Concerning "The Event: A Story - Part II"

My nose is crooked and still aches sometimes. My leg, on the other hand, doesn’t look too bad. I removed the sutures a few days ago and, much to my surprise, I’m not horrified by it. It’s going to leave a nasty scar, one that is bright red and jagged, but I avoided an infection and that’s the most important thing. I turn off the light and get dressed. Beau and I have only been on two missions in the last two weeks, visiting Maple Grove Farms on the far north outskirts of town both times to harvest some of the fruits and vegetables which still grow abundantly there. Today though, we’re going south.

All geared up and ready to go, we follow Grumpy who will take us all the way to the Medical Center. If we have time on the return trip, I may stop off and grab some supplies there, but I have something more urgent I need to take care of. In the two weeks we’ve kept to ourselves, I have lost all awareness of what the Sad-Men are up to. I’m not willing to turn the antenna back on for a month yet, so I have no way of knowing what is going on outside of Beau’s and my little bubble. However, there is a remedy, even if it might be a bit dangerous to pull off. If I can get my hand on one of the units the Sad-Men use to communicate, I can listen in without need of my own equipment.

The distance to the south end of town is about twice as far from our hideout as the north end of town. It takes us almost an hour to trek out of the forest. We don’t exit at the Medical Center. Instead, we go a few hundred yards beyond to Upper Kincaid Pond. We will be using the waterways and the railroad tracks to get as close as we can to the police station before having to traverse open ground. Kincaid Creek flows out of the southwestern end of Upper Kincaid Pond. Beau and I follow it as it winds its way behind Messner’s Mobile Home Park, then Hank’s Autobody, and empties into Lower Kincaid Pond located in the Town Park. From the pond, we cut across the playground, around the tennis courts, slip through a hedgerow, and find ourselves on the railroad tracks.

The tracks run diagonally through town. We will follow them until we are behind the strip mall located across the street from the police station. However, to get there, we have to cross two streets: Bushnell Ave and Main St. Bushnell will not be an issue. There is only one building at that intersection, a long-vacant farm supply store. At Main Street, we will have to be careful. The tracks run at a forty-five degree angle through the intersection of Main and Elm St. What that means for Beau and I is a 200 yd stretch of open space we have to traverse without being seen. On top of that, the intersection is well-lit with traffic lights and street lamps.

As I expected, there are no obstacles at Bushnell Ave.  We continue on until we arrive at the rear entrance of Kerri’s Irish Pub. (motto: Mess with Kerri, you she’ll bury) Beau and I come to a halt. Once we step out from behind this building, we will be in full view of anyone who might be nearby. I take out my binoculars and look around. At first I can neither see nor hear anything. As I’m about to put my binoculars away, I notice movement in front of the Town Highway Department building kitty corner to Kerri’s. I shrink back into the darkness a bit. There’s no way I was spotted and I want to make sure there’s no possibility I will be. When I look again, there’s just the sign out front, framed with a couple of flowering shrubs, and the flagpole. Nothing moves. Even so, I keep my eyes trained on that spot because I’m certain it wasn’t my imagination playing tricks on me. I refuse to be lured into a compromising situation. Suddenly, something comes around the far shrub at a run, heading straight for us. I nearly let out an involuntary shriek but swallow it before it forces its way out between my lips. I almost turn to run when I realize what it is. It’s a dog - a big one, yet a dog just the same. Beau must get a whiff of it because he rises from his sitting position. I place a hand on him even though he’s trained well enough not to chase after it.

The dog stops in the middle of Main Street. He looks around and gives the air a sniff. I’m worried that he will pick up Beau’s scent and investigate but he turns right and trots down Elm St. I watch him until he disappears down one of the streets off of Elm. Nothing like a little scare to keep one on their toes. I search the area again for anything that might hold us up and once I’m satisfied that all is clear, we make the dash from Kerri’s to safety on the far side.

From here, it’s about a mile to the strip mall. The strip mall houses, from south to north, a Stop & Shop, a Label Shopper, a three screen movie theater, a Dollar Tree, a GameStop, and a Target. Next to the Stop & Shop, but not connected to it is a Tire Warehouse. Beau and I slip through the alley between these two. After a thorough check of the parking lot, we cling to the thin shadow cast by the Tire Warehouse and are now facing Strong St. We are very close now. To our left, Walsh St forks off of Strong and the police station is the second building on the right. For obvious reasons, walking down Walsh and into the front door is probably not the smartest thing to do, so I do a quick survey and devise a different course to take.

Confident the coast is clear, Beau and I zip across Strong St, into the driveway between Wok Lobster (chinese take-out) on the left and Caroline’s Nail Boutique to the right. At the shared employee parking lot, we hang a left. A simple eight foot tall wooden fence separates Wok Lobster and the police station. I have every mind to break into the brick building on the other side.

Originally, I thought about pinching my radio from one of the squad cars, but the chances of finding a car, especially one that is unoccupied, is slim. In addition, if a radio goes missing from one of the cars, the Sad-Men would immediately suspect theft. If I can somehow score one from the police station itself, without being seen, I believe it’s more likely the Sad-Men will think it’s somehow been misplaced.

The wooden fence surrounds the station on three sides. Beau and I follow it until we are standing in the backyard of the house on Prospect St whose property borders the police station. I watch the house for a few short moments to make sure I don’t need to be concerned about anybody surprising me from behind, but there are no lights to be seen and no movement to be detected. Considering its proximity to the Sad-Men’s base of operations, I would have been surprised if someone had chosen this place as a stronghold, unless it was a Sad-Man himself.

I check along the fence and find a loose board. I’m unsure whether a nail is broken or is missing altogether but the bottom of the board has a small range of motion. I pull the bottom of the board toward me and find I can swing it far enough to the side that I can squeeze through sans backpack. Yet, before doing so, I perform some reconnaissance. The building has parking on all three sides. I see both civilian and official vehicles, but in the very back, where I’m going to enter, it’s mostly civilian vehicles. They don’t appear to be in use much anymore. Almost any time I see Sad-Men, they are in a police cruiser.

There is one door and ten windows in the rear of the building. Six of the windows are upstairs and the only one lit up is to my far left. The four ground floor windows each have light coming from them but one is dimmer than the others. It’s most likely a hallway light creating the faint glow. There are two pipes visible on the wall. One starts at the ground, rises vertically for twelve feet or so and then disappears into the building. The other comes out of the building at a height of about eight feet and goes up and onto the roof. My assumption is it’s attached to the large HVAC system located there. The two pipes are approximately seven feet apart but an upper window is situated between them. I should be able to climb up the first, reach the sill of the window, and access the other pipe from there.

I ask Beau to stay where he is. He lies down, head on his paws, and just as I’m about to slip through the fence, a Sad-Man exits the building. Halfway through the opening, I freeze. I’m not directly under any type of light source and the fence is a dark brown, so as long as I stay still he shouldn’t see me. The Sad-Man turns left out of the door and lumbers toward a patrol car parked on the side of the building. As I watch him, I can feel tension growing in the muscles in my body. It is the Sad-Man who failed to apprehend me two weeks prior.

I am neither scared nor angry, and yet, there is some emotion causing my unease. The fact is, though I cut him to save myself, I felt guilty about it afterward. I know he meant me harm, and he probably deserves punishment for the way he’s treated other people since The Event, yet violence is not in my nature and participating in it causes me distress. Even when I kill prey for Beau and I to eat, I do it as quickly and as humanely as possible.

