I am all by myself / The trees are not trees / The birds are not birds / And I am not me / But something that has been walking for a very long time.
YELLOWJACKETS. Lottie Matthews
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Eight.
Sade's growing stomach became more insatiable as Travis and Natalie's hunting trips turned scarce and godless, tart berries, clattering squirrels and aged deer scraps were the new delicacy. According to Jackie, it'll be better tomorrow. It's never better these days, and Sade notices that Jackie's good nature is starting to wear their patience thin. She can't blame either sides, but she also can't fathom the energy to care. All the red energy is salivating in her wet mouth, in her canine teeth.
She hopes her grandmother is okay, wondering if she finally spoke words in her elongated absence. She must look to her mother for guidance. (To a God, maybe?) Sade feels like she has so much to do. But her mother is gone, and the guidance she left behind feels as distant as the days before hunger gnawed at her bones.
Sade presses a hand against her aching stomach, willing herself to believe Jackie's words, but the growl that follows is a cruel reminder of reality. It's never better. It only shifts in a different temper, reshapes itself into something else to endure.
The forest has grown meaner, the new air of coldness biting deeper into their skin with each passing night. No rescue forces or intact aircrafts riding in the sky. Natalie returned yesterday with nothing but a rabbit too thin to share. Travis hasn't come back yet. Sade doesn't let herself wonder if he ever will.
She fingers the golden ankh necklace at her throat—a gift from her grandmother, a reminder of home, of warmth, of stories whispered over simmering stews. If Augustine were here, she would know what to do. If Camille were here, she would tell her to be strong.
But she is neither of them. She is only Sade (if even that). Hungry. Tired. Searching for berries in a forest, and watching the fire shrink with the same inevitability as death appears to be closing in around them. Sade has so much to accomplish. But also nothing at all now.
"Seriously, how the fuck are there no fucking berries?" A frustrated Mari kicks the bush, making the green foliage rattle.
"The birds could be picking them off. Or-or mice." Akilah suggests from Sade's side.
Van sighs, rubbing her hands together. "I'd eat the crap out of a mouse right now. They're probably fucking just. . .hibernating early or something."
Sade nods, but she doesn't believe the words. Tomorrow will be worse. It always is for her. No one was coming to save them in this burning cathedral. Not even themselves.
From her crouched position, Lottie pitches in. "You know, some animals live off eating their own vomit."
"Okay," Van grimaces in disgust, "Thanks for that image, Lot."
"Did Dead Cabin Guy tell you that, or do you guys just chat about blood and stuff?" Mari snickers, Sade's footsteps are heavy as she's making her way to the taunting girl but Van stops her.
