He pulled up the last of the weeds out of the ground. Well, the last he'd pull here anyway. The place was overrun, and overgrown-brambles, dandelions, creeping, vines, dry scrub. He looked carefully around, more than once, and took his handful of weeds back to the house. The sun was high and the dust was thick enough to be noticed. It smelled like brittle age. It was still cold.
What was left of the house wasn't much. The frame and outer shell were still standing, barely, but most of it was rotted through. The window glass was in pieces; one or two small, dry dirty hangers on left in each group of panes. He pushed open the door; it made a sad *creak* as it gave way to the force of his hands. Most of the upper floor and stairwell had fallen to the ground long ago, and had been cleaned out by previous “guests”. The roof was still mostly intact, minus one gaping hole in the northwest corner. .
His traveling companions were huddled in a corner, trying to stay in the shadows and out of sight. One was about the man's age-forties, fifties maybe, and equally grizzled; both of them had similar thin beards. One was much younger-mid twenties perhaps-and clearly in no shape to travel. His leg was splinted with vines and a tree branch. The last member of the group was a woman, in her thirties, with a dark blue beanie on her head and wearing a blue windbreaker.
The man separated the weeds into two piles.
“Alright, this pile should be edible, and this pile should be dry enough to use for the fire..
“Thank you John. We can't thank you enough for your help.” The older man, his contemporary, spoke.
“Save it Tim. We have to stick together these days. And you won't like me tonight when we're moving again..
“We have to already?” The young man spoke, wincing a little and unconsciously rubbing his wounded leg as he did.
“'Fraid so Jonathan. We've already been here a night, tonight'll make two... Too long. They'll track us down..
The woman looked at all of them without saying anything, then returned to staring out the window into the afternoon and the endless...forest? overgrown corn field? desert scrub? that was all around them. She never said much of anything, really. They knew her name, and not much else.
They ate their meager meal at a steady pace, with an equal share going to all. They talked some-about where they might go, but mostly about where they had been. What they had been before.
As they finished eating they drifted off into uneasy sleep, trying to rest for the journey to come. John dreamed of the wife and son he once knew. Tim saw a garden, pristine and green, with all manner of fruits and vegetables in every corner. Jonathan saw old cartoon characters, remnants of better days and more innocent times. Alicia's mind held only empty, pitch black. She saw nothing at all.
John was the first to come to. He always was. Darkness had fallen and a full moon was in the sky, which would make traveling easier. He gently shook his compatriots awake.
“Time to go,” he said. They all looked at him with resigned acceptance. They all righted themselves, made sure they were awake and focused, as they had done many times before, and set out into the world.
Alicia-the last one-had just stepped outside when they struck. They were bigger than men, with razor claws. And they were fast-so very fast. They tried to fight-John grabbed one, twisted its arm around until it snapped-but he was knocked aside. They tried to run-Tim and Alicia made it a few hundred feet as Jonathan tried to buy them time-but they were cut off. It was over almost before it began. The remnants of their bodies laid on the open night ground. Blood stains marked where they'd once been whole.
The pack, if you could call it that, congregated over the bones when it was all over. They were fed, but eager for more.
“They don't grow like they used to,” one of them said. “Hardly any meat on these at all”.
“It's not their season anymore. Their time is over. And soon...soon, so is ours. But for now...
We finish the harvest.”