(It's) Always There
Copyright© 2026 by Daniel Tors
Chapter 4
Night had fallen a long time ago, it felt, everywhere aching for rest as the long dark unyieldingly kept her from slipping away. Navy’s heart beat too fast, her thoughts were too unfettered, and the confining shadows simply would not let go despite her best efforts. Two weeks, and sleep yet evaded her. Red had gone to hunt – which he’d never done – a while before sunset, absent movements leaving her unable to guess how much she needed to endure.
She couldn’t bear it anymore, so got up. Hane glanced back at her as she came over and sat cross-legged near him, facing the same way he did – out into nothing. The man was barely a figure among other vague shapes, distant moonlight showing his formidable outline in the limited yards before usable sight halted; even through the veil, Navy could tell he was completely awake, Hane’s vigilance likely coming about for very different reasons, persistent goals in mind. Hane conversed not at all, nor did she expect the opposite.
The tiger reached into her backpack and rummaged to its lowest point, bringing out the book which sat there and opening it in her lap, resulting in soft crackles of an aged spine. Unsurprisingly, Navy couldn’t make out a single word on the randomly-flipped-to page; the illustrations could be made out though, their black-and-white scenery viewable in part because of how many times prior she’d viewed them, smudges in that moment referring to cemented, clear memories. December, amidst making her personal love for Sommerset clear in one way or another when the story was brought up, never really pushed Navy to read it herself – there was plenty else to read, after all, and plenty of time to get to it eventually.
All the images in Navy’s head were made no younger than her twentieth birthday. She caved then, months having passed...
... Her mother and father first met because of the novel – in college as freshmen. As told to Navy by December, on more than one occasion, she teased him for reading a fantasy romance story before comically admitting her own interest when asked. Her husband-to-be lent the book on good will she would give it back, the woman trying several variations of asking, “What’s the return date?” as the true question repeatedly missed him and he insisted, “When you’re done.” Eventually, she asked straight-on; he uncharacteristically clammed up, deflecting, “Oh ... Uh ... That’s nice, but I have a lot of classes, and a job, and, uh...” but he agreed soon after, “ ... Sorry; yes, I’ll go.” Of all the stories she liked telling, December enjoyed the ones where he was a “total dork” the most – her dad sounded thoughtful, earnest, and quiet, usually, as Navy could only imagine an electrical engineer that read romance novels would be. He sounded nice to be around.
... All heat instantly drained from her. A low, short whistle, simple yet deeply inflective like part of a bird song, came just audibly from behind; she couldn’t tell how far away it was, see what it came from, or hear anything more. Deep, black emptiness captured her gaze, and offered no reassurances.
Managing to tear her eyes away, she reached for and shortly after looked at Hane to get his attention, fear keeping her quiet as the man didn’t react whatsoever. Footsteps and their owner entered vaguely into her perception at the same time, Navy tapping Hane on the shoulder with increased urgency as the man approached. She was ignored.
The stranger put something down near the middle of their sleeping area, and Hane finally turned to him. Red spoke plainly, but like he’d been asked a question, “Sparse day. Had to trap.”
... Hane withdrew Navy’s arm by the wrist, and told her, “I appreciate the warning.”
Whether this was genuine or a snide comment, his constant, unimpressed-sounding tone didn’t verify either. The commander never seemed to make unpleasant remarks like that, but his derision could just be more subtle – a whistle only to be heard by those he wished to hear it. If he meant it at face value, surely Hane would’ve just told her who it was; why wouldn’t he?
Navy didn’t really feel like asking. Instead of returning to her book or picking at some random object she found, though, Navy’s attention was caught.
Tied to a loop around the fox’s hips were six animals – four squirrels and two opossums. They swayed without noise as he splayed a large tarp, its purpose made clear as Red unfastened the animals from himself and laid them out as well. Their eyes were blank, their expressions dead, their bodies lifeless, a single wound to pierce their chest or crush somewhere vital and take all they once had away from them.