The Sad-Man gets into the car and drives away. It takes a few seconds of deep breathing to release the tension in my body and clear my mind. Beau must have sensed the change in me, because he has his head resting on the knee that remained on his side of the fence. I pat his head, scratch behind each ear and then slip the rest of the way through the opening. I reach back, grab my pack, put the board back in place, and dart across the parking lot.

I grab hold of the lower pipe and scale the wall. My sneakers have excellent purchase on the brick and I reach the top of the pipe in seconds. This next move will be the trickiest. I search for at least one secure handhold in the bricks above me, preferably for my right hand. There are none, but I can get my left hand into a small crevice. I take the chance it will be enough and pull myself up. I’m just high enough to raise my right foot and place it on the elbow of the pipe where it disappears into the wall.

As I’m perched precariously on the couple inches of tubular metal below me, I hug the wall. Every move I make from here has to be performed perfectly or I will fall. The fall wouldn’t be enough to kill me, but if I was unable to get up and make my escape...I put that thought from my mind. The recess for the window is to my left, so I have to let go of the handhold I’m currently grasping and reach across the eighteen inches of space to grab on. I let go and slide my left hand along the wall as quickly and carefully as possible. With my cheek flat against the brick, I am unable to see, so I feel around blindly until my fingers curl over the window’s edge. Luckily, I am able to get a firm grip. I move my left foot out and place it solidly against the wall. Now, my right hand moves to where my left was a moment before, and I push off the pipe with my right foot. I sidle along the wall, dropping my left hand down to grab the bottom edge of the sill. This action allows me to finally move my right hand over as well. Now that I once again have four secure points of contact with the building, I feel almost safe again. Hanging down from the window, hands above me and feet flat against the wall, I wonder to myself, “If I was wearing red and blue rather than all black, would I look like Spider-Man to someone below?”

I pull myself up to the window and stand flat against it. It would have been quite unfortunate had someone been in the dark room beyond, but it is empty. The second pipe is only a few inches to my left. I easily transfer from the window to the pipe and scale the rest of the way up the building. It doesn’t take me long to find the roof entrance on the far right. As I suspected, it is locked. I reach inside my jacket, taking the lock pick out of the inner left pocket and my flashlight from the outer right pocket. I should have been practicing my lock picking skills while on mission hiatus, but I was lazy and it takes me longer than I expect. After ten minutes, I finally hear the pins fall into place and the lock click open. As I open the door, it creaks. This is why I should carry WD-40 with me. I’m disappointed with myself. I like to be prepared.

I take my time opening the door, so as to not alert anyone in earshot that something sketchy might be happening on the roof, and I slip inside. I leave the door ajar and silently creep down the fifteen steps to the door at the bottom of the stairwell. This opens onto the second floor hallway. It, too, is locked. I cannot use my flashlight here but once I have the right set of picks and insert them into the lock, I finish in less time than I did on the roof.

With nothing to be done about it, the door unlocks with a much too loud click. I freeze for a moment, my eye on the small window in the door, waiting for someone to come running. Nothing of the sort occurs and I open the door far enough to peek through. The hallway is empty.

I step out into full view. There’s no going back now.

I find myself at the end of a long hallway. It appears as if there are ten rooms in all on the second floor. Four facing the front, six toward the back. Lights are still shining from one of the rooms to my left (at the far end of the hall) and one to my right.

With absolute silence, I move from room to room. On the left are a conference room and a restroom. On my right is another conference room. I only give a quick precursory inspection before moving to the next. The fourth room is the one front-facing room with lights on. While I’m standing in the dark of the room closest, trying to figure out what my next course of action will be, I hear someone open and close a desk drawer. Okay, I now know there is someone I either need to avoid or will have to deal with.

I let the backpack fall off one of my shoulders and as quietly as possible unzip the front pocket. I remove the mirror and zip the pocket back up. I sit on the ground, back against the door (which is open against the wall separating me from the occupied room) and reach around the door frame with the mirror. I keep my hand as close to the floor as possible to limit the possibility of being seen. It takes me a full minute or so to scan the entire room. Once done, I slip the mirror in with the flashlight. I was able to confirm two things in my surveillance. One: there is a radio in that room. Two: there is also a woman.

For a moment my mind starts swirling. Why is there a woman here? I was convinced all of the Sad-Men were actually men. I didn’t know they allowed women in their ranks. I’ve never seen a woman with them before and frankly, I’m confused as to why a woman would want to have anything to do with them. I try to pull my mind back to the situation at hand but it’s difficult. This happens sometimes when I take in information contrary to my expectations. If Beau was here he would sense my discomfort and press his warm body against mine. This helps to ground me in the present moment. Instead, I do some deep breathing exercises while repeating to myself, “You are in control of your thoughts and actions. You are in control of your thoughts and actions.” A minute later I am feeling calmed and put this information aside to deal with at a later time.

With my head less foggy, I come up with a plan. It’s not a great plan, but I now realize that even at this time of night I know there are probably more people here than I can avoid or deal with on my own. So much for them thinking their radio was misplaced. I stand up and use the mirror to spy again. When the Sad-Woman turns around to grab something behind her, I silently sneak past her office and go into the next unlit room. This room is almost directly across from the stairwell to the ground floor. To get to the ground floor, you walk down eight steps, make a u-turn, then go down another eight.

I look around the room and grab two of the chairs sitting around a circular table. Making sure I don’t make any noise, I carry them to the doorway, check no one is in the upper hallway, and hurl them over the railing into the lower part of the stairwell. As they bounce and careen off the walls and steps, the sounds echoing throughout the building, I retreat into the shadows of the room I’m in. As I had hoped, the Sad-Woman comes running out of her office. Unfortunately, she doesn’t go down the stairs. She’s looking over the railing, trying to determine the cause of the commotion. If she turns around, there’s a good chance she’ll see me. Luckily, once she hears voices below, she goes downstairs to investigate further. The moment her head disappears from sight, I scurry to her office, shrugging my pack off in the process, unplug the charging dock, stuff it and the radio into my bag, and make a beeline for the roof. As I close the stairwell door, I’m feeling hopeful that I wasn’t seen. I take the steps two at a time and slip through the opening I left earlier. I push the roof door closed only enough for it to appear latched.

I look around. I do not have time to scale down the side of the building before the Sad-People perform a search. I need to hide up here for a while. The only place to go is on top of the HVAC unit. The unit has an H shape to it. There are two larger sections connected by a middle section. The section spanning the gap is too high for me to reach by jumping alone but the structure has enough going on that I can parkour up to that point. I slip my arms into the backpack and give myself a running start. I run directly at one of the large sections at full speed and then leap. Stepping on a protrusion of some kind with my left foot, I use it to pull myself up and then push off in the direction of the middle section. This gives me enough height to grab the top edge of the spanning framework and hoist myself up. Standing here (the middle of the H), I’m still easily visible. I need to get on top of one of the large sections (the legs of the H). Executing the same maneuver I performed moments before, using what I assume is a chimney or exhaust vent as my springboard, I vault myself up to the apex of the structure. I grasp the upper edge of the tall unit and pull myself up, making sure to stay flat against the metal.

I worm my way to the center and roll over on my back. I look all around me and cannot see the roof below. Excellent. My hope is, if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

I hear voices in the street below. They must be searching the perimeter; as they talk, their voices seem to be in motion.

