Rowan Steele - The Dying Light

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

“Well, if your definition of fun is being terrified, cramped, and unable to sleep, I had a blast,” she responded.

“Yeah. Me either. There were some things that would have made it better,” he said.

“Like a time machine so I can go back to three days ago and avoid this nightmare altogether?” she said.

“That would be nice, but I somehow suspect the countryside is a little light on those.

“What are you saying, Jack?” she asked, clearly done with playing games.

“I’m saying that we were sitting ducks. We need protection,” he said.

He looked at her, studying her expression to see how she would respond.

“And how would you suggest we go about getting this protection?”

“We’re in the Georgia woods. I’m sure we’ll find something,” he said. The woman looked at him, completely serious now. “We have to take the risk,” he said.

“And run into more of those…things?” she said.

Her voice had dropped to whisper, almost as though she was afraid to even say it out loud for fear of conjuring one of them.

Jack wasn’t superstitious, but he understood the impulse. But pretending they weren’t there wasn’t going to change the situation.

They needed supplies, even if that meant running into more of those things.

He nodded, and the woman frowned.

“I don’t like this,” she said.

“Me either. But we have no other choice,” he said.

“There’s always another choice,” she responded.

“I’m glad you think so. But I don’t care what you think. I’m going to find a weapon, maybe some food. Join me if you want.”

He looked at her, knowing there was no way she would go her separate way. Maybe it was a dick thing to play off her fear that way, but Jack needed a second pair of hands, and the woman would be them.

Cassandra was quiet for moment longer and then she looked at him, tilting her head.

“I don’t like this. But, if we’re going to do it, we should be smart about it,” she said.

“Agreed,” Jack replied.

“I know there’s a camp office around here somewhere,” she said.

She rummaged in her pockets and pulled out a map.

“Here, the map shows a ranger station.”

Jack walked over and looked at the map.

“I’m not so good at reading maps,” the woman said, but as best I can guess, the ranger station would be about four miles up that way,” she said.

“Yeah. But instead of going straight to it, I suggest we bike around and then approach from the west. That way we can see if anything’s going on,” Jack said.

The woman looked at him again skeptically and then nodded.

“Let’s go,” she said.

After that first uneventful, but grueling day, they set out on the rest of the journey. As expected, the ranger station was where it had been on the map.

It was really more of a single-room house than a real station. But, as they approached, Cassandra couldn’t suppress the hope that they would find something of value, maybe information, which she knew would be the most valuable thing of all.

“It looks deserted,” she said.

“Yeah,” Jack responded, “it’s not a permanent place. Probably just someone here for a few of the busier months during the summer.”

“Do you think there’ll be anything?” she asked, wanting to keep the anxiety out of her voice but not being able to.

“Don’t know. But we should see,” he said.

Cassandra agreed.

They leaned their bikes against the cabin’s back wall and carefully made their way up the stairs.

Cassandra hadn’t been focused on potential danger, but seeing Jack, who was even more alert now than he usually was, reminded her that she couldn’t just go off halfcocked. She didn’t know what might await her behind those doors, so, behaving in a way that was uncommon for her, she stayed behind while Jack went ahead.

The place was quiet, but things weren’t always as they looked.

So she waited, those few moments tense, until Jack popped his head out and waved her in.

She breathed a sigh of relief, releasing the breath she hadn’t knew she had been holding, and then she walked into the station.

It was nicer than it had looked from the outside. Not fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but the inside was clean, and looked well-kept.

To one side there was a waist-high wooden desk with an ancient-looking computer on top, and then to the other what looked to be a combination sleeping and sitting area. On the other side of the room was a rudimentary cooking area that was mostly a toaster oven and camp stove, and through the only other door that wasn’t the entrance, Cassandra expected she would find the facilities.

Cassandra took care of business and then came back out to find Jack rummaging through the desk drawers.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say the lights aren’t working,” she said.

“Nope,” he responded without looking up.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“See if you find anything useful in the rest of the cabin,” he said.

She set off, searching through the wooden chest that was propped under the cot. There wasn’t much, but she set aside a heavy flashlight, a box of waterproof matches, and a small tent.

Then she systematically went through the cabinets, grabbed the two cans of tuna that she found there.

Finally, she snagged two rolls of toilet paper and an unopened bar of soap.

Less than five minutes after they had arrived, she met Jack at the wooden desk.

“Not much, but at least it’s something,” she said.

“That thing have batteries?” he asked, gesturing toward the flashlight.

She lifted it. “No, but it’s heavy. Might come in handy,” she said.

He nodded his approval and then revealed his own find.

“A flare gun. Couple more maps. A pocketknife. And a gun.”

“A gun?” she said.

“Yeah, a gun more useless than that flashlight because it has no bullets.”

“Are you going to take it?” she asked.

“Might as well. We’ll need it,” he said.

She hadn’t even given the idea any thought, but she shared that hope as well. She was grateful for how tranquil things have been so far, but she didn’t know if that would continue, so it was best to be prepared. But she didn’t want to consider the possibility.

“So that’s it?” he said.

She nodded.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

She agreed. She stuffed her find into her backpack and then slung the increasingly heavy sack onto her shoulders.

They hadn’t found what they had been looking for, but it was time to continue.

“Let’s go,” she said.

But, as she took the first step, she froze at the tentative sound.

“Hello?”

Jack was instantly on alert and gestured toward Cassandra.

He was glad he had left their bikes outside, but he should have made her keep watch. He had been intent on searching place as quickly as they could and get going, hoping to avoid just this kind of encounter.

No such luck.

“Is anyone there?” came the voice again.

Cassandra looked at him, but he kept his eyes focused on the door.

He suspected that whoever was calling didn’t intend them any harm, but it wasn’t something he wanted to take a risk on. Holding the gun tight in his hand and calling on all the powers of bluffing he could muster, he called out, “Who’s there?”

A few seconds later he heard the rush of feet, stood tense, waiting.

The door swung open, and a man in his late forties, from Jack’s estimation, walked in. He was followed by a woman of the same age and three younger people—a girl maybe twenty and two other younger teenagers.