Jase was still unaccustomed to waking up in the wilderness. He always panicked as if he only just realized he was not in his saferoom, then to add to the disorientation, light made the surroundings look different than when he settled in the dark. Not that there was much to see; it was difficult to say if it was a typical winter or the wilderness was simply dead.

Rations that should have lasted him weeks disappeared by the day to make up all the energy he wasn’t used to expending. He grew numb to the soreness by the fourth day, but the razor’s edge his psyche teetered over never dulled. Every sound and shadow could and would kill him; the instant he stopped believing that, it would certainly come true.

So, he ate dry rations in silence, kept all of his trash so he left no trail to follow, and often considered skinning that cat which only reappeared to beg for food in a way which could alert everything living and otherwise within five hundred yards to their location. But most of all, he kept his eyes open.

The wilderness was dead but restless. Crumbled remains of old highways and cars neglected for decades were common. Much less common but not nonexistent were the nearly skeletal former inhabitants of the old world. Days could go by without spotting one standing still, waiting for some stimulation. Mostly lacking eyes, they gravitated slowly toward sounds or vibrations; each other, if more were nearby. Jase lost an entire day hiding in the trunk of a car when a hoard following their own rasping moans passed by.

Thirst was the first to threaten his survival. He only had a few bottles, not from lack of supply, there was only so much he could carry between the rations, the phone and batteries, and the case. That case he devoted the time between meals and sleep to opening, to no avail. It had no latch, barely a seam, and all but impervious to damage. Any damage he thought he could inflict without drawing attention to himself, but his judgement declined with his hydration.

On the fourth day without water he was so overcome with thirst when he stumbled on a pond, he didn’t notice the decaying elk partially submerged on its bank until it groaned at him. If it fouled the water, dunking his head wasn’t enough for the infection to take. He wasn’t about to take the risk and left the mound of elk to putrefy before its weak baying attracted anything capable of chasing him.

That evening, when the cat came for its chunk of a ration, Jase considered how long the fluids coursing through its body would sustain him; then it occurred to him he hadn’t watered it once. When it finished its breakfast the next morning, Jase stalked it through the dead woods, a task made easy by its stark coat. His waning patience paid off when it arrived at a hollow tree harboring a small pool of crystal-clear water.

The cat wasn’t too happy to be interrupted, but there was enough for it to lap after Jase filled a bottle and got as many mouthfuls as the opening would permit his frame to access. Reliably leading him to fresh water was the least it could do for the food, as far as Jase was concerned; and the only reason he didn’t immediately kill it for meat when the rations eventually ran out. He suspected it might abandon him once he stopped supplying food, but it kept with him, perhaps under the impression he was holding out, or maybe following the scent clinging to the wrappers.

Nights got colder to the point Jase nearly considered risking a fire. But his mind was made up when the cat signaled its presence with a growl rather than a sassy mewl. An inaudible speck of a helicopter combed the horizon. Jase immediately found high ground and zoomed in on the chopper with the phone’s camera.

It was a black, unmarked thing, understandably armed, but Jase had a suspicion of its purpose, and rescue was not one of the possibilities. He remained hidden and it left when the sun began to set. The next evening it appeared on the horizon behind him, flying its search pattern over the grizzly terrain until nightfall.

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From then on, Jase consumed precious battery power to illuminate his path a few hours every night to outpace the helicopter. The extra activity helped to battle the cold but did not solve the problem.

A night came when the cat decided sleeping alone was no longer a preferable alternative and surprised Jase by curling up on his stomach. He appreciated the shared body heat, however little, but it felt as if a whole person stood on him; when he commented on it, the thing flexed its claws almost spitefully.

If not for the calendar on the phone, Jase would have lost track of the weeks. Doubts about the probity of the directions flooded his mind, the existence of the helicopter fueled his paranoia; but he had little choice but to continue thirty degrees east by northeast.

One month, three weeks, four days, twelve and a half hours. Completely starved, barely warm enough to stave off hypothermia, at the brink of his own sanity, Jase was reluctant to believe his own eyes when he saw the angular protrusion of a tower tease him from the horizon. As tall as they are built, he was still two days out, but its existence drew a smirk.

Gratification of his survival sustained him to his final obstacle. A stagnant river stood between him and the city, a few dozen feet wide at its narrowest, fish skeletons carpeting the banks, its depth impossible to gauge through the murk.

The dead wood from the forest was barely buoyant enough to remain afloat without added weight and its structural integrity couldn’t be counted on. The only option flew in the face of every instinct that got him this far. Yet, he was starving.

Beckoning the cat, it clambered onto his shoulders, and after balancing under its unusual weight, he held his jacket, backpack, and the case over his head and trudged into the river.

He moved slowly, partially to keep his balance and partially because he was blindly feeling his way across the bottom, shying away from every bump and flinching every time he imagined something brushing his leg. The water gradually rose until he craned his neck. The cat edged away, digging its claws to avoid the river. About halfway across the water leveled out. Remaining upright reduced their pace to an unbearable crawl, but the tension went down when the bottom of the river began to incline.

Then something tugged Jase’s leg.

The startled cat cried indignantly and held on for dear life while Jase struggled to keep his head above water. He struggled to breathe and free himself and keep his luggage dry all at the same time, then failed all three when a sharp jab spiked through his leg.

At some point, the cat swam the rest of the way on its own. Jase dragged himself ashore with the upper half of a dead man with no lower jaw driving its upper jaw into his exposed calf. Its skull had the integrity of wet cardboard, but the damage was done. A terrifying amount of blood oozed from his leg, but blood loss was the least of his worries.

His jacket became a tourniquet. The sharpest rock he found only left bruises and he lacked the flexibility to reach the wound with his mouth. Even if he had the tools, doubts arose about his ability to amputate his own leg, and further doubts circulated regarding his ability to survive it.

Jase dragged himself to the base of the nearest tree, jammed the case in a crevasse between the roots, and swept a light covering of dirt over it. Pitiful camouflage was all he could manage in his state. Righting himself on his good leg with the tree for support, he started hobbling toward the skyline. Though it dulled the pain, desperation denied him the sensibility to keep his heartrate low or weight off his bitten leg.

The grey ring ate away at the edge of his vision until he could barely make out where he would place his next step. Trees put themselves in his path as if with a will of their own and the pounding in his ears mutated the shuffling of his feet into ripping and snarling.

Suddenly the forest opened up and Jase found himself a hundred yards from a perimeter gate.

Guards startled by his appearance pointed guns. Jase waved his arms and cried for them not to shoot, or maybe he begged them to put him out of his misery, he had no control over his words.

He didn’t get to see what they acted on because at the foot of civilization his consciousness left him.