“It had to have been her,” a masculine voice states. “The girl is a menace.”

“Look, calm down.” This voice is feminine, most likely belonging to the Sad-Woman I saw in the office. “It’s no big deal. We’ll find her, and when we do, she’ll be taken care of.”

I don’t hear anger in her voice like I do the Sad-Man’s. She seems almost compassionate. Her nonchalance in regards to my whereabouts, especially compared to the other Sad-People I’ve met, frightens me.

“I don’t see any sign of her,” says the woman. “Let’s head back inside and file a report. As long as she sticks around town, we’ll find her eventually.”

“You file the report, I’m going upstairs to take a look around.”

“If you insist. I doubt you’ll find anything…” Her voice trails off as they reenter the building. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I immediately begin my deep breathing exercises. “You are in control of your thoughts and actions,” I repeat. The existence of this woman who seems to be in complete control of her faculties and displays no doubt about my capture is causing me great distress. It creates yet another wrinkle in this game of survival I find myself in and it wears on me mentally.

Suddenly, the creak of the roof door draws me back to reality.

“Where are you hiding?” the Sad-Man asks loudly. “I know it was you. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and turn yourself in? It’ll be better for all of us in the long run. By turning yourself in, you won’t get hurt, and we won’t have to waste time trying to find you when we have far more important things to be doing.”

I barely breathe. If these clowns think they’re going to bring me down, take me into their fold, and do with me what they will, they are mistaken. The Sad-Man wanders around for another five minutes, checking all the places he can reach or see, but eventually he goes inside. When he pulls the door shut, it bangs into place and I hear the lock being engaged.

I want to jump down and get out of here. I miss having Beau by my side and it’s already going on four in the morning. I have maybe an hour of darkness left before the sun starts to rise, yet I wait thirty minutes. I’m sure the Sad-Man watched for me through the little window in the door after he closed it. Luckily, I’m far more patient than he is. I crawl over to the edge of the HVAC unit, let myself down one level and then another, making sure to make as little noise as possible. I sneak over to the door and look in. No one is there. I walk around the full perimeter of the roof, making sure there’s no one outside and then hurry over to the spot at the rear of the building where I climbed up. I shimmy down the first pipe, and though it’s still eight feet or so to the ground, I drop down from there. I stick the landing and take off for the fence. The moment I’m through and have moved the board back into place, Beau greets me with a lick on the face. Happy to have my only friend back by my side, I hug him there in that backyard for many more minutes than I’m proud to admit.

Beau and I are extra cautious making our way back from whence we came. I know we are running short on our cover of darkness, but as long as we can make it back to Lower Kincaid Pond, we will have the various flora to cover ourselves the rest of the way back to the woods. At the intersection of Main and Elm, we do have to wait for one car to pass through the intersection. It is so rare to see automobiles other than those driven by the Sad-People, but this car is just a regular Toyota sedan occupied by a single individual. If it was two years ago I would think this person was just on their way to work. But nobody works for a living anymore, they just try to stay alive. Most likely they’re just looking for somewhere better than where they were before. I doubt they will have any luck.

Back at Upper Kincaid Pond, Beau and I pass the Medical Center and make a beeline for the trees. Once we’re in the forest, I take us a different way than we came in. We turn north. Eventually we will follow Claire home, but I want to make one quick stop first. Ten minutes later, a residential neighborhood is visible through the trees. I lead us to the very edge of the forest and sit down with my back against the base of a paper birch just inside the tree line. From this position I have a view of one house. It’s at the end of Rosewood Dr, a cul-de-sac with a dozen houses around it. I can’t see the house perfectly but the sun is just cresting the horizon, so there is a beatific glow which lends it a warm and inviting aura. This particular house is different from the other eleven houses. At one time it was the only home on Rosewood Dr, but after being sold a few times it was put up for auction, and a housing developer bought it and the land it sat on. The house was left alone but eleven cookie cutter residences were added, spaced evenly on either side of the lane.

That being said, it is not an old house. It’s an updated split-level that was probably built sometime in the 1970’s. There’s a two car garage off to one side and an in-ground pool in the backyard. There are a couple of maple trees and various bushes scattered about and overgrown flower beds are situated on either side of the back deck.

This is not the first time I have been here and it probably won’t be the last. It is not the nicest, prettiest, fanciest, or most interesting house in town, yet I like it very much. It reminds me of what life might have been had The Event never occurred. I can picture myself living there with Beau and some person I love so much it hurts just to leave for work. I can envision two children chasing each other around the pool and having to scold them for their childish recklessness. I can imagine Beau chasing a tennis ball I’ve thrown into the back field and neither of us having to worry about being seen or making noise. I can see myself sitting on the deck in the twilight, holding hands with my person, the two of us sipping wine with the knowledge our kids are sleeping contentedly in their beds.

I only allow myself fifteen minutes to ponder what might have been and then Beau and I return to the forest. We find Claire and slowly make our way home.

I wait until evening to test out the radio. Normally I would be in bed but I was anxious to give it a try. I turned it on in the bunker, but with the combination of an underground location and the twenty inch thick concrete walls, I couldn’t pick up a signal. With the radio in my pack, Beau and I walk along Olympia trail. We’re headed for the ridge above Maple Grove Farms. It is the highest place on the west side of the forest and should give us a good chance at picking up a signal. Upon arrival, I look out across the fifty yards of field that lead to the edge of the ridge. I go to a little knoll on the far side and take a seat. Beau finds a soft spot nearby and lies down.

Before turning the radio on, I make sure the volume is all the way down. I don’t need to worry about it giving off any light because I covered all the offending areas with black electrician’s tape. Finally, I switch it on and slowly raise the volume. At first, there is only static. I run through the bands and do not get a hit. No problem. Every five minutes or so I run through them again. After an hour of searching, I finally hear something. It’s of no importance to me, but I now know what channel they are broadcasting on. I place the radio on the ground beside me and lay back. I call Beau, who was bored and has been wandering around smelling every object in a twenty-five foot radius, and he comes padding over. He sits beside me and I pet him while listening to the radio for something noteworthy to cross the airwaves.

I’ve nearly fallen asleep when I hear, “Officer Anders, what’s your status?”

“Closing in, sir. I should be eyes on in a matter of minutes.”

I sit bolt upright. I look around me. There’s no way they know I’m here, unless they can trace the radio in some way. But even so, how could they be closing in on me? Or do they think I’m back at the bunker and they’ve discovered its location?

I pick up the radio and my pack and take off across the field at a run. The radio chirps, “Okay, let me know when you arrive. I already have backup on its way.” I turn it off, sling it into my pack, and kick it into a higher gear. I’ve no idea if I should be hiding or attempting to beat the Sad-Man to the bunker and lock it down. My mind is racing and I’m having difficulty reigning it in. Once again, this piece of unexpected information has thrown me for a loop, so much so that I don’t see the man with the gun. I just hear a gunshot followed immediately by Beau’s yelp. I hear his body collapse into the ground and I scream. I have never issued a sound so piercing. It slices through the night, bouncing off the trees. I skid to a halt and turn around. I’m still screaming when my eyes see a figure running toward the trees. I pull my Sig P365 from its holster and unload the ten round clip in his direction. I don’t know if I hit him but he falls to the ground, so I assume I have. I don’t really care. Beau is my only concern.

