Terry was getting more tired the more he walked. He still had a ways to go to get home. With each step he took, the more agitated his mind got.
It felt as if his mind was jumping all over the place. He couldn’t really keep his thoughts straight. It felt almost as if he was cycling through the same confused thoughts over and over again.
The only thought that he could keep straight was the thought that it all wasn’t fair.
It was the thought that told him that there was someone to blame for all this.
Not someone far away. Not whoever or whatever was responsible for the EMP. Not society at large for not creating the proper checks and balances and redundancy systems.
Not himself for not being more prepared.
No. It was all the fault of that group that had moved into the state park nearby. They were sapping the surrounding area of supplies. Soon there’d be nothing left. And that large group would flourish with the help of all those calories.
Meanwhile, Terry and his family would just die off.
Terry was getting angry. His face felt hot. It was probably getting bright red too.
He was walking faster than he normally did. His ratty, torn-up sneakers were stomping along the ground harder than they normally did.
Each step felt like it might help release his anger. It was if he were slamming his feet against the earth. As if he were trying to punish the entire planet for what it had done to him, for the situation that he was in.
And in that moment, in his intense anger, he couldn’t remember that everyone else in the country, and probably the world, was in the same situation. Instead, it felt like he, Terry, was alone in his misery and plight. It felt like he alone were up against completely unfair and unjust odds.
Unless he did something drastic, he realized in his anger, his situation would only deteriorate. He’d only get screwed over again and again until he was dead. And was that fair to his wife and daughter?
No, it wasn’t fair that they were stuck with a provider who couldn’t even manage to provide.
Terry wasn’t paying much attention to where he was headed.
He was walking through the trees blindly, heading in the right direction, but not looking at the ground at all.
Suddenly, his right shoe collided with a small log. He stumbled, and then fell heavily to the ground.
He managed to break his fall partially with his left hand.
But it wasn’t quite enough. Pain flared through his weak, arthritic body.
He lay there on the ground, panting. He felt too weak to utter the curses than ran through his mind.
His whole body felt like a disaster. And mentally, he was even in worse shape.
He didn’t know if he had the strength to get up. So he just lay there.
He knew that if it weren’t for his wife and daughter, he most certainly wouldn’t have the slightest shred of strength. If it weren’t for them, he’d just lie there until he died of dehydration. Or until someone came along and put him out of his misery.
It would have been a tough way to go. But it would have been a blessing. He would have welcomed it.
Suddenly, he became disgusted with himself. Disgusted with his thoughts. Disgusted with the idea that he wanted a way out. That he wished he didn’t have a wife and daughter.
After all, what kind of man was he? Who wished to die because it was easier?
Well, he was weak.
Terry was weak and he knew it.
But he also knew that he’d eventually get himself off the ground somehow. That he’d find some way to scrape by another day. Find some more half-rotten food somewhere and feed it with tears in his eyes to his family.
Suddenly, Terry heard a noise that sounded like faint footsteps off in the distance.
He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or not, so he tried to hold his breath, so that his out-of-breath panting wouldn’t get in the way of hearing what was there.
Sure enough, there it was. Faint, yes. But definitely there.
Terry moved himself around like a worm, getting into a position where he was lying face down on his belly.
He wanted to be out of view for whoever was coming.
He poked his head up a little to look around.
No sign of anyone.
Not yet.
He waited for a full minute, counting from one to sixty in his head, before poking his head up again.
This time, he saw it.
A person.
But it wasn’t the type of person that he was expecting to see.
It wasn’t some tall thin man, with scraggly hair and a long, dirty beard. Sometimes, it seemed as if those were the only types of people he came across these days. And it wasn’t as if he came across people very much at all.
It wasn’t a man at all.
It was a small child. A young girl. About his own daughter’s age.
What was she doing out here all alone?
He could see her fairly well. She didn’t seem to see him, so he kept his head up for a few more minutes, getting a better look at her.
She carried a handgun.
Her clothes were ratty and worn out. But they were more or less clean. And they weren’t as ratty as one might expect them to be.
Based on her appearance, Terry doubted that she was all alone in the world. She must have belonged to some family or group.
Maybe she was lost. Maybe she’d been separated from her group, and she was trying to find them again.
Terry thought he saw her looking in his direction, and he ducked his head back down.
Suddenly, a diabolical thought popped into Terry’s head.
Before the EMP, he’d been trying to become a professional helper, someone who helped people. But now? Now he was desperate. Now he needed to do something.
He needed to take action.
The plan hatched in his head, coming to him almost fully formed.
Whoever this girl belonged to; they’d likely do anything to get her back. Or at least give up plenty of their food or supplies. And possibly some information crucial to learning the secret stores and supply areas where they got their goods.
Terry didn’t waste any time. He felt invigorated with the possibilities of kidnapping this girl.
He didn’t bother to think of the consequences, of the harm he would do. After all, he was, in most ways, a broken man. A shadow of his former self.
Terry popped himself up into the standing position, ignoring the various aches and pains in his body.
He kept his weapons holstered and away. He stuck his two hands up in the air, his palms open, as if he was surrendering.
He walked forward slowly, towards the girl walking alone.
“Don’t shoot!” he called out. “I come in peace!”
He knew that she wouldn’t shoot him. No matter how battle-hardened she was, she wouldn’t shoot a man with his hands in the air. An adult might have. But a kid? No way.
There was a small smirk on Terry’s face that he couldn’t conceal, no matter what. But he doubted she’d notice it.
He was going to use his cunning rather than his weapons. His mind rather than his guns.
And he knew for sure that he could outsmart a young girl.
Soon enough, he’d be handing her over to her people, and receiving a glorious bounty as payment.
He and his family would be safe.
And he’d be the hero. The man who’d taken action. The man who wasn’t afraid, and was never weak.
5
The lackey gave Max a hard shove, and Max found himself falling face-first onto the stockade’s dirt floor.
“That’ll teach you,” said the lackey, slamming the door closed.
Max heard the click of a lock. And another. The sound of footsteps.
And then he was alone.
His hands were still bound, making it hard to get to his feet.
But he managed. One leg at a time, using his hands together to help himself up.