Jason Morrow - Anywhere but Here

“What can I say? I’m used to chaos.”

Gabe let out a huff and started walking back toward Main Street as I walked slowly behind him. “I really do need a cigarette,” he says under his breath.

I don’t really know what time it is when I find my way back to the apartment. When I pull up the mattress, I’m glad to see that the journal and gun are still there. I don’t know why, but I felt that for some reason my apartment might have been given an extra search while I was out. As vehement as Paxton seemed, I wouldn’t be surprised. I grab the journal and tuck it under my shirt. I then reach for the gun, but my hand stops. Am I really just going to dump this somewhere? I sit for a moment, staring at it, thinking. I sigh and cover it back up with the mattress and walk out of the apartment.

I don’t stop until I’ve reached the other side of Main Street. It’s probably a really bad idea to go toward Headquarters to leave the journal, but I also know it will be the least expected move. I walk nonchalantly past the front of the building and into the alley on the left side. When I stand in front of the dumpster, I look from side to side to make sure no one is watching. Satisfied, I pull the journal from my shirt and toss it in and immediately start walking back toward Main Street. No one sees me.

When I startle awake the next morning, I feel the coolness of metal at my palms. My groggy eyes widen when I see the pistol clutched in my right hand with the hammer pulled back. I let go of it and it rests safely on the sheets. I swallow hard, unable to take my eyes away from it. I try to think about the night, but I have no memory of waking up and getting the pistol out from under the mattress. Knowing that I did that makes me sick to my stomach. I reach for it and pull the magazine out, and snap the remaining bullet from the chamber. I then let the gun drop to the ground.

My hands are shaking. I don’t even remember dreaming last night. I must have been in a deep sleep. I pull my hands close to me and warm them under my armpits. I should have just dumped the pistol in the trash with the journal. What is wrong with me, thinking I need a gun? The rule for taking guns away from the common citizen is probably because of people like me in the first place. Crestwood probably started with a bunch of crazies waking up in the middle of the night, shooting neighbors they thought were greyskins.

I pull my hands away from my armpits and rub them through my hair. I can feel the grease from going a couple of days without a shower. Before I had come to Crestwood, a shower was something that could get me killed. Sure, there were plenty of them around, just pick a house. But greyskins love to hang out in abandoned houses.

I turn on the water as hot as it will go, but the lack of steam tells me there will be no hot water this morning. I let out a sigh and pull off my clothes and step in, letting the cold water take my breath away. Sometimes the water’s cold, sometimes it’s hot. Today it’s freezing. At least I’ll be alert.

I’m not expecting Gabe to meet me when I walk out of the apartment building, but he’s a pleasant sight. Smiling, he walks up next to me. “Your coming out today,” he says.

“What?” I stop in the middle of the road and stare at him.

“I got it cleared. You’re coming out with us. The soldiers.”

“Just like that? I’m a soldier?”

Gabe holds out a hand as if to steady me. “Oh, well, I didn’t say that. I said you’re coming out with us. In order to be a soldier, you have to show us how you can handle yourself.”

“Oh, well that’s not a problem,” I say. “Is there like a shooting range you use or something?”

Gabe shakes his head. “No. We’re going outside the walls. A supply run. And you’re coming with us.”

My eyebrows turn downward. “What if we don’t encounter any greyskins?” I ask.

His words turn my insides to ice. “We will,” he says. “Where we’re going is a hot territory.” My heart pounds as he reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. “But you already know that’s where the best stuff is. Be ready. We leave in a few hours.”

“Yeah, looks like you got it good,” Gilbert says as he stands over the dead greyskin. He turns to face Ethan. “And you said it was right after I got in the SUV?”

Ethan nods.

Gilbert spits on the ground and shakes his head. “I must have been more tired than I realized. Good thing you guys were awake.”

I had planned to stay up the entire night, but a few hours in my eyes started to become heavy, and getting up to add branches to the fire did little to relieve my sleepiness. Ethan had noticed this and let me sleep the rest of the night as he sat watch, keeping the fire going until the sun came up.

“I wonder if that raider guy is looking for us,” Gilbert says as he sits next to the coals and begins rummaging through a bag, no doubt hoping to find a can of beans, soup, or something.

“Scarecrow is what I call him,” I say. When I’m met with a strange look, I shrug. “That’s what he looked like to me.”

“Scarecrow,” Ethan says as he sits next to me, palms up to the heat of the coals. “He did kind of look like one.”

Gilbert tosses the bag to the ground. “We’ve got no food,” he says. “But I was looking at a map earlier and there is a town not too far from here. About fifty miles. It’s a place called Foley. Either of you know it?” He is answered with silence. “Well, that’s where I think we should go. It’s our best bet at getting more food and hopefully some fuel. If we can’t get gas there, we’ll only be good for another fifty miles then we’ll have to go on foot.”

“How far is Crestwood from here?” Ethan asks.

“About 350 miles,” he answers. “If we can get a full tank in Foley,” he holds up a finger, “we might be able to make it to Crestwood on one tank. Either way we should be able to get pretty close. If this works out right, we could be there by tonight.”

I didn’t expect it, but Gilbert’s words make me perk up. Yesterday, I hadn’t cared about finding a place that was safe and warm, but today is different. I feel the loss of Lucas no less than I did last night, but I know that the only way to survive is to move forward — to think forward. If we can be in Crestwood by tonight, it will be a large victory, but it breaks my heart to know that Lucas was only two days away from protection.

“Sounds good to me,” Ethan says. “I just hope they take us in.”

“They will,” Gilbert says. “That’s their reputation.”

I know what Ethan and Gilbert mean. It’s hard being a traveler on the road all the time. Generally there are three types of people. First, there are those that are part of a group, village, or town, holed up in a secure or at least semi-secure location. Everything they do is done from their home base. Second, there are people like us — travelers who are looking for groups or villages to join, but rarely find success. People are wary of travelers because they often believe they are part of the third type of people — raiders. Raiders loot, murder and take over small groups, relying on people’s weaknesses in order to survive. Instead of going out and making runs at a hospital or deserted town, they take from those that have done so themselves. Raiders are the reason why it’s so hard to find a group to be a part of. Lucas and I had been traveling for three years and we had only recently heard that the town Crestwood opened its doors to people. Up until now, the two of us sought out temporary shelters in small villages for a month or two at a time. But those were often attacked and plundered so we were forced to keep moving. I just hope Crestwood isn’t too good to be true.