I go to him. I kneel and place a hand along his flank. Miraculously, he’s still breathing, but I can tell it’s labored. I pick him up and take off toward home. I have no idea how far I’ve gone when I have to set him down. He’s too heavy for me to carry that far. I take out my flashlight and search his body for the wound. I find it right in the center of his midsection. I stick my finger in to see if I can feel the bullet but all I can feel is the inside of Beau. I reach under him and find another hole on the other side. The bullet passed through cleanly. I feel like this is good news but there is so much blood that I know it isn’t. I pull my coat off, remove my shirt, use my teeth to tear it and rip it in two. I place a piece on either side of him and do my best to stop the bleeding. I cannot.

I pull him onto my lap and cradle him. I talk to him. “Beau, stay with me boy. I don’t know how, but just hang in there and I’ll fix you up. Look at me, Beau. Look at me.”

And he does. He doesn’t move his head but his eyes turn toward me. I stroke his head. I hug him. I do everything I can to stave off the inevitable. But I can feel his heartbeat slow. His body is growing ever more slack. I take his head in my hands and I kiss his face. And somehow, though I don’t know where he finds the strength, he licks my cheek. Just once, and ever so momentarily, but he does, and when I pick my head up and look at him, his eyes are closed. I pull him to my chest and I heave with loud, guttural sobs. My eyes pour out a deluge of tears and I cry out with all my might. At first it is a shriek of despair and anguish but it morphs into a scream of pure rage.

When I’m spent and can yell no more, I gingerly set Beau down on the forest floor and rise to my feet. I cannot believe it, but the gun is back in its holster. It must have been an involuntary reflex. I remove the gun, eject the empty magazine, and replace it with the spare I carry. I return to the field and head in the direction I saw the Sad-Man. All of the abhorrence I held for violence disappeared the moment Beau left me. I now have a bloodlust no one person could possibly fathom.

Back in the field, the Sad-Man is gone. I discover the spot he fell when I wounded him but he is no longer there. I find some traces of blood and track him for an hour, but eventually, I lose the trail. I wouldn’t have found him anyway. I was almost out of the woods near Industrial Park Rd. By now he is in his car and long gone. It doesn’t matter. Someday I will find him and exact my revenge.

I trek back to the spot where I left Beau. It takes a long time to return to the bunker. I can only carry him so far before I have to stop and rest my arms. I leave him outside and retrieve my camp shovel. I hook it onto my backpack and it takes another half an hour until I am at the spot where I want to bury him. It is beside a large rock that we often stopped at during our adventures. I would sit on the rock, or lean my back against it, and we would share a snack. It was always something different, depending on what we’d scavenged that week, but it was always joyful.

I dig a hole, wide and deep. By the time I’m finished I am drenched in sweat. I climb out of it, pick up Beau, and then slide back in. I set him in his final resting place and sing. I sing about my love for him. I sing about the good times. I sing about how very much I will miss him. Then I lie down next to him and fall asleep.

When I awake, Beau is rigid with rigor mortis and I am shivering. I caress his fur one last time then cover him up. I do not place a marker. I will always know where he lies; it’s nobody else’s business. I pick up my things and return home.

It has been eight days since the Sad-Man shot Beau. I thought the desire to bring vengeance upon him would be enough to keep me going, yet, it is not. I am utterly alone and killing the one who’s responsible will not change that fact.

I have barely been able to move. If I am awake, I either read or stare into the nothingness inside my head. Sometimes I just sit on the bed, rocking back and forth, my arms wrapped around me. I have barely eaten and the only reason I’m still alive is that I continue to drink water. Right now, however, I am getting dressed. Not gearing up, just putting on some clothes. I leave my jacket on the hook as I head up the steps to the door. I push the door open without checking things first and as I’m leaving I let the door fall into place with a thunderous clang. Though I am not following my usual routine, it is still 2 am. The lure of the quietude found in the trees at night is still something I cannot resist. I head southeast toward Vita Falls.

It has been a long time since I have seen the falls. It is not a spot Beau and I frequented. As I approach, I can hear them through the trees. This time of year it is not the cacophonous roar that somehow soothes rather than scares, but it is a pleasant sound nonetheless. I listen to the splash of what little is falling and smile. This is what all of life should feel like.

I turn left and head up the hill. I want to look down over the edge at the pool below. Cresting the ridge, I cut through the last few trees and soak up the view before me. Buck River comes down off the mountain to my left and falls over the edge to my right. I have seen it flow with greater volume and velocity, but I enjoy the calmness this version of Buck River provides.

Overall the drop is approximately ninety feet, though the initial drop is less than fifty. After that the water cascades down a series of rock steps until it meets up with itself and wanders on south. I walk along the edge of the river to where it spills into the space below. Even at this relative trickle, it is beautiful. I perch on the western edge and look southward. The river and the forest fall away and all I can see are stars. Billions of points of light shining on me as if I was the only individual in the universe worthy of illumination.

I draw the crisp, night air deeply into my lungs and exhale slowly. When I open my mouth, words free themselves from my throat and fly gaily over the valley. I spread my arms wide as I prepare to embrace the unknown.

Here under the midnight sky

I dream in black and white

And though I want to rage against

The dying of the light*

The colors have forsaken me

Each has taken flight

Left me all alone to fight

In the darkness of the night

I will fight no more, No more! I cry

I am a lost and lonely soul

Now I seek the only one

With the power to console

Into the ether I send my plea

For the one they call The Reaper

Dear friend hold out your loving arms

Take me to my Keeper

Wrap me in your blackened shroud

Let me feel the warmth of death

This is all I ask of you^

Most compassionate Grim Reaper

All I loved were stolen

Taken from me without a care

Thrusting me into a colorless world

Of monochromatic despair

I will not stand idly by

Be stripped til I am bare

I will tip the scales of fate

Be judge of what is fair

I fight no more, No more! I cry

This gray world I leave behind

I seek the grace of one who is

Forgiving and ever kind

Into the ether I send my plea

For the one they call The Reaper

Dear friend hold out your loving arms

Take me to my Keeper

Wrap me in your blackened shroud

Let me feel the warmth of death

This is all I ask of you^

Most compassionate Grim Reaper

I take one final draught of the air I once found sweet and ready myself. I lean forward. Just as I am about to push off, a gust of wind holds me back slightly and it is then that a voice rises to me from down below.

“Is somebody up there? Hello? If someone is up there, can you help me? Please?”

*Homage to Dylan Thomas’s  Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

^Homage to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera

Concerning "The Event: A Story - Part I"

 My routine after waking up is as follows:

1. Use the toilet, wash my face, brush & floss my teeth

2. Make breakfast for Beau and myself (usually some form of eggs)

3. Get dressed - getting dressed consists of:

1. Wearing all black - underwear, socks, digital watch, long-sleeve shirt, pants, belt, shoes (boots or sneakers - weather dependent), shoulder holster, balaclava, jacket (water repellant), gloves (leather)

2. Gearing up (all black in color) - Leatherman Charge Plus multitool in left front jacket pocket, J5 Tactical V1-Pro flashlight in right front pocket of jacket, Sig P365 SAS 9mm handgun in shoulder holster (extra magazine in left rear pants pocket), Mammut 9.8 Crag Rope (60 m) - coiled, warn across my body, Short Ka-Bar fixed blade knife in sheath strapped to the outside of my left calf, Dangerfield Praxis lock pick set in left inside jacket pocket, Zeiss Terra ED Compact Binoculars in right inside jacket pocket

3. Backpack (also black) containing two bottles of water, first aid kit, nylon cord, a compact mirror, one gallon Ziploc bag half-filled with cotton balls

It is 1:30 am when Beau and I start up the stairs toward the door. Beau bounds ahead of me, excited to be going for his daily walk. I am fortunate to have Beau by my side. When The Event happened, those who survived rarely did so with anyone they cared for. I, on the other hand, not only have a companion but have one that is loyal. And, because he’s a black lab, it allows me to take him with me on missions. If Beau had any colors on him other than black, I wouldn’t take that risk. Luckily I can, for in all situations, he is my comfort.

