The weather had been unforgiving, the turn due to the winter season filling the skies with weeping clouds. Since he had started his journey to Jackson, it had rained almost every minute. Torrents of water were pouring from the sky. As the truck had no windscreen, he was getting soaked even at the very slow pace that John was moving. He had considered holding up in a building waiting for the rain to cease, but knowing the season as it was, the chance of rain was so high that it could have meant days of waiting, and he did not have the rations. Since starting from the Factory, the initial supply was supposed to last the pair, but they had been eating readily as they wished to and knew they had not been conservative with them. John just wanted to reach Jackson, where he could restock before heading back north and around to the factory.
On his way to Jackson the last couple of nights, he had only slept sporadically. He was not just tired now but starting to feel exhausted. His eyes were playing tricks on him. The only benefit was that he knew where he was now and soon recognised the old derelict church off to the left of the main road. The old town of Jackson was just up ahead, and the township was set back behind it. He remembered the camp was up the second left after he passed the old school building.
From John's memory, the township had no more than forty members, and they all lived within a few buildings surrounded by trees. The trees were so thick that they offered natural protection virtually around the whole area. There was an ample open space where he remembered they kept a herd of Keefir's, and they ran a decent nectar still with a couple of areas cleared where they grew crops. The place was self-sufficient. They did not need any outsider assistance and had no machinery that required a fuel bar or a small generator, as they used wood for all their needs with the surrounding woods. It was a great setup, but he had always thought it would be too quiet.
John turned up the entry road and proceeded towards where he knew the blockade was. The area around the buildings was an enclosure with an entry gate blocked by an old school bus that was moved as needed when or if a vehicle ever did visit. The stockade walls were quite feeble and only stood, on average, about eight feet tall. They would not stop determined Wild Ones, but from John's previous conversations with the townsfolk, it had served them well enough.
As John approached, the bus was not covering the main gate, and it was standing open, which surprised him. He slowed down as he approached the entrance, stopped the truck, and called out. "Anyone there?"
The silence was all that met him. He drove forward through the gate and immediately stopped again. Just inside the gateway, there were two bodies. His exhaustion had been overtaken by adrenaline as soon as he saw the bodies, spiking his neural abilities and sharpening his focus. The bodies could not have been there very long because they had not decomposed or been eaten entirely by Wild Ones; they did have signs of being bitten, and the ground surrounding them still showed the dark patches of blood left even with the torrential rain that had been falling. John cautiously climbed out of the truck and began to scout the area, listening for any signs of occupation. The only audible sounds were the continuing rain beating down on the surfaces and the random call of a Wild One being faintly heard in the surrounding woods.
He walked over to inspect the bodies. The first body was of a man, probably in his fifties, and the other of a woman, possibly in her thirties. The man's body had clear signs of being hacked at with a machete or similar and, since death, been used as a snack by something. The woman's body had what John believed was a bullet wound in the centre of her chest and again marks indicating her clothes being torn at by something or other. It appeared that both had fallen and bled out where they lay; there had been no dignity in their deaths, and no attempt had been made to move the bodies, which said to John that whoever had performed the act had since left the area. You did not leave bodies lying rotting to attract Wild Ones if you were planning on staying. Virtually all bodies were burned these days.
Lying next to the man’s body was a metal pipe. John bent and picked it up, immediately feeling better, having a weapon in his hand. He continued over to the buildings, leaving the truck where it stood by the entrance. The first building he came to on the right, he remembered, was the township's head office, where their leader, Kyle, worked and lived if he remembered rightly. The door to the building was wide open, and John cautiously walked inside, brandishing the pipe in front of him, ready for anything lurking inside.
The single-story building looked like a slaughterhouse. There were visible signs of dried blood covering several surfaces, and as John moved through the building, he could smell the scent of blood and decay. Lying in the doorway of one of the backrooms was another body which looked as though the victim had tried to pull himself along the floor, leaving a dark trail of blood across the surface before he succumbed to his injuries. Entering the old kitchen area, there were three more. These three bodies were all female and looked as though they had been beaten to death, and their bodies were left lying where they died. He found no further signs of gunshot wounds or, thankfully, Wild Ones inside the building. The back porch was open, and he made his way over and outside as he knew there had been a sleeping area in an adjacent building.
On walking out into the backyard of the property, he was greeted by Kyle's drenched and swinging remains. He had been strung up on one of the many overhanging branches nearer the rear of the yard. His ankles had been tied together, and his hands tied behind his back. The cable that had been used for his noose had torn into his neck, adding a grizzly sight of dried blood over the clothes the man had been wearing. The cable had not been tight enough to decapitate Kyle but tight enough to cause even further irreparable damage to his throat as he had choked out from the hanging. It looked as though Kyle's eyes had been pecked, and the sockets appeared empty. John ignored the swinging corpse and walked into the adjacent building where the sleeping area was situated. Inside were two rows of bunk beds, and many of the townships had slept in there previously. Inside, the building had been ransacked, anything closed or locked had been forced open, and clothes or personal belongings were scattered all over. Whoever attacked the township had ensured they had not left anything unturned.
