Out of Favor: The Traveler

by Rincon, Blaine

  It was Miss. Miss hit the feral in the side so hard she knocked it twenty feet away and hit hard sliding on the rocks. The male feral got up and screamed at Miss. Miss screamed back and took a threatening aggressive stance at the aggressive male. In doing so the male stopped and backed off. One more scream from Miss and the male dipped its head and eased its stance altogether.

  The Traveler was dumbfounded. He was unsure of the dynamics of how Miss and the male played out, but it was abundantly apparent that she was in charge. She glanced at The Traveler and back at the other feral. She let a low guttural growl at it and it hunched down and bounded off. Miss turned to The Traveler, and to his shock, she motioned to him with open hands like he did when he gave her a fish. Then she took off on the same path as the other feral had.

  The Traveler was puzzled by what he had witnessed, but he did mutter under his breath as she scurried off, "Thanks."

  It was definitely time to leave.

  Decision

  The Traveler entered the prep store for the last time, and he was well-prepared with a list. He grabbed a few ready to eat items; military surplus rations, freeze-dried meal packs and some vacuum-packed beef jerky. Those would come in handy for lean times. The majority of the items he chose were to replace or replenish what he was running low on. First aid stuff, camping supplies and the usual hiking items he always carried. He decided to add in a few other things. A few things He didn't have before. One, to go along with the rechargeable batteries, is a small portable solar panel. He actually had one for a while but it was cheap and did not last. This one appeared to be well-built and somewhat rugged. Another item he chose was another collapsible pack grill rack. Both would happen to be incredibly handy. He had previously been using a grill rack, but he thought he may as well grab a new one for the road ahead. Among other things he acquired were small, all in one eating utensils, foot care kit, medicated body powder (a fantastic find that was), a sewing kit, insect repellent, several flint/steel strikers, collapsible camp saw, a sharpening stone and several snares and traps. He only got items that would fit in his pack.

  The Traveler, for a while, considered staying here. He mentally thought about why he might stay, as he had come to like the small area. He felt fairly comfortable here. After considerable consideration, The Traveler opts against it.

  He presses on.

  Mental Preparedness

  The Traveler followed the road out of town. After he had covered a few miles out of town he moved down to follow the river parallel to it. Usually he doesn't stay on the road much, because it can be quite risky. Most survivors tend to walk on the highways and well-traveled roads. Crossing paths with others is not the best thing to do these days. Especially if they travel as a group of three or more. The "mob mentality" usually prevails and the larger group will usually want to take everything a smaller group or individual possesses. It's easier to steal from others than it is to go find it yourself I suppose, The Traveler had reasoned to himself.

  According to the map, the river followed the road for a short distance then veered away from it. The river is beautiful, with water that was clear and cool. The sound of it is also soothing. It was a long trip ahead of him, so he thought it would be best to relax and rest. Shortly he found an area where the river pools. The bank of the river is covered in smooth stones and reasonably flat, leaving a wide-open view of the area. A few medium-sized boulders strewn about, they could provide cover in case a situation arose in which he would need cover or protection. The Traveler took advantage of the area and decides to make camp. There are a couple of hours of daylight left. A quick bow fishing attempt is successful and a quick fire make for a decent meal. He gathers his things back up, makes sure the pack is secure and puts out the fire. Fire attracts ferals as it gets dark, even though they are afraid of it. Their attraction to it appeared to be more out of curiosity than anything.

  A slight sound off to his left gets his attention. He stops all movement to listen. More movement, the sounds increase to more like running. He takes his staff and moves towards the sounds with caution. A growl sounds out and a crash. He cautiously peers over a dead, fallen tree and spots a feral hunched over its kill, a small deer. It doesn't see him and begins to devour the soft parts of the deer. The Traveler sinks back behind the tree. He slowly exhales and turns to move back to camp.

  He sees the feral in mid-air. For a brief second he cannot figure how it crept up without him hearing. He instinctively brings his staff and slightly deflects the immediate onslaught, but the momentum of the feral knocks him down and the feral tumbles over. The blow takes the staff out of his hands, and the feral comes back at him. The Traveler reacts and blocks its claws and connects his elbow to the feral's chin. The feral hits the ground hard, but it is persistent, and leaps back at him. He catches the feral by the neck and grabs its wrist and turns it away. He grasped a fleeting sense of oncoming victory, but realizes this is a completely different feral. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of the deer-eating feral coming at him seconds away from attacking as well. The second feral becomes airborne in a leap towards him. The victorious feeling fades instantly, and he thinks; So, this is how it ends.

  The Traveler wakes with a start and instantly grabs his staff and gets in a defensive posture. A dream. He scans the area; it is almost dark. The fire still burning, still in the open. Damn. That was stupid. Don't get complacent, you Dumbass. He mentally kicks himself for falling asleep like that. This time he clears camp and puts out the fire for real.

