Fiction: Deciduous

By Joseph Hoft

 

Hours turned into a relentless march through the wilderness and the survivors’ grief-stricken faces followed Jack’s determined stride. The forest stretched into an abyss of trees and fallen leaves covered the ground. The sky above was blanketed by thick clouds, and the sun began to settle as pale beams of light casted onto the forest floor. Every breath was visible in the chilly air, and the woods were eerily quiet, only the occasional rustling of leaves and whistles of the wind cut the silence. The temperature steadily dropped, and the survivors pulled their coats tightly around themselves. As evening swallowed the last bit of sunlight, the tree branches loomed overhead, and the cold wind cut through their clothing. Along with the sun, the beauty of the woods disappeared below the horizon

“Jack, we need to rest,” Brandon insisted. “We can’t keep this pace. We’ll collapse before we find shelter.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, torn between his need to protect the group and the realization that exhaustion threatened their survival. He stopped, nodded, and the group settled into an uneasy rest. The damp forest floor offered a harsh contrast to the little comfort they’d lost. The biting cold numbed their hands, and most struggled to set up tarps as makeshift tents. As they finished, Jesse started a campfire along with the rest of the survivors.

In that quiet night, amidst the flickering embers of the fire, they mourned.

Brandon nursed a bottle of dark rum, his Southern charm dulled by the grim reality. He passed the bottle to Jesse, who took a swig and let out a nervous cough. Anna, steadfast and resolute, sat beside Jack. Aaron remained silent, lost in the dance of the flames. Colton, the hardened skeptic, obscured any expression with his long hair falling on his face. And little Riley, his innocence robbed far too soon, sat with wide eyes. The circle was a tapestry of scars and stories testament to their shared survival. 

“So, where are we going, Jack?” Colton’s raspy voice, laced with skepticism and challenge, cut through the silence. His tattoos, once vibrant, were muted in the dim fire’s light. A man of few words, yet each one carried the weight of experience. 

“Odds are we won’t make it far enough south before winter really hits,” Jack replied. “It’s going to be another cold year.” His voice steady with authority.

Jesse interjected with nervous laughter, “The c-cold ain’t nothin’, right fellas? What’s one more winter, r-right?”

“How many did we lose last winter, Jack?” Colton said, ignoring Jesse’s attempt at levity, and bearing his eyes into Jack’s. The men responded with hesitant murmurs, their voices lost amidst the crackle of flames, Uncertainty hung in the air like a fog, each breath heavy with their burden. “We aren’t getting very far,” Colton continued, his words chilled like the wind that blew around them. “We got people dying in the middle of camp, seniors left behind, and then everything that happened back in Sunapee. Seems to me we’re a dying breed, Jack.”

“Maybe you’d rather die alone,” Jack snapped, staring back into Colton’s eyes.

Brandon rose and snatched the rum bottle from Jesse’s hands. “Y’all can measure dicks later,” he said with a gruff voice. “Let’s just enjoy the night we got. Let’s mourn our friend.”

Colton glanced at Jack and nodded in agreement. The fire flickered in their eyes, reflecting their resilience. 

Brandon slapped his thigh in rhythm, his voice rising in song. The group hesitated, then joined in, and the bottle made its way around the circle. Laughter mingled with sea shanties, and for moment, the memories of the day were drowned out as they shared stories of past, present, and future.

Riley sat close to the warmth of the campfire, and his innocent eyes wandered from one face to another as he absorbed the tales spoken around him. As the night grew colder, he clutched a small, worn stuffed penguin.

Amelia, a weathered survivor, noticed Riley’s gaze and beckoned him closer. She patted the space beside her, inviting him to join her on the cold ground. With a shy smile, Riley scooted closer, the penguin tight against his chest. She began to weave a tale from the world before the sickness and Riley listened with wide-eyed, captivated wonder.

As the night progressed, Riley found himself drawn to each member of the group, absorbing fragments of their stories like pieces of a puzzle that might one day form his understanding of this dark world. Sarah, a former teacher, patiently taught him to read a few simple words from a tattered book she salvaged from an abandoned library. Beside the campfire, Emma observed with a bittersweet smile, proud of her son’s resilience. As the night wore on, Riley’s small hand clasped in his mother’s, he looked up at the stars, his mind filled with tales and lessons of the evening. 

