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</div></div><br/>Forest had always been a happy person. Able to see the good in things. Now, his jokes were bitter and worse than that he didn't have anyone to listen. Everyone was gone. His mother and then his younger sister. That left him and his father, but only for a time. The two men of the house, trying to make it work. To keep what they had, though Forest wasn't sure what for some days. It had been hard on the both of them. One didn't expect to bury their closest family members one right after the other. The only comfort was they'd been able to do it on the land they'd maintained. Some of Forest's happiness had gone out of him then. Things fell into silence, even with the company of his father. If his old man said anything at all, Forest had better listen.<br/><br/>“We'll protect what's ours. See it to the end. At some point, the world is going to right itself. God has his ways of fixing things and cleansing the world. Someone needs to be there when it happens. Someone who has an understanding of why it all happened in the first place.” Of course, his father had no scientific knowledge, but he had his beliefs. He blamed the sinners that corrupted the world. The unnatural ways. The corporate farms that were poisoning people. The greed. And Forest believed him. He hung on his every word. He always had. They weren't the most educated people. Forest had finished high school, but never attended college. They knew the land, and they knew survival. They didn't need the crutch of technology, so that was perhaps why when it hit, the only thing they really felt was the loss of their loved ones.<br/><br/>It had crept up on them when the sickness plagued them again. His father had never been a man to slow down, or to admit any sort of weakness. Forest had thought he was just getting older. All the work was taking a toll, and so he pushed harder, taking on the larger workload, and forcing his father to rest. As much as his pride protested, eventually his father's body just couldn't do it anymore. Illness took over. Purple bruising mottled his skin. He became gaunt, and then eventually, Forest was burying his father beside his mother. He was alone.<br/><br/>Forest had taken his father's words seriously. He wouldn't leave. His survival was dependent on this place, and others seemed to know that. He and his father had put up eight-foot fencing before things got really bad. They'd used barbed wire they had stored away for their cattle herds. It was a harsh contrast to their three board wooden fence that he remembered ducking between, all the protection they need before all this. Forest made sure to cut away and maintain tree branches. He shot anyone who got too close. People would come, making demands, but this was his. He'd earned it, and he'd not have it taken from him. They were all dying anyway. It would hardly matter if it was a bullet or the sickness that did it.<br/><br/>Forest knew he was dying too. He was experiencing the same mild bouts of fatigue his father showed. He recognized it, and he was bitter that it would stagger like this. Slowly killing off the entire Chancey family. He'd have been happier to die with his father, but then who would have buried him and said a few godly words? Who was going to do that for him, when the time came? This bothered him, both because he knew he wasn't going to be able to do what his father wanted and because when it ended he wanted to be in the ground.<br/><br/>He dug a grave beside his fathers. He had a plan for it. Before he was too weak to walk, he'd turn all the animals loose, and then he'd put himself in the grave, and let it have him. Suicide was not an option. Perhaps it was misery that had brought him to this, but for now, he wasn't to that point. It still served as a harsh reminder.<br/><br/>He was fine now; capable. He had a duty to uphold for a long as he could manage the farm. He kept a garden going, smaller now that it was only just him. He saved seeds he could dry, and used the manure from the horses to fertilize the soil before he replanted. The animals were one of the few joys left to him. He had a stout chestnut gelding. A ranch horse and not pretty by any means, but reliable. He kept his sister's horse as well, a plain bay mare. All the rest him and his father had turned loose. They knew they wouldn't be able to feed all of them just on the land they had. Too much livestock would be a luxury they couldn't afford. They'd kept the two youngest horses to get around, and then things that were easy to maintain. The chickens, kept in a sturdy coup. And then the sheep. They were easy enough because they ate even the things the horses wouldn't and seemed to do just fine. He had a dog too, a big beast that was well over one hundred pounds. Forest fondly called him ugly. He was a tan color, with a dark muzzle, and medium length hair.<br/><br/>After his father had died, Forest had tried to get him into the house. The dog had been raised with the flock and wouldn't have it. He preferred to be outside, blending in with the livestock. It was probably just as well. The dog was fiercely protective of the sheep, and Forest knew when someone was out there based on his behavior. He wasn't a loud dog, but he'd let out a low bark of warning if he felt there was a predator near. Better suited out there than keeping a lonely and desperate man company in the farmhouse that had too much space for any one person.<br/><br/>The worst kind of predator turned out to be humans. That shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, but he'd heard them. Torturing someone they got a hold of, but Forest was no hero. He wouldn't try to do more than he could. He'd wondered upon grisly scenes left behind by what could only have been humans. He knew the difference between a blade cutting through flesh and fangs tearing. That meant desperation, and the wrong types of people surviving. It made Forest all the more paranoid.<br/><br/>As lonely as he was, he was too mistrustful to let anyone in that he didn't know. They'd just try to take, and then Forest would be the one to blame for someone slitting his throat at the end of the day. He felt guilty though, and this was eating away at him. Forest couldn't help but wonder if he was turning into the corrupt creature he spent his entire life running from.<br/><br/>He was sitting beneath a tree, listening to the sounds of the animals. The dog had even come over to sit by him, withstanding a few pats from the miserable individual..<br/><br/>“You're a good dog, Bruce.” He still wished they had ended up with something with some damn human loyalty. He supposed they had made it that way, choosing the dog for that purpose, and not inviting him in with the family. He was only trying to do his job. Bruce took off for the fence. He'd been watching something the last few days, but Forest wasn't sure exactly what. Maybe it was something come to sneak up on him, or maybe it was just another animal.