Population Control

Camille VIII

bjØrnetjeneste – you try to help but do too much so instead you do harm

0o0

It was seven pm when we left: I can't stand English weather. The sun was setting twenty minutes ago, it's cold, it's about to rain. We have no wellies. "You packed that pop-up tent right?" Matthew asked and I nodded. I took it from Quill's while they were with their mom. They said they would have to wait for their mom to get off work before they returned home, so I went through the open window, remember seeing a kids pop-up tent in the loft.

"I don't know if we'll both fit in that." He queried.

I shrugged. "One of us will have to keep watch anyway."

"I have an idea for that." Matthew said. "I've got rope and empty cans in here." He gestured to the carrier bag in his right hand. "Was thinking it could be an alarm system."

Getting out was easier than I thought, mostly. Matthew knew the person on guard and said he wanted to show me what being a hunter was like. Said I was thinking of becoming one when I went through initiation. The man nodded, saying he's always happy to have an extra pair of hands, and if I was anywhere near as good as Matthew it would be amazing having me with them.

"Ready?" Mumbled Matthew as he let me through the gate.

And yeah, I was. I was.

We started walking for a while, maybe an hour. We went further than the tyre tracks. And Matthew only had to kill five of them.

We were still going, listening for sounds of steps, for deep growls, feeling for a change in the air. "Why did you hit him?" I finally had to ask. Jason and I talked in the bathroom whilst I cleaned him up, and he told me to leave. Said I was a dead-weight, said I was too much, said he didn't care what happened to me. And I stopped still, fighting the urge to slap him myself.

"He's a dick." Matthew shrugged, not turning to look at me.

"You can say that again." I wanted to ask him about Sami, too, and what he did as a Hunter, why he left without the others.

When we thought we were far enough away, we still couldn't see any road. A few thrown clothes, bloody handprints on bark, but no motorway. Maybe we were further away than we thought. "We should settle here." Said Matthew. We found a clearing with no trees or bumps in the way, but an imperfect circle of them around it.

"I'll do the tent then."

"I'll start with the cans." We worked in silence, but the tent wasn't difficult to set up. I miss lying in a bed though because the ground had so many spikes and twigs.

The can idea seemed to be working. Matthew took a pocketknife and cut a bit off the lid of the can, putting that in the can which would shake if someone knocked into it. "I used to go camping with my mum every half-term." I looked up to see him smiling as he threaded the cans. "We'd choose the worst days to go, too: hail, snow, heavy rain."

"Sounds fun."

"I can smell the sarcasm."

"Mom couldn't stand messiness like that. The house could be littered with useless stuff but if it was spotless she didn't care." He chuckled so I carried on. "Dad loved nature; he made us watch a documentary every Sunday. But we never had the time to go."

"Better now then huh?"

"You can teach me what your mum taught you."

When we lay in the tent, we relaxed. I never felt so at peace since this began, and we were out in the wild. A place where we were most at risk: no border, no fence, no watchtower.

Side by side we lay on the ground, shoulders touching even though we did try to keep space. Behind his head, under his bag was the katana, and next to me like a comfort teddy was my bow and quiver. Right by my ear was the walkie-talkie.

"You know what would cheer us up?" Matthew spoke, seemingly from nowhere.

"What?" I turned my head, the jacket under it soaking in water. Behind his back, Matthew pulled out an almost full bottle of vodka. "Where did you get that from?"

"An alien." Matthew said, unscrewing the lid.

"Funny." He handed me the bottle first. "Have you ever tried it?" I drank some, and it burnt. The back of my throat set aflame and I cleared it hoping the sting would go away - it did not.

Matthew looked at me like I was stupid. "You're being serious."

"Your parents are cops!"

"Were." I handed him the bottle. Quickly, Matthew drank more than me and his coughing fit started.

I laughed through asking if he was OK. "What was it like? Your parents being cops?" He was going red.

It took him a minute, but soon Matthew could talk again. "You ever thought about why we're here."

"Why?"