Out of Favor: The Traveler

by Rincon, Blaine

  His staff was propped against the wall next to the window frame. He crawled through the window, and after getting inside, retrieved his staff and took stock of the prep store. He kept a small tactical flashlight on hand for emergencies, he used the small light to do a quick scan of the interior. Although he had been trying to conserve the battery, it had been getting dimmer as the days went by.

  He pans around the area for occupancy, past or present. There was one occupant. Well, what was left of an occupant anyway. Now he knows what that initial overpowering scent was. The smell of stale death. Behind the counter on the floor he finds a fatigue clad skeleton. A handgun and a rifle lie next to the remains. In all likelihood this was the business owner, defending his store if necessary. More than likely one of the last to come down with the virus, because there was no food around him. After the virus attacked a body, the first thing most people would do was stop eating, then they were ravaged by thirst. The only thing around the skeletal remains were empty water packs. Water packs! Emergency water packs. He realized the store was more intact than he had hoped to find. Survival equipment, med kits, paracord, knives and utility tools. Like a gift received on a holiday, on the shelf just a few feet away, he located a wide assortment of undisturbed military issued rations.

  After he ate way more than he should, which happens extremely little these days, The Traveler begins to look around. He does a quick mental inventory, and decides on what he should pick up while he's there. He quickly finds some pre-charged and rechargeable AA batteries. The Traveler opens a pack and quickly puts a fresh one into his flashlight. What a difference, he thought as he scanned the area with a wide beam of illumination, I didn't realize how little light I was actually using.

  He finds the section that displays backpacks and carry bags. A solid and well-thought plan was key here; first; he had to grab what he could and go back and get his backpack and bow. Anything could happen before he retrieved his gear and came back, the best thing to do would be to acquire what he could right now. So, he picks up a bag and begins to stuff it with basic items he absolutely needed, or things that can replace items he'd used. Quickly packing various supplies in the bag, he did not itemize what he took. Top priority was to return to the mountainside to retrieve his pack and bow before dawn breaks. He gets what he needs and, after taking a quick look around from the window, quickly makes his way out.

  The Traveler returns to the mountainside with time to spare, he works his way around and checks the area where the backpack is stashed and scans the area. The chances are highly unlikely, but his training taught him to make sure no one located his items while he was gone. He concludes no one had and quietly makes his way over to the pack, retrieving it and his bow as well. Daylight begins to break as he works his way back to the prep store. Daybreak is welcome, but still, would be better to go back to the destination as soon as possible.

  He returns, crawling back through the window. After a quick reconnaissance to be sure nothing or no one else made their way in, he goes about finding some bungee cords to pull the window bars back up at least partially secure them to appear somewhat they are still attached. He begins to search in the back store room. The building includes a second floor, and he is sure an access point exists in the back room. Somewhere the general shopping public wouldn't have had access to. Many older shops doubled as a home for business owners in years gone by, and hopefully this is one of them. He finds a door, but that only opened up to a closet. Another door comes into view on the other side of the room. Through the doorway he finds a set of stairs, and knows he's found what he was hoping for. Further investigation is merited so he enters the stairwell. The upstairs room was small, like a guest room. While the room was not a fully furnished home with all the comforts, it did contain a bed. He retrieved his gear from downstairs and secured his belongings. The Traveler found an old rusted window latch that he fought against briefly, but eventually got it opened for some fresh air. The sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached; the end of summer was nearing and the air began to turn a little cooler in the last few days. He felt the air drift in as he opened the window. The Traveler paused for a brief moment to absorb the fresh air drifting in, then turned and allowed himself to fall on the bed. A long-needed rest was in order.

  The Town

  He sat up in an abrupt motion. Checking his wristwatch, the timepiece indicated he slept for almost ten hours.

  He had been dreaming of a quiet restful valley. A log cabin on a lake, with the scent of an oak fire burning in the fireplace. As his dream progressed, he wandered about, surveying his property and livestock. The still morning air was suddenly shattered with blood-curdling screams and sounds of terror and pain. Ferals burst through his barn door and attacked every living thing around him, but not touching him. Livestock were being slaughtered in front of him, and he was powerless to stop them. He shouted for help but no one heard. A severed limb of a horse landed in front of him. Blood was everywhere. The walls, the rails, the ground. Everything dripped with blood. Paralysis gripped him like a vise. He stood alone surrounded by the blood and carnage, powerless to do anything to stop it.

  He bolted upright from his dream-turned-nightmare. The horrendous imagery slowly disappears from his mind. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. The Traveler stands, walks to the window and peers outside, drawing in a deep breath. The window frames the buildings of the town bathed in the afternoon light. The well-deserved sleep felt restful. Well at least up to the part when the nightmare started. He took a few moments to gather his wits. His senses returning, he took stock of himself and planned out what to do next.

  The town is actually a great looking place, or at least it once was. He gets himself up and decides to venture out.