Jack’s mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. He pulled out his knife from his jacket, traced his fingers across the blade, and wandered to a time before the outbreak. He was back in law school. A decision-maker in a world where laws mattered. Now, survival was the only law, and leadership was a reluctant burden. His eyes scanned the circle, but despite the camaraderie, Jack felt an unfamiliar distance between them, and knew he was just a puppet leader. He shook his head and tried to focus on the present, but the drunkenness lingered. He turned to a nearby tree and used his knife to strip several pieces of bark, took a bite, and offered the rest to Anna.

She chuckled, “No. You’re serious?”

Jack nodded and nudged the bark closer and put his knife back in his pocket. 

She broke a piece, tossed it into her mouth, and chewed slowly. “This is horrible,” she choked. 

 Jack smiled and motioned for her to pass the bark around the circle. “You can cook it, you know,” he said as he leaned into her ear. “Tree bark. Just clamp it to a stick and toast it over the fire like a marshmallow. 

Anna laughed as the bark made its way around the circle of what was now a makeshift celebration. Jack watched as one-by-one each survivor tried taking a bite and spitting it out, until the bark made its way to Aaron, who waved in simple rejection and passed it to Jesse. 

Anna tapped Jack’s shoulder, her voice soft in his ear, offering an unexpected moment of tenderness. “Hey, I changed my mind about the bark. It was good. Why don’t you get some more, and I’ll save what’s left in the bottle for you?”

Jack ignored her and his eyes remained fixed on Aaron, who tapped his pant leg to the beat of melody. His lips remained sealed, holding in a secret that screamed louder than the shanty. The night breeze carried the tunes of songs into the forest, mingling with the hushed murmurs of the trees. Aaron’s hand continued its steady tap to the beat of song and the dancing shadows that painted his face revealed the reservation.

Laughter and song encircled the campfire, but Jack couldn’t hear it. He studied Aaron’s movements, and his gut churned. Every tap of Aaron’s knee hit Jack’s mind harder than the last, an ominous reminder of his responsibility to protect the pack.

“Jack,” Anna continued, tugging on his shoulder, “Don’t do this.”

Jack looked at her, blinded with rage. Suddenly, he was on his feet, walked over the fire to Jesse, and snatched the bark from his hand. The singing was replaced with tense silence, and as Jack turned to Aaron and grabbed his collar.

“Eat it,” Jack commanded, thrusting the bark in Aaron’s face.

Aaron eyes glowed desperate with fear, and his raised his trembling hands as he shook his head. 

“Eat it!” Jack insisted, shoving the bark into Aaron’s lips.

Defeated, Aaron opened his mouth to bite the bark. Blood dripped out, and what little teeth remained inside fell loose on the bark’s crunch.

In a moment of drunken madness, Jack pulled out his knife and pushed it into Aaron’s stomach.

Anna acted. She tried to usher Riley away with the rest of the women, but it was too late. Everyone stood to their feet and watched as Jack pulled the knife out and thrusted it forward again. Then again. Then one more time. Aaron clasped onto Jack’s coat and collapsed onto the cold ground. Jack let go and turned to face the group. He met Colton’s steady eyes first, and a silent understanding passed between them as they both nodded. Jack wiped his knife clean, his hands stained with blood, and looked across the fire.

Jack grabbed Aaron’s limp arm. “Help me get him out of here,” he commanded.

Brandon, Avery, and Jesse each took a limb and dragged the body far into the woods. When they came back, they saw only Anna sitting by the fire. The three men walked to their tents, leaving Jack and Anna alone in the darkness. Anna scoffed and went to her tent as well. 

Jack sighed, grabbed the nearly empty rum bottle from the ground, and extinguished the fire. He sat alone in the suffocating darkness with the embers of the campfire still lingering in the air. The distant sounds of the night, once a soothing symphony, now jarred his mind. He clutched the bottle, and insecurity gnawed at him with whispered doubts. Riley’s eyes, wide with terror as he watched Jack clean his blade, ran through his mind, until all the faces of those he had failed flicked in the shadows. His hands trembled, and Jack, drowning in the intoxication of both alcohol and despair, retreated to the darkest corners of his mind.