<br/><br/>With a sigh, Forest got up from his chair, knowing he was going to have to go find out what it was, rather than wait for it to get him. Bruce followed him to where the gate came together and he went through the process of unlocking it. He followed the dog out, Bruce seeming to have an idea where he wanted to go.<br/><br/><br/>–<br/><br/><br/>Mason thought they'd done okay for themselves. They were alive. That was something. It was the three of them now. Lex, and then Wallis. It was too dangerous to be alone. Sure, they missed certain creature comforts but better off than most. Breathing, fighting, fucking, just the way men were meant to go on about their business. Mason adapted because he was strong. Did what he had to do, same as the other two.<br/><br/>He'd known Lex before it had all gone bad and Wallis had come later. He was calm yet still imposing, and both had found it agreeable to let him tag along with their merry band. Mason was less happy about it when Wallis started fucking Lex as well, but what was he going to do about it? He had no real claim over the other and it was good incentive to keep the larger guy around. Wallis had always said Lex was pretty enough to pretend. Mason would agree with him.<br/><br/>“I'm fucking telling you guys. I used to live out here. There was a farm my buddy's family kept up, all nice and tucked away. I bet they're all dead or gone, but it might still be there. You know we couldn't stay in the city. It was getting too messy,” Mason tried to reason, though they'd traveled a good distance and had to start out on foot, much of the roads blocked off with vehicles. Mason thought that was a good sign.<br/><br/>“Shit, this really brings back memories. As a kid I used to play in these woods.” If he didn't look behind him he could easily imagine it all hadn't gone to hell in a handbasket. That he wasn't sick or running from a world that was getting too dangerous even for someone like him. Mason had grown up in the country, taught to shoot and many other things he probably should have listened better with. He wasn't as tall as Lex, or as broad as Wallis, but he wasn't a stranger to hard work. Too much longer and he might have gone soft. Had an office job somewhere, but it was early enough that he remembered, and he was still strong. He wasn't bad looking either. Light brown hair; blue eyes. Wallis wasn't even bad. He'd tease Lex and tell him he hadn't done all that bad for himself. As pretty and useless as he could be at times he could be slumming it with some real dirtbags at time like this. They kept him safe, and he returned the favor with what was within range of skills. Win-win for everyone involved.<br/><br/>“You think you're the first guy to have this very same idea?” Wallis pointed out, a bit more skeptical of the plan. “I'm telling you, we need to get the fuck out of dodge. Tuck ourselves away where no one is going to be looking. For a little while at least.”<br/><br/>“Until more people die, you mean. What if that's us, Wallis? No, I want to live a little before I die. Have some real fucking food again. We'll just see what we can find, if anything is left.” He shoved Lex a little ahead of him and kept going, knowing that if Wallis was outnumbered he would follow.<br/><br/>–<br/><br/>Forest wasn't expecting three. Too late now that Bruce had them in his sights. The dog didn't hesitate but he wasn't growling or barking. More like he was just investigating. As far as Bruce was concerned people were neutral, not super exciting but worth a look. Forest cringed, imagining that would be the end of the big beast. He didn't want to bury him too and so he did the first thing that came to mind and followed while raising his gun.<br/><br/>“Don't shoot my dog,” he called to them. Part pleading, part warning. He tried to whistle to get Bruce's attention. They were armed, two of them at least. Only one had enough foresight to actually grab for his weapon.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: left">“Woah! Holy shit, Forest! Don't shoot!” Mason had thrown his hands up. “It's me, buddy!” He put his hand on Wallis' arm. It wasn't fucking loaded anyway but when the big man raised a gun most people didn't question it. And he would bet Forest's <i>was</i> loaded.​</div><br/>Forest didn't trust himself for a moment; didn't lower the weapon. Mason had calmed right down though, leaned over to laugh, coming up to put his hand over his heart.<br/><br/>“Fuck, Forest. You scared the shit out of me! You and your damn dog.” Mason registered that his old friend hadn't dropped his defensive stance and his brows came together. “Hey, it hasn't been that long. A few years? Forest, put the god damned gun down.”<br/><br/>Forest did so slowly, looking between the other two.<br/><br/>“It's okay. His gun isn't even loaded,” Mason pointed out, waving at Wallis. “And Lex here couldn't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag if he tried.” He gave the tallest one a playful shove but he waited until Forest approached, the serious expression finally melting away into something of the charming smile he remembered. Forest pulled Mason into a hug with one arm, gun still held in the other hand, finger parallel to the trigger. Thankfully he'd hesitated. Some men wouldn't have. Truly, Forest hadn't wanted to shoot anyone. Mason would have known how he was raised; how heavy something like that would have weighed on his conscious. Things were a little different now and it had taken too long for Forest to believe that an old friend was standing in front of him now. He wasn't alone.<br/><br/>“Where'd you come from, Mason?” he'd asked, pulling away.<br/><br/>“We were out in the city. Getting real bad.”<br/><br/>“Just the three of you?” Forest asked, making sure there weren't more. This was already pushing it.<br/><br/>“Yepp. Just us.” Mason went about introducing the other two. Forest shook both of their hands, looking them in the face, just as his father had taught him.<br/><br/>“How's Autumn?” Mason asked, the situation deescalating, at least until he'd opened his mouth. Forest went still and dangerous again.<br/><br/>“Oh, fuck. I didn't mean it like that, Forest,” Mason said in defense.<br/><br/>“I know. She's dead,” he delivered in a detached manner. “Buried her next to Momma. You can pay your respects if you'd like. I'm sure she'd like that. She always liked you.”<br/><br/>Mason apologized and Forest shrugged it off.<br/><br/>“Come on. Let me remind you of some of that hometown hospitality you missed,” Forest said instead, obviously hoping to change the subject as he brought Mason, and two strangers on through to his little farmstead.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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