Right where you left me {a Joel Miller fanfiction}

Chapter 1 - Frozen Pines

"And I look up to the sky, and I know you're still alive. But I wonder where you are. I call your name into the dark." - Frozen Pines, Lord Huron

-————————————————————-

November 2023, Somewhere in Missouri

I jumped awake, knife still clutched tightly in my right fist that was laid on my chest. Waking up this way had become a routine over the past few years since leaving the Boston QZ, not that it was overly safe there either but at least I wasn't alone.

Being alone hadn't bothered me until the late winter where it seemed to be like a black abyss outside, making me realise just how secluded my little cabin that I'd come to call home was.

After my eyes had adjusted to the morning light or rather lack thereof, I placed my knife on the bedside table, stretching and then making my way out of the small bedroom. I headed to the kitchen, grabbing a blanket that was hanging around the back of the couch to wrap around myself. I shuffled around, digging through the drawers for some matches to light up the wood-burner stove to make an instant coffee in an attempt to warm myself up. While I didn't have all the luxuries I could dream of, I was proud of the collection of food and other essentials I'd managed to gather over the years.

Before making breakfast I wandered into the living room once again, to the beat up record player left by whomever had lived here before I had come along. I didn't have a huge collection of records, just ones I'd scavenged for in my trips to the larger towns for supplies. I bent down sifting through the collection before deciding on one of my luckiest finds, 'The Beatles: 1962-1966' Only the second vinyl was in it when I found it but it was a prized possession nonetheless. I carefully pulled the vinyl out the sleeve, placing it onto the record player and setting the needle down. It crackled to begin with before the slightly muffled boom of 'Help!' echoed through the house.

The cabin was rustic, but it was mine. Or as close to mine as anything had felt in years. I collected water from the stream and boiled it over the stove for washing, cut down wood from the surrounding forests for the wood-burner in the kitchen and the fireplace in the living room.

The real pain in my ass though, was the generator outside that offered me just enough power for a small amount of electrics. Most months I had to do without when I couldn't find any fuel but I had been especially lucky this month on one of my supply runs, hence why I could enjoy my record player, one of the only things that brought me joy these days.

I danced around in the kitchen as I made myself breakfast. I had been out hunting yesterday and despite the harsh winter I had come across a group of American bitterns near the river, several of which I had managed to shoot. They didn't have much meat on them. Really, it wasn't worth the hypothermia I nearly got from having to fish my arrows out of the water in the few times that I had missed from all their movement. But it was fresh meat no matter how much of it there was, so I took it happily.

The morning passed by fast and once the afternoon hit I got ready wearing almost all the thickest clothes I could stack on top of each other, the sight of myself in the mirror causing me to laugh. I grabbed my bow and a stack of arrows along with my shotgun that I had never been a fan of, it didn't aim right compared to my bow. I reminded myself to grab an axe and a bucket for collecting ice that were on the porch on my way out. I laced up my winter boots, standing to grab the large brown coat that despite how long it had been always reminded me of who it belonged to back in Boston before me.

I gathered the ice and wood in a matter of hours knowing that the daylight wouldn't last for long. I placed the bucket down on the porch step, the wood falling from my other arm as it became unbearable to the hold any longer. I lifted my red throbbing hands to my mouth, blowing hot air into them in an attempt to warm them up for long enough to chop the wood I'd gathered.