Black Source #theWattys2016

Derek

            He timed the shot perfectly, dropping it motionless. The gunshot echoed through the dead trees, and before long more would be drawn to the noise. If he had stalled for even a second longer, he would've been dead. And although he moved constantly, his pursuers were never far behind, making it impossible for him to rest, something he desperately needed. With his heart still vying and the tremors in his shooting hand in full swing, Derek nudged closer to his dimming fire, its flames swimming his light grey orbs.

He sat for a moment, waiting.

He was quiet. He was cold.

Ever since his escape from the Skull Crushers, he had gotten little to no down time, having to run by day and hide by night. Yet, his tormentors were more vexatious than ever. Even with the harsh winter winds, they didn't relent.

Bundling himself tighter in his thin coat, Derek knelt down, and examined the eerie forest, wind moaning through the listless trees. Once the tremors in his shooting arm had finally subsided he staggered to his feet and searched the carcass, rigid cold stiffening his joints. Like all the rest he had killed before, it had a name. He pulled the wallet from its pocket and removed the driver's license—a useless artifact he couldn't help but nab whenever he had the chance. It was a habit of his, a hobby that kept him occupied with the mundane. The license read, Thomas Peterson, and looked like every other Illinois license. Studying the picture, he saw a normal, middle aged man. Even with what the virus turned them into, they had been human once. After pocketing the license, he reluctantly holstered his gun and blew into his cupped hands, trying desperately to heat them over his feeble fire.

"I thought I told you to keep watch," Derek said, looking at a wrapped package. "Yeah, I'm fine...Let's just keep moving before more show up." With things the way they were, he knew he wouldn't be safe in Mod Territory. It was dangerous for him to be anywhere near Arcana, the city of light.

Despite the nationwide quarantine, nothing could stop the virus from spreading. Early on reporters had said the urban areas were hit the worst and that none of the infected would go far beyond the cities, until they did. Once they were implemented, the testing facilities held off the virus for a short time. Like any sickness, the disease would spread if left untreated. It was only a matter of time. It had been ten years since the outbreak, since the chaos that collapsed the nation's government, ten long years since everything went terribly, terribly mad.

Tossing his rucksack over his shoulders, Derek left the body behind and huffed on, the fire sparking behind him. The distraction would buy him some time if indeed he was being followed, but not by much. The winter months were finally passing on to spring, but it all felt the same. Ever since Arcana, he was always cold. The merciless arctic howls, having lasted three months longer than prompted, made it impossible for him to find food. And being unlucky during what felt like an ice age, offered him little to no lenience. Regardless of what he wore, nothing kept him warm, and nothing ever seemed to. But unlike him, those things didn't care about the cold, they never slept, and they never got tired. They were the perfect hunters, and Derek was their prey.

Taking another handful of crackers, Derek lessened his already dwindling rations. And although he was exhausted, he forced himself to walk for another hour. He couldn't stay in the Conflict Zone—formally known as the center of America. It's a battle ground used for the total war between the factions and Arcana's Mod Army. A war that still persists to this day.

After battling the cold for some time, he finally submitted to his weariness. "This should be far enough," Derek said. Taking a seat, he unzipped his rucksack and pulled out a tattered gray tarp then wrapped it tight around his shoulders. Derek couldn't help his restlessness but it was a feeling he was accustomed to, just another thing he had learned to handle.