He took out his knife and placed the blade on his wrist. A small sense of relief washed over him as he pressed it harder into his skin. He smiled and pulled the knife away, leaving only a few drops of blood. Then, he staggered to his feet, and the world spun around him. He sighed again, and in the eerie quiet of the night, Jack, still wrestling with his inner demons, found himself drawn towards the dense shadows of the dark woods. His unsteady footsteps carried him deeper into the trees, and each crunch of the leaves beneath his boots echoed the faces flashing in the shadows. A cabin materialized before him, shining in the pale glow of the moon, and a flickering lantern rested at its entrance. Jack stumbled inside.

“Can’t sleep, Jack?” a voice called.

An unsettling gaze bore into Jack as he saw a man seated in a rocking chair, cloaked in the shadows of the corner. “I don’t want any trouble,” Jack slurred.

The man chuckled and invited Jack to take a seat. 

“What do you want?” Jack insisted.

The man leaned forward. “Call me Elias. I’ve been watching you, Jack. You’re leading a dance of ghosts, my friend.” As Elias spoke, the cabin walls seemed to breathe, and the air hung heavy. “You can’t outrun your shadows, Jack. They’ll always catch up.”

A bitter laugh escaped Jack’s lips. “I killed someone tonight. A good friend. Right in front of the others.”

Elias’ voice cut through the haze of guilt and alcohol. “Was it for the group, or was it for yourself, Jack?”

The question lingered in the air.

As the conversation unfolded, the cabin’s walls seemed to close in on Jack. The lantern’s feeble glow intensified, and the stranger’s words twisted into a melody. As the illusion shattered, Jack found himself alone in the heart of the woods. His stomach turned as he bent over and vomited. After taking a few deep breaths, he wiped his lip, stumbled back to his camp, and climbed into his tent. Anna sat upright, and Jack felt her anger in the air.

But, as always, Anna submitted. “Come lay down,” she said.

“I don’t need to,” he slurred.

“I’ll take care of you,” she murmured, guiding him down and taking off his clothes, a feeble attempt to offer solace.

In the hushed aftermath of the night’s horrors, Jack lay on his back and fixed his gaze on the dark canopy above. Anna moved with a mechanical rhythm, devoid of passion, a mere transaction in the wake of her disdain. Jack’s mind swirled with questions, doubts, and regrets as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Anna fell beside him and turned away knowing that tomorrow would be just as uncertain as today.

In the stark light of dawn, Jack stirred from his sleep with a clouded mind. Anna’s persistent voice pierced through the haze and commanded him to wake up. He rubbed his eyes and felt the weight of the morning-after bear upon him as the sunshine seeped through the thin fabric of the tent. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, and his vision blurred by crusty remnants of sleep. 

“Why did you do that?” Anna asked.

“Do what?” Jack whispered with a choked voice.

Anna’s stared.

“I saved us,” Jack continued.

“You say that every time,” Anna interrupted.

“Aaron was sick,” Jack said as he pushed himself up to face Anna. His posture sagged and his head nearly touched the tent ceiling. “If you’re infected, you leave. He knew the rules and broke them and now we could all be infected. I had to do it.”

“No, Jack. You didn’t,” Anna shot back. “Aaron didn’t deserve that. Butchered in front of everyone. He was a good person. He was good to me.”

“Excuse me?” Jack sharpened his tone.

“Us,” she corrected. “He was a good member of this group.”

Jack stared into her, waiting. 

Anna shifted her eyes towards the tent door. “Aaron never coughed once.”

“Stop,” Jack raised his hand. “You saw him. Half his teeth were gone.”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth in weeks, Jack,” Anna snapped. “When’s the last time we’ve even had toothpaste? Soon enough all our teeth are going to fall out. Are you going to kill me next?”

“There’s a difference between tooth rot and… whatever this is,” Jack argued, his voice breaking under the weight of his own uncertainty.

“Oh, so you’re a dentist now, too?” Anna’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “You could always say you are, and everyone will believe you, or at least they would’ve. Now I’m not so sure.” Their eyes locked until, finally, Anna whispered, “You’re losing this group, Jack. You got half of us killed back in Sunapee, then Michael happened, and last night you go and pull that shit? What the hell are you thinking? And now…” She hesitated as her words caught in her throat.

“What?” Jack demanded.