John knew it had to be a raiding group to blame but could not tell which one. Usually, most raiding groups would kill a few citizens to ensure that the remainder became compliant, and he knew from experience that many were taken if persons of a specific age range, disposing of others, usually the elderly or argumentative. Considering the bodies that John had seen so far, these individuals were the ones who had resisted or were deemed not worthy. He continued his journey around the site, going to the next set of buildings. He only found one more body on his search, finding that of a young man who had, had his throat slit. The body again lay surrounded by the dried, dark remains of blood. Blood did not wash away easily. All the buildings had been searched, and he finally reached where their storehouse had been. Inside crates and sacks had been opened, spoiling most of their grain content. He found a few small pouches of dried meat and fruit that he pocketed.
He then made his way to where the nectar still had been. The still had been knocked over, but to his delight, he found several unbroken and full nectar bottles. He collected them up, placing them gently into his backpack. He finished up in the stillroom and then went to the first building again. 'They must have hit here no more than two or three days ago', he thought. 'This place should be safe to use as a base for a day or so.'
John found Kyle's room in the main block. It had a large single bed, and even though it had been ransacked, it was probably one of the better areas remaining on the site and its door still worked. He left his backpack inside and then started the clean-up process of dragging the dead bodies outside. If he was staying overnight, he was not leaving dead bodies inside the buildings. He then went and cut Kyle's body down and dragged it to the makeshift pyre he had built in the backyard. He did not want to attract Wild Ones unnecessarily. He then went back to the front gate and, rather than taking the bodies to the back porch area, pulled the two bodies outside the entrance.
At least if outside, Wild Ones should not need to come in,' he thought. He then used the winch system they had set up to move the old school bus back across the gate. The bus had no tyres, and its metal rims squealed as it was dragged across the opening; the side of the bus had chicken wire attached to it to ensure that the missing windows and gaps underneath were covered. Once he was happy with the sealed front gate, he moved his truck outside the main building and went back inside. The smell of blood and death was hanging in the air, and even though the doors had been open, it was not a scent that left a room quickly with the freshly decomposing bodies that had laid there. It smelt homely to John's senses, bringing back memories of his youth.
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He found a small can of fuel from the stillroom, which they must have used during the heating process, as everywhere else on the site had wood burners. He poured its contents over the remains he had piled in their makeshift pyre after dipping some rags he found in the kitchen area into it. He then lit the rags and threw them onto the pyre. He had no thoughts of compassion for the dead. He did not want to unnecessarily leave food to attract Wild Ones as their bodies decomposed. The fuel caught immediately due to its flammability. Thick clouds of black smoke rose from the burning bodies fighting against the falling rain. The smell of burning flesh began to fill the air, and the wind blew the smoke away from the building, which John was thankful for. Once he was happy the bodies were burning properly, he returned inside, securing both the front and back doors to the building before making his way back to Kyle's old room.
He searched the room carefully, sifting through what remained and the clothes there. Although Kyle was a smaller framed man than himself, he managed to find a top and some dry, clean socks. The clothes he had brought with him on the trip were no longer smelling fresh. He decided to check the other building for more clothes after resting. In the room was a small fireplace, frequently used looking at the way it was kept and the knocked-over stack of logs by the side of it. He then set to lighting a fire once there was a strong flame. He began to strip his wet clothes and laid them in front of the hearth area to dry. Pulling on the top of Kyles', it fit him snuggly, to say the least, and made him a sight for sore eyes, standing there in just his grubby undergarments and a top with his obese form.
The air was damp in the room, but the fire was slowly starting to spread warmth and dry it out. The heat from the fire was a pleasant sensation after the recent hellish journey, and the tiredness he had been feeling quickly returned now he had sorted the place out. John sat on the edge of the bed, withdrawing one of the nectar bottles from his backpack. He lay back on the bed, propping himself on the pillows, and swigged at the liquid. The liquid gold felt luxurious as it travelled down his throat, and he sighed deeply. It did not take him long to finish the first bottle, and he grabbed another from his pack.
He vaguely knew the route back to the factory from here, heading back towards Augusta before heading east to Columbia and following the northwest route towards the factory. The journey would probably take him two weeks, weather and roads allowing. He hoped he would still have enough fuel after all the excessive driving he had put the truck through. The warmth from the fire and the nectar started to affect him, and he grabbed a blanket lying on the bed, pulling it over himself. It was not long before he fell asleep, with the bottle of nectar he had been drinking propped up in the crook of his arm.
