Population Control

Matthew IV

Verschilmmbessern – To make something worse by trying to make it better

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We need to 'put our hours in' according to the Donavan's. Since we've been here for a few days, they've decided to put us to work, which means Dylan, Camille and I are joining Barney hunting while Sami helps in the house and Jason goes fruit and vegetable picking with Meghan. "Why do you need to hunt?" Camille asked as we got ready to leave through the gate, a rusting, red wheelbarrow for whatever carcass we pick up rolling behind me.

"The chickens produce the eggs, we can't kill too many of 'em." He said, picking up his gun and checking if bullets were inside. I don't know much about them, just what the types are, and this one was a hunting rifle - Rugger Semi Auto Synthetic to be precise.

Out in the forest, the unknown. Rabids lined the mesh fence. Only five or six, so easily taken out, but two of us had guns. So, the sound will attract more, like kids attracted to a large moving crowd, believing a fight was happening. Calmly, like this was an everyday, normal thing for humans to do, I stalked over to the small groaning hoard and slashed the sword through one, then two. Like snapping a ruler. Blood has never bothered me, every living animal has blood, it's normal. But these things are not living animals, I don't even think they're animals. They're just... things.

"Let's get goin', before more of 'em show up." Said Barney, opening the gate and trudging through it, limping as he went. Today, he didn't have a walking stick, and I offered him the wheelbarrow to hold onto, but he said he was fine, and 'I've survived through worse than this, lad.'

Out in the forest, tweets of magpies, pigeons and finches covered the air. Filling the forest floor were dead leaves that squelched dribbles of rain water when I ever so gently pressed down on them. I kicked the ground in boredom, feeling like we had been out for an hour already. It spewed fragments of the earth.

"This is fun." I grumbled, dragging my feet with me and languidly pulling the wheelbarrow along, it felt like a dead weight.

"Come on," Camille bumped my shoulder, "thought this was your thing: walking endlessly."

"Not a fan of hikes, thanks. What's the purpose of walking for the sake of walking? It doesn't have one, not at all."

"What's the point of kicking a leather ball?" Added Dylan, leaving Barney at the front on his own. We slowed down to stay behind him. Letting him lead the way, we lingered in the back.

"That has a purpose. Football is the sport of this country." I declared, unmoving. Nothing can change my opinion; football is the superior sport.

"But have you seen musical chairs?" Dylan raised an eyebrow at me whilst I stared at him like he was an alien, "The end is so intense."

"You've seen too many videos." Camille shook her head.

Barney stopped, shushing all of us. Tentatively, we approached and he pointed out into the distance, into the woods, into the bright winter's day. About ten, maybe more, metres away there was a rabbit as white as snow, as cute as the most precious lost puppy. A second joined it, hoping close by and twitching its small nose. BANG! Gasping, jumping back from the shot. Clutching my heart. Another one, with the same reaction.

"Well?" Barney snapped, "Go grab it, kid." He said to Dylan, "You two, deal with the Stalkers." There weren't many: four of them. Camille shot one, then two, and I slashed the others. Walking over to one, I plucked the arrow from its forehead, having to put power behind the pull.