direction, my eyes are brought to her. It’s not like my feelings have changed; I still get annoyed at almost everything she does. So why exactly she always catches my attention is a complete mystery.
I shouldn’t complain about someone being disheveled. Despite ample access to plenty of sharp knives, I decided to let my beard grow out. As of now it’s pretty long, and probably looks like shit. I also haven’t changed clothes, for the obvious reason that is I have no others. My shirt’s all cut up, and my pants are just about the same. I’ve managed to wash it all in the lake a few times, but the stench of the outdoors persists in us all. The mixture of hormones, depression and sweat has made for the most peculiar smell to have ever come from a human being. And the fact that we all smell only makes it worse.
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“You seem... discombobulated.”
I turn. Em stares up at me. The knife in her grip has gotten marginally sharper since she first found her way to camp. I’ve tried more than once to borrow the thing, but her protectiveness of it seems to have no end. On top of it, she’s getting pretty good at twirling it around. It makes most conversations with her feel like an interrogation session, which is one of the many reasons I’ve had for trying to stay away from her.
“How so?” I mutter.
“You don’t want to lead, and yet you do it anyways.”
“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I sigh. I begin to walk off.
“I’ve been watching you,” she says behind my back. I stop dead in my tracks.
“Could you not...?”
“You’re a specimen most peculiar. You’ve interested me for quite a while.”
I can’t help but shudder at that. “Listen... I don’t know what the hell you’re getting at, but I don’t want any of it. So take your crazy and find something better to do.”
She stares at me for a moment. Slowly she gets to her feet. “Come with me.”
“I’d rather not,” I mutter.
She takes my hand and begins to walk towards the forest opening, but I pull my hand free without taking a step. She stops and looks up at me with a look I can’t quite discern as belonging to any particular emotion. She walks up to me and takes my hand again. Again I pull myself free.
“Like I said, I’m not going with you,” I say. “I don’t know what this’s about, but I sure as hell don’t want any of it.”
“I insist,” she replies. “Understand that I am no enemy of yours.”
“With what you said before, I can’t be so sure.”
“What more do you need to put trust in me? Come.”
I think for a second. Worst case scenario is she stabs me in the back. Best case— well, we’ll just have to see. “Alright, fine. Where are we going?”
“Just— out of earshot,” she replies. “Don’t worry. I only need to ask you something.”
“‘Out of earshot?’”
“One question.”
I sigh.
We walk out into the forest about a quarter mile before she says to stop. She turns to me. I stay a safe few paces away from her, just to be safe.
“I’ve known you since before the world came to this,” she says.
“That’s weird, cuz I’ve never seen you before in my life,” I reply.
“Three years ago, I moved into the house right beside yours... with my husband,” she says.
I think back. Heidi and I were still together at that point. “Uh... I remember a guy. Ex-military, right?” (Did he have a wife?)
“John,” she mutters. “He’s no longer in the picture. I thought I was in love with him once, but... the light had drained from his eyes when he finally came home.”
“S-Sorry to hear that...?” I pause. “Y’know, this’s touching and all— but you said you were going to ask me something. So ask away.”
“—But you were... different. At the loss of love, you didn’t wilt. Not like I did. I grew interested in you. And as I went on, my interest grew to passion, my passion grew to desire, my desire grew to—“
“Jesus, woman! What the hell’s wrong with—“
“—My desire... it grew to a craving. But John, he caught onto me. We moved away... And I thought I’d never see you again. But here you are.” She moves closer and closer to me.
“I’m... not following,” I lie. Honestly I’ve never met her before. But since I’m familiar with how horrible a person this ‘John’ is, or... ‘was,’ it’s no wonder why she’s got some screws loose.
“Like I said... John is out of the picture. So my question to you is...” She lays a hand on my shoulder and pulls me in with a sudden movement. She quickly locks lips with me, pushing further and further towards me so I can’t back away. And when she steps back, her hand drifts to the base of her shirt, still pink from the blood that didn’t wash out. With a motion so swift, she brings the bottom of her shirt up over her head. She throws the wad of fabric down onto the forest floor. She isn’t wearing anything underneath. Em stares at me with a look of want, flaunting herself to me, her breasts supple yet firm with a pure roundness found only in the seductive goddesses of Grecian mythology.
“L-Look, the offer’s tempting, but I—“
“Then why don’t you accept?”
That is a good point. It’s not like I haven’t screwed since Heidi and I broke up. But it’s been a while, and now every primal instinct in my body seems to suddenly be kicking in all at once, telling me not to pass this up. After all, I don’t want to die tomorrow knowing I could’ve had sex today.
“I’ll— get you started,” she coos, bending down. First she pops the worn metal button of my jean pants, then slowly pulls away the zipper. “...And then my turn.” She does the same to hers, though her pant legs have been torn so high up that her pockets fall under the cuffs. When her zipper comes undone, they fall around her legs. She’s not wearing anything under those, either.
“You’ve... planned ahead, I see.”
She grabs me by the shirt and again pulls me towards her. My body kicks in this time, and I meet her halfway. She opens her mouth and forces her tongue forward. It dances over my closed lips until I finally let it in, where it moves deeper to explore the surface of mine. Our tongues interlock in a chamber made by our mouths pushed seamlessly together. She runs her fingers through my hair. I lean her back and she falls into my arms, willing me to set myself atop her as she lies exposed among the rustling leaves.
