These Days

These Days Chapter 3

               Chris has found a map. From where, the others don't ask, but they huddle around him as he circles where they are with a marker. He crosses out areas they've visited, marks down wooded areas, and taps at an open space that showed no significance to the mapmakers. Recalling an old farmhouse from a hiking trip, Chris tells them his plan, the same plan they've followed since this all began: get in, get everything, get out. The area was quiet when he came across it, but he took notice of the old man walking from the barn only a stone's throw away from the house. There's something there, he assures them. The trek will be worth it.

              The group mumbles among themselves their mutual hatred for leaving their safe area unguarded, nodding as they all accept the necessities to their trip. They have each learned on their own time that, eventually, what they have in this world shall be left behind. Shoulders are leaned on, and Chris' croons lull them to sleep.

             Chris wakes them in the morning. For Isaac he taps at his shoulder, for Eli he tugs at his hair, and for Harvey he whispers. They sit up in a synchronised fashion, rubbing eyes and heads and looking between each other. The sun has barely begun to rise, the sky a mixture of deep greys and promising pinks. Together they dress in fresh clothes that have long lost the scent of soap, mumbles of fantasies swirling among them, each about what they wish to find ahead of them.

           They set out after having been awake for only twenty minutes, each of them carrying empty duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Chris carries two. He leads his pack through a thin wooded area, avoiding the roads but staying close enough to know the way and hear anything out of the ordinary. The group is quiet, half asleep and running on instincts as the sun struggles to break through over the horizon.

            When they reach the farmhouse it's as silent as one could expect. The house is a deep brown, antique by the looks of it, and boasts a tall roof over two stories. Curtains have covered all visible windows. Behind the home is the barn and an empty corral. An old wind chime sings to them, and Harvey breaks away from the group to hop onto the porch and grab it from the cord it's hanging from, laying it down in the grass with a disgusted pull of his lips.

          The others climb up behind him as Chris tries the door. It's good news when they find it locked, if someone had been here already the door would swing open. But now they need to get inside. Chris figures it shouldn't be too hard, if the memory of the reaching-frail-age old man was anything to go by, so he looks around before down at his feet. There's a worn welcome mat, brown and black and showing its age. He leans down and looks underneath, a small smile appearing on him when he finds the key, and he once more finds himself homesick for the simplicities of a life before.

         Chris heads in and his pack follows him. They spread out easily in a practiced fashion while staying close enough in case of anything negative. The house gives them all a strange vibe, as everything inside seems to be just as it was before this mess happened. Not one item is array on the shelves, no overturned tables, nothing out of place. The only thing telling them no life was inside was the thin layer of dust resting on tabletops.

         At the lack of trouble, they gather in the kitchen. The can't believe their luck, each of them sporting a healthy grin as they look at one another. They murmur their happiness before going back to work, searching cabinets and, hell, even the fridge for items that may still be good. They gather dishes and glasses and canned items, even a jug of water. Forks, spoons, knives, and now they're chatting about living here. They all know it's a daydream, but it is a fine one.

          Eli is the one to notice the note on a cabinet. He glances at the others before reaching over and picking it up. He folds it with care before sliding it into his duffel for later reading.