Page 11 of Hunter’s Harvest

When I stepped out, Var’n was ready to go. He’d strapped on a harness and had a bunch of weapons and armor loaded up for travel. Most notable were a set of twin blades on his back.

“We go now,” he said. “The flyers are heading back to their nests. We stay under the trees; it will be safer. Come.”

I followed him out of the cabin and around the back. There was a shooting range set up, complete with tin cans, just like a human living in these parts would’ve done before the bugpocalypse. He handed me a blaster that I recognized.

“You saved these from our shuttle.”

“I shall teach you how to—”

That was about as many words as he got in before I took the blaster from him, and with the ease of many hours of practice—because there ain’t nothing else to do sometimes—reduced the power to stun, disengaged the safety, and took down one of the cans.

He stopped midsentence.

“They made us train,” I explained. “And we took turns warding off the rodents from our granaries.”

He stopped talking.

Then his chest went off like an alarm clock, vibrating so loudly that the air around us shook. Huh, looked like Var’n was impressed. Good to know.

***

I’d completely overestimated how fast I could walk. The first stretch was fine, and I was feeling pretty damn good about myself. But then we reached an area with roots and deadfall. There was a layer of wet, slippery leaves over everything, and it was like I’d hit a wall. Think hydroplaning, but over leaves. It was a disaster.

And to make matters worse, the dizziness wasn’t actually gone. It came back in waves every so often. But I didn’t dare say a word about it lest he insisted that we go back.

Credit where it was due, Var’n was very patient with me and my slower pace, even though it was abundantly clear that he wanted to move forward much faster.

It had been early morning when the shuttle had gone down. And I’d clearly slept right through lunch hour and most of the afternoon. The scorpion-like flyers were already starting to head back to their nests, and we’d only had to hide from one as it made its way over us. It would be getting dark soon. The goal was to get to the back section where I’d crash-landed with enough light to actually search the area for my laptop.

Did I actually think I’d find my laptop? Not really. But I had to try. And even if we didn’t find it, I was certain we’d find something else that might come in handy.

When we stepped out of the forest, I finally got a chance to see where I crashed.

My guess was that we were somewhere in rural Georgia. Even if we hadn’t been flying over it when we’d gotten hit, I would have guessed by the kudzu that had overgrown almost everything. That and the pine forests. With humans gone, the weed had taken over. There was kudzu everywhere, climbing over everything and destroying every shed and car that was left behind.

There was a signpost so covered in it that there was nothing left but green. The sign itself didn’t even exist anymore; I bet it was just kudzu holding up kudzu at this point.

I couldn’t believe it had only been six years. Nature sure was scary. A good thing too, because it was Mother Nature’s tenacity that had kept Earth and all its creatures fighting the scourge for this long.

I thought of the gators back home. They didn’t seem interested in eating the scourge, at least not anymore, which was the only reason why they still existed. Consuming the scourge was a death sentence. The scourge’s symbiotic fungus turned every predator into their prey by taking over and turning whatever ate the scourge into a damned zombie. Giant sores that smelled absolutely horrid opened up on the critters. That smell drew in hordes of the scourge, turning predator into prey.

The gators weren’t the only predators who’d learned not to consume the scourge either. Most animals that had survived the initial attack had learned to avoid the scourge completely. And of course, there was the Earth-based bacteria we’d found that actively fought the scourge’s symbiotic fungus.

The bacteria were harmless to us, and most settlements had started adding it to any bodies of water that may have been contaminated. Once in the wild, the bacteria did its job admirably, blooming when the fungal count was high, and going dormant when it wasn’t.

Hence why the gators were so successful now: they’d bounced back once the fungus was cleared from our waterways, especially places like swamps or bayous that hadn’t had the benefit of fast-moving water.

Just a few years ago, I would have never hoped for such progress. Initially, we’d been sure the scourge would completely destroy Earth. But now, there was actual hope.

That was why I focused so hard on facilitating trade between survivor groups. It was my personal way of forging ahead and moving forward. I wasn’t the fighting type or a scientist. But I could still make a difference.

That kept me going every single day. It also prevented me from feeling too lonely, especially with my personal rule of not getting too involved with anyone. And I didn’t just mean relationship-wise. I tried to avoid close friendships too. Keeping everyone at arm's length was my way of protecting my heart. I’d lost everyone, except for Kim, once already. I couldn’t bear to experience that again.

Which brought me right back to the extremely toned set of purple legs in front of me. Var’n was a complication I hadn’t expected. Hell, this whole failed trade mission was one big unexpected complication.

My new Xarc’n admirer moved through the landscape so silently that I realized I couldn’t actually hear his footsteps. Meanwhile, I sounded like a raccoon on a bender. I bet every living thing around us could hear me stumbling around. At least I had a great view. It wasn’t just his muscular legs, but the trim waist and equally impressive shoulders above.

Maybe Marisol had the right idea. These Xarc’n warriors were resilient. The chances of me croaking out here were much higher than his. But they went out actively to hunt the bugs, which put them in danger every single day.