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When I tried to sit up, I learned that the headache wasn’t the worst of my injuries. My entire left side throbbed, with my knee engulfed in a searing pain.
I was somewhere in the woods, but it looked the same as anywhere else I’d been lately. My backpack was on the ground beside me, next to some hefty moose tracks left in the mud. Thankfully, the ground had been too damp for a fire to spread, and my torch had gone out long ago.
Wincing through the discomfort, I pushed myself up until I was sitting, and I leaned back against the pine tree trunk that had knocked me unconscious. With a great deal of pain, I was able to lean forward in an attempt to get a look at my knee, but it was too swollen to get my jeans over it. Even still, the dark purplish bruises had spread half-way down my calf. The moose must’ve stomped right on it after I’d gone down.
Other than the birds, the forest was quiet, and I couldn’t see any signs of the moose or my travelling companions.
“Riva!” I shouted. “Calvin!”
I called their names a few more times, my voice echoing through the trees, but I never got a reply.
“Dammit,” I cursed and tried to get to my feet, but my knee instantly gave out underneath me.
My left leg was apparently no longer weight bearing, so I had to find another way to get around. Fortunately for me, when the moose was lumbering through the trees, it had broken several branches.
There was a sturdy looking one just beyond my grasp, and I had to crawl over to it, using only one leg as I did. It would’ve been nicer if the stick was longer, but it was strong enough for me to lean on and use as a crutch.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and using the branch, I carefully hobbled along, following the moose tracks back the way he’d chased me.
The campsite turned out not to have been very far from where I’d woken up, despite the long time it took me to return to it. My knee really hampered me, as did the body aches in general, and I was feeling especially dizzy and weak as I moved.
I saw our campsite as I approached – remnants of the fire pit, trampled dirt stained with blood – but there was no other sign of Riva or Calvin.
They had left me behind. That wasn’t too surprising, since Riva had wanted to leave without even looking for Harlow. Obviously she valued her survival over me, and that was the sensible thing in a world like this.
I limped over to the firepit, then dropped on the ground beside it. There was still some firewood piled up under the tree, but it would hardly be enough for the evening. I’d need to get more soon, and I wasn’t sure how to manage that.
I opened up my backpack to see what I had in the way of provisions. A couple tins of meat and a few MREs I snagged from the militia base. Plus half-a-canteen of water, a book of matches, and a machete.
Beneath that, I could see Harlow’s sketchbook, and I ran my fingers across the cover.
“Is this how it ends?” I asked into the ether. “Alone in the woods, after I’ve lost everyone else?”
Three years ago, I was singing onstage to sold-out crowds. Two years ago, I went down into a bunker with some friends to ride out the zombie apocalypse. Nine months ago, I left the bunker because things had gone to hell. Six months ago, I met Remy, fell in love with her, and lost her all in rapid succession. Six days ago, I had lost Harlow.
Was that enough? Had I lived enough of a life? Had I lost enough and endured enough that I could find some rest?
I looked down at Harlow’s sketchbook again, and I shook my head. If I died out here, the paper would be ruined by the elements and lost forever. Everything that Harlow had done and been would be gone. She had no headstone, and almost everyone that knew her was dead.
I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let her be completely erased from the world, so I had to find a way to make it through this. I had survived so much for so long, I wouldn’t let a few cold nights with a banged up knee be the end of me.
I mustered up all my strength, still using the broken branch as a crutch, and I started searching around the campsite for firewood.
Once I finally got it going, I ate a tin of meat and only drink a quarter of the canteen.
Night came, and I wanted to stay alert, especially with what had happened the night before. But my insomnia evaded me as exhaustion took over. As much as I fought it, there wasn’t anything I could do, and I fell asleep beside a fading fire.
I didn’t stir again until the sun was high in the sky above me, warming the spring air, and I woke up with my forehead and chest drenched in sweat, even though the fire was long out.
My mouth was dry, but I only took a few conservative sips from my canteen. I hadn’t found a new water source yet, and I didn’t know how long I needed this to last me.
I knew I should eat, but without more water, I didn’t want to consume anything as salty as the canned meats and MREs.
Today I needed to push myself, though. I had to go farther than I had yesterday to find water, and I’d hoped that I would feel better after a night’s rest. I didn’t have a watch, but I guessed I’d slept at least twelve hours, and I still felt weak and tired.
With my branch as a crutch, I barely managed to get to my feet, and I was hit with an overwhelming dizziness. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, the world wasn’t swaying as much.
I slung my backpack over my shoulders, and I headed deeper into the forest, determined to give everything I had to stay alive.
