Shannon Finley's Story

A gentle breeze wove its way through Shannon’s hair. It was cool, but without the crisp bite that he was accustomed to. Relief might be a word to use to describe the feeling it gave to him, were it not for the fact that he had been walking since before sunrise. He knew the trek would be a long one regardless of whether or not he encountered anybody, or anything, that had less than desirable intentions, but it was taking its toll on him. It wasn’t so much that he was walking instead of riding, but that he had to find his own food, cover up his tracks, feed his horses, keep a lookout for trouble, set up camp, cook his food…it was a miracle he made it as far as he did with as little trouble as he did. In order to make up time, he’d decided to walk without a break, taking occasional sips from his water bottles and stuffing his face with handfuls of nuts or jerky. Huffing in disapproval, Birch shook her head and pulled slightly on her reins. Apparently Shannon wasn’t the only one who was feeling more than a little deserving of some rest.

Sally and Birch, his two horses, were primarily there to carry his gear and to keep Shannon company. The Clydesdale horses were strong and tough; engineered through generations of breeding to be capable workers, Shannon saw much of himself in his two companions. Like them, he was raised to be tough. If you weren’t, then you’d be food for the wolves. In current times, it was more likely to be literal than figurative, and that hammered the point home even more.

“Looks like I’ve won that bet Sally. Birch gave in first.” Shannon whispered in a gravelly voice. Sally stomped her hoof in disapproval, cocking her head back in defeat. “That’ll be another catch fer ya ta hold come tomorrow.” They were between hills, with small copses of trees littering the area. Shannon threw Birch’s and Sally’s reins around the branches of a young sapling and quickly fetched them a couple of apples. “I’ll be back.” Seemingly indifferent to his words, the horses continued to munch on their apples as Shannon made his way towards the far hill.

He walked with a cautious air about him, as if there was danger lurking around every bush. His strides were long and quiet, his head swivelling about as he made his way to the crest of the hill. Once he was close enough, he knelt down, and after a quick glance behind him, laid himself on his stomach. Crawling forward army style, his hand left the hammer he used mostly as a walking stick, and came upon the binoculars strapped around his neck. They were likely one of his most valuable pieces of equipment, allowing him to see further than the wind could carry a scent. They were also likely to be his most expensive piece, even more so than his bow. With the pristine clarity they provided, Shannon surveyed the expanse before him.

Like the hill before, there was nothing of immediate interest. Shannon breathed deeply, thanking whatever pantheon of deities was available for the break in trouble. Grabbing the hammer, he stood, brushed himself off, and made his way back to his companions. It had been a hellish couple of weeks, having to deal with a pair of hooligans that were harassing him. He wasn’t sure where or when they had begun to follow him, but they had caused Shannon nothing but grief. They scared away all the game that Shannon was attempting to stalk, attracted unwanted attention from the rotters that Shannon often had to deal with himself, and even managed to steal some of his supplies when he wasn’t looking. Why they didn’t just take his horses, or kill him in his sleep was a thought that was constantly on his mind. Maybe they were just trying to piggy-back their way to safer places. Or maybe it was just easier for them to let the hunter do all the heavy lifting. Whatever their intentions were, it didn’t matter anymore. Shannon managed to use a large horde of rotters to outmanoeuvre the parasites. It was one of the few times that Shannon had ridden atop Birch, pushing her and her sister to their limits as they galloped through the masses of dead flesh. Ever since then, there’ve been no signs of their nuisance.

“She’s all clear girls.” Shannon mentioned to the horses as he unstrapped his rucksack. Letting it fall to the ground, he took the opportunity to find a few minutes of rest as he sat down at the base of a thick tree trunk. The sun was high in the sky, which meant he had another six hours before he needed to set up camp for the night. He took a large swig of water, and stared up at the sky. The trip he took up north was only supposed to have lasted a couple of months. When he came back down, it felt like the trip had taken a permanent extension. What was two months spanned into twelve, the conveniences of modern society stripped away. The scent of death carried a long ways, and there weren’t many days that Shannon hadn’t caught a whiff of its sickly aroma. For the moment, he was free of it, and as he took in the bottle of water and the fresh air, he closed his eyes. They remained closed for several minutes, as he let his mind wander.

Refreshing.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, wondering if the world had changed in the small amount of time his eyelids had taken the world away. It was a fleeting moment, but he revelled in its reprieve from the toils of the day. Once again he would don his pack and be on his way. It would be many hours before they would stop, making camp in a rocky hilltop. Once they each had their meals, and Shannon had set up a noise trap around their perimeter, they each laid down to rest. It wasn’t long before he was abruptly woken to the sounds of Birch and Sally whining and stomping their feet. They noticed something while he was asleep. They only ever acted that way when the undead were afoot. Shannon shot up off his cot and grabbed onto his binoculars, quickly scanning the landscape. The sun hadn’t quite set, the remaining light giving his binoculars enough clarity as though he were looking upon a landscape bathed in midday sun. It only took him a few seconds to figure out where they were. There were hundreds of them, if not more. The horde of zombies were quite a distance away from where the three of them were, but they were downwind. They weren’t in any immediate danger, but it would be foolish to stick around, especially if even one of the damn rotters spotted the embers from his fire. Shannon stowed his binoculars and went about wrapping up his camp, trying to keep Birch and Sally calm in the process.

It was going to be a long day yet, that was for sure.