The Way Back

Chapter 11

TRIS POV

My departure from Akron was too hasty.

Sure, the Enslavers were in the same junkyard as I was and could have easily caught me if I didn't sneak out in time, but what was the point of even escaping if I was going to be traveling to the next town empty-handed again?

I suppose I am being dramatic. I am extremely lucky to have come upon small ponds on my way through a monotonous, infinite forest, which I have been walking through for two days straight. Although I haven't been so fortunate when it comes to food.

And tonight, I am desperate. My growling stomach irritates me as I stumble along to the edge of the forest, finally exiting it. The trees blocked out a lot of sunlight, which I am grateful for, but it was replaced with humidity.

Now, as I step out and look up at the pink sky, I feel like I can breathe again. I am no longer suffocating as I scan the extensive land. It is flat and looks almost like a desert, yet there are a few buildings here or there. Gas stations, most likely. That is not going to be enjoyable to walk through.

Just then, my abdomen groans at me again, begging to be fed, and I sigh. I contemplated eating untrustworthy mushrooms or berries, but that is a death wish. Clearly I am not an expert on these things and could easily be poisoned if I picked the wrong plant.

A year ago, when I lost Rose, maybe I would have considered being reckless. But now things are different.

Now I am going home, and I didn't go through all I have experienced to give up and die carelessly.

I am a survivor.

Right as I am about to set up camp at the edge of the forest, movement to my left catches my eye. On instinct, I spin to the side, gun in the air, and fire at whatever was moving.

It takes me a moment to find the body of whatever I shot at. I am expecting to see something big that I could have easily targeted, not a measly squirrel.

When I see the dead rodent, I laugh. Like full-on throw my head back and chuckle. For days I have been starving, and when I finally find and kill an animal, it turns out to be a squirrel. Just my luck.

But I can't complain. It is food, after all.

Still trying to figure out how shooting the squirrel didn't cause it to explode or become inedible with its deformity—this gun contains long and thick bullets—I pick it up by its tail. It is not the most gruesome sight I have seen, but I still avert my eyes.

Setting it down along with my backpack and rifle, I get to work. After scavenging for branches on the ground and building a fire with the wood and a flare, I skin the squirrel with the knife in the backpack. It doesn't take long, though it seems like it because I am cutting open a dead animal. Narrowly avoiding gagging, I toss the hide somewhere in the bushes behind me, stick the squirrel on the tip of my knife, and roast it over the fire.

A smoky smell soon fills my nose. My mouth waters as I watch the cooking meat slowly rotate above the flames. I will probably drink more water than usual tonight, so I will need to go back to the skinny stream back in the forest before I set out tomorrow at dawn.

By now the sun has set. The vastness of the dark space in front of me should frighten me, but the bright stars and moon serve well as lights. I lean back against a tree and look up at the night sky when I take a bite of the charred meat. And even though it is bland and I have to stop and pick out bones, it is my first meal in days, and I couldn't be happier with the way it turned out.

Soon I find myself getting full between bites and sips of my water bottle. As I close my eyes and let my stomach settle, I smile to myself, content.