Inhuman - Book 1 Read online

A sizeable portion of my anger rapidly returned when I thought about Jim, and the fact that he would have said, “That’s what she said” if I said something like that around him. Even though I hated him, I almost laughed – it just pissed me off even more…

  Instead of allowing what happened to distract me from what I was trying to accomplish, I shook myself out of it, retrieved my knife and then walked back over to the bush. I proceeded to cut off as small of a section of branch as I could while still leaving two large thorns on it. I needed one for the hook and the other to secure the shoelace. Otherwise, it could slide right off if I actually managed to hook something.

  I saw potential in the idea, though I still had my doubts – mainly because it wasn’t barbed or even shaped properly. And another difficult aspect would be snagging a fish small enough not to break the thorn.

  As a test, I put a decent amount of pressure on the thorn with my finger – it didn’t snap off. Feeling a tad more optimistic after my little test, I eagerly began digging again until I found a larger worm.

  The line wasn’t very long, and I could already tell it wouldn’t be able reach any of the visible activity on top of the water. Therefore, I had no choice but to take my shoes off, roll my pants up and slowly wade out about five feet – while doing my best not to scare the fish away.

  I held the line in my left hand and got ready to throw the hook with my right. I quickly located a fish that was moving around near the top of the water, but it seemed too large so I continued to watch.

  It was near impossible to gauge the true size of any of the fish and I was growing impatient, so eventually I just threw it out, let it sink to the bottom and then slowly pulled it back in. It was awkward, but I failed see any reason why it wouldn’t work (eventually).

  On my fifth try I felt something grab on so I began pulling it in. Within seconds, it started splashing around and then I felt the line go dead. I pulled in it and, just as I thought, the weight of the fish broke the thorn.

  I wasn’t discouraged though. I may have lost the fish, but my idea was proven to be viable.

  As I searched the bush, I took a minute to really inspect it and pick out the branch with the strongest looking thorns. The one I soon found seemed noticeably thicker, so I tied it up and waded back out into the water after finding another worm.

  On my third try, I felt one grab on – definitely feels smaller…

  I pulled it in as cautiously as I could, trying not to put much pressure on the thorn. As soon as I got it about a foot away, I grabbed it by the mouth and ran back to the bank before it could slip away.

  The excitement only lasted a few moments before the shit-pile that was my life came rushing back. Nevertheless, I saw the potential for actually eating three meals a day. It would be unseasoned fish, but it was something.

  I need to get strong and healthy again and this is the perfect thing to help do it…

  As I held the fish over the fire using a stick and watched it begin to char, I basked in the relief of not having to wander around for hours on end, looking for something to shoot and using up my bullets.

  The faster I healed, the sooner I could head over to that town and see what kind of condition it was in. I could only hope that it wouldn’t turn into a massive disaster – just like all of my other decisions.

  Day 60

  Of course, I could have easily been mistaken, but it felt as though exactly a week had gone by since I arrived at the forest. The fact that my shoulder continued to hold me back from chopping down any trees up until two days ago had been a major source of frustration and anxiety.

  Really, I started gathering trees for the shelter several days too early and would probably pay for it with prolonged pain. I just couldn’t go any longer without having something to help ward away the dark thoughts clawing at my brain. Staring at a fire, trying (and failing) to sleep during the day and spending an hour or so by the lake wasn’t cutting it.

  It was so easy to catch fish that I didn’t even bother to try hunting again – I decided it was best to save every bullet. If something happened to wander around my camp and provide a sure shot, it would just be a bonus. And while I would eventually need to collect dried meat for the (estimated) three day walk to the town, my pain level suggested that it would be at least another week before I felt comfortable enough.

  I needed to be in perfect condition in case anything happened, and a shoulder injury is the exact type of thing that could get me bested in a struggle…

  I was taking my time, only chopping down a few trees a day so I could begin to construct some type of shelter. There was a large, low hanging branch less than ten feet away from my fire, and I’d concocted a plan to set up an A-frame style hut using small trees lined up against it on both sides to make the frame. Then I planned to cover it all with the leafiest branches I could find in order close it in and block the weather – simple, strong and very effective. More importantly, it would eliminate my need for a fire at night.

  Yes. There was a very good chance I could get to that town and find the power had come back on days or even weeks ago – that everything was back to normal. But one of my many new personal rules was to prepare for the absolute worst, which was why I had to maintain the mindset that I was definitely returning.

  …

  I had already chopped down one tree, so I was giving my arm a break and stripping the bark from a young sapling to use as ties for everything. And I was going to need a lot of them, especially if I didn’t want to be constantly repairing it because of the strong night winds.

  I didn’t even need to look at my watch to know it was around two or three o’clock. I could tell by the position of the sun overhead and the presence of its warmth. It was that specific time of day when the fish became very active.

  Once I was done cutting some more long strips of bark from a sapling, I gathered up my “rig” and headed over to the lake.