  Old Friends, Bad Decisions

  The next morning, he woke early. A large tree where he created a makeshift hammock had provided plenty of protection while he slept. After climbing down and putting away his items, he walks back over to the river bank to his previous night's camp. He takes most of his stuff and stashes it. He sets out to hunt to find something other than fish for a change. Not that he minds fish. Any food is good.

  After spending the better part of a day hunting, he only manages a couple of squirrels. Food is food, he thought, and it was better than nothing. One more fire to cook on, some decent rest, and he would be on his way again.

  After he ate and put out the fire, there was still some daylight. It was a warm day, and he begins to think about how great it would feel to take a dip in the river be right about now. After getting his pack together and careful inspection of the area, he propped his staff against his pack. The waters were very inviting. The Traveler stripped down and dove into the pooled area of the river. It was cold, but damn it felt good.

  His clothes were laid out on a larger rock and were warmed by the overhead sun. He got out and began to put them on. He thought about how he needs to actually take time to wash them sometime. Fully dressed finally and feeling revived once again, he begins to ready himself for travel. Kneeling down to put together his travel gear, he senses something is out of place.

  His staff was missing.

  Then he heard a familiar voice.

  "Hey!"

  The Traveler raised his head up to a knife at his face.

  "I been tracking you for a month. You ain't easy to find." said the man holding the knife.

  "Max isn't it?" The Traveler said. "What is it that you want?"

  "What do I want?" Max laughed sarcastically. "You mangled my hand, you bastard! Now, you are going to apologize to me. If you are sincere and lucky, I might just let you off with a complete ass whippin'. If I don't feel it is sincere, I'll kill you."

  The Traveler, keeping his attention on Max, scanned the area.

  "Looking for this?"

  The Traveler focused on Max. Max still had the knife pointed at him, but in his opposite hand was his staff.

  "You see, I might lack a lot of things, but one thing I can do is track things. People, animals, whatever. That's why JB kept me around. I left them on their own late one night. You want to know why? Because you owe me, you piece of shit. I done been huntin' you for weeks, and this is about where my trail ended. But then I
found you this morning and waited for the right moment, which is now. It took long enough for you to put that stupid stick down."

  The Traveler stands. Max backed away, turned and threw the staff as far behind him as he could.

  "That's better. Now it's only you and me. And I have a knife. And you don't. So now you are gonna get down on your knees and apologize. While you're at it, go ahead and beg for your sorry life."

  The Traveler continues to hold his ground, his eyes fixed on the maniac in front of him. He made no movements to run or advance on Max.

  Max got irritated at this. "What are you waiting for? Get down! Do it! Do it now!!" he shouted at me.

  "You'll get no apology from me. I have no regrets about what happened. So even if I did, it wouldn't be sincere. You did say it needed to be sincere, right?"

  The frustration began to build up on Max's face. He became increasingly agitated. This was not how it was supposed to go apparently.

  "Dammit man! Kneel down and apologize! Or I'll shred you to pieces!"

  The Traveler remained still and continued to stare. "No. I'll not die on my knees. Especially not to some backwoods inbred dumbass like you. "

  Max screamed and lunged. The Traveler side-stepped and ducked. Max lost his footing for a second, but quickly regained it. He began to circle back around him. He pointed his knife at arm's length at The Traveler "That's it man! No more Mr. Nice Guy from me. You are a dead ma- "

  The Traveler didn't give him time to finish his monologue he obviously wanted to spill.

  One of The Traveler's hands came up quick to the inside of Max's wrist while the other hit the back of his hand, sending the knife flying. He brought back his hand against Max's outstretched arm before Max could react to anything, opening up Max's front guarded area. The Traveler struck him hard in the chest with an open palm, sending Max eight feet onto his back.

  "Walk away." The Traveler said in a clear distinct voice.

  Max, stunned, but still resolved to complete his vendetta, screamed out, "Fuck you man. I'll make you pay!" Max struggled to his feet and charged, throwing a fist at The Traveler.

  He caught Max by the wrist with his right hand, stopping him in mid swing. He pulled Max to the front of him and quickly stepped to the side, wrapping his left arm around the front of Max's neck, pinning him bending slightly back. The Traveler brought his boot to the side of Max's right knee, shattering it. Max screamed in pain, The Traveler still had his grip on the wrist, but grabbed it with both hands and twisted the forearm counter clockwise and down in a fast and forceful manner. The Traveler felt both forearm bones snap in his grip. He brought a back fist to Max's face, sending him to the ground.

  Max, barely conscious, still tried to verbally lay out threats.

  "You... you...asshole. I'm gonna..."

  The Traveler said "You'll what? You can't even get up."

  "I'm...I'm go..." Shock set in on Max. He threw up. He sat up as much as he could, but fell over again, broken and bleeding.

