"It is a mans own mind, not not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways."
-Buddha
Snow covers the ground that I walk on, crunching under my boots. It decorates the tops of the bare trees with white. The crisp air bites at my flesh, but luckily I grabbed the crew cut sweatshirt I was wearing when Tyler and Christie found me. My ratty hair billows in the winter breeze, and my teeth chatter in the single digit temperature. Carter led us through the heavily wooded area across from the house. We were spaced out. Carter was in the front, alone, and Christie followed closely behind. Matt and Hattie walked side by side, making quiet conversation. And Tyler accompanied me.
We lagged behind the rest of the group, not wanting to get anywhere near Carter. Tyler tried to make small talk as we scavenged.
"I thought Hattie was supposed to be helping me babysit you," he jokes, watching his feet as he steps over a tree branch.
I look over at him clumsily tripping and can't help but smile slightly.
"Did you seriously just say that?" I sarcastically ask.
"What?" He replies defensively. "I just enjoy going on runs and you're kind of a burden."
"A burden?" I echo. "Are you kidding me? I can take care of myself."
He smiles and turns his head to look at me, but I turn away. I'm not in the mood.
"Ryan. Chill out. I was joking," he smiles. "God, you need to lighten up."
"You do realize I'm holding a machete,right?" I chuckle, bouncing the leather handle in my right hand.
"Like I said," he states. "Lighten up."
We both chuckle quietly, and my heart speeds up when Tyler nudges me jokingly. He makes me look like a fool whenever I'm around him. There's just something about him that could make a wilted daisy blossom into a rose in full bloom, and it's infatuating.
"This doesn't seem like much of a run, anyway," I comment, keeping my eyes trained on a distant I.
It stumbles through the snow, in pursuit of an unseen creature. Its arm hangs limply from its body, probably dislocated. I used to play this game where I would look at an I and try to guess how they died, but when you can't see their face it's kind of hard to tell.
"What do you mean?" Tyler asks, his eyes on the same thing I was looking at.
"We're wandering through the woods," I clarify. "Just hoping something will come up."
"What else can we do?"
"You have to fight. Fight for what you want, for what you need," I say, turning to look at him. "You can't get by just by hoping and praying. Not anymore."
Tyler remains silent for a good while and I start to get nervous that I said the wrong thing.
"I have," Tyler says. "I've never hurt anybody and I pray I never have to. Hope keeps me going."
I did say the wrong thing.
"How'd you make it this far, then?" I ask, coming off stronger than I intended.
"My dad," he starts. "He kept me safe from the get-go. We never stopped running, but we still came across bad people. My dad was tough, tougher than I'll ever be. He fought those people, and he always won. He was willing to do anything for me. That's how he died. We were running from some people and we ended up in a forest, a lot like this one actually,"he gestures around him. "We got stuck in a hoard of the dead. My dad told me that he would be a distraction and that I would run. I agreed and watched as he let them eat him alive so I could get away," he swipes a tear away. "Erik found me running and took me in. This group has protected me ever since. That's how I made it this far."
