Background

Darius was born to a family in rural Knox County, the type where neighbours look out for each other and everyone knew everyone. His mother a primary school teacher, father an ex-forest ranger turned grease monkey near the edge of town and his younger sister Mia. Mia was born deaf, rather than let it cause issues the already close-knit family bonded over a new challenge. They all took to learning ASL teaching Mia as they did It became their shared language. Darius was always the outdoors type, his father taking him into the woods from almost since he was old enough to walk. Learning about nature, how to move and hunt game with a respect for the kill. Making use of every part and never taking what they couldn’t, the woods where their peace. The peaceful life was shattered in 1996 when a drunk driver ran a red light. Killing both his mother and Mia in one split second twist of fate. The funeral attended by almost the whole town, Darius and his father quiet through the affair few tears where spilled a silent goodbye signed by Darius when he thought no one was looking. Neither him nor his father spoke much after that, the house felt empty. Quiet even quieter than normal. When they did speak it was through sign after a short conversation and some acceptance of reality they packed the car. Darius meticulously packed a box of Mia’s things not sure what or why, but that box was his homage to her, a way to hold her close. Driving out of town no radio, no talking the car seemed to carry the silence with them. The patch of land in the woods, the one his grandfather left them and the old cabin. The monotony of life out here like therapy, still no words exchanged the boxes sealed and quiet healing. On a rare trip into town Darius found a flyer, volunteer firefighters needed. He started traveling into town, once a week to start with then three times a week. Training hard, speaking when spoken to but awkward at least when not doing… This was life for a long time into town, Dad hit the shop Darius training meet up and go home. Little interaction and that suited both just fine. Darius eventually completed the training, being accepted onto the team he was a hard worker and quiet, staying in town 3 nights a week. Sleeping at the station and just being there, always practicing never idle. Dad never the same but slowly Darius starts to heal, a few people never asking questions but there quiet and observant helped him build back up. It was slow and quiet. When shit hit the fan Darius and his dad retreated to there home, enough supplies to last around a year on hand and with hunting and the garden who knows could have been forever. That’s how life went for a while, one of relative quiet and routine. That was until his Dad went missing on a hunt, no body and no answers Darius mourned the loss as he did in silence but it was once again too quiet again like even the woods where holding there breath. Darius arrived at the quarantine zone worse for wear. Looking like shit a face like stone saying more than words ever could. After a while someone caught wind he could hunt. He would go out with another person, or maybe a few and started bringing in meat whatever showed up. Squirrels and rabbits mostly occasionally a half-starved buck. He didn’t waste a scrap and the blood didn’t bother him. When the kitchen needed hands, he stepped in. Lumber came next and building. Cut it, drag it, nail it down solid so it wouldn’t fall apart in the wind. Then came Solana she was quiet, tense and watched people like she expected them to bite. When she talked it was short and sometimes cold. Most folks kept clear but Darius didn’t, didn’t push either. Just showed up gave her space when she needed it and helped when possible. Eventually she started talking. First about tools, then the zone, it felt wrong for her. It wasn’t a storybook thing. Wasn’t flowers and heart eyes. She didn’t want that. Didn’t need it. Just wanted someone who wouldn’t disappear. Someone who didn’t flinch when things got real. One night she said she was going to teach him Swedish. He gave her a look and she shrugged. Said it’d be something that was theirs something nobody else touched and that was enough. Started with Solana quiet, pointed things out while they worked. Tool names, commands just the short things. He’d nod, saying it back not always right but close enough she didn’t correct him. Then Dawn got involved, louder about it and teasing him when he butchered the sounds. Drew words in the dirt with a stick, made him repeat them till they stuck. Some nights it was verbs over dinner, other times phrases thrown out while fixing the fence or hauling scrap. Never formal just part of the day routine. One morning he dropped a nail, swore without thinking in Swedish, not English. Dawn laughed so hard she snorted. Solana didn’t just looked at him a second longer than usual, then kept talking. It became habit after a while. Solana says a word, he’d echo it. Dawn slip in questions mid task just to see if he’d catch on. It stopped feeling like practice. Just how they talked now half-English, half-Swedish, all theirs. Later, He and Solana got married. Just two people deciding the way it should be. She gave him somewhere to breathe. He gave her somewhere to rest. Life kept moving like it always does. Things break, people get hungry and firewood runs low. The trip with Von wasn’t new. They’d done a few before she didn’t say much, but neither did he, and the silence felt good. They packed light dried meat, water tabs, extra rounds. QZ needed meat, and they were good at finding it. Dropped a couple deer near that busted old trail marker. Nights were cold, but manageable. Fire crackling low. Breath hanging in the air. Talked a little, trip details and QZ gossip but nothing that stuck. But when they came back… They weren’t ready for what was waiting. Not even close.