  It already had a thorn tied on that had been working extremely well, but I took the time to change it just because it would be the third day I’d used it. And the patch of dirt I’d been farming for worms was all dug up so I began following the bank east, looking for another one.

  As I was walking, I heard the bushes rustle loudly a few feet to my right. I was looking down so I didn’t catch a glimpse of what it was. After dropping the line, I brought my rifle around from behind my back and took off in the direction of the noises.

  I pushed through some heavy brush, just in time to see the brown and white back end of a deer disappear into the bushes less than twenty yards ahead.

  Shit! I forgot to scan the banks before I started and probably missed an opportunity to drop it at the water’s edge.

  Idiot!

  If I wanted a chance at killing it, I had to be fast but keep my distance and hope it would eventually stop. If I shot and missed it would go into severe panic mode and run for miles.

  Then I’m totally fucked.

  I kept seeing flashes of it about fifty yards ahead, but I wanted to let it get a little farther away in order to lower my chances of spooking it. With the M40, anything under two-hundred yards would be a perfectly easy shot, even for a novice.

  After just a few minutes I could tell it was slowing down – I was starting to catch up again.

  I dropped down to a fast walk so I could cut back on noise and watch the ground for dead branches. To something like a deer in a silent forest, stepping on one would send a thunderous crack echoing for half a mile.

  Once I’d moved forward another twenty yards, I stopped and checked the scope. I could see that it was just standing there, though its head was up and darting from side to side, meaning that it was still on high-alert.

  I could have taken the shot. Instead, I urged myself to be patient and wait for it to quit moving around so much. I needed it to be a sure thing…

  Due to deer having a limited attention span, it quickly forgot about the existence of a possible predator and went back to searching the ground for food. I had
an ideal shot, but I still chose to wait a little while longer. It was also a good idea to give my breathing time to fully calm because if I didn’t make a perfect shot it could run for a while before it died. And when that happened, the result was generally never being able to find it.

  My shoulder was sore from the little bit of work I did that morning, which was why I took the effort to find a fallen tree to rest my rifle on and help steady the shot. It was still somewhat far and I wasn’t sure how the scope was dialed in – most likely at this distance the shot will fall slightly low.

  My best bet was going for the heart, so I aimed a few inches above it and pulled the trigger. When I got my sight back to the spot, it was gone… Either I missed, or got a non-vital hit and it ran… I started scanning the distance but I couldn’t see it at all so I took off running.

  “Mother fucker!” I carelessly barked.

  As soon as I made it to the area, I found that the deer had only walked a few feet before it fell next to a tree, blocking my view from afar. I walked over to it – luckily, I was right about the shot falling a little low. The bloody hole was exactly where I intended it to be…

  Even though carrying a deer all the way back to my camp made my knee flare back up, I knew that it would really pay off. And I didn’t want to risk taking the time to clean it away from the fire because the smell of blood could attract predators.

  I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that more than a few of the nearby wolves had already picked up the scent…

  While my attitude remained poor, I did feel some level of relief when I finally dragged my ass (and the deer) back to “camp”. I could fall asleep knowing that I no longer had to worry about anything but taking as much time as I needed to finish my shelter and allow my shoulder to fully heal.

  Day 66

  After I finished securing the last leafy branch over the frame, I stepped back to take a look at what I’d done. It wasn’t at all what I’d pictured when I first started. In fact, what first came to mind was – a giant bundle of shit – although it was more than capable of blocking the freezing night winds and keeping me safe from predators. It would do the job, and ended up being large enough for me to make a very small fire inside of it.

  To my knowledge, it was around the beginning of March. That meant another few months of very cold nights, and the possibility of snow – another reason I needed to go check out that town and, if necessary, get back as soon as possible.

  I’d been taking it easy and spending a lot of time on my back since the day I killed that deer. Even though I knew it was wise to wait awhile longer before I left, my shoulder was feeling so much better that I planned on leaving within the next few minutes. And since I was done making the shelter, my mind would be free to dwell on the memories that continued begging me to put a gun to my head.

  I was entirely sure it was the only thing that kept me from going insane while I waited to heal...

  It was close to a three day walk and I preferred to time it out where I was approaching the town several hours before dark so I’d have the opportunity to observe from afar. My main priority was ensuring that no one there became aware of my existence until I could confirm that it was safe (which I highly fucking doubted).

  Needless to say, I left my bag behind. I had my rifle, pistol, knife, a six day supply of dried meat, and a half-full jug of water tied to my side belt loop. According to the map, I’d have several opportunities to refill it along the way, and I wanted to stay light – not only for my knee, but in case I had to run for any reason. Being too slow could easily get me killed as well.

  Furthermore, it would have been foolish to leave my bag in the shelter, so I buried it near the trunk of a tree that was surrounded by bushes about twenty yards away. I wasn’t so much worried about people finding it, but something like wolves tearing into the shelter to get at my dried meat supply. I even “relieved” myself several times around the area to help keep them away and block the scent.

