Feral - A Septiplier Fanfiction

Ch.8

As days went by and Mark slowly regained strength from fox pieces that Jack would slide under the door, the more crazed and restless he became. Mark paced back and forth with soft growls every morning that Jack passed the small portions to him, and he was afraid of letting him out of the room.

Jack knew eventually he was going to have to let him out; nothing about his plan had anything to do with keeping Mark locked up until his death. But he was terrified of being attacked after surviving this long, and even more frightened of Mark running off and losing all progress- if it was possible to call any of this progress.

Considering Jack had been able to lift Mark up a few times and was able to feed him like Felix did for Marzia, he felt he was a lot better off than he once dreamed about. Now it just depended on if Jack could continue making progress or if this was as far things would be able to go.

When Jack had time to himself after eating and finding water, feeding Mark, and building fires (which was becoming extremely difficult after stripping a lot of the nature of its supplies that was around him, and with the weather acting up), he was usually exploring the house. It was fairly large and always had hidden nooks and crannies that interested him and despite most of the place being looted before, he still managed to find captivating secrets or items.

Jack knew for example, that there had been a child living there at some point, what with marker drawings all over the walls or a few drawings on regular paper. It normally consisted of happy families and big smiley faces until Jack found one specific one covered in black crayon, with giant teeth coming out of it. He hoped it had nothing to do with Ferals.

He also found some old exercise equipment in a spare room upstairs, a few dumbbells, exercise bike, and a pull up bar. Of course no one was going to steal these in the middle of chaos and weigh themselves down when food and weapons were a priority; but Jack felt if he was going to stay here a while, he might as well use those to buff himself up and prepare himself for anything.

So whenever Jack felt the need to let off steam or build himself up, he would work out in that small, spare room, with difficulty from his stumped arm but still determined. Normally what would drive his motivation was Mark's growling downstairs, or the unknown noises outside, to ready himself for anything. He grew stronger so that the next meal he killed wouldn't be so difficult, he grew stronger so that if he had to relocate maybe he could put up a bigger fight with Mark. He grew stronger to survive.

The next time Jack was out hunting almost a week later and once almost all of the fox had been eaten up, he brandished his knife steadily and focused his eyes in the smallest crevices for anything that might be hiding. A squirrel, a bird, a Feral.

Jack squeezed the handle of his knife and tried to even out his breathing, heart pounding in his chest. He crept down the road from his little house, feeling vulnerable after a few feet away. Though he hadn't specifically heard nor seen another Feral since Mark attacked that pack, he was still under the sensation that he was in danger. He knew he hadn't gotten confidently strong within a week and he was sure it wouldn't matter anyway with how tough the Ferals seemed to be, but trying was all that mattered right now.

Suddenly, he heard soft feet scattering down the road and turned his head to spot a deer, obviously not fit to handle the temperature. Jack hesitated before mentally shrugging as he slowly began to sneak towards the deer. It must have heard because with a flick of the ear and swish of the tail, it took off galloping down the sidewalk. He had no time to wonder why the wild animals were no longer in the wooded areas, he just noticed that his dinner was getting away, and took off after.

The deer was much faster even in its weak state, or maybe Jack was even more pitifully weaker, but that didn't stop him from following the muddy trails through what used to be someone's backyard, and towards the woods in that area.