Walking the Ruins

Moving, and a birthday party

Anna is gone.

I should have expected it. I should have tied her. I should have made her a prisoner.

Tying hostages, binding them, or closing them in, these are time-honored traditions, and for good reasons. Every respectable kidnapper knows this. And, in Anna's place, I would have done the same. I would have seized the opportunity to escape.

But still, her flight leaves me with a vague sense of betrayal. She left me.

I shake my head. What nonsense! I don't have a claim on her—I have abducted her. What did I expect? And her leaving does have its advantages. I don't have to make up my mind what to do with her.

But still, the camp feels lonely now. I realize that I've been looking forward to having company for breakfast. To having someone to talk to.

But this is not the time to think about these things. Anna may still be wandering through the forests, lost and without a clue where she is. But she also may have reached her bunker hours ago. Jan and his cronies might already be heading my way.

Quickly, I pack my things. With a last glance back, I leave my camp and head downriver.

I continue until I reach the ruins of a village, where I turn left, into the mountains. I climb up a steep side valley, searching for a new place to stay.

It takes time to find a suitable shelter. It's a stone building, with a roof that promises some protection from the rain, at least in one corner of the house.

I sit on a rock in front of my new home. The place commands a great view of the wide main valley. On my left, in the distance, it ends at the upper end of the lake, where I paddled with Steve and Jenny. That was weeks ago, and so much has changed since then.

To the right, the smoke from the village rises into the morning.

The bunker dwellers must be on alert now after Anna has told them about her abduction. They are bound to react. They will have search parties and more guards. I'd better stay here for the time being.

But I have to do something. I need to get Steve and Jenny out of that bunker. The question is, how?

I spend the day foraging for food. I kill a hare, and I find an apricot tree. The orange, sweet fruits are delicious, their rich taste making my eyes water. It must be June already. I have missed my birthday, May 15. 

I congratulate myself, there's no one else to do it. Late congratulations. 

17 years, but hundreds, too. 

"Happy birthday," I begin in an attempt to sing, but my voice is hoarse and breaking. I stop.

Singing alone is a dreary pastime. Unless you do it under a shower. But I yet have to find one of these in this post-apocalyptic world. 

Maybe Kevin has built one by now. He had plans to do so when we left, about two weeks ago. They must be worrying by now—we promised them we'd not be gone for more than a week or so. But I don't think they'll come running. Without a boat, it would take them a handful of days to get here.

Next morning, I creep back to the village, alert for guards. But everything is quiet, unchanged. From my usual hiding place at the forest's edge, I see the villagers start their day, going to the fields, taking care of the cattle.

A sudden sound behind me makes me freeze. It's a bird, screeching in a loud, repetitive staccato of short, wailing cries. I scan the undergrowth, but I don't see anything unusual. Keeping my spear in front of me, I approach the bushes where the grating noise comes from. Suddenly, the screeching stops. With a rustle of leaves, a wildcat jumps from the shrubs, a bird in its fangs. It bounces off into the woods.

My eyes follow its zigzagging path. Cold sweat is covering my body.

I return to the forest's edge. 

Three men from the bunker have arrived and are waiting for the villagers. There's the general—or president—Jan. He's in the company of a tall, broad man with dark hair, and a wiry guy with a beard. All three of them act normally.

I retreat from the clearing and run up the path to the bunker's entry.

As expected, the door stands open. Two guards stand at its sides, as usual.

The guards are within easy bowshot, maybe thirty or forty steps away from me. I could try to shoot them. But I'm not a killer. And besides, I could only attack one of them at a time while the other one would run and get help.

The woman with the short hair and the pistol emerges from the bunker, the one that was jogging with Anna the day before. She's accompanied by the same two men as yesterday, the curly one and the one with the mustache. Anna is not with them.

After a short conversation with the guards, the three of them jog off, into the forest, taking the same path as the day before.

Moments later, Jan and his cronies come back from the village, their baskets filled with food. They talk to the guards.

About a quarter of an hour later, the joggers return. Then, one by one, they enter the bunker, and the door closes slowly behind them.

Everything is just like yesterday, only Anna is missing.

I wonder if Anna has returned at all. Or if she has lost her way in the dark while fleeing from me.

I walk back towards my old camp, looking for traces of Anna, but I find nothing. 

I hope she's okay.

The days are running their course. The life around the village and the bunker follows its normal rhythm. I hang around, a quiet observer from the woods. I worry for my friends, still trying to come up with a plan to save them. And I wonder where Anna is. Did she make it back that night?

Three days later, while I'm watching the bunker's entrance, I finally see her. She's with her jogging group, running off into the forest.

A large stone that has been weighing heavily on my heart and conscience dissolves into relief.

I don't follow the joggers. They return a while later, as usual. Anna is talking to curly-head. Her boyfriend? Her brother?

I wonder how it can be that Anna's abduction seems to have changed nothing in their daily routine. Did she even tell the others about it?

Before disappearing into the doorway, Anna scans the woods. Curly-head tugs at her sleeve. With a shrug, she turns away and enters.

In the fourth night after the abduction, I sneak my way into the storage house at the village. I need new provisions.

I am no better than Jan, I realize, living off the villagers' work and stock. I'm worse, even, giving them nothing in return.

Then I return to my new camp. On my way through the moonlit night, I'm once more forging plans to get Steve and Jenny out of their cells.

Not knowing that the next day would change it all.