“I’ve— never let— anyone see me— like this. Not even... Him,” she says. The rhythmic bouncing of her breasts prove overwhelmingly entrancing, the pattern etching itself into the depths of my mind.
“Look at— us, a couple— of animals— fucking out in the middle— of nowhere.” My voice is raspy. I’ve never engaged in conversation during sex.
“This— is what— n-n-n-h— I’ve always wanted— from you.” Her cheeks are red, eyes driven with a lustfulness to surpass humanity. She lightly grazes my cheek with the tips of her fingers. “What more— can you give?”
I don’t know what to say. The rhythm goes on, and her hands clench and unclench to the beating of her heart, to the emotion, and to the pleasurable senses flooding her mind. She carries onward, touching my chest and tenderly caressing my lips. Beads of sweat form on my brow, dripping down the bridge of my nose and falling onto her naked body. She smiles and dabs the pad of her finger on the next bead to form. She softly licks it off of herself.
The rhythm grows faster. With short breaths, I will myself to keep the speed. Her breathing quickens, and the restlessness of her body grows. There’s a feeling growing deep inside of me, like a balloon about to burst. For the final act, I lean in and lock lips once again for her. And for that moment alone— we become one.
“Emma.”
I’m pulling up my pants when she says this. “Pardon?”
“My name,” she replies. “Emma.”
“I figured something like that. There’s only so many names that start with ‘Em,’” I nod. “Now, can I ask you something?”
“You really are interesting,” she says.
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“Then yes.”
“Can I ask why you’re so protective of that knife of yours?”
She looks down at it. She hasn’t dressed yet and she’s already got it back in her hands. “Because...” she begins. “Because only it can tell of the things I’ve done.”
“You killed him, didn’t you?”
She stops. A look of fear washes over her face.
“How long ago?”
“...I didn’t.” She looks away.
“What?”
She moves forward and plants herself on me. “I won’t lie to you. I’d never lie. The blade can’t tell my secrets if I tell them first—!”
“Slow down. You’re freaking me the fuck out.” I pick her from me. “Sore topic, let’s just forget ab—“
“It... It caused this. When it pierced his flesh, I awoke and he was gone. But the world around me had... changed.” She pushes forward and pulls at my shirt. “It is mine to bear, that is why I hold it so dearly— So that its grasp doesn’t consume anyone else.”
“I... S-Sure, whatever. Keep it to yourself.” I don’t have the energy left to argue. For a split second there I thought she might not be as insane as she seems, but that’s gone. And now I hate myself for getting involved.
“It’s because I love you,” she says. She leans the side of her head on my chest. “I’ll protect you from it.”
“Ehh— don’t go flinging that word around.” I take her shoulders and manage to separate us again. “And I don’t need you to protect me. You saved me once, and I’m grateful. But what you’re talking about is... Well, it sounds batshit-crazy, from where I’m standing.”
She looks to me with the most neutral of countenances. “And yet seemingly an act of magic has transported a past world’s inhabitants to this one.”
I really can’t argue with that. The way it is, I’ve got no logical manner of disproving this. Therefore, crazy or not, she’s stuck like this. I decide I’ll have to keep an eye on her. I owe her that much. Especially since any outward source might think I just now took advantage of a mentally ill woman.
“You really are a specimen most peculiar,” she says.
“That— just that, what does it mean? Why do you keep saying that?”
“You are so human that you are almost... not.”
“...Alright, let’s pretend I know what the hell that means.”
For the third time, she nestles herself back into me. She begins to rub my cheek over and over with one hand. I don’t stop her this time. Maybe it’s just because I miss the touch of another human being... or maybe it’s that I feel bad for her. I still find it hard to say I’ve gathered any feelings towards her; really I don’t think I have at all. But even so, I can’t resist leaning back into her.
“I shouldn’t have to ask what happened just now.”
I turn to the side.
Heidi looks up at me with a look of indifference. “Still, there are things... not right about her. What made you do it?”
“Well... I’m only human.” I give myself an awkwardly theatrical voice and matching pose. “We are but slaves to our own impulses, after all.”
“That line...” She pauses. “That was what you said all those years ago to justify us sleeping together the first time, right?”
“Hell, I didn’t think you bothered to remember those days.” I tilt my head, trying to correct the aching in my neck.
“And I don’t intend to any further. You wouldn’t want your new lover mad at you, yes?”
“Look, I’m really hoping that was a one-time thing,” I say. “She got it out of her system and I got it outta mine. Now we can get back on track.”
“Can you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shakes her head in dismissal, returning her gaze to the sharpened stick she’s mindlessly toying with.
I decide it best to let sleeping dogs lay. I turn myself to the nearly-stripped skull of the deer, and begin softly scraping off remaining bits of flesh. My mind wanders now. It often does, as of late.
‘The whole world’s gone to shit.’
That phrase I can’t really use anymore. It hasn’t gone to shit. We’re the world’s cancer, corrupting it bit by bit until finally it dies. But now it’s not dead, and instead we’re faced with extinction of our own. It’s almost like the world’s finally forked over the cash for chemotherapy. Now every group of people left is just a tumor on the world’s chest, slowly being etched away at by a higher power. It makes you wonder what point we went wrong. Has to be tens of thousands of years ago, when we forsook the gods of nature in favor of whichever god made our lives even slightly easier. That has to be it, right? I mean, the Native Americans are nearly as ancient as any other European civilization— and yet they still lived in harmony with nature long after my ancestors stomped their way in.
Makes you think, right?