  The Traveler said, "I told you to walk away." He contemplated the predicament Max had placed himself in, then peered up at the sky. "It's getting late in the day. The ferals usually like hunting more at night. You might want to save your strength. They also like the smell of blood." He walked away from Max to retrieve his staff. After picking it up and grabbing his gear he stopped one more time next to Max.

  Max glowered at The Traveler. "You gonna leave me here? You piece of shit."

  The Traveler said, "You brought this on yourself. You could be walking and surviving with your group, but you chose this, Max. I have no sympathy for you."

  The Traveler turned to walk away. As he did, he realized Miss, with her feral family, stood twenty yards away, watching. He reasoned she had followed to see where he was going. They stared at each other briefly. Then, in a moment of understanding, he stepped back a few feet and made the same motion to Miss that he had made when he gave her the fish on their first encounter; arms outstretched and hands open, and motioned to Max.

  "Fuck you, man!" Max screamed at him.

  The Traveler turned and began a steady pace away from Max. He began to walk past Miss and her pack. The Traveler paused briefly to acknowledge her and watched as her and her pack advanced more towards Max. She looked at The Traveler, and he nodded to her and her clan. Miss paused for moment, as did her pack family. Almost like a goodbye, Miss slightly raised her clawed hand to him, as if a long-buried memory suddenly came to the surface of her mind. Miss looked him over one last time. He was sure she perceived he was leaving, but all was good. He walked up the embankment to a road. Walking away from the scene which was about to unfold, he continued to hear Max still yelling obscenities at him. Then he heard a faint growl. Max's sounds became more terrified. More growling and elevated screams of pain echoed in the trees.

  The Traveler kept walking.

  Eventually, there were no more screams.

  Transition

  The flames in the fireplace danced and glowed. He listened to the crackle of the wood as it burned. The warmth of it felt good. Winter had set in. He felt the cold weather coming on, so he tasked himself to find a place to hole up.

  On the outskirts of a small town, he located a resort with a private lodge. The lodge was the main center of focus with a few small cabins surrounding it. The lodge consisted of a large great hall, and a smaller section connected off to one side. Both had a fireplace, but the great hall fireplace was mostly for aesthetics as it would have never had warmed up from the fireplace. The smaller area was at one time an admirable place with high backed over-stuffed chairs, book shelf, a stocked bar, heavy wooden tables and art on the walls. Various heads of game animals adorned the great hall, but at least in the smaller hall there were none. Dead stuffed animal heads, staring down at him from the walls with cold, glassy eyes gave him the creeps.

  The fireplace warmed the smaller area nicely. The Traveler made the assumption, based on the décor and extra comforts, the small wing served as an exclusive VIP area for 'select' resort members. He wondered how many of the 'select' members were now in the wilderness as ferals.

  The weather had begun to cool fast. He had scouted the village and surrounding area before it had turned cold. He found a few places with some food and supplies. One of which was a church with a well-stocked food pantry. A faded sign outside of the church displayed the message, "Food Bank open 2nd and 4th Thursdays". He went in through the side entrance to look for it, knowing better than to go into the front entrance of the sanctuary. People flocked into churches as a means of sanctuary as civilization drew to a close. It had done them little good. The end came regardless. The sanctuary in a small town like this was likely to be filled with the decayed remains of the townspeople. The Traveler had no desire to see that.

  He did find the food storage area. Canned and preserved food were still on the shelves. Some dry goods and other staples were there as well. He could tell someone had gotten some items after The Turning had started, but there was still plenty there. It was not too far from the resort lodge, so he only got what he needed. Even in snow it was close enough that he could get here and back without much trouble.

  A small department store had some decent winter clothing, and he made use of it, getting a few things for warmth and protection. He thought it would be best to settle in for the winter. At least while there was snow.

  The resort provided a welcome place to make it through the winter. He estimated, based on his location and time of the year, he had another month before he should venture out into the world again. Any sooner than that he could risk exposure to the elements. Survival meant being smart.

  Flour and oil were food staples he kept on hand over the winter. The Food Bank provided an ample supply. The stock he had brought over from the pantry was beginning to decrease, so it was going to be necessary to retrieve more. The weather was cold, but calm for now, so he began to make his way there, in case the weather prevented him from doing so later.

  He wa
lked up to the door and stopped. There were faint traces of footsteps leading up to the door. The light snow from the evening before had partially obscured it, but footsteps nonetheless. He opens the door cautiously with his staff. No sounds of movement, no creaking of the wood floor. He peered in. All clear. Quietly working his way to the pantry, he took his small flashlight and scanned the area. Some supplies were missing. Nothing major. A few dry goods and a couple of cans of canned meat. He got what he needed and made his way out by way of a rear exit. Still taking caution, he had no way of knowing if he had been watched when he went in. After checking and watching he went back to the lodge.

  But not without looking over his shoulder as he left.