Beau waits patiently for me on the second step from the top. He never barks to go outside. In fact, he rarely barks at all. I give him a quick scratch behind the ears prior to opening the door. Unlike most doors, this one is horizontal and is situated above us. Gingerly, I push the door up just far enough for there to be a crack. I survey the surroundings for approximately ninety seconds. I see no lights, movement, or anything out of the ordinary.

Beau is starting to get anxious. He knows it is his turn to do the surveying. I open the door just far enough for him to squeeze out and he disappears. I will know it is completely safe to emerge from our bunker once he returns. Another ninety seconds later, his nose appears, and I’m confident no one’s about.

I exit and set the door back down. Closed, it is impossible to know there is a hidden entrance. The door is covered in sod and various organic debris. It blends in perfectly with the forest floor.

Beau and I head towards town. This morning we’re taking Babylon trail. We have seventeen different tracks we take to town and never use the same one in any two week span. Each path has a name. Seven are named after the dwarfs in Snow White (Happy, Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Bashful, Doc), seven after the locations of the ancient wonders of the world (Giza, Babylon, Olympia, Ephesus, Halicarnassus, Rhodes, Alexandria), and three after my former family (my mother Claire, my father Walt, my sister Kiersten). The purpose of having so many different avenues to and from the bunker is to keep any one path from wearing down, which might give away our location. We don’t need a flashlight to aid in navigation because once breakfast is eaten, I turn off the lights and dress in the dark. This allows my eyes time to adjust to the darkness and I can see well enough to find my way through the woods.

It takes about half an hour to reach town. We exit the trees on Tree Line Road. To the right is the house where the Perrys used to live and 500 feet beyond their driveway is Gleason Rd. Gleason goes all the way to the north end of town which is where we want to go. Though it’s more dangerous to enter buildings within the town limits, if someone did notice we’d been there, it would be more difficult for them to determine where we came from and where we went upon leaving. Of course, Beau and I don’t follow the roads.

After checking for any suspicious activity (I’m mostly concerned about night patrols), Beau and I dash across the street into some more trees. There is a thin stretch of woods that will take us across Moon Brook, through a field of solar panels, behind the waste management facility, and to the rear of the high school.

When we reach the rear of the high school, the lights all over the grounds are shining brightly. I’m amazed they’ve lasted this long. Beau and I stay along the perimeter, pass by the football field, and just as we are about to step out into the parking lot, I drop to the ground. Beau has learned that anytime I do this he is to do the same. I don’t move and barely breathe. A truck is sitting in the parking lot. I’m not sure what to do. If the truck is occupied and the occupant was looking my way, there is no way whomever it is didn’t see me. However, though I’ve never seen a car here before, nowadays it is not uncommon to find vehicles abandoned in random places.

After a few minutes of lying facedown on the ground, I’m certain I wasn’t spotted. I reach inside my jacket and pull out my binoculars. I inch forward until I can barely see the front of the truck and take a look. There is nobody visible in the front seat. That’s not to say there isn’t someone lying down in either the cab or bed of the truck, but I will have to get closer to be able to make that determination. I replace the binoculars and slowly army crawl until I am nearly under the front bumper. While traversing that 100 feet or so, I listen intently for any noise that might indicate someone walking around outside the vehicle. I have neither seen nor heard anything. I get into a crouch and slowly stand up. When my eyes are just above the hood I’m able to reconfirm the absence of someone sitting in the truck. I crouch walk around the driver’s side, keeping the truck between me and the open parking lot beyond. From this position I can see through the cab and into the bed of the truck. Still nobody. Finally, when I reach the driver’s side window, I stand up and look inside. It and the rear of the pickup are empty.

I sigh relief and monitor our surroundings. Beau and I are the only two about.

The football field parking lot is situated on the corner of Rt 4 and Gleason Rd. It is now close to 2:30 am. I know how unlikely it is that we will run into anyone at this time of night, especially with the population decimated by The Event, yet I cannot take a chance of anyone seeing us. If they did, they would come for me, and not only for my supplies. They would use me in whatever manner they might desire.

With caution, Beau and I cross Rt 4, cut between Joe’s Pizzeria and The Craft Sisters (which used to be, eye-rollingly, a craft supply store). Behind these two buildings is a small pond, which Beau and I skirt, and then another field of solar panels. (Our town was very green energy conscious before The Event.)

Beau weaves in and out of the stanchions as I follow behind. By now he knows where we are headed and he’s leading the way. When we reach the far side we have arrived at our destination: Pinewood Estates.

There are dozens of houses in this development. I’ve searched many, and yet, there are many more I have not. Tonight we’re going to a house on Tuttle Meadow Drive, about two-thirds of the way across the development. It is a house I’ve been wanting to check for quite some time now.

Because so much time has passed since The Event occurred, we have learned where every light with a motion detector is located and can avoid them with ease. Beau and I maneuver deftly, through backyards and around fences, until we arrive at the backdoor of 18 Tuttle Meadow.

I quickly check the door and it’s locked. This is unsurprising, but there’s no need to try more difficult methods if one can walk right in. Even if it had been unlocked, this is where Beau and I would separate. During these missions he acts as my lookout. If he senses anything amiss, he will alert me. Because he does not bark, he will scratch at the door. You might not think I would be able to hear such a small sound, but at this time of night with silence all around, it is not difficult to hear at all.

I climb onto the porch railing to my left. I jump up and grab hold of the corner brace above me. Being slight, strong, and agile, these maneuvers are easy for me to perform. I swing my body from side to side and when I have enough momentum, I let go with my right hand and grab the edge of the porch roof. I can now move my foot up onto the brace I was just holding and then push/pull myself onto the roof.

I can access two windows from this position. I’m expecting both to be locked, but luck is on my side today. The window nearest me is open. This happens from time to time because The Event occured without warning, so people didn’t have the opportunity to barricade themselves inside their homes.

I slowly open the outer screen and slip silently inside. I’m in a child’s bedroom. There are toys all over the floor, wild animals are painted on the walls, and there is a bookcase filled with picture books. I don’t waste any time there; I will not find anything of use. Bedrooms, especially those used by children, rarely contain objects valuable to a survivalist.

The door to the hallway is open and I creep to the stairs. Everything is carpeted which makes it easier to move silently. I go down the steps as quickly as I can, making sure my feet are close to the wall where the steps are least likely to creak.

At the bottom of the stairs, on my right, is a bathroom. I enter and close the door behind me. I take out my flashlight and conduct a quick search. I find a box of band-aids and a small bottle of iodine. There are other things that could be useful but already have a cache of back at the bunker. I throw the two things I want into my backpack and make my way to the kitchen.

