The boys made their way back to the cabin, chatting excitedly about how they were going to prepare the jackrabbit they had caught in their trap and wondering what it would taste like. Simon was now wearing the backpack, which covered nearly the entirety of his back like a tortoise shell.

And Isaac still had the spear in his possession, which he was using as a walking stick. He’d tied the jackrabbit and slung it to his back with a rope that was pinching his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. It had been over a day since they had eaten anything, and the prospect of eating fresh meat was enough to keep him going.

“How are we going to skin it?” asked Simon.

Isaac thought about it for a moment. “Um… like a grape, I guess.”

“It’s going to be so good! How are we going to cook it?”

“In the fireplace.”

“I wish we had some mac and cheese to go with it, don’t you, Isaac?”

But Isaac wasn’t listening. He grabbed Simon’s arm and stopped him. They were standing on the edge of the field with the open space around the cabin before them.

“Was the door open when we left yesterday?”

Isaac was staring at the cabin’s front door, which was halfway ajar.

“I… I can’t remember.”

Isaac pulled Simon back to him, and they hid behind a tall patch of grass and watched the cabin closely.

“Maybe it’s Dad,” Simon whispered. “Maybe he’s finally back for us.”

Isaac scanned the surrounding area.

“I don’t see his car. It can’t be him. Besides…”

A loud crash of breaking glass from within the cabin interrupted his thought. The boys caught their breaths. It was then followed by what sounded to them like frantic footsteps on the floorboards, then another crash.

The boys spun around and sprinted away from the cabin, heedless of the chaparral lashing their cheeks. They fell a few times on the uneven ground but got up and continued to run for several minutes until they were completely spent.

They collapsed behind a boulder, lying flat on the ground, struggling to breathe.

“It’s okay,” gasped Isaac. “There’s nothing behind us.”

“What… what was it, Isaac?”

“I don’t know. Probably another deer.”

“Are you sure?”

Isaac didn’t answer.

“What are we going to do?” Simon asked.

Isaac buried his face in his arms. He was so tired and hungry, and the thing he wanted the most at that moment was to be back home in his bed. And the least was to answer Simon’s question.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the sky.

“We have to go down to Arrow Springs,” he said. “We can’t make it up here for long without supplies anyway.”

“That’s… so far.”

“I know.”

Isaac got to his feet and started walking. It was Simon’s turn to bury his face in his arms, but he, too, got to his feet, and the two brothers began their long trek down.

***

Isaac plunged the paring knife into the back of the jackrabbit and began to slice. He had expected blood to come squirting out, but there was none, and the knife was moving through the pelt much easier than he had anticipated.

The sun had gone down, and the boys were in a small cave on the side of a hill. A small fire burned near the opening, casting a crimson glow.

Isaac cut out a chunk of the pink meat, stuck it into the end of a stick, and handed it to Simon, who took it eagerly and held it over the flames. Isaac skewered a chunk for himself, and the boys cooked their dinner silently, their eyes never leaving the meat, which slowly turned from a pinkish-white to a dark brown.

Isaac brought the smoking meat to his lips and blew on it. He took a small bite and chewed cautiously, his eyes growing wide with astonishment. Encouraged by this, Simon took a healthy bite of his own and gasped. After several more bites, he jumped up and danced gleefully around the fire.

Isaac watched his brother dance, and he laughed hysterically, almost choking on the meat. He knew he shouldn’t have been making so much noise, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He took another bite and joined Simon, and the two danced, accompanied by their flickering shadows and the chirping of cicadas from the forest.

***

The boys woke up early the following day and continued down the mountain. On several occasions, they had to backtrack, for their path led them to sheer cliffs, but eventually, in the late afternoon, they stood on the outskirts of Arrow Springs, population 757.

It was a small town of a few dozen buildings, including The Trail’s End Motel and Pine Realty on one side of the two-lane highway, and The Shirt Shack and Earl’s Saddleback Grill on the other.

Isaac and Simon took cover behind a parked car and studied the silent town. On the once pristine road, sheets of paper were strewn about, soaked, and blackened by the mud. A few lights flickered in some of the buildings, but most of the signs were off when they should have been turning on to accommodate the evening business.

Besides these few things, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. No one walked the streets, but that was not unusual for the secluded mountain village.

Isaac reached into the backpack, pulled out the meat cleaver, and handed it to Simon.

“Stay close behind me.”

Farther in, they noticed a smell of gasoline that seemed inescapable. Windows were broken, furniture overturned, and the hardwood siding on buildings charred. Scattered throughout, particularly on the storefront boardwalk, lay dozens of brass bullet casings and shotgun shells. In front of one store, Simon saw scratches and yellowed fingernails embedded in the wood.

Isaac saw Simon re-grip his hold on the cleaver as they hurried ahead. They stopped in front of a building with “Avery’s Groceries” written in faded, mustard-colored lettering on the storefront window.

With Simon beside him, Isaac peeked inside and swung the door open, which jangled a shopkeeper’s bell overhead. The sudden sound startled the boys, who scanned the area to see if it had attracted any attention.

They looked at each other and chuckled nervously. Once inside, they stepped over broken glass and empty shelves that lay on their sides and began to scavenge through the rubble.