Boondocks

Chapter 7: The Camp

FERN

"Where did you learn to do that?" Tex asked as I placed the poultice over the bear's wound.

"My daddy." I slumped back against a tree. The energy I'd had to keep going was gone. Could I even hunt here? Did they all talk? Why could it talk?

The look on Tex's face conjured memories of Daddy purchasing livestock at the fair. He studied me like a prized pig. "Do you know more about plants around here? Which ones are edible? Which aren't? Can any be used as a weapon?" He rattled the questions off one after the other without sounding rushed. His voice was a slow drawl, matching his name.

"Do people call you Tex because you talk like that, or do you talk like that because your name is Tex?" I plucked the question from the air so I wouldn't have to voice one of the many kicking the inside of my skull. To question was to acknowledge, and to acknowledge would solidify what was happening. My stomach clenched and growled, taking large, chomping bites at my backbone. I needed to hunt, but the odds of me finding anything else were slim, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to take the shot if I did. How would I eat? How would I live if I couldn't hunt?

"Is there someone following you?"

I jerked my gaze back to him. "No. Why? Did you hear something?"

He shook his head. "You're looking around like you're waiting for something." He shifted, then flinched and pressed a hand to his bandaged arm. "They call me Tex because I'm big."

Oh. Well. Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks, and I willed it back down with an intensity I didn't know I possessed. "Nobody is following me. I was hunting. I guess I still am." My stomach rumbled again, shouting it's opinion. I'd ignored it for too long. The rabbit had been too small.

Tex watched me with an intensity that made me feel like he could read my thoughts, and those feelings only strengthened when he answered the question blaring the loudest among them. "Its a mutation. The government has been dumping chemicals in the river not far from here, and it's done some things to the wildlife and the people who come in contact with it."

Images of extra eyes and ears assaulted my thoughts. "What kinds of things?"

He didn't speak for a moment. His attention kept shifting back to the plants, the poultices, my bow, then me, and I suddenly felt like I'd fallen into the opposite side of the hunt. "Things like me. I was six feet two inches when I first set up camp here. Now, I'm six foot nine. I weighed two-twenty. Now, I weigh two-eighty. I'm all muscle, Darlin', and while I don't sit on my ass, I don't lift near enough weight to be this way."

I examined him like a circus attraction, searching for wonders and oddities. He didn't look odd at all. Just big. His veins didn't bulge any more than daddy's had. His skin was deeply tanned, his arms coated in dark hair, and his hands had the same work-worn appearance of any farmer I'd ever met.

"Would you come back with us?"

I blinked and forced my mind to repeat his question. Come back with them? To their camp? Did I want to do that? "I'm not sure." I broke eye contact and looked around at the trees, the rays of sun breaking through the canopy. The birds gossiped among the branches, and cicadas hummed their constant songs. I'd been alone for so long, and I liked it that way. It was smarter, easier, safer. But maybe he had food. He didn't look like he'd been missing any meals, and I had to admit, despite the circumstances, it was really nice to speak out loud to another person.

"It's the least you can do," Tex drawled. "After all, you are the one that shot us. What if it gets infected? What if we need more of this stuff you made? We don't know how, and if I'm completely honest, I'd kind of like it if you'd show us."