Before entering the kitchen, however, I spot a bookcase in the living room. I cannot pass up an opportunity to grab some books if they are available. I am a voracious reader. I will read almost anything. The only genre I don’t read is romance. I find science fiction more believable than that melodramatic tripe. I scan the books as quickly as possible and pluck two titles off the shelves. I would take more but only have so much cargo space.

The kitchen is off the living room. I open the cupboards and the pantry and a smile crosses my face. I knew this place was going to be a goldmine! I’m flabbergasted that no one else has already knocked this place over. I find a box of macaroni, which I transfer to my Ziploc bag containing cotton balls. This will keep the pasta from making noise as I move. I also find a jar of marinara, three cans of tuna, a jar of pickled beets, and one tapioca pudding Snack Pack. Before I realize what’s happening, I remove a glove, peel off the lid of the Snack Pack, and plunge my fingers middle knuckle deep into the pudding. I move my fingers to my mouth and savor the smooth sweetness as it slides down my throat. I sink into one of the chairs near the table and guiltily finish my tapioca surprise; normally I would have shared something like this with Beau.

Once I’ve wiped out every bit of pudding I can from the small plastic container, I toss it into the sink, wipe my hands with a dirty dish towel that was left on the counter, and put my glove back on. I pack the other things I found securely into my backpack, and with my belly full of unexpected delights, I unlock the back door and slide it open.

I jump at the sound that shouts at me from the wall and all around the house. In my sugar-induced contentment, I forgot to check for an alarm. If I hadn’t found an easy way in earlier, I would have had to disable it to enter, but in my gluttonous complacency, I didn’t see the keypad to the right of the door, staring me in the face.

I step outside, fling the sliding door shut, hop over the porch railing, and hit the backyard at a run. The moment Beau sees me, he shoots ahead of me and leads the way back to the field of solar panels at the edge of the development. When we’re somewhere in the middle, well out of eyeshot for anybody who might come round, I take off my pack and collapse on the ground. I’m staring up at the stars, my heart beating faster than it has in ages.

The blare of sirens rises along Rt 4 and within seconds they pass by and turn into Pinewood Estates on Hillside Road. I know these are police cars, however, I also know they are not occupied by police officers. They are who I refer to as the Sad-Men, Self-Appointed Deputies; survivors who co-opted abandoned police vehicles and deputized themselves. They claim to uphold law and order yet only use the title to help themselves to whatever or whomever they can find and catch.

I lie there another ten minutes berating myself for my carelessness. What the Hell was I thinking? I know better. That could have been the end of the line for Beau and me. I smack myself in the head but not nearly hard enough. I do it again and again until I feel Beau curl up beside me, his warmth comforting along my flank. I take my hands away from my head, unfist them, and stroke Beau lovingly, thankful to have such a wonderful companion by my side. One of my greatest faults is my tendency to get caught up in cycles of negative self-thought and for some reason this creature knows exactly what I need when I need it.

I push myself onto one elbow and look in the direction of Pinewood Estates. I can still see the blue and red lights from the police cars flashing. It’s time for Beau and I to make our way back to the forest. I do not want to be around during daylight hours.

We slink through the remaining solar panels and slip between Joe’s Pizzeria and the Craft Sisters. I look left, then right, and see nothing on Rt 4. We shoot across the road into the parking lot, where we are most exposed. The pickup is still there but in my haste to reach cover once again, I don’t realize until it’s too late that a car is parked beyond the truck. It’s a police cruiser and leaning against it is a Sad-Man, drinking from a lidded cup. The moment he sees me he yells, “Stop where you are!” but I just keep running. I cast a glance behind me and he’s already after me. I can hear him talking into a walkie talkie, letting the others know he’s spotted me. I yell to Beau, “Meet me at Sleepy’s trail!” and he darts off in a different direction. This is the reason I named the paths. I trained Beau to know where each one begins and go directly there to wait if given the command.

With the Sad-Man behind me, I decide to take some shortcuts, so I hop the fence between the high school and the waste management facility. Unfortunately, with the haul I found at 18 Tuttle Meadow, my backpack rests lower on my back than usual and catches the top of the chain link fence. My arms slip out of the straps and I fall to the ground, using my face to break my fall. I hear my nose crunch and immediately know it’s broken. But I have no time to think about that. I jump to my feet and try to free the pack from the fence. I cannot abandon it. It not only has the things I’ve just collected, but other things I am unwilling to leave behind.

But as I reach for the pack, a hand reaches over the fence and clamps down on my right arm. When I look up I’m staring into the green glow of a Sad-Man’s eyes. There is hatred in them. I know the Sad-Men have been trying to find me for a long time now. I am one of the few they have not been able to bring under their submission. I have eluded them for months now and it burns their collective ego to have me out there, living independently, unbeholden to their will.

I try to pry his hand off my arm, but my wrist is small and his fingers easily encircle it. I throw a couple of punches that land with little effect. He’s taller than I am and both the fence and backpack are in my way. I hate using weapons, even against the Sad-Men, because I abhor violence, but I can hear the other cars coming and there will be no possibility of escape if I’m overly outnumbered. I bend over slightly, feel along my leg and pull my knife. In one fluid motion I reach across my body and drag the knife across his fingers. Immediately his grip loosens and he staggers backward a few steps, surprised by my audacity. I grab my pack, give it a couple of shakes, and the moment it comes loose I dash behind the waste management building and into the maze of solar panels.

Just as I loosed my pack from the fence and took to running, the other police cars pulled into the parking lot. I can hear the voice of the Sad-Man who’d pursued me yelling to his buddies. He’s telling them where I’ve gone and I hear their cars pull out of the parking lot onto Gleason.

That’s okay, I’m not going back the way I came. On the far side of the solar field, instead of crossing Moon Brook, I turn left and follow it. I actually walk this bit, not only to give the Sad-Men time to pass by, but because I need to do something about my nose. I stop for a quick moment to return my knife to its sheath then reach up and lay the tip of my finger on the tip of my nose. Even that softest of touches sends shocks of pain through my face and stars appear in my eyes. Yet, once I realize what the problem is, I take one of the coils of rope hanging around me, place it in my mouth, and as quickly as I can, move my nose back into place. There is so much pain I fall to my knees, gasping. I’m able to keep quiet, but tears fall from my eyes involuntarily and it takes a moment for me to regain my composure and stand.

I ease my way to Gleason Rd, making sure that no one is on foot looking for me. About 10 yards from the road I step into the creek and as slowly and quietly as I can, move toward the road. My eyes are darting in all directions, expecting a Sad-Man to jump out at me, but before I know it I’m in the culvert that allows Moon Brook to flow under the roadway. When I exit on the other side, I stay in the water for a bit and then move back onto dry ground. I follow Moon Brook a half mile to the Gables. The Gables was a retirement community before The Event. Once I make it to the Gables, I will have tree coverage all the way back to Town Line Rd. As long as I can cross Town Line without being seen, I’m confident Beau and I will make it back home safely.

Back in the bunker I turn on a lantern and check my nose in the mirror. The bleeding has finally stopped (my shirt is bloodsoaked and will need to be destroyed) but I look awful. I clean myself up the best I can and then return to the main space. I turn on the radio. The Sad-Men use the radio waves to communicate with each other, so I will be able to hear what they know. Also, they keep one news channel in operation to keep everybody in their organization abreast of any developments connected to The Event. I lie down on my bunk and Beau hops up and curls up next to me. I calmly stroke his fur while I listen to the activity back in town.

