Aftermath of the Reckoning

Chapter 2

Justin “Patch” McGregor treaded carefully through the dense brush of the forest, bow and arrow skillfully aimed toward a distant noise.

Sorry White Ears, you’re going to die today.

Every morning for the past week, the 6 point buck with white spotted ears taunted him, standing at a proximity just outside the bow’s reach. Today was no different as the buck meandered behind a large oak just as Patch prepared to release the arrow.

Patch was one of the few members of Harvesters assigned to hunt meat. Of the fifty-ish tribe members, nearly half gathered fruits and vegetables. Only eleven hunted. It was considered a privilege to wield one of the remaining bows of old.

However, if Patch’s bad luck continued, Howitzer, the tribe leader, would demote him. The tribe simply could not afford wasting a bow on a member who failed to produce. Last winter, many died from starvation or sickness. They had to increase their food reserves to survive.

Stepping lightly, Patch continued moving in the direction of White Ears until he heard a crashing sound to his right.

A trap worked? What?

Their traps almost never yielded prey in recent years. The intelligence of the fauna in the area seemed to increase since the Reckoning and very rarely did they fall susceptible trapping efforts.

Lowering the bow, Patch turned toward the sound.

It was probably just Karnakle stumbling on a root again.

Karnakle Drover joined Harvesters last year, just a month before Patch. A large bearded man at nearly six and a half feet, he stood almost a full head taller and wider than Patch’s thinner five foot seven inch frame. They attended the same training sessions, learning to hunt, fight and subsist off the land. Karnakle managed to join the hunters by pure luck. His clumsiness was only surpassed by blind luck, allowing him to capture more wild game than Patch more often than not. Both in their early twenties, they generally got along, but Patch preferred to hunt alone.

“Hey Patch, ya hear that?” Karnakle bellowed from a distance.

“Yeh, goin’ to check it out.” Patch yelled. “I’m not letting you get ahead of me today, this one is all mine!”

“Too late!” Karnakle laughed. “Got myself a hog twice the size of your big head, prettier too!”

Patch ignored the comment and moved deeper in the direction of the noise. After a few paces, however, he froze.

Howitzer demanded the immediate the killing of all humans found in the Harvester’s hunting grounds. Tribe warfare had reduced their territory and what remained had to be protected at all costs.

The woman on the ground appeared lifeless, unmoving. Leg bleeding and burned, she needed medical assistance.

Wrong place, wrong time babe.

Knowing she was playing dead, Patch raised the bow and aimed...but hesitated.

“Hey there buddy, not so fast.” Karnakle trundled up from behind, placing a large hand on Patch’s shoulder. “Not too often we get a looker in these parts.”

Patch lowered the bow. “Howitzer…”

“Howitzer can suck my dick!” Karnakle laughed as he dropped the hog and approached the figure. “After I get done with her of course.”

Karnakle kicked the girl. “Time to wake up sweetheart.”

Nothing.

Noticing the snare, Karnakle grinned. Nothing like a little pain for breakfast. Bending down he grabbed the wire and pulled. Strangely the girl’s leg didn’t move.

Suddenly the girl’s arm jerked back and a large stick emerged from the leaves. Snare wire coiled around the stick, Zoey pulled hard.

Karnakle stood in surprise, no longer holding the snare. Looking down he saw three fingers on the ground as pain shot up his arm.

“THE FUCK!” Karnakle cried in agony. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Zoey stood.

“You move, you die!” Patch yelled, aiming the bow at her.

Karnakle ripped his shirt and wrapped it around his bleeding right hand. Towering over Zoey, his left hand shot out circled entirely around her throat. Lifting Zoey off her feet and slamming her into the tree, Karnakle grinned. “I was going to have a bit of fun with you girl. Play time is over.”

Clawing at the large arm futilely, Zoey felt her consciousness and strength start to fade.

Karnakle squeezed. “That’s right girl, go to sleep. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. No, when you wake up, you’ll understand a new meaning of suffering.”

***

Zoey awoke to excruciating pain in her leg.

Returning a bottle of vodka to his pocket, Patch stood. “Sorry girl, had to apply some disinfectant. That snare cut ya pretty bad.”

The snare, it’s gone.

Zoey attempted to stand but sat back down quickly.

“You lost a good deal of blood, I wouldn’t try to move around just yet.” Patch said.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Zoey asked, looking for the large man while massaging her throat.

Patch knelt and looked into her eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He won’t cause trouble no more. Your name?”

Checking her pockets, Zoey breathed a sigh of relief to discover the Bloodflower still safe. “Zoey, and you?”

“Justin, but people call me Patch. We gotta get you outta here fast.” He looked to the south, and listened.

Eyeing her captor, Zoey reckoned he was perhaps an inch or two taller than herself. Coffee colored hair spilled onto his forehead, too short to hide his piercing cobalt eyes. His gray jacket likely concealed other weapons in addition to the bow and machete hanging on his tattered jeans. Threadbare hiking boots supported his weight, which did not appear substantial.

At this range, I could snap his neck quickly and escape. Unless the big guy is still around.

“Alright, hop on, let’s go.” Patch turned his back toward her.

Surprise replaced suspicion as Zoey forced herself to stand again. “I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

“Zoey, we got about five minutes before other hunters reach this area. If you can move and want to live, then I suggest you follow me now.”

“Follow you?”

“No time for questions, let’s go.” 

Zoey could hear the others approaching now. A cacophony of shifting leaves, branches and men yelling. Lacking other options, she followed.

***

Patch looked back to see Zoey limping slightly as she struggled to keep pace. At least two hours of daylight remained, though he could no longer hear the voices of his tribe.

We’re being tracked, not much time.

Jumping down a small cliff, Patch breathed easier seeing the brush hiding the entrance to his small cave undisturbed. Zoey slid down with unexpected grace.

If she is in pain, she hides it well. 

Moving the brush aside slightly, Patch headed inside and beckoned Zoey to follow. She did.