And Then the Trees Came Knocking

Chapter 6

Pain in my abdomen woke me. The room blurred and spun as I opened my eyes. I found myself sitting on a bed beside a window. The curtains were drawn shut, but light peeped through the folds. 

I sat up. Pain stung my right temple and I touched my head. A crusted bandage was taped to my skin over the wound. 

My abdomen ached. I had to pee like crazy. Still, I took my time standing up and navigating the dim room towards the door. 

There was no one in the apartment. Thankfully the front door was closed and, other than a trail of blood, no other signs that the bloodwoods had come in.

 The bathroom was in a short hallway beyond the kitchen. I crept down the hall and relieved myself with the door open. I remained alert. I did not flush in case the sound drew them.

Memories of the bloodwood attack flashed across my mind. Electricity did the trick. It didn't kill it, but it was an even better deterrence than the gun. Speaking of which, Freddy was gone too.

A smart clock in the living room told me I'd been knocked out for two days. Panic set in. I sat down for a moment to catch my breath. 

"Two days," I whispered to myself. My hands shook. I took a moment to listen.

Silence. Dead silence.

Not a single scream or bang echoed from anywhere nearby. Earlier, before my injury, that's all there was. Now, nothing. Even the distant police sirens were mute.

After I made my way back to the bedroom, I crawled on the bed and peeked out the window. This floor was still high up enough to have a decent view of the city. 

Brown smog thickly coated over the streets. Only the tops of actual trees and other nearby buildings could be seen. Smoke billowed from the distance. Buildings were burning, but no firefighter was left to put them out. 

The city was silent. There was nothing. No sign of survivors. No sign of anything. 

I slid open the window and peeked my head out. Down at ground level stood two bloodwoods. One was large like the one that struck me. The other was much smaller, similar to the size of the one that ate the bus driver. Maybe these things grew when they...ate. 

The small bloodwood shifted suddenly. I ducked my head in before it could spot me.

"Fuck this," I hissed to myself as I slung into action. I had to get out of here. I had to make it all the way down the stairs and past those things outside. And then I would keep going. It was useless to make a plan as to where since I didn't even know what the hell was going on.

But it was too easy to stay in that apartment. I could live there for maybe two or three weeks off the current supplies (if the water didn't turn off). I could creep from apartment to apartment to replenish my stock, and spend my days waiting for help. 

But my sanity would chip away with every passing hour. I needed to keep moving. My instincts told me this. I had to keep moving.

In the kitchen I found a can of Spam and deviled eggs that served as an appropriate binge meal. I quietly ransacked the apartment. 

My taser was gone. Freddy had it, wherever he was. I hoped he was alive. He and Ernestine saved me. My backpack was left behind on the bus. I had nothing. I needed to assemble a survivor kit.

I found a backpack that belonged to someone presumably in high school. Based on the pictures, an old lady lived here. The backpack must've belonged her grandchild. My heart hurt at the thought of where they were now. 

I stuffed the backpack with food, a small sewing kit, basic medical supplies, and bottled water. I wished I could fit more but I couldn't have it too heavy. 

Luckily, this old lady was still old school. She had a disposable camera. In my rebellious high school days, my friends and I fashioned a disposable camera into a low voltage taser. It would only work a few times, but it was perfect. 

I popped the camera open and reconfigured the wires with tape and scissors. The end result gave me a makeshift taser with enough juice to at least sting the bloodwood a little. I put that in my pocket.

My last weapon was a spear. I shaved the end of a wooden broomstick into a sharp point and taped a knife to its other end. 

I cracked open the door and used one of her tiny makeup mirrors to survey the area. It was clear. With one last nod to the woman in the pictures, I left the apartment.