“No sign of her here, Chief. If she came this direction, she hid it well.”

“Chief, car 6. Same here. I found one footprint in some mud along Moon Brook north of Gleason Rd. Definitely small enough to be hers, but I didn’t find anything else.”

“Okay, everybody back to your posts. I’ve informed…”

I turn the radio off. Though I was ninety-five percent sure they hadn’t been able to track me, it settles my mind to know for certain. I’m annoyed with myself for leaving even a wayward footprint behind, but the one thing I know for sure is that the Sad-Men are not very smart. Even if they decided I was heading toward the Gables, that’s where their search would end.

I pick up the book laying on the floor and start to read. When I’m not scouring the town for supplies, trying to gather information about the Sad-Men or The Event on the radio, or playing with Beau in the forest, I am reading. My current material is Cody Lundin’s When All Hell Breaks Loose: Stuff You Need to Survive When Disaster Strikes. I’ve read dozens of survival manuals, but I happened to spot this one the last time I visited the old library, and almost every time I read one, I pick up a new skill or bit of knowledge.

I read for quite a while but stop when I hear Beau snoring next to me. Normally we would go outside for a bit and hunt or play, but after our close encounter, I’m a bit worn out myself. I get up and check my nose in the mirror again. I still look terrible and my nose pulses with pain, but I can tell it will heal decently. I probably would have been better off having a doctor fix it, but I don’t have that luxury anymore. I return to bed and lie down on my back facing the ceiling. Even though I don’t have the energy to take Beau on an adventure, I’m not necessarily tired. I decide to compose a song.

As I lie here darkness all around

I start to wonder why I deserve

To be left here all by myself

In a world so full of despair

Though I try it's difficult to see

The future laid out ahead of me

Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing all right

I have what it takes to stay in the fight

But on days like this, it’d be nice to know

There’s someone to talk to waiting at home

When I step outside the world is cold

Even July chills me to the bone

It’s not the weather

Not the wind nor the rain

It’s the sadness all around

That keeps bringing me down

Don’t get me wrong ,I’m doing all right

I have what it takes to stay in the fight

But on days like this, it’d be nice to know

There’s someone to hold me waiting at home

I know I’m fortunate

I’m not ungrateful

Yet loneliness wears on the mind

I’d give up anything

To go back to a day

Before everything turned cold and gray

Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing all right

I have what it takes to stay in the fight

But on days like this, it’d be nice to know

There’s someone to love me waiting at home

Someone to talk to

To hold

To love

Waiting for me at home

As the soft echo of my voice fades away inside the bunker, I stare into space, tears falling from the corners of my eyes.

The feel of Beau’s velvet tongue on my hand wakes me up. At first I’m disoriented. I’ve forgotten where I am. I’m not at home, nor anybody else’s house for that matter, and this isn’t a hospital. Then The Event comes rushing at me from out of the darkness and I know exactly where I am. I turn on the lantern and look at the clock on the wall. It’s almost 1:00 am the next day. I must have fallen asleep around 7:00 am the day before. I can’t believe I slept that long. I’m sure Beau has been up for a while but he let me rest until he knew it was time to go outside.

I perform the daily preparedness routine and by 1:45 we are ready to go out the door. I perform my perimeter check, Beau performs his, and we are outside. We are not going on a mission today. We are not in real need of anything and I like to allow a day or two to go by before returning to town if I feel, or in this case know, I was spotted.

The town is west, so we head east, farther into the forest. I have a couple of traps I can check on and today I bring one additional item not normally in my pack, one of Beau’s tennis balls. Beau truly is my forever companion and though he is an excellent partner in crime, there are times I just want him to be a dog. I could just use a stick but we came upon a can of tennis balls on one of our missions and I couldn’t help but swipe them for Beau.

As we wander the forest in the middle of the night, I feel at peace. I have to be on alert nearly all of the time, so when we are wandering deep in the forest at this time of day, with only small duties to perform, I can allow myself to be calm. I throw the ball for Beau and he eagerly chases it while we make our way from trap to trap. We have three traps scattered around. Luckily, I didn’t have to rig anything up. I’ve confiscated three humane traps over time - one from Home Depot and two from a hardware store.

I know what you’re thinking: those must have been difficult to carry, especially quietly, and you are not wrong. Each time I found one, I stashed it somewhere it wouldn’t be seen and returned to get it later. I still carried all of the supplies that go in my jacket or on my person, but the backpack and its contents, I left home. All I brought were three bed sheets that I carried in a stuffable nylon sack. Two of the sheets I crammed inside the trap to keep the inside bits from rattling around and the third one I wrapped around the trap, threw over my back, and knotted in front of me. Then I immediately returned to the bunker.

When Beau and I reach the first trap, it is upside down and the bait is gone. This happens from time to time. Most likely a black bear wanted what was inside and being too big to fit in, just batted it around a bit until the food either fell out or was accessible. I don’t mind but I do have to take some time to bend it back in shape (mostly by sitting and kneeling on it - I’m lucky he didn’t crush it completely) and will have to relocate the trap. Now that something too large to be caught knows it’s here, they will return. I pick the trap up and carry it with me, still playing fetch with Beau, until we locate the second trap. The second trap is empty and still has the bait. If a trap goes too long without catching anything, I will relocate that trap as well, but this one has produced results regularly, so I just switch out the bait for something fresh (marshmallows are great for catching raccoons) and head off toward the third trap.

I know we’ve caught something before we get there because Beau drops his ball and trots off ahead of me. He knows not to go so far as to leave my sight, but he’s excited because this might mean meat for dinner.

When I get close enough to see what we’ve caught, a pair of yellow eyes stare up at me. I can tell immediately it’s a raccoon. A small flare of elation fills my body. We’ll be eating well later today. I don’t remove the raccoon and dress it here. That would lead other animals to the site plus it’s easier to do where there’s a water source, so I bait and leave the trap I was going to relocate and take the trapped raccoon with me. This particular raccoon is on the young side, but he’s still heavy. Beau and I find a spot along North Cold Creek to do the dirty work.

I take off my gloves, push up my sleeves, and remove my knife from its sheath. I insert it into a hole in the cage and when the raccoon is positioned just right, plunge the knife into its head. It stops moving after only a few seconds. I remove it from the cage and plunge it into the water, using some sand and small stones to scrub the fur. Raccoon’s carry a lot of unpleasant things in their fur and I want it as clean as possible before trying to remove the skin so I don’t taint the meat. Once I’m confident he’s clean enough, I start to skin him. When I first started trapping and preparing wild game, it took me much too long and there would be very little meat when I was done. By now though, I was getting fairly good at it. Keeping your knife sharp is essential for quick skin and organ removal. Once skinned, I take off the head and rear appendages and then slit our dinner down the belly to remove the innards. I’m done in half an hour which isn’t too bad. Unfortunately, I’m not done yet. I need to soak the carcass. I don’t really have to but it helps leech some of the gamey flavor out of the meat. Beau couldn’t care less about that, but it’s difficult for me to eat if the flavor is strong. I cut a length of nylon cord and tie it around the front legs and then tie it to a large rock in an area of the stream that is deep and fast enough the raccoon won’t repeatedly bounce off the bottom on the riverbed. We’ll come back in a few hours to retrieve him.

