Lurk

Chapter One

Day 105, 14: 05

The Camp, Somewhere in New Forest

Clouds of cigarette smoke filled the camp, creating a musty and poisonous atmosphere to bask in. Neither of the brothers had spoken since yesterday, and it was only now over a depressing cigarette and can of Fosters that they opened their lips.

“This is all just shit, Harry.” Scott scorned at the ground, fingers digging into his half-empty beer at the thought of what had happened. “There were five of us, for God’s sake!” he opened his arms wide, speaking generally to the practically abandoned living settlement. Everything from the makeshift hammocks to discarded underwear just reminded the siblings that they were all that remained of the “survivors”.

“I know, Scott, but it has to get better soon,” Harry smiled. “You don’t get this much shit without something good at the end – it’s all about karma... or something like that.”

Scott, sweeping back his tangled and greasy mop chose to venture elsewhere. Harry could see the blatant lack of hope in his brother’s eyes, but it wasn’t uncommon for his big bro’s mind to head into dark regions. In a way, that was how the two had survived so long – or at least prolonged their lives. Like karma itself, the siblings consisted of light and darkness. Goodness and bad. Harry: always criticized for his blind optimism, and the grumpy Scott: always the first one to complain when things went wrong.

Days without food or supplies had brought them to the darkest of family days, with just cigarettes and a few beers left to tend to their needs. Forget food, Scott often thought, what we need is a fucking noose.

“Where’re you going?” Harry yawned, grinding his stub of a cigarette into the ground.

Scott didn’t look back to his brother, and became quite rigid as he took their last spade, before heading for the trees. “If I ain’t back in an hour, just leave me behind and run.”

“Wait! Where are-”

“I’m gonna see if I can track down where Drew got to. But something tells me I’ll be looking for a body.” Without another word, Scott trudged out into the wild, sandals crunching softly on the tree bark.

“You’re a right dickhead sometimes, Scott...” Harry sighed, heading into his last replenishing sip of beer. “Ah, that’s better.”

Burping with bliss, he threw the can to the ground, and fell back into a comfortable nap. You have to grab any ounce of sleep you can, he thought, casting his mind to a much happier place. Dream city, here I come.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Waging a personal war on the ground he stood on, Scott felt some release of stress with every insect that he mutilated. The inside of his head felt like a broken blender, shredding all hope and producing nothing but grief. The cool breeze helped dry his face of sweat, and he found that the faster he travelled the more refreshed he became. With that in mind, he picked up speed.

What a ruined world, he thought, observing the dead but still standing trees of the New Forest. This was where he and Harry had shared some of their best childhood memories, either from paddling in the puddles or catching squirrels in the dead of night. In later years, entering the mid-teen stage, they’d been more inclined to cause trouble in these parts. Scott almost laughed at the irony of the situation: after tormenting other campers three years ago, their mum had seen no other alternative other than to ban “all future camping trips”. And look where they were now: at the same old camp spot, only without parental restriction, and at the brink of a grizzly death.

Look after him, won’t you son? You may be twenty, but he’s not even an adult yet. Those exact words had been a few of the last ever to escape their mother’s mouth. I promised her, Scott remembered, slowing down as he came back into realisation of his whereabouts. Oh shit.