eaten the night before. She’d lost a day sleeping in the cabin and she couldn’t afford a long, leisurely lunch hour.
A couple of hours after lunch she came upon the trail she’d expected to find. It surprised her a little, because she hadn’t realized she was so close to it, and that meant that she’d walked farther than she realized the night before she found the cabin. No wonder she’d been so tired when she got there. Adrenaline and fear (because she could admit to herself now that it was in the past that she had been afraid; she never acknowledged her fear unless she had to) had pushed her harder than she would have if she’d been in her right mind.
There hadn’t been any sign of people all day—not a crumpled candy wrapper or discarded water bottle or any kind of sound. Still, she listened carefully before stepping onto the trail and made sure to scout all around for potential hiding places in the event that she did hear someone coming.
The trees were quite thick on either side of the path—oaks and evergreens, mostly—and it would be easy to disappear from view just ten or fifteen feet away from the trail. The key was not to be seen first, not to attract any interest or attention. Since most people made so much noise (unless they were trying to be quiet, and that made them suspicious in Red’s eyes) she would have a chance to dart away before anyone caught a glimpse of her. She hoped.
Red had no doubt that there were still good and ordinary people left in the world, people who were just trying to get by since everything had gone crazy, people who were probably a lot like her. And those people might make reliable companions, might make this long lonely walk more bearable. Especially since she’d had to leave Adam behind.
(don’t think about Adam)
People were herding animals, and of course there was safety to be found in a herd. But there was also danger. Herds were easier to track and find than one lone person.
And Red didn’t trust other people—didn’t trust that they wouldn’t try to hurt her or steal her supplies, or even that they wouldn’t try to force her into staying with them instead of continuing on to Grandma’s. She didn’t want to be answerable to anybody or to have to share what she had so painstakingly acquired. You couldn’t always tell if someone was good just by looking at them, and Red was taking no chances.
Her hand axe was hooked through a loop at her belt so that she could grab it easily if necessary. It was not a necessity she was fond of, and she shook her head to clear it of the memory of the man-coyote’s flesh ripping apart under her blade. She’d much rather slip into the cover of the trees and wait for any stranger to pass than have another homicidal encounter. There was already too much death weighing on her heart. Red didn’t want any more weight.
The sun was going down earlier and earlier every day, and the tall trees made it seem like dusk well before sunset. The thick cover, however, made it difficult to find a good place to pitch her little tent. Red had a hammock, though she didn’t love the idea of sleeping out when it was so cold. The rapidly falling dark made her decision for her since she wasn’t able to find a suitable spot. The lack of clearings also meant that there was no safe place for a fire, and that meant another cold dinner.
Two nights in that cabin made you soft, Red, she thought. So what if she wasn’t able to have a hot dinner? She’d find a good place to pitch her tent the next day, and then she’d build a fire and have one of the cans of soup knocking around in her pack.
The surprise find of the cabin in the woods meant that Red could put off a little longer something she’d been dreading beyond all measure—going into a residence or a town to find more food. She’d started off with lots of lightweight backpacker food, the kind of stuff that came in pouches or plastic containers. These were things that she’d ordered online