Before we head back, I quickly strip down and bath myself in the creek. Not only to get the blood off of me but the everyday build up of grime and body odor. Whenever I’m near running water I try to clean myself. I’ve never been fond of being dirty. I don’t mind getting dirty, I just don’t want to stay that way. Therefore, any opportunity I get to bathe, I do so.

After dressing, I reset the third trap in a new location, and Beau and I walk back to the bunker. As we stroll leisurely through the wood, I hear a sound off in the distance to the west. It’s faint at first but grows steadily louder with each second. It’s a helicopter and it’s coming this way. I give a quick whistle, and Beau comes directly to me. I’m not extremely worried about being spotted. The forest is dense, it’s dark out and, as always, I’m dressed in black. Nonetheless, as little movement as possible is always a good thing. I lie down, back to the ground, and take out my binoculars. Beau also gets low and we wait. A few moments later the helicopter flies right over us at speed. I let a minute or so pass before getting up. This flyover doesn’t appear to be related to Beau and I but we make haste to home base.

Safely inside our shelter, well hidden from the watchful eyes of the Sad-Men, I prepare a marinade for our raccoon. It will still be many hours before we can cook and eat our catch but my mouth is watering in anticipation. While I busy myself with the cooking preparations, I have the radio on in the background. For the most part things seem to be quiet today. There is some idle chit chat being shared by the Sad-Men but ultimately they’ve mentioned nothing of import.

Once the marinade is done, Beau and I sit on the bed together and I read while he rests. The radio is still on, but I have no problem reading with background noise. In fact, I’m feeling quite content. Beau and I enjoyed our hike today, we will be dining on some tasty vittles a few hours from now, and I’m now filling my mind with information, my trusted companion by my side. For a few moments I’ve forgotten how bad things are in the real world until the Chief’s voice suddenly flies out of the radio speakers into my ears and I hear, “We’ve pinged a radio frequency in Plotterskill Forest.”

It has started raining since Beau and I were out earlier in the morning. I’m wearing the wrong footwear, but I don’t have the time to go back inside and change into boots. I need to shut the antenna down before they are able to triangulate the signal and pinpoint exactly where it’s coming from. Though it is about a quarter mile away, and the bunker would still be difficult to find hidden underground, I do not want to allow the Sad-Men to have any advantage in finding me.

I weave in and out of the trees like a running back dodging defenders in his pursuit of the endzone. Unlike a running back however, my feet are skidding and slipping each time I hit a muddy patch, and I fall down a couple of times. I scurry back to my feet each time and ten minutes later I’m at the base of a tall white pine. You wouldn’t know unless you were looking for them specifically, but there are small footholds hammered into the trunk. I scale the tree as quickly as I can without being careless about it. Eventually the footholds are no longer there but the branches are close enough I can climb the rest of the way. The antenna is at least one hundred feet from the ground, well-hidden among the upper boughs.

Having scaled to the appropriate height, I throw my leg over a branch and straddle it. Before me is a small control box about the size of a music box. It has a five digit combination lock on it, mostly to keep marauding forest critters from getting in, yet you can never be too careful. I turn each gear to the proper number (12723 - the date the event occurred), remove the lock, and open the box. All I do is flip a switch but once it’s done I feel immediate relief. The antenna will not send a signal again until I climb back up and turn it on.

I close the box, lock everything back up, and start back down the tree. Even with that task complete, my mind still races with what I need to do next. I have no idea whether or not the Sad-Men had already narrowed down their search before the antenna was powered down, so I have to make decisions as if they did. Beau and I are going to need to keep a low profile for a bit, even limiting our time just hanging out in the nearby trees. I may even have to find a place in town where I can make it appear a camp was set up and lure the Sad-Men there to throw them off my trail.

With all of these thoughts taking up space in my head, my attention lapses and my right foot slips off the branch I’ve just put all of my weight on. I fall a few feet, my left leg catches another branch, turning my body horizontal, and I land belly-first on a third branch. Unfortunately, I’m disoriented, and don’t have the wherewithal to grab hold until I’ve almost slipped all the way off this particular arm of the tree. When all is said and done, I am hanging suspended tens of feet above the ground with my two arms stretched above me, one hand on either side of the branch. If Beau can see me I must look like one of those plush toy monkeys with velcro hands that you sometimes see hanging from people’s rearview mirrors.

My situation isn’t terrible, but I’m facing away from the trunk which makes things more difficult. The branch is too wide and slippery to attempt repositioning myself; my only hope is I can shimmy my way back to the tree and use my legs to help turn around. I slowly move the hand closest to the trunk backward a few inches and then do the same with the other hand. I’m making good progress when the bark under my left hand gives way and I’m falling again. I make contact with only two more branches during the fall. My backpack takes the brunt of the impact from the first, so really isn’t an issue. The second, on the other hand, must have had a broken piece of branch sticking out and it rips through my pants into my right leg. I can feel the searing pain in my leg as I fall the rest of the distance to the ground.

The air is forced from my lungs as the left side of my body meets the rain-soaked earth. As I gasp helplessly for air, my body aches and I can feel the blood leaking from the gash in my thigh. I feel Beau nudging me with his nose and even in my pain I’m thankful I didn’t land on him. Finally, I catch my breath, air rushes into my lungs, and I can breathe freely once again. I sit up and check the rest of my body. Lots of aches and sites where there will be bruising, but surprisingly, I don’t think I’ve broken anything.

I retrieve my flashlight, turn it on, and place the end in my mouth. I put my fingers into the rip in my pants and tear the leg wide open. Blood is oozing from a three-inch laceration in the outer part of my right thigh. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be but it will need some serious attention if I want to prevent infection. I shrug the backpack off of my shoulders and pull it beside me. I open it and retrieve the first aid kit and a bottle of water. Opening the first aid kit, I remove the scissors. I cut the leg off of my pants, tear it into four wide strips, and lay them across my left leg. I open the bottle of water and use half of it to rinse the wound. I take one strip and then a second, soak them with the remaining water, wring them out, and pack them on top of the cut. The other two strips I wrap around my leg, with some overlap, and then tie off behind my thigh. Finally I take the roll of medical tape from the first aid kit and secure my makeshift bandage into place.

Throwing the first aid kit and empty water bottle into my backpack, I use Beau to help me stand and we slowly make our way home. Once inside, I strip off my wet clothes, dry off both Beau and myself, and wrap a towel around me. I grab the bloodstained shirt I was wearing when I broke my nose the other day, as well as the iodine I confiscated on our last mission, and drop it onto the bed. I retrieve the sewing kit from the drawer in the bedside table and then gingerly lower myself onto my mattress. I unwrap my leg so I can finally assess the damage with proper lighting. It’s neither good nor bad news. It’s long and jagged, but not as deep as I’d feared, and the bleeding has nearly stopped. Luckily, it appears that I didn’t sever any major blood vessels. I use the already bloodied shirt to apply the pressure needed to further slow the bleeding. After a few minutes of sustained heavy pressure, I feel it's okay to try and mend my leg. I disinfect the area and a thick sewing needle with iodine then sew up my thigh. Though I didn’t cry when I fell out of the tree, I do now. I pride myself on being tough, but sticking a needle into your own skin to sew your flesh together is no easy task and hurts like the dickens. So, as the tears fall, I watch myself make artful stitches in my own leg. When I’m done, I’m impressed with how good it looks. I sweep all my supplies onto the floor and ask Beau to hop up on the bed with me. I turn off the light, pull Beau in close, then lie down and cry myself to sleep.