Fighting Rough

32

John sat there, at the edge of camp, with the remains of his ear throbbing. The pain had dulled somewhat.

Max had cut John and Cynthia loose. The three of them had taken all the gear they could carry and left the body there in the snow. When they’d gotten to Mandy on the way back, they’d had to make a stretcher to carry her back on. She was sleeping now, as were most of the rest of them. Only Georgia, Mandy, and John were still awake, keeping watch. Georgia was on the other end of camp, hidden in the woods.

“The aspirin doing anything?” said Max. He was fiddling with the radio John had brought, adjusting the knobs. So far there’d been nothing but static.

“Not much. I wish we had something stronger.”

“Maybe it’s good we don’t.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing,” said Max. “But caffeine might help.”

“It relieves pain?”

“I read something about it,” said Max, in an offhand way. John knew that meant that Max knew what he was talking about, but didn’t see the need to go too much into it.

“Never would have thought of it.”

“I’ll get you some coffee. We need to save the caffeine pills.”

“Max, wait, I need to…”

“What?”

“I just wanted to say… I don’t know. I’d be dead if it wasn’t you. I’ve got to admit, I was starting to doubt you. But you’re the reason we’re all alive.”

Max shook his head. “I’m not the reason,” he said. “The truth is, I’d be dead if I were on my own.”

“But you keep risking your life trying to save everyone else.”

“You don’t get it,” said Max. “The only way we’re going to get through this thing is with each other. All of us.”

“Sounds kind of cheesy,” said John. “But I guess it’s true.”

Max nodded.

“I still don’t think you’d be dead though. You’re made of tougher stuff than that.”

“It could happen,” said Max. “I’m sure it will at some point. Haven’t you read how long people lived in hunter gatherer times?”

“About forty, right?”

“The average is low,” said Max. “So you’ve got to imagine that a lot died well before whatever the number was. And that was before guns, back when the population was minuscule compared to now. The population must be thinning out, judging from what I saw, and what you’ve told me about the city. But, still, it’s dense compared to any other historical period.”

John didn’t know what to say. “Hell of a thought,” was all he could muster. He was exhausted, and he felt like he’d never been rested. Sleep was only a memory.

John turned his hand over, and examined the fingers on his left hand, where the nails had been pulled off with pliers. It still hurt like hell. Cynthia, fortunately, hadn’t gotten the plier treatment. Just a couple light cuts on her skin.

“That guy was really something, right?” said John. “He didn’t make sense. Nothing about him made sense.”

“Well,” said Max. “It made sense to him. That’s all that mattered.”

“He was just nuts.”

“Yeah. And there are more out there like him. You saw those prison tattoos just like I did. But not just people who were in prisons, but the ones who roamed free, but were hemmed in by society. Now the world is nothing but a playground. No rules. Nothing to stop them.”

“You really know how to cheer someone up.”

A voice suddenly cut through the radio’s static. “Help… help… Is anyone out there?”

John and Max exchanged a look.

The voice had faded out. Nothing but static.

“Did you change it? The station?”

“No,” said Max.

“What happened, then?”

“I don’t know. But we’ve got to keep listening.”