My legs ache in protest of what’s coming.
I watch Lee drag his meaty finger down the map until the tip lands on Eguisheim, down by the border of Switzerland and Germany. I tune out most of what happens next. Talk of whether to head north and avoid the towns or west into the national park, where there is sure to be lakes for us to bathe in. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because ultimately, we’re not going anywhere. Just around in circles. We could go north, west, south or back east—it wouldn’t matter.
But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.
When support for the forest is growing, I cut in. “Don’t you remember Poland?” I ask and look around at the faces turned towards me. “I don’t want a repeat of that.”
No need to say more. The faces around me register the memory, some with blank looks, others with grimaces. It was horrible in Poland. Mind you, we only cut through it briefly, but we spent a few days in one of their forests, and it answered a wonder I’d had for a long time. Which animals are still out there? In Poland, we learned that bears and wolves were surviving, just like us. How they’re doing it, I don’t know. Maybe they hunt better or see better in the dark.
Besides, complete darkness in the woods lost us two of our group. No one knows what happened to them. They just vanished. It’s too easy to lose each other as it is, let alone in a national park.
“I say we head up along the border of the forest,” I suggest, running my chipped fingernail along the map, where only communes and villages are strewn about, “then cut off west before Selestat.”
His stare burns into me. I can feel it searing my flesh, hear the silent words that his eyes speak—Shut up, Vale.
But Lee gives a brisk nod, then starts to fold up the map. Though, in the flickering lantern light dancing over his face, I catch the scowl that passes over him. He likes to be the one with the ideas. The one to follow.
Whatever mate, you can lead until your heart’s content. I’m not that invested in sticking around anyway. When we reach the north of France, I don’t know what will become of us. There’s nowhere else to go, except up the English Channel to Britain, and then what?
I’ve been travelling with them for months. Some newer faces than others, picked up along the way. A lot of faces gone to death and lost in the wilderness. But none I’m attached to. So maybe I’ll go my own way soon. I suspect we might even end with a fight, all of us.
But until then, I play along, feeling the tensions rising between us.
3
We’re all packed up within minutes.
My bag straps dig into my shoulders, pulled down by the weight of my sleeping bag and the bottles of water I have stuffed inside of the bag. I adjust the straps before I approach the front door of the shop.
Lee stands there, hand on handle, waiting. We all fall into complete silence. Chills coil deep in my stomach. When the silence is at its thickest, I really feel the darkness all around us. One by one, the lanterns turn off, and I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating. It’s too early to move on, too soon to go back out there in the dangers of this new world.
But it’s too late to argue it now. Lee jams a screwdriver into the wedge of the door and jimmies the lock until it snaps open. Then he’s still. We all are. Silence envelopes us as we hold our breaths and wait, wait for another group to ambush us, wait for the cries of the dark fae ready to burn us to ash and dust. But nothing happens. The silence turns deafening.
Lee, satisfied that no one is out there, peels open the door slowly. Its creak pierces the quiet. The chill of the air outside hits us, hard, like a punch to the face. I feel my pores tighten instantly, and my shoulders hunch, braced for the walk outside. Must be a cold season.
Funny thing about the seasons—we still have them. We can’t see the sun or the stars or the moon, but they’re still up there beyond the darkness. The sun still penetrates our planet’s atmosphere somehow. Back when we were in Poland, I swear I sweated out a good five kilos or so.
But not here. No, this place carries a cold in the air like the early promises of snow and ice. I don’t fancy travelling much in the snow. It’s hard enough to stay together as it is. Sometimes, we even tie ropes around our waists, all connected to each other, so we don’t go astray. Of course, that was after we lost the two in Poland’s Zarski Forest.
We step into the darkness outside. I feel a hand clasp around my wrist. I wince as the grip tightens on my wound, but I don’t pull away. It’s Tiffany, and since she has a lantern, I decide to let her team up with me for the raid.
In pairs, we all spear off in different directions. The sounds of our footsteps, once clumped together, softens into something distant as we
