90 DEADLY DAYS (WEEKLY UPDATES RETURNING THIS DECEMBER)

Chapter 8

__________

Chapter 8

__________

As morning sunshine creeps on the horizon the Fortunates douse the fire and clear out. I trek off on my own, a furiously growling stomach in tow. To my chagrin, no one passed food around before they left.

I forgot. It's every man for himself now.

Inedible blossoms and fronds bloom everywhere. And as my hunger heightens, the innocent-seeming foliage tempts my ravenous eyes. I grope for higher branches. The Final Feast where food was aplenty seems a distant dream.

Deeper in the canopy a tree crashes. I run after the sound, praying for a fruit tree. When I find its branches, I select one of its small leaves and study the intricate surface.

Will it taste like spinach? Collard greens? My stomach roars. Only fear of toxins hidden in the dull green keeps me from doing something stupid. Dana warned against eating anything out of desperation. I probably would've been dead ten times over without the rule.

Up high, swing creatures with long arms and wide, ugly mouths. They hurtle from tree to tree, stuffing themselves full of fruit I can't reach. I gaze enviously, jealousy making me all the more hungrier.

Cradling my hollow abdomen, I stalk deeper into the woods, forlornly accepting that today I probably won't eat—yet again. The burn of acid gurgling on empty walls earns pained grimaces. To take myself away, I sing softly. The music somehow crowds out the nasty throb in my belly.

I sing myself one of Nebula's lullabies.

It's childish, I know.

On the third verse, one of the critters screams. I jolt, looking skyward.

Floundering for its footing but finding none, the creature screeches before plummeting to the ground. I scramble towards the falling fur ball, but it splats before I can save it. The snap of breaking bones forces shudders down my spine.

Unhelpful pity clutches me, but the poor thing is already far gone. The once fascinating creature arranges in a chaos of mangled, shattered limbs. I cringe. Death screams at my face as I examine the grey fur fading to a pale yellow, marveling at the tiny ears and snub nose set off by intriguing black, lifeless, eyes. My hands reach to grab it when I notice a small dart stuck in the heart.

Who has darts out here?

Some advanced hunter probably. And they must lurk nearby. Thoughts of eating the critter still overwhelm me, but so does the image of an angry, stealthy hunter. My fears loom stronger than hunger. Still, my hand lingers.

I haven't eaten in so long.

The clamor of crunching foliage starts up behind me. I listen closely, noting the loudness of the heavy and scattered approach. Loudness could mean the approach of a group or a wounded graduate. My hand retracts, but not before I steal the small fruit clutched in human-like fingers. It's not much of a score. The purple fruit barely fills my palm. It's unholy stealing from the dead once again, even if it's just a small animal, but another day like this will turn me feral. Wild. Torn inside out from hunger.

Before the Graduate, or Graduates, who killed the animal appear, I dash into ever present shadows. Several voices begin to pollute the air. I sigh. Thank goodness I decided to move on. As I scramble away, a group armed with crude bows and arrows crashes onto the clearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkness thickens as night slithers over the jungle. I wander through it blindly, focusing on finding a place to sleep, as if you could sleep out here. I rub my arms, not due to dropping temperatures, but because of the fingers I swear I glide on my skin. A voice from the past forces its way inside, haunting me. Fingers grip me. My nightly ritual of fighting away painful memories begins.