“Patricia’s gone,” Anna said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “We think she took Riley and ran off.”

Jack rushed out of the tent as Anna’s attempts to stop him fell on deaf ears. Outside, Emma sat on a log, her tears rolling down her dirt-streaked face. Seeing Jack, she stood up and retreated into the trees. The rest of the group emerged from their tents, and Anna stepped forward to explain Patricia’s and Riley’s sudden disappearance.

“She c-could’ve gone back up n-north,” Jesse suggested.

“Doubt it,” Brandon interjected. “Too risky for infection.”

Everyone spoke out in a cacophony of questions. Jack watched and darted his eyes from one face to another. Anna approached him, her voice barely audible. “How are you going to fix this?” she said.

Jack met her gaze, his jaw clenched with determination. “We circle back and try to catch them,” he said, his voice carrying a note of defiance. The group fell silent. “Odds are she headed back north. She wouldn’t risk Riley in uncharted woods. We’ll catch up to her and bring her back in. She can’t be too far.”

“I don’t think so, Jack.” Colton’s voice cut through the air, skeptical and challenging. “Seems to me you don’t even know where we’re going, or even if there’s anywhere to go to.”

“If you want to go your own way then go. Until then, keep your mouth shut and help this group survive,” Jack snapped. He turned away, and the weight of leadership bore down on him, a never-ending nightmare. Is this truly the end? Is there any hope left for us? As the day dawned, the camp stirred into action. They dismantled their tents, packed their belongings, and prepared for the journey ahead.

The sun cast long shadows across the forest floor, and the landscape, painted with hues of muted greens and browns, offered no clues about Patricia’s whereabouts. Emma walked in solitude and her eyes scanned the surroundings, as if her son would appear any moment. Jack, burdened by guilt and responsibility, led the group with a determined stride. Anna, torn between her loyalty to Jack and the growing unease within the group, observed the shifting dynamics, while the others, with their expressions etched with a mix of concern and frustration, followed in cracking faith.

On the second night after Riley’s abduction, Emma wept as Anna comforted her. The atmosphere in the forest was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant cries of unseen creatures. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long, ominous shadows that stretched out like fingers reaching for the group.

“We’ll find them, Emma. I promise,” Jack said, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he seldom revealed.

Emma looked up with bloodshot eyes and silent accusation. Then she shot up and paced around the fire like a caged predator, stalking the perimeter with anxiety and uncertainty.

Jack, edged with determination, broke the silence. “We’ll stick to the plan,” he announced. “We move north and catch up to them.”

Colton scoffed and locked eyes with Jack. “Jack, you and I both know ain’t no way a woman and child can last even a day out here-”

“We keep moving north,” Jack interrupted. “We’ll find them and bring them back in.”

Emma stopped and looked into Jack’s eyes. “We better find him, Jack,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t keep up like this.” The vulnerability etched on her face hinted at the fear clawing her insides.

Anna looked to Emma, then to Jack, and back at Emma. She scoffed, “Was that a threat, Emma?”

No one answered.

Anna chuckled. “Un-fucking-believable,” she continued. “He’s your kid, Emma. He sleeps in your tent. How could you not notice Patricia sneaking him away? And now you’re blaming who? Jack?”

The accusation struck Emma like a slap in the face. Tears flowed freely down her face. Brandon leaped to his feet, arms outstretched in a desperate bid to defuse the rising tension, but the camp erupted into chaos, the two women nose-to-nose.

“How dare you say that to me,” Emma retorted, her fists clenched with rage

Anna’s laugh persisted, mocking Emma’s distress. “We can’t keep searching for him. If we don’t turn back, the winter will trap us in and we’ll all freeze. This is bullshit.”

Emma turned her gaze to Jack and outstretched her arms to ask for reassurance, but Jack’s silence was deafening. She placed her arms by her side and surrendered. Feeling betrayed, she turned away and retreated to her tent, then collapsed onto her sleeping mat. Anna sighed with guilt and she casted a worried glance at Jack, who only stared into the fire. The night’s shadow deepened with each passing moment as one-by-one the survivors withdrew to their tents.

When he awoke the next day, a sense of foreboding settled over Jack, a feeling that something terrible was on its way. The group, once again, gathered their belongings and treaded ahead through the unfamiliar woods. As the first light crept through the trees, the survivors readied themselves for another exhausting day. Guiding the group forward, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that they were venturing into uncertain territory.