∆∆∆
The Wild One had picked up the scent of the burning corpses being carried by the wind. The smell of the cooked meat attracted it. It was a significant creature standing seven feet at its shoulder; before the Falling, it would have been designated a type of bear. It stood on all fours with rippling muscles underneath a dark grey, thick-haired fur coat. Its body was powerfully built with emphasis on its front limbs, whose front torso appeared swollen compared to its leaner rear. It would not be a bad representation if you could imagine a bodybuilder with a narrow waist that stood on four legs. It could scale most obstacles with its significant strength, pulling itself up effortlessly. It also had huge, serrated claws which, with every step, tore into the ground beneath it or supported it when it did climb. Its head was large and, in terms of scale compared to its body, was like that of a beast. It had black, deep-set eyes under hooded lids which seemed to absorb light.
It sniffed the air as it slowly moved towards the source of the delicious smell, drawing it nearer. Its jaws were dripping with saliva. It had not eaten for a while after its last feed, where it had massacred an Elbou herd. Winter was always a more challenging season to find food, and it could not resist the delicious smell.
It did not take the Wild One more than an hour to travel the several miles from where it had picked up the scent. It approached the compound from its north side through the bleak but thick woods surrounding it. Forcing through the underbrush as though it was made from tissue paper. Brambles and twigs were broken and torn off by its passing, and by the time it had arrived at the clearing, it looked as though it was a huge mobile thorn bush with so much trapped in its fur. It paid no heed to the debris it now carried, not hampering it in any way.
The Keefir in the far paddock had sensed the Wild One’s approach and started calling each other in warning and fear. The small herd consisted of twelve, ten adults and two calves. The adults had backed to the corner of the paddock, drawing the calves inside, creating a protective ring around them. The Wild One that had appeared from the treeline not three hundred feet away glanced in their direction. It made no move to approach them, still drawn to the scent that had initially brought it here.
Continuing in a direct path to the source, it broke straight through the paddock fencing, tearing the posts out of the ground and pulling the connecting wires. It eventually snagged with the wire catching against its front limbs. This angered the Wild One, making it swipe out in annoyance. Its claws cut straight through the wire fencing, rendering it a useless deterrent against a Wild One of its might.
The smell was strong, and it knew it was close to the source. It continued across the paddock and, rather than walking through the fencing on the far side, swiped at it first, cutting through the wire mesh before walking through. Its massive lumbering form stood nearly as high as the roof edge of the single-storey building with its head raised, sniffing the air. It continued to walk around the side of the property to its rear. The damp, rotten wooden fencing was no barrier, and it pushed it down, revealing the remains of the burnt bodies in the back of the yard. The flames from the pyre had eventually subsided, although smoke was still coming off the charred remains. The fire had not entirely consumed the blackened and burned bodies, and the grotesque scene would have brought sickness or fear to most, but to the Wild One, it was like a delicious feast. It walked to the pyre and clawed at one of the bodies, pulling it from the smouldering remains.
It then tore at the body, ripping a massive slab of cooked meat and bones from the corpse before delving into it. Its powerful jaws were quickly able to crack the bones that remained. It continued its feeding process until virtually nothing remained of the corpses. Consuming bones, clothing, and the sweet, cooked meat. The feast was delicious and an easy picking for the Wild One. The smell from the pyre had initially been overwhelming, pulling its attention, but as it finished the remains, it picked up the scent of the dead.
It lumbered back the way it came and followed the new scent. It could see the barricade not two hundred feet away, and it approached, smelling the dead on the other side. The obstacle in front of it was the bus. Standing up on its rear legs, it fell, pushing the bus in its side. The frame of the roof of the bus was immediately crushed under the weight of the Wild One, crumpling and screeching in protest. The bus moved sideways as it pushed against it before dropping back to all fours and repeating the process.
The screeching sound awoke John from his slumber. His eyes opened groggily to the thumping and groaning sound of metal. He climbed from the bed and went to the window. He could not see the gate clearly from where the noise appeared to come and only saw the back end of the bus move with another almighty crash and groan of metal.
'Fuck', he thought. He was stood in a tight top, underwear, and socks only. Grabbing the metal pipe he had found, he opened the bedroom door and made his way to the front door. He carefully opened the door and peered over towards the blockade. The sight which met his eyes sent his fear receptors into overdrive. The Wild One was again standing on its rear legs and pushing at the bus side. 'A fucking Grylack', he thought as he took in the massive Wild One. He had seen Grylack before but only ever at a distance; their immense size and power were unbelievable up this close. The behemoth dropped to all fours again and walked to the opening it had created. John watched as it dragged the first body towards its jaws.
He had no way of being able even to consider challenging it and decided the best action was to close the door and hide. He gently shut the door; the latch clicked into place as he did. His heart stopped, hoping the Grylack had not noticed him. He stood as still as a statue for an eternity before deciding it must not have heard him. He moved across back to the bedroom as quietly as he could.
The Grylack had moved the bus and was busy devouring the corpses at the front gate. They were not as nice as the others, but it was still easy food. They were not very picky eaters. Grylack, by nature, spent the warmer months in the north, but as the seasons changed, they migrated further south following the Elbou herds. This one had been following signs of Elbou when it had initially smelt the burning. It heard the metallic sound and stopped eating, looking towards the building in the direction in which the sound originated. It ignored the sound for now and continued finishing the bodies.