Reid turned the stick and the fire stirred. A slight breeze breathed life into the glowing embers for a flickering moment before it died. The sudden warmth radiated from the pit and Reid pushed his hands closer.

They’re late. The others should have been back before the sunset, at least three hours earlier. Reid wasn’t worried about Laurence or Tish and he didn’t really care all that much about Shannon. They each had more than enough experience in the wilds to stay alive, even if they were split up. It was waiting alone by a lit fire that tensed his shoulders and had his hand checking for the knife at his hip.

There wasn’t much beyond the crack of the fire to give him pause, but Reid scanned the trees around him anyway. He knew beyond the forest lay a few farmhouses, barns, maybe a general store and a gas station. All abandoned. All forgotten by everything but the overgrown brush. He didn’t hunt the darkness for people or animals. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a raccoon or a squirrel. No, he watched and listened for the shuffle, the groan, the guttural warnings of what used to be men.

After a few minutes of silence in the winds dying he leaned back into the fallen log and stretched his neck.

The whole pursuit was a bust, the others just hadn’t admitted it yet. Weeks trudging through the brush, backpacking their way up the Rouge Valley hunting the origin of one cryptic radio message. “She’s here.” That the four of them up and leapt at the chance to track her down hadn’t exactly been the shining testament to their forethought. But they’d tried. They did something. That sure as hell beats sitting around just waiting for nothing.

Reid let go of a heavy sigh. “Fucking waste of time.” He tossed a small clump of dried pine needles to the flames and they crackled on the ember bed.

The plan had been simple: find the source of the signal. Sure enough, they did without much fuss. But the bunker wasn’t much by the time they got there, abandoned or overrun, Reid couldn’t tell. But it had been picked clean. Not an ounce of water, supplies, or ammo to pillage. After, they tried to pick up a trail, something that told them where she would be.

All for a fucking myth. He kicked the stick and the fire turned, small puffs of thick smoke trailing to the sky. A pipe dream. Nothing more than a hollow promise of safety out of the infected zone. Find the girl, find salvation, they said. As if anywhere in the world had escaped the virus.

Reid closed his eyes and he could see it. Life before infection. Cities, streets, people everywhere and with them came the noise. Just so much sound forming a gentle hum of electricity, voices, engines that followed him everywhere he went. And that smell - refuse, sweat, and filth. The stink of civilization overpowered memory. After the chaos settled all that was left was that quiet. That suffocating unending silence and the stench of blood he could never seem to get off his hands.

The fire cracked and his eyes snapped open.

She’s long dead, he decided. That or turned into the things that walked in people’s skin. And even if by some weird luck she was alive, Reid had no doubt they wouldn’t find her. They weren’t the first to go looking and they wouldn’t be the last. Not to mention Laurence and his “tracking”, like some guy who lived his whole life in the city could find anyone outside of it.

They should have made it back by now. The wind turned and the trees groaned. Their camp wasn’t too far from the small hamlet where they’d found the bunker and the camp shouldn’t have been hard to find. He toyed with the idea of kicking apart the fire, a beacon in the night could draw all kinds of unsightly things. But the trees were thick. The sky cloudy. Despite that, Reid picked up the stick and knocked the logs apart just to be safe.

He felt the steel before he saw it. The cool metal glided delicately across the skin of his neck. Just a touch, no blood drawn. The kiss of the blade coupled with a warm hand covering his mouth.

“Make a sound and you bleed.” The woman’s words dripped from lips barely above a whisper, so quiet yet clear against his ear. Her hair tickled the back of his neck and she brushed his cheek with a hot exhale.

“You and your friends will be gone by morning. If I see anyone near here again, I’ll find you, gut you, and leave you for the wendigos.”

Reid’s chest raised in nervous breaths and he ached to move. But the sharp and steady knife pressed to his throat kept him still.

“Don’t nod. Don’t scream. Don’t call for help.” Her hand unclasped from his lips. “Just say you understand.”

“I understand.” He wanted to turn, needed to see. As he heaved in his breaths he dared to turn his head, only a little just to catch the shape of her. To see the ghost.

“You’re actually her, aren’t you?” he whispered.

The knife retreated. Her shadow merged into the trees. He considered standing, jumping her, reaching out to take hold of what they had hunted for but Reid remained paralyzed. The others had the guns. His hunting knife was within reach, but they needed her alive. Doubts plagued him as his fingers flexed at his side. What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if he couldn’t find her? I didn’t even hear her come up.

“Whatever you think you came for doesn’t exist.” Her voice echoed from the dark. “Pack your shit up and leave before you end up like the last ones that came here.”

“The others won’t-”

“I wouldn’t mistake it for a suggestion. You stay, you die.”

If I don’t at least try, we die. Reid took a quick breath and steeled his nerves. He gripped the handle of his knife and turned to face her.

There was no one. Nothing but the flickering shadows from the low fire. The tree’s around him rustled in the wind, drowning all sound. Not a trace of her remained.