And then Jack saw it, a grotesque and haunting sight now etched into his memories. Riley’s lifeless body dangled from a tree branch, and his feet suspended inches above the ground. His small form swung gently in the breeze, casting an ironically beautiful canvas across the forest horizon. The once vibrant and curious boy now macabre puppet, his limbs limp and eyes open in a frozen expression of terror. His tongue, blackened and swollen, protruded from his mouth.

Emma’s scream pierced the heavy silence.

Time slowed as Jack and Brandon, their faces grim yet determined, approached the hanging body and with steady hands they took their knives and cut Riley down. The rope gave way, his body collapsed into Emma’s arms, and she cradled him as she fell to her knees, rocking back and forth.

The rest of the group stood in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of fiery orange and dusky purple. Jack’s eyes were heavy with regret as he turned towards Emma, his voice a faint whisper, “I’m so—” 

“Back the fuck up, Jack,” Emma interrupted, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and grief. She continued to stroke Riley’s hair.

Jack, feeling the weight of Emma’s pain, obliged and stepped away. His eyes lingered on the unforgiving scene for a moment longer before he turned and walked further into the trees. The camp was shrouded in eerie silence, broken only by the sound of shovels piercing the earth as they dug a grave for Riley. As the night wore on, Riley was laid to rest beneath the cold, unforgiving earth and the group gathered around the makeshift grave, their faces etched with sorrow, hands clasped in a futile attempt to find comfort in one another. Emma stood at the edge of the grave, her tears falling into the dirt that Jack shoveled back into the grave, covering Riley’s body. No words were said.

What was once laughter and camaraderie was now replaced by an emptiness that seeped into the air. No one reached for the familiar comfort of rum, no one sang shanties with the night breeze, and the fire remained nothing more than a soft glow. Inside their tents, the survivors lay in the darkness, their minds haunted by the image of Riley’s lifeless body hanging from the tree, with each creak of a branch and rustle of leaves acting as a reminder of the fragility of life in this cruel world. They laid in silence, grieving not only for Riley but also for the shred of innocence that died with him. The darkness mirrored their souls, and as they stared into the starlit abyss of uncertainty, they clung to the fragile hope that somehow, someway, they would find the strength to wake up tomorrow.

The first pale light of dawn crept through the thick trees, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. Jack, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, jolted awake at a sudden, piercing scream. Instinct took over, and his fingers closed around his gun as he burst from the tent. The morning mist clung to the group and shrouded a silhouette of Emma kneeling in the dirt. Jack raised his weapon, but as the haze thinned, he saw her trembling. Beyond her, perched stiffly on a log, sat Riley’s lifeless body. His head tilted slightly, his empty gaze fixed on the cold ashes of the firepit, and a grotesque grin stretched across his face, the scene mocked the joy Riley had once felt just days ago when he sat on a similar log listening to campfire stories. Now, his vacant eyes, clouded with decay, locked onto his mother.

Jack let the gun fall from his grip and rushed to Emma, shielding her eyes. “Don’t look,” he murmured. 

Emma wilted against him, lost in wordless anguish. Anna, her own cry cutting through the camp, emerged from her tent, followed by the rest of the group, and Jack motioned for Anna to come closer to embrace Emma. 

Jack turned to Brandon and sputtered, “Get over here and help me move him.”

Brandon obeyed.

Anna turned to Jack with Emma still in her arms, “What are you going to do?”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do, Anna?” Jack snapped as he and Brandon lifted Riley’s stiff body off the log and dragged it back towards his grave. “Get him out of here. Put him back in the grave.”

Anna jumped to her feet and marched towards Jack, leaving Emma to sulk alone. “What?” Anna scolded. “Jack, this is beyond fucked up! This is Sunapee all over again! We need to do something-

A sudden gunshot shattered the air, sending Jack and Anna reeling. Colton drew his pistol, only to see Emma sprawled on the ground, crimson pooling around her, and Jack’s gun resting in the palm of her hand.

 

 

 

 

 

Joseph Hoft is the editor of the fledgling literary journal "Italiks," and an Assistant Professor of Criminal Justice and Criminology at East Carolina University.