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Nothing.
Strangely, the absence of noise didn’t make me feel any better. It must have been over an hour before I finally got off the floor and tiptoed through the cabin. I moved slowly, guided only by moonlight. Keeping the lights out seemed the best option for now, but I didn’t want to bump into anything and make a sound that could draw attention from anyone lurking nearby. I didn’t dare light the stove, despite the cold already seeping in. There were a couple of decent sleeping bags in the closet, and if I didn’t open the door, I should be warm enough.
I didn’t sleep that night. I lay on the sofa, awake and wrapped in two sleeping bags, with Samson beside me. Waiting, day after day, wondering if there was danger out there had been nothing compared to knowing there was danger and that it was close by. Every little sound, every breaking twig, rattle of the shutters, and creak of wood sent adrenaline pumping through my veins.
The rising sun brought no relief.
I wasn’t a child. I knew that terrible things didn’t happen only at night. I spent the entire day watchful for any sign of trouble. I stayed in the cabin, kept the windows shuttered, and kept the door firmly closed.
As darkness fell and the cold in the cabin deepened, I stared at the propane heater. It took me several moments before I finally turned the knob and lit the thing. Feeling bolder, I decided to risk lighting a few lamps, too.
I kept the rifle propped up against the wall beside the door, just in case.
Sitting beside the heater, I warmed my hands and thought about my situation. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to feel safe. Was this my new normal? How long could I go on like this? I wondered. How long before it wasn’t the cold or even loneliness that undid me, but fear?
18
VINCENT
By the time the sun had set and I opened my eyes the next evening, I knew what I needed to do. I hurried around my room, gathering the clothes I’d washed and hung up to dry. I repacked those items alongside the rest of my meager belongings that I hadn’t bothered to unpack in the first place. Dressing in my preferred dark clothes and long wool coat, I left the room for the last time.
I reached the bottom of the stairs before I encountered Nathaniel, with Jonathan at his side. Nathaniel noticed my pack, and his expression shifted into an unreadable mask.
“So you’re leaving,” he said. Although he controlled his face, his hard voice resonated with disappointment and anger. “You haven’t even given it a chance yet.”
I took a deep breath. “You know I would if I could, but what you’re doing here…” I looked toward the front doors, thinking of the misery across the yard. “This isn’t humane or sustainable. There has to be a better way.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot. You’re such a humanitarian. At least we don’t toy with them, Vincent,” Nathaniel snapped. “They’re just food. Just food. You need to get over this hang-up, or you will starve.”
“I’m sorry, Nathaniel, but I can’t—not yet. I need to try something different.”
“There’s nothing different out there. This is your best shot. The world is either dying or already dead, and you’ll be too if you go out there alone.” His voice softened along with his gaze. “The best chance any of us have is to stick together and get through this any way we can,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.
I stepped closer and opened my arms. Nathaniel hesitated but then stepped into my embrace.
“I know we just reunited, but I need to do this. I have to see if I can change,” I said. I stepped back and looked into my oldest friend’s face. I hated what I saw there: worry and pity. “This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, I promise.”
Nathaniel let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t know that. But I’ll be here waiting, just in case I’m wrong.”
Jonathan stepped forward and offered his goodbye. However, there was no sign of Anna. I suspected she wouldn’t be upset by my departure.
As I walked through the lobby, with Nathaniel and Jonathan following behind, I spotted Richard in his usual spot by the fireplace. This time, Richard bowed his head—in farewell. He, too, wouldn’t mourn my departure. Nathaniel and Jonathan saw me to the porch. They stood together, watching me leave, until I was too far away to see them when I turned back.
The weather was good, the sky was clear, and the moon still cast enough light to guide my path. I went straight to the young man’s cabin. I realized it would only be a matter of time before a hunting party returned to retrieve the human. The thought of them dragging him off was too much for me. This man and I were both entangled in the same disaster. We were both far from the lives we’d first known when we’d encountered one another. I felt we deserved a chance at something better than what the lodge offered. I wasn’t certain what I would say to the man, but I knew this was the right thing to do.
I had hoped to have a plan by the time I reached the cabin, but I found myself standing on the man’s porch, with no idea how to begin and a nervous knot in my stomach. I took a deep breath, knocked on the door, then stepped back from the porch. The human seemed cautious, and I didn’t want to alarm him or get shot before I could explain myself.
The man hadn’t lit a fire that evening, and all the windows were shuttered from the inside, obscuring the soft glow of what were probably lanterns. He was clever. Movement caught my eye, and one of the shutters pulled slightly apart, revealing the barrel of a rifle poking through the gap—aimed directly at me. The man wasn’t defenseless either.
“Who’s there?” he called in a voice that was strong and deep, quite at odds with the soft murmurs from the previous evening.
“I mean you no harm,” I called out. “I came to warn you about the trouble you heard last night.”
“Was that you?”
“No, I don’t have any weapons,” I said, dropping the bag from my shoulder and raising my hands. “I just want to talk to you, if that’s okay?”
The moon’s glow reflecting off the snow suggested the man could likely see well enough to aim at me, but I wasn’t certain how much the human could make out in the dim light.
