The Forests by Sandrine Collette

Author:Sandrine Collette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2021-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

It was while he was on one of these walks that he met some survivors. There were four of them. Men. They were hungry.

Corentin didn’t like their expression when they asked for something to eat. He didn’t like the way they came toward him, abreast, from behind the trees, their faces tense, their gazes malevolent. Blind Boy growled quietly next to him; he didn’t like them either.

Corentin forced himself to answer them without recoiling. He was emanating something, and he hoped it was invisible; a shiver, a rancid smell, a sourness he immediately recognized—it was fear. He knew he had to make the men go away, send them along another path that wouldn’t lead anywhere near the house, anywhere near Mathilde and Augustine.

He said:

There are supplies in the Little Town. If you go that way, you’ll be there in two hours.

What about you.

I don’t have anything.

Where have you come from.

I haven’t come from anywhere.

Where are you going.

Nowhere.

He didn’t have a pack. They wondered where his things were.

I don’t have anything.

You can’t survive if you don’t have anything.

I’m not interested in surviving.

They didn’t believe him. They came too close.

Don’t touch me. What good will it do you.

Shut your fucking face, they said.

He raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation.

It’s a two-hour walk to the town. Two hours is nothing.

You must have a place. A shelter. A cabin.

Corentin would never take them there. Never let those expressions—or those hands that began shoving and hitting him suddenly, furiously.

Blind Boy barked. They began beating him.

Stop. He’s just a puppy.

They kept on. Blind Boy managed to escape, whimpering. Then they went for Corentin. Their hands were stiff and hard. They threw him on the ground and beat him as long as they had the strength, and Corentin felt that, more than anything, it was the world they had it in for, all the wretchedness and pain, the entire disgusting future, it wasn’t really against him, he just happened to be there, rotten luck—they were bludgeoning him, breathlessly, to vent their anger, but it wasn’t because of him, maybe he would have done the same if he was hungry and cold and afraid the way they were.

It’s not me, it’s not me.

They didn’t stop.

They left him unconscious, lying in the mud. They took his coat and shoes and scarf.

As they left, they spat on him.

Fucking asshole.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.