Red took the magazine from his handgun, put two bullets in, and reloaded it. With the assortment of material he’d gathered and pocket-sized tools which sparked together, he started a fire barely more than embers that was allowed to flicker more vividly as a metal, foldout tripod was placed over it, and thin racks were layered between its supports. He put black latex gloves on, set out two plastic containers, pulled a knife and shears from his bag ... and she turned to face him completely.
An incision was made along one of the squirrels’ backs, Red then worming his fingers in, taking a stance, and tearing its pelt from midsection to both ends in no more than a few movements. The animal’s skin was bloodlessly peeled clean over its front limbs, each cut with bone-scissors in the same manner it was then beheaded, the cranium, hands, feet, and tail, piled into a container. Its underside was sliced apart, ribcage split in two, and entrails torn out from the top down, every organ placed in the repository she then understood was for unwanted parts. Edible, smooth muscles and bone beneath them were nigh all what remained of the carcass, and it took Red less than a minute.
One by one, the other squirrels were dressed, the second going slightly faster with all past it maintaining that exact proficiency, and by the time he’d gotten to the possums, the flames had risen enough to crackle gently behind him. These rodents, similarly, had their bodies skinned and their innards torn out, early steps involving cutting around and between their hind legs. There was a point, however, when Navy realized the preparation of these animals was no longer her focus – she never truly stopped observing in her peripheral, but, perhaps subconsciously, her attention was drawn. His face, or what she could discern of it, was beyond readability. Skinning, breaking bones, ripping an opossum’s head off with one hand, washing its body, and laying strips of its meat above the fire all elicited the same expression. She could explain why he’d look that way, and they were good reasons, too ... but his behavior still seemed deeply wrong to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t weep at the sight of dead animals – she was aware many people did such things as this for a living or, evidently, just to live at all – the problem was, rather, that all of it meant the same to him.
It didn’t matter that Navy was inept at spotting these potential displays of feeling, nor that the softly flaring backlight still left much of Red concealed ... what mattered was how Navy felt about him. That, she understood with perfect, unthinking clarity.
... He finished by wrapping the cleaned tarp around where the strips of meat hung, the recently tended flame vanishing entirely behind the cover as its smoke weaved almost invisibly upwards.
Red grabbed a shovel and took what remained of the animals into the woods.
Hane put his hand on the tiger’s shoulder, making her flinch. He told her, “Go to sleep, Navy; next day’s just as long.”
The sweaty grip on her handgun tightened as Hane finally motioned, “Forward.” As instructed, she never looked fully away from him, even to see what they were watching, and so followed as immediately as the others did, her place at the back of their line. She had no important role, yet the tiger’s nerves were wracked as she focused on staying close behind Case and remaining quiet, her eyes darting around the parking lot much like the barrels of their weapons but in a less controlled manner. It was strange to be around something modern, almost making her feel exposed despite the area being no less wooded than anywhere else ... that part could just be the other’s intensity about the situation, though.
In what very short time Navy had to view the premises’ outside, she did try to spot anything unusual like they’d said. Aside from a dozen-or-so cars that were well beyond repair, the only thing of note around the middle-of-nowhere sporting goods store was a gas station opposite the building and across the main road; no doubt they’d seen it, but it was certainly ... interesting. Both the overhang and attached convenience store had been decimated by one central explosion, only their outermost vestiges surviving to be covered near completely in flora – had the tall sign announcing its presence not been there, Navy doubted she’d have seen it at all. Thankfully, nothing “unusual” was around it, or anywhere else as far as she could tell.
They split at the left part of the building, she and Case crouching under grimy windows below a yellow “Coming Soon!” banner while Hane and Red went to the right entrance, which was probably a bar, seeing as it was called “Bootlegger’s Garage” and most of the cars were parked on that side. As the others reached their side-business, Case tested the door just as they did and opened it after, grabbing the entrance chime to keep it quiet with one hand while aiming forward with the other; once inside, the door was blocked shut.
