Beneath Dark Skies (Rolling Hills Ranch #1)

54. Farron

FIFTY-FOUR

FARRON

FIRE & FLAME, DON’T DRIVE ME INSANE

Day 24

“Come on… Come on…You’ve got this…”

I’ve been chanting the same thing out loud for what must be the past ten minutes as I try to light this stupid fire. As I continue to struggle with the matches, kindling, and kerosene, my frustration mounts with every failed attempt. The flames flicker and then refuse to catch hold, mirroring exactly what I feel inside.

With trembling hands, I drop the match. Tears threaten to spill over as my doubt creeps in, whispering that maybe I really am the last person left. I’ve been on the run for over three weeks, and I haven’t come across a single person. A few of the undead, sure, but not one single living, breathing person.

My thoughts start to spiral, the questions in my mind multiplying. Is there any shred of humanity left out there? Is my family okay, or has everyone I love succumbed to this infection of the undead? What’s the point of continuing on?

This new world seems determined to crush me at every turn, and the gravity of what I’ve had to do so far to survive is eating away at me. As I sit in the darkness, I can’t help the feelings of hopelessness and despair threatening to consume me whole.

If I can’t even do something so fucking simple like starting a fire, how will I ever make it back home to Rolling Hills? I have been moving for weeks, headed in the direction I hope will lead me back home. But I don’t know how close I am or if I’m even going the right way.

With each passing moment, my shadows seem to grow deeper and darker. The silence around me only amplifies my fear, the isolation wrapping around me, suffocating me, squeezing the air from my lungs. My breathing turns ragged, and numbness starts to creep in. In the midst of all of this, the idea of ending my own life calls to me like a siren. I think, maybe, it would be easier if I ended things now.

It’s not the first time I’ve had such dark thoughts since the world went to hell. But tonight, as I sit here, defeated and exhausted, these dark thoughts feel more tempting than they ever had. Some nights, my mind plays cruel tricks on me as I sleep.

I dream of Rolling Hills and being reunited with my family. I dream of being in the kitchen with my mom and grandma, baking and making a mess of the kitchen as the two of them giggle and gossip. I dream of racing Holden on horseback, just like we did when we were kids.

These dreams always start off so incredible, a bittersweet escape from the harsh realities of the day I just lived. But as they continue to unfold, they always end up taking a darker turn, twisting into nightmares. They end with me getting to the ranch and seeing my family dead, their faces contorted in fear. I see my childhood home reduced to rubble. In the worst ones, I see my family as the undead, coming toward me with no recollection of who I am.

During the day, when I’m running, trying to make it back to the ranch, I can’t help but wonder if these dreams are a warning. What if they’re a premonition of what I’ll find at the end of the journey?

What if I make it back home, only to find it completely destroyed, my family gone?

Magnum’s soft whine breaks through my thoughts like a lifeline. He hobbles over to me, his broken leg a stark reminder of what we’ve been through together, and I can’t help feeling a surge of guilt wash over me. How could I even consider leaving him behind, abandoning him? Tears still streaming down my face, I reach out and grab him, pulling him into my lap.

“I’m so sorry, buddy,” I whisper to him. “How could I ever be such a daft idiot to think about any sort of future without you?”

He nips at my fingers and looks up at me in the dark, his eyes almost screaming at me, Ya think? I bring my head down to his and nuzzle him, and in turn, he twists towards my face and licks the tears off my cheek, as if telling me that everything will be okay as long as we’re together.

“Quite the pair we make, huh?” I tell him, still sniffling. “You’re a little broken physically, and I seem to be quite a bit broken mentally.” He lets out a little huff of breath like what I said was funny.

As I look at him, I realize my bond with this ugly little dog is the only thing keeping me tethered to reality right now. Holding him close, I focus on the feel of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body against my chest. After a few moments in silence with Magnum, I set him down and summon the last ounce of strength I have left tonight.

I grab the matches again and force myself to push through and try one last time to start a fire. I strike the match, willing the flames to ignite. The fire finally catches hold and casts a warm glow as the flames leap to life. I take a moment to savor the small victory and turn to look at Magnum, my tiny reminder that I’m not alone.