Finding Darkness

Episode 6

A faint glow flickered through the canvas walls, casting dancing shadows. I slowly pushed myself up, testing my balance. My body still ached, but the dizzy spells were gone. Once I felt steady, I walked out of the tent.

Several identical tents were pitched in a loose circle, centered around a crackling campfire. Jackson sat by the flames, his profile etched against the flickering light. I moved toward him, my steps soft on the cool earth, and sat down on a fallen log near the fire.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, not looking away from the flames.

"Better," I admitted, my voice grudging. "Thanks to you." It was true. As much as I hated the vulnerability, hated owing anyone, he had saved my life.

He chuckled softly, a low rumble. "I didn’t think you were capable of being nice."

"I can, when I want to be," I retorted, a spark of my usual sharpness returning.

"So, you got a name?"

I hesitated, staring into the mesmerising dance of the flames. Tell him? He was a stranger, yet he had pulled me from the brink. The fire crackled, spitting sparks into the night, its light playing across the surrounding trees. Fire. Such a destructive force, capable of laying waste to everything in its path. And yet, it could also bring about a new beginning, purifying, forging. Fire was a mysterious, powerful gift, as the old stories went. Prometheus stole it from the gods, enduring unimaginable punishment so humanity could have its warmth and light. Were we truly worthy of such a gift, one that cost so much? A light touch on my shoulder made me jump, pulling me violently from my thoughts.

Against my better judgment, the name slipped out. "Mina." I looked up, meeting his eyes across the campfire's glow.

He smiled, a sweet, disarming curve of his lips. "Nice to meet you, Mina. I’m Jackson."

I quickly averted my gaze, forcing myself to ignore that smile, that voice like melting honey. They were a dangerous combination, capable of sucking you in, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. I found him more annoying by the second.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, holding out a bowl.

I took it, my fingers brushing his. The contents looked amazing! A rich, thick stew, its savory aroma making my mouth water instantly. I took a bite. It tasted even better than it smelled, a burst of warmth and flavor spreading through my starved body. Before I knew it, the bowl was empty, and I heard a soft laugh from beside me.

I looked over at Jackson, who was trying to stifle his amusement. My cheeks flushed, a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire.

Am I embarrassed?

I’d never felt embarrassed about anything in my life, but now, eating in front of him, I felt an unfamiliar awkwardness. I must have looked like a starved animal.

Pathetic.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice laced with genuine amusement. "I didn’t mean to laugh, but you had such a cute look on your face as you ate. Though, you know, you shouldn’t eat so fast."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the advice." I looked down at the empty bowl, a sigh escaping my lips. "Truth is, I don’t remember the last time I ate, let alone the last time I had real food." Any meager scraps I’d found on the road, I'd consumed just enough to keep my energy up, everything else went to them.

"Well, what food we’ve got, you’re welcome to it. You’ve had quite the ordeal and need to get your strength back," Jackson stated, his tone matter-of-fact.

I furrowed my brows. "I don’t need your pity or your charity. I can find my own food," I snapped, my guard immediately back up.

Jackson sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. "I’m sure you’re very capable. It’s not pity or charity, Mina, it’s just... the right thing to do. You know, there are still people out there who do the right thing simply because it is the right thing. You need to stop being so on guard, so stubborn."

I glared at him, a cold fire in my eyes. "The right thing? Ha. That doesn’t exist. You need to stop having delusional thoughts and telling me what to do."

"Why do you insist on being so difficult?" he snapped back, his own frustration finally bubbling to the surface.

I was done with this conversation, done with him. I shoved the empty bowl at him and stormed off, back to my tent. I didn’t know why this man got under my skin so much, why his very presence seemed to unravel my carefully constructed defenses. I grabbed my pack, sat down on the cot, and began pulling out its contents. My fingers found the worn, creased photograph of me and Elpis, taken on her last birthday before this whole nightmare began. She was born on the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and the day my life irrevocably changed. Her birthday was coming up soon. Would I have her back by then? A tear, cold and unwelcome, dropped onto my hand, splashing on the photograph.

I wiped the tears away, fiercely. I never cried. For me, crying was a glaring sign of weakness, of vulnerability—things I refused to ever show. Yet, at this moment, I didn’t care. I let myself cry, a quiet, desperate release.

"Ugh, enough of this!" I muttered, annoyed at my own weakness. I needed to hurry up and leave this place, leave Jackson behind as nothing more than a distant, annoying memory.

Why do I hear children?

My eyes slowly fluttered open, but the sunlight pouring into the tent was too bright, too harsh, to open them fully. The distant sound of children’s laughter drifted in. I pushed myself up, my body still stiff but no longer protesting with agonizing pain, and walked out of the tent. A few children were playing in a nearby field, their shouts and giggles a jarring contrast to the grim reality of our world. A couple of teenagers sat beneath a sprawling tree, lost in their own quiet world. My gaze fell upon the woman who had first spoken to me, Jackson’s mother. Annie. I walked over and sat down near her.

"I’m glad you’re feeling better," she said, her voice soft and genuinely warm.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, a rare moment of politeness.

She smiled gently. "My name is Annie."

"Mina."

"I know you’re wanting to leave to find your child." My entire body tensed, my carefully constructed facade cracking at her casual pronouncement.

"How did you... I don’t have any children." The lie tasted bitter, but it was instinct.

Annie sighed, a knowing look in her eyes. "It’s not hard to figure out, well, for some it might be. Anyway, your infection still hasn’t cleared up. You aren’t going to be good to anyone unless you fully recover. You need to stay here for a bit longer."

"I appreciate everything you all have done for me, truly, but I can’t stay any longer. I’ll be alright," I told her, trying to infuse my voice with a conviction I didn't entirely feel.

"Like hell you will!" Jackson’s voice boomed from behind me, making me flinch. My irritation for this man now knew no bounds.

I snapped my head up, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Jackson, calm down," Annie interjected, standing up, placing a hand on her son's arm.

"Mom, why can’t you talk some sense into her?" he asked, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"I was trying to, until my bullheaded son came marching in," Annie chided him, a dry wit in her tone.

I watched their exchange, a strange dynamic. Annie turned back to me, a faint smile on her face. "Jackson is my most stubborn out of all my kids." Jackson rolled his eyes at this familiar complaint. "He’s my oldest. Over there are my other sons: Max, Matt, and my youngest, the twins, Michael and Michaela. And my nieces are with us too. They’re over there under the tree, Lexi and Addie."

This woman, managing a whole brood of children in this broken world, had a strength that truly commanded respect. I couldn’t imagine handling even one, let alone so many.

I looked at Jackson, a sudden, almost childish thought surfacing. "How come you don’t have an M name?"

His eyes widened, and he glanced at his mom, a hint of genuine surprise on his face. "He’s just special, I guess," Annie said with a laugh, then walked away, leaving us alone again.