The Lesser

It took everything in her not to look back. Walking away from her friends, tears burning the corners of her eyes, she still wasn’t sure this was the right move. How much harder was she making things for herself? Going out on her own, with only what she could carry on her back, walking towards almost certain death...But, staying was certain death too, wasn’t it?

Was it smarter to just stay? She knew how to handle the situation, how to maneuver, to keep her head down and keep herself alive…but how long would that work for? Every day got worse. She felt confident that she was safer out in the wilderness, which is why she left.

The weight of her decision began to settle itself onto her shoulders, and when she was far enough from the compound that they could no longer see her, she stopped walking. She stood still in the middle of what used to be a road but had been long since reclaimed by nature. Where was she going? There was nowhere to go. Her breath quickened, and she began to sweat. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts at once, and her eyes fluttered and twitched until she finally closed them. Dropping her knees into the dirt, she shrugged off the backpack that now felt twenty pounds heavier than it was. She put her palms over her eyes and grabbed her head with her fingers. She was trembling from head to toe, the reality of her situation causing bile to rise in the back of her throat.

She should turn around. Just go back, unpack, sit at the kitchen table and act like nothing happened. What was out here for her? How long would her food and drink last? Would she find any other survivors? Would they accept her? Offer her a place to sleep?

She sat for a moment, knees growing sore from the rough ground beneath her, her feet tingling from being folded under her weight. She stared straight ahead. There was nothing. Just dirt, dead grass, and flat empty land for miles. And there were enemies. Hungry, mindless foes that didn’t know or care what she was running from. She should be running from them. Instead, she was willingly serving herself up to them. There was something strange about being more afraid of the known than the unknown. She could walk and be safe for hours, or even days; or she could come across a pack of them in the next few minutes. Would it have been worth it? Is she gaining any peace of mind from leaving? She’ll still be sleeping with one eye open, jumping at every sound, never able to truly relax. At least back home she had food, shelter, company, some semblance of safety that was impossible to find out here. But at least the creatures didn’t pretend to love you.

She got to her feet, ignoring the patches of filth stuck to her worn and tattered pant legs, and slung her pack over her shoulder. She continued walking, steadying her breathing and clearing her mind. She had sat on this decision for weeks. She knew the consequences of leaving and chose to leave anyway.

That morning, she finished packing quietly, little by little. It took her a week to discreetly gather all her necessities without him noticing. He had left earlier on a supply run with eight other men from the compound, and she knew they wouldn’t be back before dark. That was her moment. She dressed in a comfortable t-shirt and sensible cargo pants, with lots of pockets. She holstered her weapons: a 9mm pistol with plenty of ammo, and her 15-inch machete. Before leaving she turned to take one last look at the small, but comfortable cabin that she had called home for three years. There were wonderful memories here, but they were all drowned out by the pain and fear that had slowly woven its way into her relationship. She closed the door behind her and took careful steps towards the main gates, trying to avoid detection. She knew she would have to speak to the guard. There was no avoiding it.

“Where you headed?” he asked as she approached. She looked at him with determination in her eyes, squaring her shoulders and holding his gaze.

“Can you open the gate, please?” she said, ignoring him. Understanding flashed across his face as his brows drew together, eyes glancing between her backpack and her face.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. There were rumors. People knew what she was dealing with, heard the screaming, saw the bruises. In a close-knit community, nobody wanted to be the one to speak up. They figured she could deal with it. This was her dealing with it.

“I do,” she responded.

“You don’t. Whatever you’re dealing with, it can’t be worse than what’s out there.” He couldn’t comprehend what she was dealing with.

She knew he was trying to help, trying to protect her, but there was nothing anyone could do. She could wait around and hope that one day he didn’t come back from a supply run, but the odds were low. They went out in large groups, and they protected each other. He was coming home, and she couldn’t be there.

“Please, just let me out.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head, but after a moment he walked over to the lever, pulling gently, allowing the gate to creak open just enough for her to slip through.

“You can come back,” he said as she stepped out of the compound.

“Thank you,” she responded, but she knew that she couldn’t. If she ever came back, he would make her pay for leaving. He was going to make everyone pay for not stopping her.

It wasn’t her problem anymore.

The heavy metal gate scraped shut behind her, the metallic clang echoing across the vast empty landscape. She flinched at the sound but didn’t look back. She took a deep breath and began to walk.