No Going Back

Taylor was perched on a thick branch high above the forest. During her watch, she’d noticed a family of deer in the distance, and she salivated with the thought of venison for dinner. She could scale a tree with relative ease now, and her balance was finely tuned so that she could tightrope along thick branches to find the perfect vantage point when hunting game. It’d taken hours of daily practice, but it was paying off with each meal she provided for her family.

She chuckled. The closest she’d even gotten to hunting was a video game before the Blackout, but now she could identify the natural trails that the wildlife had been using for decades. Though nearly imperceptible to others in her group, she could easily use the winding paths to navigate through the trees and underbrush and advance on her prey with minimal noise. Her stealth had become a necessity; the animals who lived in these woods weren’t used to humans being on their turf, and they got spooked easily.

For the past seven months, she’d been living a secluded life in the woods with her parents and their group of survivalist friends. The cities had long since been looted and seized by gangs and militias, and most people had either fled to parts of the country that still had power or hunkered down in less populated areas and made do with the supplies they could obtain and the survival skills they possessed.

Taylor had been a typical teenager before the Blackout wiped out electricity in nearly half of the United States. The days of shopping, gossiping with friends, stressing out about school assignments, and flirting with boys seemed like a dream now. She’d give anything to sit in an air-conditioned living room and binge-watch television while texting her friends and eating pizza, but none of those things existed anymore.

The only remnant of her old life was a delicate gold locket that her grandmother had given her for her tenth birthday. She’d worn it every day without fail since her gram had passed on—until she started hunting and foraging, that is. She kept it in a trinket box in her family’s bedroom now, too afraid of losing it in the tall grasses or dimly lit woods.

Growing up, her parents always reminded her to keep the locket safe since it was 14 karat gold, but its value had decreased since the power went out. Canned food was far more valuable than gold these days; gold wouldn’t feed, clothe, or protect one’s family, so it was virtually worthless. Maybe it’d be worth something once currency became a thing again, but no one knew when that would happen—if at all.

Taylor’s stomach twisted with excitement as she spotted the family of deer snacking on the grass in a nearby clearing. Quickly descending the tree, she used the natural trails to advance in range to her target. She licked a finger and jutted it into the air, checking the air current to ensure that she was still downwind. Satisfied with the vantage point, she retrieved her crossbow from the sling on her back.

When she was younger—around 7 or 8—her dad and his best friend, Steve, had brought home a 12-point buck. Hunting season had been a routine for as long as she could remember; they’d get home, unload the carcass, and process it in their backyard. Once the task was complete, they’d split the venison, ensuring that their respective deep freezers would be filled with meat for months. They’d both been giddy like children, jokingly arguing over who would get to display the trophy on their wall. It was never a true fight, though; they both knew the trophy would go to Steve as Taylor’s mother would never allow a deer head to be hung on any of her walls.

Taylor had seen the antlers protruding out of Steve’s truck bed, so she’d gone out to investigate. The tailgate was open, and she immediately saw the deer’s vacant eyes staring at her, its neck bent in an unnatural angle from Steve and her father dragging the animal into the truck bed. The buck’s antlers, even to her young eyes, were impressive; she thought he looked regal, like he’d been the king of the deer. Taylor had started weeping as she thought of how the buck’s family was probably so sad that he was dead, and her dad had had to carry her back into the house and console her for nearly an hour before she’d stopped crying.

Now she was getting ready to pick off a fawn right in front of its mother, and she felt like a bit of a hypocrite.

Aiming the crossbow at the young deer’s eye, she held her breath as she let the bolt go. The fawn instantly crumpled to the forest floor, the startled doe and her other fawns frantically bolting in the opposite direction to avoid the same fate. She sighed, relieved that she struck her target; not only were the hours of hunting well-spent, she was also grateful that the animal didn’t suffer.

The militia had urged its citizens to be mindful of the amount of hunting and fishing they did so that they could maintain the wildlife population. Right before the Blackout, a disease had wiped out the majority of the deer population, making it even harder for the residents to stave off hunger. It had taken Taylor’s group nearly two weeks to catch a deer after they had arrived at the cabin, and they never wanted to feel that desperation again. She just hoped that the others in the area were also taking the same precautions to prevent overhunting and overfishing.

The fawn was on its side in the tall grass, looking as if it was sleeping aside from the bolt jutting from its eye. Taylor frowned, tearing up slightly as she noticed how young it was. Killing animals was a way of life now, but it wouldn’t ever be truly easy for her.

“I’m sorry that I had to hurt you, but thank you for feeding my family,” she whispered to the fawn, sitting on the grass beside it. She glanced wistfully at the trees, closing her eyes as she got lost in the sounds of nature.

Taylor should be rushing the deer back so that it could be processed before dinner time, but she needed a few more moments of silence before she returned. The cabin was always so crowded and noisy that she felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the walls were closing in on her and the noise would blow out her eardrums. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really—there was very little silence with eight adults and two young children sharing a two-bedroom cabin—but that didn’t make her feel any less panic-stricken. She needed this time to herself, even if it meant hurrying to process the venison when she got back.

Taylor’s mind wandered to the nearby community college, as it had done more often recently than she cared to admit. It had been taken over by refugees and other displaced locals after the Blackout, and she’d visited there a few times on her rounds in the militia. The lawns had been turned to gardens, the responsibility for which was shared between those who lived on campus. Though she’d kept it to herself, she daydreamed about having an apartment with a few roommates—sharing a common area but still having her own space and privacy if she needed time to herself. She could forage in the woods, teach the rest of the residents how to hunt and fish, and maybe spend an evening on the college’s roof reading comics until it was time to watch the sunset. It could be a much more relaxing life.

As reality sunk in, as it always did after a few wistful moments passed, she sighed. Life wouldn’t be any easier for her there; it would just be different. Did she really want to be in charge of teaching nearly a hundred people how to look for edible plants, to have to depend on deliveries from the militia-occupied warehouse for supplies, or to defend the campus from other local gangs? That was the opposite of what she wanted. However, with Taylor’s knowledge base, she knew that she wouldn’t have as much downtime as other lesser experienced occupants; they’d assign her on watches, patrols, and supply runs more often than most of the people there because she had the skills to get the job done. She would end up working just as hard as she did now but for even fewer benefits. At least at the cabin she had a few quiet hours while she was on watch as well as the stolen moments while hunting, fishing, or setting the snares. Now that it was getting warmer, sitting for a few hours next to the stream with a good book would soon be a possibility, so it would get better.

She hoped, anyway.

Taylor sighed again and stood up with a groan, her stolen moment of silence coming to an end. She slung the fawn over her shoulder with a groan and made her way back to the trail.