Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Traveler
John S. Wilson
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by John S. Wilson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
Printed in the United States of America
Dedicated to my first fans – your encouragement kept me writing.
Prologue
Finally there came the reckoning and with it the end of a nation. The United States suffered a complete economic collapse, society rapidly descended into chaos. Millions perished. Millions more would die in the next four years as the world went through a bloody reformation. Those that survived the initial rioting and lawlessness soon faced new enemies: starvation, disease, and “Travelers,” ruthless bands that took what they needed to live.
Chapter One
“You don’t really know what you’re capable of ... you really don’t. Not until you’ve gone days without a thing in your belly. Not until that hunger in your gut starts driving you out of your mind. It won’t let you think straight or let you sleep at night. You don’t know what you’re capable of ... not until you accept the idea that you’ll do whatever is required to survive. Do you see what I’m saying? Do you know what I’m talking about, kid?”
The boy stared up at him; he was small and scrawny and appeared fifteen or so. His hair was cut short and rather rough, and it was quite obvious he did it himself. “Well ...”
“Hey, what’s your name?” A friendly looking man offered out his meaty hand. He was tall; about six foot even and somewhere around fifty. He wore an honest smile but his hardened face gave the appearance of someone that had seen a lot of the uglier side of life.
Around them were seven other men of varied ages from their twenties to fifties, and one boy. They all stared him down, not one offering a word. The men were dressed in camouflaged fatigues, no two exactly the same. Among them was an assortment of patterns and colors on their clothes and gear. A wide-ranging collection of what the US military had produced in the last forty years.
“I ... I think I know ...”
“What’s your name?” He continued to stand over the boy, graciously offering out his hand.
“James.”
“James?” The stranger’s smile grew wider as he reached out and took hold of the boy’s reluctant hand. He gave it a larger-than-life shake. “James, I like that, it fits you. My name is Robert, Robert Delby. All these guys just call me ‘Boss.’ But you can call me Rob if you want.” After a long pause, he loosened his grip and the boy took back his hand. “James what?”
Staring up from the ground, he studied the soldier hovering over him and those all around. Then he looked back to the stranger, trying with no success to hold back the tears in his eyes. “Mister, what do you want from me? I don’t want no trouble. Please ... just tell me what you want.”
The older man seemed unmoved by the tears as he continued with his friendly tone. “Well, first, I want you to tell me some things, and you can start with your full name. That’s not asking much, is it?”
“No, I guess not ... my name is James Leightman.”
“James Leightman. Is that what people call you, James?”
“Yeah, I guess.” James scanned all of their intense faces, and when he noticed the repulsed expression of the younger boy staring at him was suddenly quite embarrassed. He turned away and hastily wiped his runny nose and eyes. “Mister, you checked my bag. You know I’ve got nothing. Can’t you just let me go?”
“Maybe, I’ll tell you what, why don’t you just answer the rest of my questions, and we’ll go from there.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“You could start by telling me how old you are.”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Seventeen? You look younger than that. I would have thought at least a couple of years younger.”
“No, I’m seventeen. I guess I’m just small for my age.”
“Yeah, it’s called malnutrition. There’s a lot of it going around. Are you all alone?”
“Yes ...”
“No parents, no family or friends either?”
“No, it’s just me ... now.”
The older man sat down in the grass next to him, still speaking with his kindly voice. “Your parents, they were both killed, afterwards, I mean.”
“Yes ... my dad ... he died when it first really got bad, when we were trying to escape South Bend. My mom got killed about a year after that.”
“And you’ve been on your own ever since?”
“Yes.”
“That was four years ago, so you’ve been fending for yourself for three years now? Since you were fourteen?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight. For the last three years you’ve been surviving this nightmare all by yourself, with no help?”
“Yes.”
The man offered out his hand again. “Kid ... James, I just want to tell you you’ve got some guts. I know plenty of grown men that couldn’t survive out here alone for very long, and you’ve done it for three years now.” Rob shook his hand again and this time it seemed more sincere, the boy felt a little more at ease.
“James, let me ask you something ... and I need you to be completely honest, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You think we’re bad men, don’t you?”
The boy shifted his gaze between all of them, “No ... no,” and back to where the question began. “No, I don’t think that.”
“James, don’t lie. I can see it in your eyes ... the way you’ve been looking at us. You think that we’re bad.”
The boy continued to passionately deny it, “No!”
“James, I know you’re lying, but I’m not mad at you. I understand what you’re thinking and why you think it. We’re not really bad people, James; we’re just trying to survive, like you’ve been doing for the last three years. If anyone knows how tough it is out here, it’s you. You know, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know ...”
