Dehuman (WIP)

Chapter 1

Dehuman is a work in progress, anything could change. This is the first draft of the first 7 chapters. Expect some areas to read rough.

I don't remember much from the last twenty years. I've come to the conclusion that a life lived alone is a life unlived. If a tree falls in the woods with no one close enough to hear it, does it make a sound? If a person lives a life with no one to observe, did they live a life? You can observe a fallen tree and deduct that it fell from an upright position making sound in the process. You can see a dead man, observe the lasting results of his existence, and deduct that he was at one point alive. Without ears to call vibration in the air sound, a tree falls silently.

I know these years have eroded my mind. I don't remember hunting my last deer, but I am still traumatized by my first. Nothing feels real anymore, the cold, the hunger, the pain.

A crack of a rifle from not too far away returned me to the present. It had been months since I heard of a person this close to me. My heart was racing. I cupped my hands and clapped.

Clap, Clap - - Clap

...

Clap, Clap - - Clap, Whistle

Their swift response allotted me a small amount of composure. While It was my intention to spend most of the day in the area to try to fill the freezer, I hadn't made it this far by playing it risky. I packed up my rifle with trembling hands and started to walk to further hunting ground. I checked my compass and whistled my departure north. I figure any game in the area would be long gone now that someone had fired a rifle in the area. I'll give him a few hours to haul whatever he had killed out of the area before returning.

I kept my guard up, there was no telling if or when they would indicate again. Hell, it took me a few seconds to remember how to make my presence known. I could imagine a scenario where I myself could forget to signal, let alone a stranger. Honestly, I'm glad they took a shot, had that not snapped me back to reality who knows how close we could have gotten.

A few hundred paces north revealed a set of deer tracks. On one hand I was glad to have found something today, but on the other I was certain frostbite would set in soon. I looked at the thermostat clipped to my bag.

4°F

After some evaluation, I decided to pursue the deer tracks. I figured that I had two hours or so before the cold started to claim me. That was not a huge deal as I did bring fire starting tools but that would likely entail staying the night in the wilderness. It would also give the other hunter time to get done with his business in the area so hopefully I will be able to take the normal trail home. Though, I confess I was not looking forward to it. The idea that I would have a slumber party with some icicles put some energy in my stride. So much for not playing it risky I suppose.

With a decision under my belt, I began to follow the tracks. The tracks were fresh and indicated a casual stride. It seems this critter was not spooked by the rifle's harsh tone earlier. I followed slowly and quietly, my boots light enough to balance on a feather. I knew that I was one twig snap away from the whole day being ruined. The cold was starting to infect my bones. Each breath I took felt as if I were sounding an airhorn. As I walked I began to slowly equip my rifle, taking great care to minimize noise. All it would take is a carabiner clanging my rifle to set off a deer on edge. It was only a few minutes after I had my rifle ready to fire that I laid eyes on him, standing on top of a small hill.

It was an abomination. The buck was emaciated and had a large gash on its side, exposing several ribs. It stood there, unmoving, only animated by its lungs moving its dirty rotten hide in a rhythmic motion, as if the air itself were puppeting a lost soul. Its smell leeched life out of my nose, almost my mouth as well. Its eyes were as clouded as the breath it poisoned the air with. Its flesh a disgusting palette of browns, yellows and a shade of black reserved for the dead. It was as if Lucifer had left the gates of hell open. I figured I'd return this convict to him.