  In the store downstairs, he locates some moist towelettes. They are like a miracle these days. He takes one and wipes his face down. That short small task almost makes him feel like a new man. He gathers a few necessities up and gets ready to head out to further inspect the town.

  The Traveler scaled the slope to his original spot where he first observed the town. From the side of the mountain, he surveyed the town in the daylight for the first time. He scanned the layout, seeing how the streets were laid out. He noted the eerie stillness of the town. There is the possibility the disease wiped out everyone here. Very few people have touched this place. The main highway is a few miles away, so that in itself greatly decreases the chance of encounters with others. The location is in between some small mountains which provided some protection from some of the weather elements. A small river flows parallel the town. The village overall was somewhat cozy.

  After his quick survey, he heads back down the stairs and exits the store. The Traveler knew he needed to inspect the town to see if there were any miscellaneous items he could use on the road as he traveled. The Traveler finds an outdoor sports store and locates some fishing equipment. Normally he fished using his bow and arrow, but the feeling was so relaxed in this small area he thought he might fish solely for pleasure. The Traveler could not remember when he had last participated in anything recreational.

  In the store he found some spinning gear, a few lures and a small fold out chair. He walked over to the river that ran parallel to the town and found a calm, clear area. Nature provided great weather for the last few weeks, so the river was clean and inviting. The stretch of river in front of him pooled in a somewhat slower, calmer, and serene area of water. It felt good to be here. He had not felt this good in a vast amount of time. He unfolded the chair and sat down. After rigging up his equipment, he began to make a few casts. The view across the river elevated both his senses and his peace of mind. The trees were quietly swaying with a small amount of wind. They were back dropped with a small mountain range looked a lot closer than they really were. The blue clear sky above him could almost make him forget that anything had ever happened.

  He gazed over his shoulder at the town behind him. Life seemed peaceful and serene here. It was like any small to
wn on any given Sunday, when family-businesses would sometimes close. On a day like that people would be lounging at home, getting ready to spend an afternoon watching a game or some other sporting event. Perhaps sitting down with loved ones at a Sunday afternoon dinner. The only sounds would be people greeting visiting family members or kids riding a bike or playing outside.

  Then he got a sudden image of the horrors he'd seen, the evil that really and truly lies in the hearts of mankind, and what creatures were now thrown into the mix of nature. He flinched and shook his head to clear the image.

  Just as he sat up and began to focus on his surroundings, he got a strike on his bait. Within an hour he caught two decent sized fish, not counting the three he tossed back because they were too small.

  "It seems like a good time to work up some food." He said quietly to himself.

  He built a fire and let it burn. The Traveler found a small portable grilling rack at the outdoor store while stocking up supplies. He took the rack out and set it up. He cleaned the fish and by the time he was ready to cook the fire had burned to some hot embers and coals. Perfect for his cooking requirements.

  After what he felt like he experienced the best cooked meal in months, he put out the fire, gathered his things and found his way over to a residential area. There, a few homes stood out that felt inviting. The inside was not always pleasant as the outside appearance. Some had skeletal remains. Usually he could handle that, but it was more than he cared to deal with at the moment. One house he peered into apparently contained an entire family who had shut themselves indoors during The Turning. Not that it did them any good. He discovered someone in each bed as he went room to room and checked on the contents. One of the parents apparently put a shotgun in their mouth to end the hell of life, or lack thereof. He only glanced at what appeared to be the children before he quickly turned away. It was too much for him to witness. Retreating back to the front door, he went outside to regain his composure. The Traveler’s eyes reddened as he fought back the horrors of day to day survival. He stepped off the front porch, took a few deep breaths and continued his search.

  A small cabin, built close to the river, drew his attention. He cautiously stepped in. No bodies, no skeletal remains. His luck was holding out in this one. It was a modest one-bedroom place that gave off a classic, country cabin atmosphere. He inspected the contents of the small abode in the late afternoon daylight, eventually finding a couple of candles. There were some fishing and outdoor magazines next to a chair. It was the kind of place he would have built if he lived here.

  Later, after retrieving his gear and belongings from the prep store, he brought them back to the cabin. It was getting to be late afternoon, and He did not want to be out after dark if at all possible. The ferals liked to move around a lot after dark. There was no sign of them so far, but there was no need to take the chance.

  After locking the doors, he pulled a chair up to the window and took in the sunset.

  Nature's theater. he thought to himself.

  He wondered if there were anyone else left in the world doing the same.

  After sunset, he grabbed a fishing magazine and thumbed through it by candle light. A favorite hobby of his in his younger days, fishing had always been something he could relax with. Nowadays bow fishing was more practical, but recalling how his day had gone, he was glad he had taken the time to actually live a little. He longed to do that again. Otherwise, what was the point?

