Ryan Westfield - Getting Out

So she found a small sapling, fished out her pocket knife, and set to work cutting it down as best she could. She made the cuts at an angle, and used the non-serrated blade to make sawing motions. She bent the sapling down from the top, using the pressure to increase the effectiveness of her cuts. She didn’t know much about bushcrafting, but she must have understood some of the basics, because it worked.

In less than ten minutes, she was back on the road, using the cut sapling as a rudimentary crutch.

She gritted her teeth through the pain and used the crutch to help her damaged ankle. She still had to put some weight on it, but it was better than before. Soon the crutch was digging horribly into her armpit, but she did the best she could. She stopped in the pouring rain and picked up some soaking wet dead leaves on the side of the road. She stuffed them into the crook of her armpit to use as padding against the end of the sapling.

But it was still hurting. So she stopped yet again, took off her soaking wet shirt. She balled that up, then stuffed the leaves inside the shirt. It made a much better pad for the crutch, and she was able to walk at a slow yet purposefull pace down the road.

She was freezing, wearing just her bra. But the shirt wouldn’t have helped much anyway.

Georgia hadn’t seen rain this intense in a long, long time. She could barely see more than twenty yards in front of her.

The thunder was getting closer, and she saw lightning in the distance. The storm was upon her.

As she moved, her large breasts bobbled in front of her. The bra was soaked and had become uncomfortable when wet. The straps dug into her skin. She considered taking off the bra, but her breasts had always been uncomfortably big without a bra when doing any physical activity.

There was a sound behind her. It was hard, if not impossible, to tell what it was, because of the noise of the growing storm, the cracks of thunder, and the pounding rain.

But there it was. She heard it now. It was a scream. A human screaming, cutting through the rain.

Georgia stopped and turned around, supporting herself as best she could on the crutch.

She felt vulnerable for the first time in a long time. Maybe it wasn’t wearing a shirt, having her breasts exposed in the soaking bra, having the crutch, being impossibly fatigued and hungry. Whatever it was, it was a new feeling for her, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t feel ready to confront whoever it was that was coming.

Her mind turned to the women whose car she’d taken. It must have been them.

She felt guilty and stupid. She’d stolen their car and gotten it stuck. What had been the point of all this? She felt like a failure. But she wasn’t just going to sit in the woods and wait to die. She was going to do what she had to do to get back to her kids. If that meant fighting off these women, then that would be what she had to do.

“Hey! Yeah, you!”

Georgia still couldn’t see the women through the thick rain. Not yet. They must have been right out of her sight.

Georgia took the crutch from the ground and held it like a club. She was ready to defend herself.

She was wobbly on her legs, her ankle about to give out.

She was so tired it wasn’t until she finally saw the woman approaching that she remembered she had two guns with her.

But was she ready to use it? Ready to defend herself against someone who she’d wronged?

The three woman appeared before her. They were soaking in the rain. Their faces were contorted in pure anger. They were ready. For what, Georgia didn’t know.

The rain was falling heavily, and Max could hear thunder in the distance. The ground was already turning to a thick mud, and Max was glad that he’d changed into boots earlier.

His stomach was empty and his wrist was killing him. He was looking forward to getting back in the Jeep, driving to a safe, secluded spot, and finally setting up the camping stove. They still had a ton of perishable food taken from his refrigerator as well as Mandy’s. The stuff from the refrigerator was not chilled, but some of it might still be good. He’d be willing to eat just about anything now.

He knew that he’d taken a couple pounds of frozen chicken.

Despite his misgivings about the situation, Max realized that in a way Mandy was right.

These guys and the people in the town were in the same situation that Max and Mandy were.

They passed by the Jeep.

“I just want to check on Chad,” said Max. Really, he wanted to make sure that everything was there.

He did a once over on the Jeep. The keys were still in it. And everything inside seemed to still be there.

Chad was lying on his back in the mud next to the Jeep. The rain was falling heavily on him, and he was already soaked.

“How you doing, Chad?” said Max. “Those guys hurt you bad?”

“Nah, man,” said Chad. His voice had a dreamy, happy quality to it. “I’m good, man. I’m good.”

“You got your pills, then?” said Max, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice.

“Yeah, man, I’m all right.”

Max left him there lying in the mud. Chad didn’t seem to care that he was wet and muddy.

Max wondered briefly why he’d bothered rescuing Chad. Maybe he’d have been better off getting beaten to death by that mob. That was a horrible thought, but that was what it was.

Max joined Mandy and the men. They introduced themselves to each other, shaking hands.

It was a little awkward at first, considering what had happened.

Mandy and Max told them about the men Max had knocked out in the back of the store. The men had just laughed it off, and gone to check to see if he was OK.

That guy’s name was Jim, and he joined them.

Once his buddies explained to him that Max and Mandy definitely weren’t foreign spies, he warmed up to them a little more, and he warmed up to them even further when he heard that they were going to check on Tod’s sick dad.

Tod’s house was up a little side street. The six of them trudged through the rain together, chatting idly.

Max was tired and exhausted and he knew that Mandy was too. The men, however, were much better fed. They’d been up all night, but they’d been eating hot dogs.

When Max asked them about it, it turned out the majority of them had large basements full of canned and nonperishable foods. They might not have been outright preppers, but they definitely were in that general area.

Tod’s house was cluttered, and it was clear that he didn’t have much money.

His wife and his two kids were introduced. They seemed like a sweet family.

Max pondered on how strange it was that an hour ago, they’d all been convinced the other party were dangerous enemies. Now, Max and Mandy were invited into the house, shaking hands with Tod’s wife, saying hi to the kids.

Tod’s wife had set out candles, which made the place seem not as creepy as it otherwise would have been, without power, the rain pounding down on the roof.

“Yup,” said one of the men. Max couldn’t remember his name. Names had never been his strong suit. “Looks like a storm’s really starting outside.”

It was true. Max could feel it in his bones. He was feeling worried about moving on out, but he had the idea that maybe he, Mandy, and Chad would be invited to stay here for the night, and continue on the next morning.

“Where’s your dad?” said Mandy.

“He’s upstairs.”

Tod led them upstairs. It was just Tod, Mandy, and Max. The rest stayed downstairs, huddled around the warmth of the fire.

Max wished he was downstairs too, drying out. He wished he could eat, and fall asleep by the fire, and never have to worry again about the difficult journey ahead of them.