Dunamis

Chapter One: Something in the Dark

The summer storm passed leaving behind the remnants of its thick muggy air to settle heavily around the room gifting everything, myself included, with a sheer glistening coat of moisture, this only adding to my already heightened level of aggravation - humidity can do that to you.

"Get out!" I yelled. "Get out, get out, GET OUT!" The fleeing mice scattered off shimmying into tiny crevasses under the baseboards, their tiny tummies filled to capacity with half of my apples. I hardly have enough food to last until tomorrow night and no matter where I hide it in this place they find it. Fury food radars are what they are.

"Damn it!" I shouted as I gave the door a severe kick as retribution for allowing the thieving little rats past in the first place.

My God is it hot in here! I've taken up shelter in this ramshackle of a house the past three nights, tonight being my last as it's way too dangerous to stay put too long, especially as a girl traveling alone. I staked out the place for nearly a day to make sure no one was living here, but with all the vines and overgrowth covering the small shack the place nearly disappears into the woods around it; so I found it highly unlikely that anyone was home, or had been, or would be for that matter, any time in the foreseeable future. Several windows are missing, which is just as well because being closed inside in the August heat could kill me faster than anything else out there could. Okay, that's not entirely true, there are plenty of things out there that could kill me faster, but it is extraordinarily hot.

From the center of the floor came a questioning whine from Max, my best friend Kate's dumb yet ridiculously adorable boxer, where he lay flattened with paws spread in every direction as if he were a laid-out bear rug. I guess you could say I inherited him or rescued him, maybe both, after Kate didn't make it home after the blackout.

"Wanna go out?" I ventured, already knowing full well the answer. At that, his lifeless form took shape as he bounded to the door, tail wagging vigorously. His enormous head butted its way between my thigh and the opening door allowing him to push his way out. My mouth quirked a bit seeing him spring into action, his nose pressed to a scent in the wet leaves of the forest floor. He followed it about thirty feet before turning his head to me, waiting for his release.

"Go ahead." I smiled. "Have fun." At least one of us would be having a good meal tonight. Without further hesitation his nose, and tail, took off in overdrive. I wouldn't see him again 'til morning. It, unfortunately, had yet to occur to him to share any of his nocturnal findings so I've been on my own during the day playing hunter gatherer...minus the hunter part due to lack of skill and knowledge on the matter. It had become apparent that my gathering skills were lacking as well. I sighed as Max drew out of sight and turned back inside looking at my sad, near empty, little bag of food.

"So much for dinner." I muttered out loud to myself just for the sake of speaking. Too much quiet starts to get to you when you're alone for so long.

The shack, or cabin if you will, was miles and miles from any road so I felt a moderate touch of security, even when Max wasn't with me. Though in all honesty I wish he wouldn't go for so long. Most people who lived out here either fled farther south a year ago when this whole damned apocalypse started or are living together in small heavily armed communes in which case they let you know to get away long before you get to close to them. Still, you never know and must always remain cautious and alert...as well as terrified and panicked which are my much more common attributes. With that being said, I feel calm here. Well, calmer really... sort of safe actually. It's a feeling that has gone unfelt for some time, but I do feel it here. Could be the remoteness or just that my mind and body have had a couple days to rest. Aside from the freakishly sneaky mice this place offers my soul some peace. Can't put my finger on why.