The trip to Arklay wasn’t a long one. I paid a man a bit of scrap I had. He said his name was Mark, not that I believe that, but he was an old man with a silver beard and curly grey hair. His eyes were weary; whether because of what the world had become, or because of his long life, I’m not sure.

He said I wasn’t the first he had ferried here, and most likely wouldn’t be the last. He left me on the northern shores of the island, it had just begun to rain, and I hadn’t eaten in days. My first task was finding some shelter. I found a fallen tree that’d been braced by a large boulder near the edge of a forest. It wasn’t completely dry, but I was able to dig a small channel to help direct the water out.

I searched most of the day for food, but had no luck. Instead, I tapped into what little rations I had that night. My first night on the island wasn’t exactly accommodating. Between the sound of wolves, and the thunderstorm that rolled in early in the morning, I didn’t get much sleep, and I struggled to keep my fire lit. I finally had to sacrifice my coat with some sticks to build a sloped run-off for the rain water to keep it dry. This was a problem however because it meant I couldn’t use my coat, and the rain seeped into the channel I had dug.

The few times I did get some sleep, though, I had nothing but nightmares. Why do their faces haunt me?

I’ve had a recurring dream that has plagued me for months now. I am alone, and I’m running in a forest full of twisted trees. They’re charred and dead, and their silhouettes look like corpses in agony. Like someone had rearranged bones and stretched them out. Then there’s the faces. People I knew, people I don’t. All of them are fused into the burnt bark of these trees, and their screaming with bits of moss and insects crawling from their mouths. They’re all screaming at me to help them. And I can’t. I’m being followed by a shadow.

I can sense it behind me with each step. An ominous spectre. It chases me in my dreams, yet it feels like it just lingers behind me, as if teasing me to turn around and see it. The smell of putrefaction is what gets me. The cold chill that creeps across my neck with each exhale and carries the stench of a decaying carcass full of maggots and puss. It burns my nostrils.

That morning, the storm had died down to a calm drizzle. I set out from my makeshift camp shivering. I’m not sure how long I had walked, but I had found power lines and chose to follow them. They always said you should stay away from cities, I wasn’t sure if they’re were any on the island, but cities meant supplies if I was lucky. Death by bandits if I wasn’t.

I eventually found a town, which was as expected. It was full of run down buildings, but what struck me the most was the eerie quiet as I walked through the streets. Outside of the already dead spread out in alleyways, or in the roads; the place seemed empty, yet I could feel eyes on me. I was able to find an old clothing store, and what hand’t been torn to shreds by the weather or animals, I took and wrapped up in my bag.

The next town over was a different story. This one had people. I had just reached the outskirts of the town and was rummaging through an old dumpster when I stumbled on some honey. It was the first thing of food I had seen for sometime, and especially of something I had seen that was so identifiable from before the outbreak. I wasn’t just holding food, I was holding a piece of my old life in my hands.

I remembered how I had read, or maybe I had heard it — that honey didn’t go bad. It could keep for a long time, and yet I’d found a jar in almost perfect condition. It didn’t look opened, and I was afraid to open it in case I was wrong about the spoiling part. I had no way to keep it if I broke the seal and it did go bad. And while it was food, I needed protein.

And this is why I was here. I was starving, I could feel it with each pain, and I was dangerously low on my rations. Worst of all, I had no more water and was left drinking from puddles. I stumbled into town, and stayed vigilant and avoidant of most people. I had actually waited for some time to watch them, make sure I wasn’t walking on a bandit hive. Even still, I knew I was being watched. Everything I had of value, I slipped into a hole in a wall before entering town. I had my gun, and my jar of honey on me.

I found a soup kitchen, or what looked like one, with few in it. There was a woman inside of a trailer and another outside near the window. She got some food and then the smell hit me. It was steak. She was cooking steak, and it was the sweetest thing I had ever smelt in all my life. If I could’ve cried and fallen to my knees, I would have. I approached the counter after the first woman had been served, and kept careful watch on them both. I couldn’t lose focus, I was still in unknown territory here and I knew I reeked of newcomer.

It didn’t help that the served woman watched me constantly. I made sure I had a few routes of escape plotted just in case as I asked about the steak. And fuck was it expensive. $50 for some steak, I had maybe 35! I didn’t have a choice. I bartered my honey with her, and was she a tough nut. I convinced her that the honey wasn’t opened, and was done before the outbreak. I suggested how she could make delicious honey-ham and that would drive business up, because who wouldn’t love some new flavour?

We negotiated back and forth. I got her to to raise to two steaks and some water in return for the honey. And despite my budging, I couldn’t get the three I wanted. I tried two steaks and two water, still no luck. I settled on the two steaks and the water. I knew it wasn’t a fair deal, it didn’t seem so, but damn I was starving here. I reluctantly traded, all the while the woman who had been served had gotten up, fetched her bag and rifle and headed off.

With the trade done, I turned to head out, only to find the armed woman now at the edge of the pavement talking with another. I tried to move around her, but she addressed me anyway, I knew it was coming, but I wasn’t prepared still. What was to stop her from gunning me down right there? I had no way to defend myself. She was nosy. She saw right through my cover of confidence and picked me out as new to the area. I stalled, and when I had my chance I left, I left quickly. She offered me help, talked about how people should work together to survive. I don’t know if she meant it, but if I’ve learnt one thing, words mean so little to people now. They’ll speak kindly until they have the chance to stab you in the back.