“And you know sometimes to survive you’ve got to do things you don’t like, things that you’re not proud of.”
“Yes ...,” he dropped his head in his hands, “I know ...”
“I’m not judging you, James. I want you to know that none of us are judging you. You did things you’re ashamed of; you must have if you’ve survived this long on your own.”
“Yes ...”
“You’ve probably begged, stole, cheated ... only you know the awful things you had to do to survive.”
“Yes.” The tears returned to the boy’s eyes.
“James, I want you to know we understand what you’ve gone through. We don’t hold anything against you. We understand you were just trying to live ... and we would hope you could do the same for us. You could, couldn’t you?”
He lifted his head again, and now, for the first time in a long while, felt that maybe som
eone understood what he thought. “After the things I’ve done, I couldn’t hold anything against anyone.”
“I knew you would feel that way. That’s why I asked so many questions. That’s why I want to offer you something.”
“What?”
“I’m offering you a chance to have a family again.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re always looking for people for our group. I think you’re just the kind of people we’re looking for. I think that you would fit in real well with us.”
“I don’t know.”
“I understand your apprehension, James. You’ve been on your own for so long. It’s kind of scary to think about relying on others.”
“Yes ... yes it is.” The boy looked around at the men surrounding him again; there wasn’t one smile among them.
“But let me tell you something, it’s a lot easier out here when you have others you can count on, friends that can share the burden. I think if you gave it a try, you wouldn’t ever want to be alone again.”
“Maybe, but ...”
Rob got a little closer to the boy. “Let’s try this, you come with us a few days, hang out and see if you like it. I think you will, but if you don’t you can go your own way again. But like I said, I think once you get used to being in a group you won’t ever want to go back to what you were doing before.”
The older man pulled a canteen from a pouch off his belt and offered it to the boy. “Here, thirsty?”
James reached out and took it, “Thank you,” drank less than he wanted and handed it right back.
Rob took a sip himself, “Does that sound like a fair deal to you?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Good, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ve got a camp hidden in those trees down past that creek. We’re all going to go back there and we’re going to give you a hot meal. How long has it been since you’ve had one?”
“Uh ... actually this morning.”
“This morning?” The older man’s friendly face now had a question. “Well now you’re going to have another. I bet it’s been a while since you’ve had two in a row.” He punctuated the sentence with a boisterous laugh.
The boy laughed too and for the first time wasn’t afraid. He thought maybe this could all work out.
“Okay, so we’re agreed, that’s what we’re going to do. You try us out for a couple days. If you want to join us you can, if not, well, you can go your own way again.” Rob picked himself off the ground and snatched up the boy’s bag. The rest of the group got up in unison, as if following a silent command. He helped the boy up and put his hand on his back, “Come on, James, let’s get you that meal.”
They sat around a small campfire while one prepared the food. Two others acted as guards, their rifles in hand. The rest sat together in the low light of the fire, most quietly laughing and joking like friends.
Rob and James sat close together as they ate their meal, beans and rice with a scarce few bits of Spam on top.
Softly, they continued their discussion. “Remember, James, try to keep your voice down. We wouldn’t want any unwanted ‘guests’ in the middle of the night,” he paused for another hardy laugh. “Well, I guess I should introduce the guys. First, guys this is James.”
Some, but not all, waved or mumbled a restrained hello.
Then ‘The Boss’ singled them out one at a time.
There was Peavey, D’Cruz, and Alton, they were all in their twenties, in the prime of life. Rob made a special effort to single out John Alton from the others. He was tall and had athletic good looks; it wouldn’t have been hard to believe he was once a football star. He said Alton was an Army veteran like him, the only other one in the group. He also noted the young man was twenty-nine and the only person here with prior combat experience, stating that at this time seven years ago he was over in Afghanistan. Alton waved another modest hello but seemed quite uncomfortable with the extra attention he was now getting.
Martinelli was in his thirties and looked like a regular guy, one you might see cheering a car race from his sofa, a beer in his hand. The only feature that really set him apart was a smooth burn scar that ran from the bottom of his left cheek right down to the edge of his jaw. He looked quite odd to the boy with a bald spot in the middle of his face where his beard wouldn’t grow.
Rudd and Cornwell were both in their forties and seemed about the same as the others, except maybe a little more battered by life. Cornwell was the cook that night and as he dished out the food seemed happy with his job. Rudd had a gruff demeanor and his body appeared entirely covered with crude tattoos, everywhere as far as the boy could see, everywhere but the palms of his hands. James didn’t like the way Rudd was looking at him. It gave him a chill he could feel right down to his bones.