  Judging by the map, the old dirt road heading west would eventually bring me to a paved one which led to the town. I’d just have to follow it from the woods to be cautious. I had to assume that the military or groups of people looking to kill and steal could be driving around.

  Before I left, I looked over my camp site… If you could even call it that… I wanted to think that I’d never return but, either way, I’d eventually have to come back for my bag. It contained my memories of Jessica and Sophia – the only things I had that truly mattered anymore.

  …

  I was still feeling good after the two hour walk to the dirt road. My knee was free of pain, and a week of eating three meals a day had me feeling somewhat back to normal. I was able to keep a steady but quick pace and could tell I’d have no problem going until nightfall with minimal rest periods.

  As I followed it, I spotted all the sings suggesting that at least one vehicle had made several trips down it in the last few months. It was overgrown but there were tire tracks that I could plainly see had crushed some of the recently sprouted vegetation.

  I thought about retreating into the woods just in case, though I preferred the idea of being able to stay on even ground for a while – it could prevent my knee from hurting sooner rather than later. And I firmly believed that I’d either hear or see a vehicle in the distance before whoever was driving it saw me.

  The scenery was hypnotizing, which made it so I had to constantly remind myself to check ahead for anyone coming. When walking in a straight line for hours on end a person could eventually zone out and lose touch with their senses. It was a great way to help kill time – but it was also very dangerous...

  The fatigue in my legs eventually convinced me that I deserved a rest, so I stopped and checked my watch – 11:48am. I took a lengthy breath of the cold air, looking up at the blue of the sky while I exhaled.

  As a precaution, I walked about forty-feet into the woods before choosing a good tree to sit against. I’d brought enough dried meat to give myself two substantial portions a day and, apparently, it was an “art” because what I’d made was horrible in comparison what Jim did with it. It was dry, chewy and tasteless. It actually made me miss the fish – and I hated fish.

  I was doing my best to force down my meal when I noticed what looked like a large hawk perched in a tree just a few yards away. It had a small mouse speared to the branch with its massive talons, and was just about halfway through eating it.

  The sight of it was gruesome, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene.

  After about five minutes, a sudden rustling of the bushes startled the hawk and it took off into the sky – still firmly grasping the shredded remnants of its prey. As its magnificently large wings burst forth, exposing its underbelly, it transformed from a plain, dark speckled brown to a brilliant snow white, embellished with deep black spots and stripes.

  The beauty of it brought me back to thinking of all the nature walks and sightseeing Jessica and I had planned for when Sophia was old enough.

  In the attempt to break away from the depression brought on by such thoughts, I took a drink of water, went back to the road and continued on – with the realization that everything beautiful would only serve to remind of them…

  The next time I looked down at my father’s watch it was nearing sundown. I really wanted to take another break but I only had about an hour of daylight left – there was simply no point.

  Day 67

  I ended up reaching the paved road before 10:00am, which meant I’d gotten a lot farther than I expected. It was also getting to point where I needed to slow down and take the time to be more mindful of my surroundings. I was nearing “civilization” again, and that equaled a wide array of potential dangers.

  I didn’t really know what to expect (I was leaning toward – not shit). I hoped for a real town, but the complete lack of anything near the road so far was strongly suggesting that I was going to be thoroughly disappointed. Although, I did suggest that the town had its own stores. I
simply didn’t think there’d be anything left.

  Even when using the scope on the M40, I could only see trees, fields, small lakes and more mountains in the distance. There was no evidence of manmade structures.

  When I did finally see a lone sign letting me know I was close to town and saw that it read, “Zenia 10 miles - Population 324” I became fully convinced that I was wasting my time. I even considered just turning around.

  All I’m really doing is going to confirm that things are still fucked...

  I nearly did turn back, but the thought of returning to my new “home” in the forest without any answers didn’t sit right with me. Therefore, I kept walking, feeling that it was at least worth taking a look since I’d traveled so far already.

  Having to follow the road from a distance in the woods on all the uneven ground was starting to agitate my knee again – the key word being “starting”. I still felt strong, energetic and had almost forgotten about my shoulder. I could even quickly raise my rifle and only experience a very minimal amount of pain.

  …

  I’d passed the sign letting me know that I was only ten miles away hours ago – I have to be getting close – I was tempted to transfer to the road, but since Zenia only had a population of 324 it probably meant they were clueless, scared, hungry and heavily armed like most of the people where I came from.

  I held on to the illusion that I might obtain some answers, though I also expected that I’d soon have to face reality – which was that if I wanted to find out what was happening I’d have to turn back, pick up my things and head southeast toward a city like Sacramento… It was something I had to do some serious thinking about.

  Hopefully, this trip won’t be a complete waste…

  It was getting close to the end of yet another day when I spotted a large wooden sign by the side of the road. I carefully made my way out of the woods and looked through the scope so I could read it – “Now entering Zenia – Population 324.” It was faded, partially broken and had… seven bullet holes.