Goddamnit.
Chasing after the man would have to wait. Jon instead ran to the front door of the cabin.
It remained open, smoke swelling out of it and clouding the open air. Jon pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose, and entered the cabin.
The fire was worse than he’d anticipated. The man must have lit more than just one room for it to be spreading as fast as it was. Jon looked around the kitchen and into the dining room, watching his curtains and cloth sofa burn. But his mind was only on one thing.
He hurried through the kitchen and down the hallway toward his bedroom. Along the way, he dodged flames and maneuvered through the smoke. As he made his way back to the bedroom, the smoke only intensified, and the temperature increased. Arriving at his bedroom, he found the door was closed.
Jon tapped the metal handle, quickly pulling his hand away as he felt the burn on his skin. “Shit!”
He pulled his mechanics gloves from his pocket and positioned himself with his back against the wall. He tapped the knob a couple more times to ensure the gloves would help prevent him getting burned. He then turned the handle and pushed the door open, at the same time diving sideways into the hallway.
Fire exploded from the door in a backdraft, escaping with a hiss and then a boom. Jon lay on his belly, covering his head with his hands. Even through his closed eyes, he saw the orange glow of the flames. Felt the heat swelter inside the hallway. He waited for several moments before finally opening his eyes and picking his head up. The fire had grown in the hall, but nothing on Jon burned and the doorway appeared clear now. He pushed himself up to his feet and hurried through the door.
His bed sheets were burning, the orange glow of the flames covering his room. His eyes immediately went to the chest, which sat open against the wall. Jon’s eyes went wide, his heart pumping faster.
Jon took off his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder, swinging it down onto the fire to try to put it out. He did this several times, fanning the flames around him but getting rid of the fire inside of the chest. He then tossed his jacket down and got onto his knees, looking into the chest.
Everything had burned, turning to black. He picked through the ashes, looking for the cigar box and the picture of his family. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t find the box at this point, but he continued looking anyway.
“Come on, goddamnit!”
Giving up searching the chest, Jon searched around the chest, checking under the sheets and under the bed. Still, he found nothing.
As more sweat poured down his face from both the fire and the growing idea that all physical reminders of his family had been lost, Jon clutched his curly black hair. He held it tight, feeling like he could pull every lock of hair out and not feel a thing. But then he looked up, his teeth grinding, and his eyes narrowed. He let go of his hair and made a fist, knowing he could have crushed an orange with his grip if he'd held one at the moment.
Outside of the room, he heard a crash, drawing his attention away. He got to his feet and hurried out into the hallway. Pieces of the living room ceiling lay on the ground, the fire continuing to crawl all around the walls and bring the house down.
Jon knew time was running out.
The picture was gone, along with the ammunition he’d kept in the chest. The man had also gotten away with the shotgun and rifle he’d left on the bed. There was nothing he could do about what had been stolen. He had to get out of the cabin now if he wanted to keep his life. And he needed to keep his life if he wanted to confront the bastard who’d burned down the cabin and destroyed the most meaningful thing he had left in this shithole of a world.
Jon looked back at the bedroom one last time before covering his face again. He then made his way back through the smoke and flames, heading out the back door again.
16
281 Days After the Outbreak
The deer thought it was the only living thing in the woods.
It was wrong.
Jon stared down the barrel of the rifle and focused on his breathing to keep his aim steady. It had been days since he’d come across a deer. Rabbits and squirrels had been common finds, likely because it was easier for them to hide from infected people. But deer were becoming more scarce, aside from coming across the occasional carcass that had already been ravaged by the undead.
He couldn’t let this one get away.
But he essentially had one shot. Not only would the rifle’s blast scare the deer away, but it would surely draw the attention of any zombies in the area. It could be several more days before he saw another deer, and he needed to take this one back to his family.
Licking his lips, Jon floated his finger over the trigger.
I got you.
As he rested his finger on the trigger, something screamed, causing Jon to jump and pull his head away from the scope. Following the sound, he found two zombies running toward the deer. Jon readied the rifle again, but by the time he’d looked through the sight again, the deer had already taken off. He found it, running in a zig-zag through the woods, but trying to shoot it at this point would be pointless. It would only make it easier for the dead things to catch it, and if it came down to choosing between them and the deer, Jon would pick the side of the deer every time.
He pulled away from the scope again, nearly tossing the gun down in frustration.
“Goddamnit!”
Jon arrived back at the
