Walking the Ruins

A crossbow and too many questions

The crossbow is heavy in my hands. Holding it steady is nearly impossible. With a sigh, I move a few steps to the right, to the remains of a concrete wall reaching up to my chest. Resting the weapon onto it for support, I take aim again, pointing the bolt in the direction of my target, a squarish board of wood about ten meters away from me. I hold my breath and pull the trigger.

The first thing I note is the recoil. It is surprisingly strong.

"Wow," Kevin says. He has observed the procedure and now approaches the target. Joining him, I see that the bolt has split the wood and embedded itself in the tree behind it. With a grunt, he pulls it out.

Both, the bolt and the crossbow, are old technology. We found them in spring, in that basement in the city, I remember clearly. The string of the crossbow was torn. Kevin has swapped it with a steel wire. That one breaks, too, after a couple of shots, and needs regular replacing. But we have a whole coil of the stuff.

"It's powerful," I say, "and accurate. Thanks, Kevin."

He displays a satisfied grin and nods. "But it's heavy. And hard to draw."

Yes, drawing it is hard. I have to place my foot through a kind of loop at its forward end and then pull the string, or wire, back into the nook of a trigger mechanism. And to prevent the wire from cutting my fingers in the process, I have to protect them using a piece of clothing.

But I love the strength and accuracy of the thing. "I do want to take it with us," I say. "Thanks."

"It's heavy," he repeats, "and you already have a lot of other stuff. You're sure about this?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Anna will help me carry."

Our arsenal presently includes three spears, a number of knives, two bows, and an impressive stash of arrows and bolts. And there will be more to carry, in addition to the weapons. We'll need provisions, clothing, blankets, and lots of other things.

"We'll manage." Somehow, I add, without saying that aloud.

"Hey!" It's Rose's voice from the house. "Lunchtime!"

We collect our things and head back.

Rose and Anna have set the table in the garden.

"Anna", I say, as I ladle a vegetable broth, watching her from the corner of my eyes. "What would happen if we ... remove... Jan? Who would take control?"

She clenches her jaws, then she gazes out at the lake, and her face becomes bland. "Emma," she says, her voice and face devoid of emotion. "I guess she would be the one... to take control."

Emma. It fits. The short-haired woman. She has the pistol, and she's the only one I have ever seen carrying a weapon, besides Jan.

"What would she do?" I ask.

Anna shrugs. "She .. It's hard to say. Jan is her father."

Her father. This comes as a surprise. He's blond, and she's dark. Anyway, that complicates matters. My eyes are drawn to the crossbow standing against the wall of the house. If we do... remove... Jan, she might not sympathize with our goals.

"Is she close to him?" I ask, briefly wondering what the hell I'm planning here.

Anna shrugs again. "Hard to say. She doesn't say much. About herself... or about him."

"And the others, what would they do?" I clearly remember that Anna has told me that there are twenty-three people in the bunker.

Anna's eyes seem to be glued to the lake. "Carl, my brother... he does not like Jan, he would help us against him, I think. But he hates the outside. It scares him." She shakes her head, briefly. "There are others that might be on our side. But Robert and Adam, they would certainly be on Jan's side."