AN: I couldn't find the simpler versions of some of the words I used on this chapter so... yeah.

Book 1: CH 7

*CLACK* *CLACK* *CLACK*

It was the noisemakers I’ve spread out in the perimeter of the camp. The three of us looked at the direction of the racket and immediately dropped our meals, then reached for our rifles as we stood up and ran to take up positions to meet our unexpected guests.

I took up position near behind a fallen log, facing the direction of the noise and holding my AR in my typical underhand pinch position. I then tapped my vest and felt the assuring weight telling me that every magazine was loaded and my sidearm is in its holster. I looked behind me and judged my forest camo is hiding me well enough to be nicely hidden. Good.

I looked to the side and saw Ron lying prone behind a half buried boulder and is using it as a rest. He was armed with the same AR-15 as mine but with different ergonomics and scope.

Nick was holding his own AR and was crouched behind a tree, looking at everywhere except from where Ron and I are facing. It’s his job to make sure we don’t get flanked. He was carrying his rifle on the left handed position and is scanning the forest to the best of his ability.

A burst of movement around fifty yards in front took me out of my thoughts. I then snuggled close to my rifle and aimed it at the direction of where the movement came from. All I could see is a bunch of trees and bushes in that direction but I know it’s there, whatever it is.

A man then burst out of the thickets and went directly towards our direction, he was holding a bow in his hands and is terribly unaware of our presence. I held my fire. He looked to be frantically running away from something and I thought it better to be prepared for that instead.

The man kept running and almost reached me when Ron came out from his hiding spot and tackled the man square in the ribs. The two men went down and Ron wrestled the man to lay on his belly, his arms held behind his back as Ron pulled out a pair of nylon handcuffs. He then slapped them on and dragged the man away as he attempted to feebly struggle free from the cuffs.

A mighty roar then echoed in the forest followed by a grizzly bear charging out of the bushes directly following the man. Seeing the bear, I immediately thought to be inadequately armed, my 5.56mm rifle is designed to take out man sized targets, and not bear sized ones. Nevertheless, I fired. A bear’s skull would be too thick for this caliber and would just piss him more than what’s necessary so I aimed at the bear’s shoulder instead.

The bear staggered up a step and slowed down. I fired another volley of shots on the same spot and the bear roared in pain as its legs buckled and it skidded to a stop. It tried getting back on its feet but it failed to keep its weight, making it crash another time to the ground. It lay there for a while, having its fight shot out of it, and panted. Seeing the bear in pain tugged at my heart for a while, the things I’ve done going every grain that is a humane kill. This is my doing, and it’s causing unnecessary pain for a creature that doesn’t deserve it.

I must’ve stood there for a while as a hand grabbed my shoulder and I looked behind to see that it was Ron, he was holding his Scar-17 in his hands and is handing it over, telling me wordlessly that it’s my kill to finish. I handed my rifle over and took his, a .308 Winchester through the brain cavity would be enough to kill a bear.

I stood up and raised the rifle to aim at the bear lying in a pool of its blood. It saw me but didn’t move, it couldn’t move, only able to make a low growl at the sight of me and raise his head to look at me. I centered the illuminated crosshair at its head or more precisely, its eyes, and fired. The rifle cracked, and the bear dropped its head. Its dead, and I noticed the silence of the forest for the first time, only to bring its din back like the rising of the tide.

“Good job bro” Ron said, giving me a gentle slap on the shoulder.

“Thanks” I replied as we exchanged the rifles back and turned towards camp. There we found the man still on the ground, lying on his stomach, right where Ron left him. He was being guarded by Nick, who is still scanning the area for any threats. “I think we got them all bro.” I said, then added, “Nice tackle by the way, I saw that.” Ron nodded.

Nick lowered his rifle and nodded towards our captive. “What about this guy?” he asked.

The man started to struggle on his restraints as Ron got him on his feet and shoved him against a tree holding him there. “This was the man the dead bear over there is chasing.” He said. Ron then proceeded to frisk the man thoroughly making him squirm and struggle a little harder. He came up with a dagger on a leather sheath and passed it on to Nick.

“Nice piece” Nick commented as he took it.

Ron then sat the guy on the ground and spread his legs wide. I looked down at his face and he looked up to meet mine. The guy looked about our ages, about twenty five, matted brown beard covered half his face while days old grime covered the other. His blue eyes looked at me full of determination and of rock solid toughness. The eyes of a survivor.