McCain, Albert McCain, was the oldest of the group. Robert said he was fifty-five years old. He just silently stared at the boy never even offering a simple “Hi.” James couldn’t help but watch him there by the fire, searching to find anything there in his dark, lifeless eyes.
The men were all dressed out in military equipment and clothes, which looked like it had been used hard. All of them had their hair cut short and in a military style, and with the exception of three, they made at least some effort at being clean shaven. Martinelli, Rudd, and McCain did have beards but still they kept them cut close enough that you couldn’t use it against them. To a man, every one of them was lean, fit and tanned; obviously they had all spent the last few years working hard at staying alive.
Finally, Rob announced he “was saving the best for last” as he pointed out the only boy amongst these hardened men. The entire group clapped and gave a restrained hurrah as he briefly stood up and took a flamboyant bow. Rob said his name was Nicholas Mayer and he was ten. He described “Nicky” as “the best guy I’ve got.” James laughed at first as he thought it was a joke but was quickly set straight again.
“I’m not kidding. Look at him. That kid can go anywhere. He can walk right into places the rest of us couldn’t shoot our way in. He makes all of our jobs easier ... sometimes too easy.” Robert addressed his men, “Right guys?” and they all wholeheartedly agreed, giving the boy an even louder cheer and slaps on his back.
“Just look at that face.” Rob continued to stare at the child, “I tell you that kid can talk anybody into anything. It’s a shame he has to grow up.”
James didn’t know how much of what he heard was true or not. The boy wasn’t much to look at, that was for sure. Nicky was just a skinny little kid with a mop of dark blond hair and pale blue eyes, to James he looked exactly like the youngest son on that home improvement show.
As they were finishing their plates, the conversation got around to James again. Robert addressed him with that friendly voice, “James, earlier you said you already had a hot meal today. Where did you get it?”
“I ... uh ... I made it myself.”
“Really? What’d you have? How’d you make it?”
The boy gazed around, trying to think up an answer, “I ... uh ... well ...”
“James, you really should stop lying. You’re no good at it.”
“I’m not lying.”
“When we picked you up you didn’t have a thing on you except one can of condensed chicken noodle soup. You don’t even have a pot to put it in. How did you heat a meal?”
“I ... uh ...”
“Come on, James, we’ve played fair with you. We did exactly what we said we were going to do. We brought you here, fed you, treated you like a friend. We deserve the whole truth. There’s something you’re not telling us. What is it?”
“I promised not to tell.”
“It has something to do with that town you just passed through when we found you. Doesn’t it?”
“I promised.”
“Do you know why we picked you up? Why we picked you up right there?”
“No.”
“We came through that same town two days before you did. We sea
rched it pretty good but didn’t find a thing. We certainly didn’t find anyone living there. But you know what happened just as we were leaving?”
“What?”
“We smelled food. We couldn’t track down exactly from where but we could smell someone cooking food in that town. So you know what we decided to do?”
“No, what?” The boy was becoming nervous now.
“We just kept walking, like we didn’t know nothing, like we didn’t know someone was there hiding in that town. Once we left we set up this camp to hide ourselves, and watch. We set up teams on both ends of town. What do you think we were watching for?”
“I don’t know.”
“We were watching for someone to come out of that town, and that someone was you.”
“No, it wasn’t me.”
“Come on, James, like I said, you’re not a good liar. We watched you go into town last night and come out again this morning. You’ve got food stored away there, don’t you? You’ve probably got a nice little place, maybe in a basement somewhere, topped off with food and supplies. But every once in a while you’ve got to come up for air, maybe to go out foraging for more stuff, or maybe just to keep yourself from going nuts.”
“No!”
He could now hear the ire growing in Robert’s tone, “This isn’t fair, James. It’s not fair you’re holding out on us. We fed you, and I want you to know the offer we made was real. We want you to join us. We want you as a friend. But you’ve been lying all along. You didn’t want to be friends with us. You just wanted to take from us ... but you didn’t want to share what you have.”
“No!” The boy looked around at all those angry faces staring at him, lit by the fire, and then back to Robert who was now standing over him.
“You never did want to be friends with us. You just wanted to use us!”
“No! It wasn’t me, I wouldn’t do that to you guys; it was the Whitmans! It wasn’t my food! It was theirs!”
Rob sat down again, curiously the anger now gone as quick as it came, “Who’s the Whitmans?”
“I promised.”
“Come on, James, just tell us.”
Joshua (Book 2): Traveler Page 1