Where they entered seemed to be a restaurant or café that never got the chance to open. Its peeling walls were painted beige, a counter for ordering was fixed in place, an open window to the kitchen was there, and all the furniture and appliances were present, everything just hadn’t been set up quite yet. Where such a place’s right wall usually would be, there was a large opening to the main store, a partition with flyers for Ohio state tourism and such keeping the others out of view, though she could tell the bar was similarly structured. Briefly, they went into the restaurant’s back area – a thin and long cooking space followed by a once-refrigerated vault-looking room, store for shelf-stable products, and a tiny office – before returning.
Case peered into the main business, signaled something to Hane while Red blocked the main doors, then they moved out, each group taking one half of the store. A centrally located – and broken, in large part – skylight illuminated the modest shopping area as they crept through, Hane and Red sure to be regularly in view between isles, though various differences in how things were laid out would likely obscure them now and again.
Navy didn’t hear much besides her and Case’s footsteps, the occasional bit of glass, plant-matter, or product cracking underneath as they passed through several different sections, the tiger attempting to thoroughly check each. The first primarily involved a couple registers to pay at, and the lines in front of them stacked with things to buy on impulse, every item having rotted away to uselessness, especially the candy and other snacks fit for travel – what very few of them were left, anyway. Further back, a smallish part dedicated to survival foods was even more ransacked, the boxes for each kind of merchandise flung to the floor amongst wrappers so ones behind them could be reached; there were some left, but most of those were in freezers. Immediately after that were guns, rows and rows of places for them to hang on the wall and rest in display cases surrounding and embedded within a somewhat curved display counter, shattered glass everywhere from the compartments being broken open. Excluding a few revolvers, bows, bolt-action rifles, and some attachments, the place had been picked clean, not a bullet or arrow in sight. After it was an equally large section dedicated to equipment; tents, tree stands, rangefinders, flashlights, portable gas stoves, and the like fared better than other sections but were largely in low stock.
Just as they reached the back, Hane gestured something to Case, and it was acknowledged ... or responded to, she didn’t really know.
When she and Case passed through double-doors – merely needing to be pushed open, as they had no handle – it went dark the moment they closed. To her, at least, since Case seemed to move fine enough, the hallway-like room used for storage was very dark, only a minimal amount of light coming from the doors’ meager, dusty windows. Navy could walk around as usual, particularly with Case leading, but it took a while longer to parse out details around her. Though she didn’t like the place at all and her support was made even closer to useless, Navy still did as instructed the whole way inward, checking around the pallets of boxes as well as the ceiling-height shelves they were on, and generally wherever Case wasn’t. Twice, he swiftly cleared a room – workspaces for managers, both of them – and found nothing more than clutter.
The others could be seen not terribly long before they reached the store’s midpoint, Hane and Red signing amongst themselves while the commander finished tightly obstructing the back exit. Once she and Case arrived, Hane glanced at her, then spoke to the wolf in a low voice. “Anything?”
For a split-second, Case started to use his hands, then put them back down, a fleeting bit of confusion on him as he did. “ ... Two rooms back; they probably left a long time ago, but their tracks were decently covered.”
“Not our civilian, then,” Red noted while looking at Hane and motioning his head ... towards a body. The corpse – a feline’s – lied sideways against the wall, their entirely skeletonized form having long fallen apart, tatters of clothing all else that remained.
She wanted to ask something – something about the body. Instead, Navy’s attention was drawn back when Hane said, sounding like he was addressing everyone, “Eyes open. Always.” He was looking right at her.
Hane pointed behind himself and told them, “Far end. We’ll come to you.” He then signed something to Red, and the two departed opposite from where they came.
Navy followed Case the short distance to their goal for a time that seemed protracted...
Pointed to a set of five shelves that, at one point, could be rolled around, Navy started sifting through the boxes of clothes on one end while Case began on the other; the selection of containers matched the store’s size, so there weren’t that many, but there was enough to where finding what they needed (polyester for the coat, softer material for everything else, no overly frayed or moldy articles) could take a while, especially in the dark...
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