Mall Rats (reposted)

September 7th, Running Out

Matthew ran out of food two days later. 

It was his fault. He knew it was his fault. 

He dug around his backpack two more times for confirmation before zipping it up and punting it away with a frustrated scream.

Kicking didn't help. The anger was too stale to be sated by meaningless violence. He wasn't upset with the bag, he was upset with himself and there didn't seem to be a right way to express that. Beating up his backpack wasn't the way to go. It only made him feel sad and a little like a bully.

Matthew had known for a while, from before the first broadcast, that he was low on food. Up on the mountains his hope that the forest, zombies or not, would be better than this frozen hell kept him going when he couldn't any longer. And he was right. There were numerous towns and cities and settlements surrounding and peppered through the forest. He could see each pinpointed on his collection of maps. These meant stores and homes and and stores and home -usually - meant food.

He had ignored them all. Every single one. At first he had been too weak and then he had been too scared. And then through a series of strokes of good luck he came across homes and cars and those meant he didn't have to hit any areas of high population.

Now? 

After hearing the captain over the radio, after reviewing the maps, he realised how much good time he was making in the forest. Walking in a straight line was the fastest and most effective way to get anywhere. From here it was a straight shot to the coast. Any change of course, veering left or right, had the potential to put him days behind schedule and he wasn't sure how many days he had to spare. He was a guy with many miles ahead of him and only two feet to get him where he needed to go. He had no idea how many miles separated him the boat or how fast he could cover those unknown miles.

With all these unknown variables Matthew had hoped, he really had hoped, that he could have held off with the supplies he had until he came across a community that was directly in his path.

Hope, however, did not put food in his belly. It also did not magically put it in his bag. All of his partially well thought out plans became terrible plans within an instant. Honestly, it had been a terrible plan from the start. He was out of food and that was a fact.

He pulled out his maps for a consult.

There were a few places behind, a few to the side, and a few further in front. Matthew broke off a thin branch and dug around for his knife. The kick had dislocated the items in his bag. 

He took a wild guess to his location and measured from the imaginary spot to the named towns surrounding him with the stick and notches from his knife. The ones behind were theoretically closer but he would have to turn around and make his way back up again when he was done. The ones in front were the furthest but they put him closest to his destination. 

A glance at his empty bag reminded him that he didn't have a lot of journey in him.

He settled on Tempest Waters, described by map's rumpled back as 'Mount Royale's idyllic lakeside community'. It was a several mile beeline to the left. It wouldn't put him any further forward but it also wouldn't put him any further back. A good compromise.

"I got two months," he told himself as he rolled up his maps. "Two months is good time. This isn't about to push me behind schedule. I don't need to rush and push myself."

He didn't have to but Matthew wanted to rush. The faster he got where he was going the better he would feel. He finally, after all this time, had a chance. Freedom was right there. He could leave this damned place behind for one where he didn't have to sleep tied to trees with a gun in hand. 

Unconsciously, his hand slipped to the gun at his side. It's presence comforted him but only a bit. He hadn't needed it a while and sometimes he'd panic and wonder if it was there at all.

He wanted to rush because if he missed that boat he had no idea what he'd do. There'd probably never be another chance like this again. It's a miracle there was even a chance like this in the first place. He couldn't handle the idea of being stuck here forever. 

Still he needed food. And he needed it yesterday. There was no making it to that boat if he starved halfway there from being an idiot. Those soldiers weren't fanning out into the woods to find him. They were stationed at the dock and they were waiting. 

Matthew had a lot of dumb luck so far but he doubted it would carry him any further. He needed to take the initiative and get the supplies for himself.

"Alright, Mattie. All you have to do is make you way to TW, find a store, grab some stuff and dip. That's it."

Sounded easy enough. 

He didn't think about the walk there without food. He didn't think about whether or not the stores were empty. He didn't think about the things that could grab his throat and rip it out like cotton from a teddy bear. 

There was no need to think about all those things. He had a plan more solid than his last. Steps A through D. One, two, three and four. He just had to do it.

It took some time to refix his bag. Everything had its own precarious place in the jumble. 

He decided to keep the knife in his jacket pocket. It probably should be on his person in case of emergencies. He snapped the pocket closed and hoped that wouldn't hinder him if the time ever came. Still, it would be worse to have the pocket closed and stuck then to have the knife fall out in some embarrassing accident. Better to have than to have not.

His stomach hadn't rumbled yet, which was good, but it would. So he had to move.

It was hard. He stared unblinkingly at the path straight ahead for a good minute. The clear shot to his escape. The boat lay directly ahead. He stretched his hand in front of him and pointed at it, currently unreachable. Then he faced left. The clear shot to food.

Without another thought he put one foot in front of the other and set off.

Author's note in the external link. It can also be accessed through the linktree on my profile.