  Even with all the estimates of how many people were left, and ferals too, he wondered how many people were actually left. One would have to take into account for a few things. Starvation definitely took a large number. Then there were the ferals. They had no problem at all attacking a human, or other animals for that matter. Humans were quite the easy target. No fangs, no claws, no fur. Fewer humans meant more abundance of wildlife. Carnivorous wildlife. Bears, wolves, mountain lions or even a pack of domesticated dogs would readily attack a person if the opportunity arose. There were other diseases still out there as well. Hell, Influenza can kill if it isn't taken care of. So even the people who were immune to the what-ever-the-hell it was that wiped out most of the earth still had plenty of shit to deal with as well.

  What if he were one of the few humans left on earth? What if he were the only one? Wouldn't it make sense to make the best out of life, whatever there was left of it?

  He thought and contemplated for a long time that evening. Then, he decided he might stay a few days.

  Visitation

  The weather had remained favorable for a few days, and he had seen little movement in the area other than wildlife. It lightened his mood. He walked through the town periodically to enjoy its picturesque setting. Sometimes he stayed out a little later than he should, and he could hear ferals moving around. Every now and again he would see one looking up at a building or an old house. He often wondered if they retained a faint or fleeting memory of their previous life, or if they were trying to figure out what a building was. He figured he would never truly know.

  One evening as he headed back to his small cabin he had settled into, he felt eyes on him. He stopped, turned quick and saw it. The same young female feral he had encountered the first night here in the village. Again, she didn't seem to be stalking like prey, but once again merely curious. She hunched down, looking him over, turning her head like a small bird. It was odd to see this behavior. He had encountered many ferals during his trek. All had either been defensive over their territory, or wanted to completely pick you apart for food. This one wanted nothing more than to watch him. Even so, he continued on and but maintained her within his sights. Even with this odd behavior he figured it was still best to lose her. He eventually ducked into a small building and out the back, then cut a corner. He had moved over several streets and eventually he had lost her before he got back to his cabin.

  Two days later he was bow fishing up the river a short distance outside what would be considered the city limits, and he spotted her again. Normally he didn't see ferals in the daytime hours, but it did happen. They were not affected by the sun or anything like he used to see in old vampire or monster movies, but he reasoned they had a different type of vision that made darkness more appealing to their hunting instincts.

  He kept his eye on her as she partly obscured herself near a small thicket of brush on the river's edge, about fifty feet away. Out of his own curiosity, he edged a little closer.

  "Hello again, Miss." He said.

  She flinched but didn't run. He took one of the smaller fish he had and with some caution, tossed it near her. Her reaction was a frightened backward jump when the fish landed. For a moment, she studied the fish. She glanced up at The Traveler, then back at the fish, then back at him. He nodded to her, and motioned to the fish with outstretched and open hands.

  "It's yours." The Traveler said, motioning again to the fish. The feral moved a small step forward. She had an inquisitive expression as if she were trying to understand what was going on, and then seemed to realize the offering was for her. She grabbed the fish and scampered off. He watched her and laughed a little.

  Over the next few days he would see her occasionally. He began referring to her as "Miss". It wasn't like she was a pet, or a friend. It was more like an understanding. She would watch him and wait. He would catch a couple of fish, throw one close to her vicinity, and offer it with a nod and a motion. She would take it and leave.

  Connection

  He began to feel the need to move on. Not that there was anything wrong with it here. Deep down inside, he felt there was more in store for him further down the road. He began to make preparations mentally.

  He could easily get relaxed here. It was particularly nice. The problem with a small town or village however, was somewhere down the road some asshole would show up, decide to be king, dictator, supreme ruler or some other shit like that. He really didn't want or need that. Who would?

  He had packed some protein bars from a previous trip to ZPrep. He began to wo
rk up a list of items for the road ahead. The items he made a list of were available to him there. He thought one more night or two in the town might be ideal before moving on. He could catch a few more fish and eat a few good meals before he started on his new trek.

  The day's agenda was to fish. First, for food. Second, for recreation and relaxation. The Traveler thought it would be good idea to relax some. It could be awhile before he had another chance. He collected his belongings and staff before heading back to the cabin. The Traveler paused. Slight rustling sounds came from the brush to his left. He turns to see if Miss was watching again. She had become a regular at his fishing excursions, although he had not seen her in a couple of days. He wondered if it were possible to let her know he was leaving.

  Lost in thought, he almost didn't see the feral charging him. At the last second, The Traveler realized the feral was not Miss and deflected a leap at him from a male bounding at him fast. He caught the feral under the armpit with his staff as it leaped, flipped it over and past him with a quick, twisting motion. The feral hit the ground but quickly got up. It squared off with The Traveler and started to take an offensive stance to attack. Out of the corner of his eye another movement caught his attention. Before he could react to it, something rushed past him at a blinding speed. It was almost a blur it was so fast. The Traveler was not the target this time; the feral was.