I looked at the rest of his gear and it was what you’d expect. It was custom made low quality, ghetto shit. His jacket was made of patched up leather hide from around five different animals, the stitches have just about given up and he stinks up to high heaven too. Not that I’d hold it against him, but damn! The thought that I might end up like this guy, kind of concerned me quite a bit.

His eyes then flashed a look into my rifle when he thought I wasn’t looking so I drew my sidearm and cocked it, sending an unspent bullet to come flying out of the ejection port. His eyes followed the bullet as it arched in the sky and took his eyes back to me as I pointed my gun at his face, he flinched and instinctively looked away.

“So he knows guns too.” Ron muttered, then looked at Nick. “Cut him loose. No, actually just bypass the lock on the cuffs so we can use them later.”

“Don’t worry bro, I got him covered.” I said, seeing some hesitation coming from Nick. He nodded at that and went behind our captive, he didn’t even made a squirm as Nick took off the nylon cuffs off him and only moving to rub at his wrists when it was gone.

“Many thanks. For. Bear.” The man said, catching us by surprise. It would be a given that no one would know a word of English in this new world. He said it on a terrible accent though, revealing that it’s not his native language.

“So you speak English?” Ron asked, stepping in front of him as he tried to get up. Nick was still behind him and could respond immediately as back up in case the guy tries to get smart and goes to grabbing guns.

“Yes. Slightly.” He replied, raising his hand and making a small measure between his forefinger and thumb.

“Can you tell us the reason you got yourself getting chased by a bear?” I asked, lowering my pistol and pointing it at a safe direction far away.

“I bait. For another. More help… Please.” He said, pointing in the direction he came from. I sent a glance to the two which they met and each one nodded.

“Stay here, the three of us will have to talk this out.” I said, nodding towards one of the trees that is out of earshot. The man nodded and we went towards it. “It could be a trap,” I said just as we got out of earshot.

“It could” Ron nodded “he could also be telling the truth, and we need someone to teach us the local language to even have a chance of surviving here.” He sighed “that shit outweighs the chance of this being a trap.”

“Maybe he needs help to move his furniture” Nick quipped, taking a casual glance towards our guest just to see if he’s still there. He is, and he kept glancing back towards the direction he came from more and more.

“He looks to be about ready to book it. Maybe he really is telling the truth.” I said, “Nick, you stay with the trucks and guard the camp. I’ll be the one to go with him and Ron will follow in a distance to serve as backup. Anybody objections?” there was none and we broke off.

“Alright, we’ll help you.” I said as I approached the guy. The look of relief flooded his face and he babbled on some language I couldn’t understand, which is probably the local language. He continued on, waving his hands to where he came from that I had to wave him down to shut up. “Wait here.” I said, walking back towards the center of the camp and nodding towards Nick who was still standing around nonchalantly and acting as a guard. It’s good that the trucks are well hidden, else the guest might have seen it. That would be a bad thing to happen, for him and for us.

I approached the spot where we parked that trucks and found Ron standing by the door on his truck, his gear was laid atop the seat and he was taking inventory. “You might wanna keep the Scar with you bro. we don’t want be caught lacking by the department of firepower.” I said.

“What are you gonna get then?” Ron replied glancing at my AR.

I hefted the rifle and shrugged. “You already got the long .308 so I might as well take the short one for myself.”

Ron grinned, “You always take the short, that better not mean anything.” he said, chuckling. “How about you take my .300 black instead. It looks a lot like your rifle and might fool the guy, it wouldn’t hurt having him think that we only have a rifle for each of us.”

“And when it comes to a fight. It’s always best to be underestimated.” I replied, leaning my rifle inside the truck’s cabin. “So, where is it?”

“It’s in the back. The bag in the right, the magazines are colored orange so you can’t mix them up.” Ron said, jerking his head towards the direction. I went around and opened the covered truckbed and saw the same array of boxes and duffel bags I saw the first time. I took the bag in question and opened it, revealing a trio of guns clattering inside. There was a Remington m700 in there, an AR rifle and a double stack m1911. I took the AR and made sure to replace the magazines in my vest with the ones painted in orange. That done, I put the bag back on its place and closed the bed.

“Your .45 was missing when I checked the bag.” I said as I found Ron already kitted out, he was rocking the same Scar-17 he loaned for me and his vests were bulging with magazines. A knife hung upside down on his left shoulderstrap and his sidearm also hung in a crossdraw, just like mine.

“That’s new. It used to explode on your hand but now it’s missing huh?” Ron shrugged then looked at his watch. “Well, don’t you have a date around the woods with that guy?”

I gave him a gentle slap on the shoulder, “Be careful bro.” I said as I went past.

“You too.”

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