Jack, Week 3

Jack had changed his plans slightly.

Rather than simply scavenging for supplies, Jack placed a new premium on finding a functioning weapon. The rifle he had been using prior to his arrival in the city, while still functional, had run out of ammunition, and Jack was not familiar enough with firearms to know what type of ammo to acquire. He opted instead to just find a new weapon entirely. Unfortunately this proved much more difficult than he anticipated, as there appeared to be very few surviving arms dealers in the city.

About three days after the night of the storm, he found a rifle in the wreckage of a hunting supply store, along with a surplus of ammunition for it. He fired a few test shots down the street to ensure that it worked, and, satisfied, slung it over his back and resumed his previous scavenging.

Throughout the week he continued to hear the sounds of something following him, and continued to feel watched at all times. And as before, whatever the source of it all was eluded his sight. He had not seen a single living creature during his two weeks in the city. The longer he went without seeing something living, the more paranoid he became. He began holding his rifle at all times and firing off into the distance whenever he heard a sound. He began sleeping less and less at night, keeping his rifle close to him at all times and watching the darkness outside his tent.

He had stopped scavenging most days, as well, instead preferring to sit in the false sense of security provided by his tent and read the copy of Of Mice and Men he had found on the interstate. As he read, he was struck by this sense of crushing loneliness; a part of him wanted to find some creature, even one that would threaten his life, simply so he might know that he isn’t totally alone. Ever since the events of a few years ago, Jack had had only fleeting contact with other humans. He had never thought about it much – with the exception of the week after he lost Zack, George and Daniel in the high school – but it was clearly affecting him.

One day, he slammed the book closed in frustration, his mind having wandered into a dark place. Face resting in his palms, he began to weep silently. He regained his composure and reached into his pack, pulling out a small locket. He opened it and pulled out the contents: a small note, folded with great care into a very small square, and a very small photo of a young girl, no older than sixteen. He unfolded the note and read silently, tears slowly dripping onto the old paper.

It was at that moment that it began to rain. Jack hesitated for a moment and looked around the tent. He quickly replaced the note and the photo and stashed the locket in his pack before reaching for his rifle. He stepped outside the tent and scanned the parking garage for signs of the figure. He heard a noise behind him. He whipped around. There was a blur of motion. A mostly black figure dashed in front of him. He turned and fired. He missed. The blur moved faster. Jack aimed. Fired. Missed. The blur vanished. Jack searched frantically. Thunder rumbled and echoed through the garage as lightning illuminated the dark corners, revealing no sign of the creature. Lightning struck again, this time hitting Jack’s tent. The sound waves disoriented Jack and caused him to drop his rifle. As he slowly overcame his confusion, he saw an eerie orange glow coming from his tent – fire. He ran over to the tent and dove inside, pulling out his pack and dumping its contents before tossing it on the ground, stamping out the fire to protect his belongings. He quickly replaced the items in the pack and slung it over his shoulder, picking up his rifle and running down the garage floors to find the creature. As he did, he heard a loud rumbling overhead – it wasn’t thunder, though. He looked up the ramps and saw the floors above him were slowly collapsing. He began to run faster, hoping to escape the falling building. He wasn’t going to make it. He reached the second floor and looked outside, a dangerous idea coming to mind. He leapt over the barrier and jumped from the second floor, falling to the ground and hitting it with a roll, allowing him to get back to his feet quicker. Slowed by the physical trauma of the fall, he tried to run down the street and out of range of the massive debris cloud that was sure to envelop the block, but wasn’t fast enough. Inhaling sharply and covering his eyes, he braced for the cloud’s impact. Debris was everywhere, dust in the air kicked around by the wind and rain. He couldn’t hold his breath for much longer. Eventually he had to inhale, and he barely escaped the dust cloud as he did. After a brief coughing fit, he turned back and watched the dust settle.

The creature, whatever it was, had brought down an entire parking garage. Jack knew he had to get out of the city.

Before leaving, he took a quick inventory of his pack. Almost everything was unharmed – except the locket. He noticed it had been opened. He reached inside and opened the locket. Inside was the photo – but no letter. Frantically he rummaged through the rest of the pack and found the seared remains of the letter, almost all of it ruined by the fire. All that remained was the top of the page.

"Dear Jack,

Hey brother! I miss"