Wanderer

by Richard Cheesman

separate ways, I was still on the road towards Zmeyka, and turned back... and he was gone!”

  “What do you mean, gone?" Worker asked, lifting his glass to take a drink.

  “Well, that's it. Like Iosif said, just vanished. There's no way he could have gone all the way to the tree line in the time we'd split. I can only say he really did vanish.”

  “Tell me,” Iosif said, leaning closer still, “what was the last thing he said to you?”

  Grigori thought for a moment, trying to recall the details. “He said something like he had to see someone, I would be safe from here on, and that it was good to meet. I don't really recall the specifics of what he said." Grigori rubbed his chin, trying to think. “Oh, and one more thing. He said to find someone, someone call Uchitel. Maybe I'll start looking tomorrow.”

  “But he said you were safe? That's interesting.”

  “Why?” Grigori put his empty glass down.

  “Well. Think about Ivan, he was safe when he left the tracks. His life had been rescued, rescued by this stranger. Like you, you had been rescued, those beasts almost certainly would have overrun you and you would not be sitting here drinking. Think about it." Iosif tipped his head back to finish his drink. “Ahhh. That's good stuff. More?" He looked at Grigori and Worker in turn. They both nodded, and he opened the bottle to pour another round.

  “One thing I don't get,” Worker said after a short pause, “is what were those things that attacked you. Did you find any the next morning?”

  “No. That's another odd thing. I didn't realise until we were well on the road from Zheleznovodsk, I never saw any of the bodies. We must have shot about six or seven of them that night. We should have seen at least one.”

  “I don't think they were ever there." Iosif said, completely matter-of-fact.

  “Huh?" Grigori nearly dropped his drink at Iosif's statement.

  “Well. Look at it logically. You're a Wanderer, that much is known. You roam the wild lands looking for people and information, trading it. Before the war, that was dangerous work. Espionage, spying, all those things were ways of gaining information from others. Ran a certain risk of death for some." Iosif put his glass down, and placed both hands firmly on the table.

  “You've been lucky, Wanderer. You've been lucky no-one's taken a pot-shot at you, that some gang member hasn't mugged you for the meagre contents of your pack. That night was nothing about the Sunrise, it was to help you become what you are.”

  Grigori was very confused by now. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol coursing through his blood, or just the absurdity of the situation he was in.

  “Sunrise was there to rescue you from weakness,” Iosif continued, “to help you become a true Wanderer. Sure, we have the Hunters, and the Farmers, and,” nodding at Worker, “people like dear Worker here, trying to hold society together. Wanderers are rare people.

  “You had to fight the fears you held inside. You had to use the gun you hated so much, to free yourself from the fear of it. Like Ivan, Sunrise used some supernatural miracle or event to help this happen. For Ivan, he was released from the cured grip of alcohol. His life was given back to him. For you, you were released from a deep fear. Your life is back.”

  Grigori stared down at his glass. His thoughts raced wildly. What if Iosif was right? Was he destined for some higher purpose that he did not yet fully realise?

  “Well my friends. It looks like the bottle is nearly empty." Iosif lifted the almost-empty bottle, showing the small amount left. Grigori couldn't believe they had drunk that much already. “I'll be back." Iosif, getting up and returning behind the bar.

  Grigori leant close to Worker. “What is all this about? It's all too strange for me.”

  “I really don't know, friend.” Worker replied, glancing back at the bar. “All I know is our friend Iosif here seems to know quite a lot about Sunrise. Maybe what he says is true. Maybe it's the vodka talking." Worker gave a laugh.

  “Maybe. It seems to make some sense, you know? The way Anato...Sunrise turned up, what happened, how he left.”

  They waited in silence for Iosif to return. The clank of the door behind the bar indicated he was on his way.

  “Here we are, gentlemen!” Iosif exclaimed, placing a bottle on the table. Worker turned it to read the label.

  “Stolichnaya! I cannot afford this!" Worker was nearly out of his seat with shock and surprise.

  “It's on me. I figured you guys are the real, true people at heart. That's a rare thing these days. Let's have another!" Iosif opened the bottle to pour again.

  After they had drunk, Iosif looked around before speaking to them again.

  “You know, there is something else.” Iosif started, pulling his chair in closer. “This Sunrise has been around. I reckon a lot longer than people realise. Here, I'll explain.

  “Have you ever heard of Ernest Shackleton? A famous explorer, a long time ago. His boat got stuck, and they had to abandon it to walk across many mountains and glaciers to safety. He kept his journal, and in it he wrote something most unusual. He wrote 'I know that during that long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers, it seemed to me often that we were four, not three.' I think he met someone like Sunrise. Someone who helped him through a most terrible time. There are many such encounters throughout history, even dating back to the Bible itself.”

  “Ha! That book of nonsense!" Worker shook his head. “Now I know you are talking rubbish, Iosif.”

  “I am not!" Iosif said sharply, giving Worker a hard stare. “I can see you don't believe in that book, but there are many who do, and also many who trust it for it's history. I am a man who believes it, and there is something quite strange in it that relates to the events like what happened to Grigori here.

  “In the book of Daniel, the story goes that Daniel and two of his friends have refused to obey the king's commands, and must be thrown into the fire. They are thrown in, but the man who throws them in dies in the process. So the story then tells how the king sees Daniel and his friends walking around in the fire! He asks the soldiers, 'Surely it was three men you threw in there?' and they reply that there were three. The king then says, 'so why do I see four men walking around?'

  “Although many would say that the fourth man was Jesus in a pre-incarnate form, it sets the precedent, my friends. Many people since have said in times of great trouble that someone has helped them, or rescued them or done something to save them from something terrible. You,” Iosif pointed at Grigori, “are one such person. You have been saved from something terrible that night.”

  Iosif stopped. His hand slowly dropped until it came to rest on the table. For some time, none of them spoke. Finally, Grigori broke the silence.

  “So, what do I do now? If I accept this explanation, where do I go from here?" He looked to Iosif, hoping that a clear answer would come.

  “Hmm." Iosif stared at his glass for a moment. “I'm sure you're motives are pure, otherwise I think Sunrise may not have been there for you. Seek this 'Uchitel' that he said, listen to him. If he says you are a Wanderer, a trader of information, then that is what you truly are.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you're right."

  “You ever hear of Stalker?”

  “Stalker? No, who is he?”

  Iosif laughed. “Ha! No, it was an old Russian film, made by Tarkovsky. This man, he was a Stalker, a guide for others to wander in this Zone round an alien landing. He was a lot like you, unsure of who and what he really was. You understand?”

  “Yes, I think so. So far." Grigori answered, curious where this was going.

  “What is a Wanderer? Do you ever wonder why people call you that?”

  “I always thought they were just people who wandered around, just trying to get by.”

  “Yes, that is true to some degree. But they are special people, gifted in being able to draw information from anywhere, and anything. Even a leaf on t
he ground can impart a lot of information to a Wanderer.

  “You, my friend, are a true Wanderer. You have a gift, you just can't see it yet. Maybe you will, soon. Maybe you may never realise your true potential. If you believe me or not, it doesn't matter. It's entirely up to you to follow a gifting or not. You may end up living a life of regret, like Ivan had until he met Sunrise. Did you know that? The reason he used to drink was because he thought he was a failure. He had a successful job, lovely wife, and more besides. He listened to that voice inside that corrupted him and tore him down to the point of ending his life." Iosif took a breath, and looked at Grigori.

  “You have a choice. Maybe you need to go now, and think it over. If you decide, maybe we'll talk more about this tomorrow." Iosif lifted his glass, then finished it in one gulp.

  Grigori finished his drink. He'd had enough vodka, the room was almost starting to spin. “Maybe we'll continue this tomorrow, Iosif, like you say. Or," Grigori stood, a little unsteady, “maybe not. I have some thinking to do. Goodbye, Iosif." Worker and Iosif got up too, and they all shook hands. Grigori and Worker turned and headed for