Out of Favor: The Traveler

by Rincon, Blaine

  Muito Tarde

  The Traveler, still in a full run, turned down a small road to her home. He ran alongside the fence; he saw a feral. Dead. And another, dead as well.

  Then he found the blood trail. It led up to the porch. She sat in a chair; her head was leaning to one side as though she were asleep. He ran to her, fearing the worst. She was bleeding from a neck wound. Her wrist appeared broken. Her torn shirt was blood soaked, a rip in the fabric revealed a bloodied open gash.

  She opened one eye and moved her head slightly.

  "Hey... You came back." She said weakly, raising her head. "Those bastards broke my fence."

  He looked over at the dead ferals. His attention was drawn on one closer to the water, still moving. He picked up his staff and walked over to the creature as it struggled to stand. Two quick motions and he dispatched it permanently.

  "You took on three again?" he said as he hurriedly got back to her on her porch.

  Attempting a slight smile, she said "Don't underestimate a woman. It was four. The fourth one is floating down the river dead." She made a slight laugh, but it turned into a cough, bringing up blood.

  "Shit." He said. "Take it easy."

  She smiled. "To hell with that. I know I'm done for. Too much blood loss. My eyes are getting heavy."

  She turned her head to him, grimacing from pain. "I have to ask a favor..."

  "Anything." he said.

  "Bury me next to my fiancé."

  He began to well up. His eyes began to sting. He quickly turned away trying to stifle the emotion beginning to overwhelm him.

  "Absolutely."

  She looked at him as his eyes reddened.

  "Oh, you are such a big baby," she smiled weakly, "but you are pretty damn cute."

  The smile faded as she lowered her head and exhaled.

  She was gone.

  Reflection

  He thought about how the last month had been.

  It had been weeks since he had left her house. He thought about her. Fulfilling her last wish as request, he had buried her next to her fiancé.

  He wondered what a native American name would have been for her. The Woman Who Kicks Ass. He wasn't sure that would translate, but he was sure there was something similar had been used at some point in history.

  Before he left her house, he threw the dead ferals in the river. He mended the fence where they had apparently broken through. Pausing for a second, his eyes turned back to the front porch. If there is an afterlife, I hope she's found it.

  He turned back to complete the task before him.

  Finally, he was finished. He began to gather his staff and his bow. Looking over yard he knew he was going to miss it, even if it was a brief stay.

  At the edge of the yard, in almost the same place where she first put him on his ass, he stopped. Turning back to face the house once more, he paused to reflect on his brief time there.

  He saw her and her fiance, sitting on the porch. They both waved. He rubbed his eyes and looked back. They were gone.

  The road called to him once again. It was time to go.

  New Life

  After retrieving his pack from where he had left it, he found the traveling to be easy for several days. With warming temperatures, and clear skies, a light jacket was all that was needed. The scent and sound of Spring gave him life. Walking was not a chore, and the feel of nature actually brought a smile to his face. Plus, there had been no encounters with ferals or humans in quite a while.

  He was coming up on an old town. It was probably an almost dead town before The Turn. A few buildings here and there. A once thriving town that was alive with people at one time until a railroad moved, or a crop devastation, or some old mine dried up its profitability. Doing his usual surveillance, he checked over everything. It had all the appearances of being fine, but it was daylight, so it was as easy to spot odd movement. Night time provided better cover, and fires would give away the positions of anyone still left. Waiting for nightfall was not the best option, so he thought perhaps some extra care in his search would suffice.

  He heard an odd sound.

  He paused for a moment and listened, but he couldn't quite place it. It was faint. Just enough to catch his attention. Then it got quiet once more. He went back to his quiet pacing, being more attentive to unusual sounds.

  The town was very still and quiet. The wind was light, but not enough to interfere with his listening.

  Then the odd sound caught his attention once more.

  He stopped, listening closer. He tried to focus on where it came from, but couldn't quite figure out what it was.

  Then sound grew clearer. Like something running in short bursts. Quick movement.

  He sets his pack aside, takes his staff and moves further into town to investigate. He approaches a building corner. Hearing a growling and quick shuffling, he stops before he gets to the corner. Taking out a small mirror and using it to peer around the corner of the building he spies a feral, chasing something in some old forgotten building scraps. Seeing nothing else in the area, he steps out. It was a smaller feral, with a thin and gaunt appearance. The feral, focused on its would-be prey, doesn't hear him approach.

  "Hey!" He shouted at the feral.

  The feral, startled, quickly turns to him with a startled jump. He tightens his grip on his staff as the feral moves and squares up to him. It starts to circle him, hissing and growling trying to place a dominance on the standoff.

  He challenged the feral with little change in facial expression, "What are you going to do? Think I'm an easy target? Come get some."

  The feral continued its attempted intimidation and circling.

  "Whatever you are going to do, do it already! C'mon! Show me what you got you piece of shit!!" he screamed at it.

  The feral made a short quick leap to attack. He saw the movements of the feral like it was slow motion for a brief moment, then stepped and thrust the staff into what would be the feral’s solar plexus, stopping it short, he brought the opposite end around the side of the feral’s head sending it sprawling. The feral, disoriented, got up, then stumbled. Seeing the Traveler was not an easy target, it got up again and began to run and fell once more before getting its bearings, taking off again and running until it was gone from his sight.

  The Traveler watched as it left. He took a minute to look around for anything else. He saw none. With the feral gone the world was quiet again except for slight sound of the wind. He went back and retrieved his pack and came back around. Then he heard something from the scrap pile. He went to it and moved a few pieces. A short hiss emanated from it. Lifting an old piece of corrugated metal, he finally saw the source of the sound.

  A cat. Medium sized, a little frightened and still spooked by the feral. It was mostly black with a white chin and feet. He called them "tuxies" back in the day. Seeing it was wide-eyed and scared, he knelt down to a lower level to seem less intimidating.

  "Hey," he said, speaking in a soft voice, "come here."

  He held his hand out. The feline lowered its guard somewhat by standing a little straighter. Still growling, it looked around. The Traveler took out a piece of old dried jerky he had in his pocket.

  "It's cool little brother. I'm not here to hurt you."

  The cat moved a little towards him. Its growling was getting shorter. The Traveler could tell the cat wasn't growling at him. It was just still pissed off about the feral. The cat caught the scent of the dried beef and came over closer. It finally got close enough to find the morsel. It was a little dry but the cat didn't seem to mind. The Traveler tore off another piece to offer and the cat gobbled it up too. The Traveler reached out slowly to touch the cat, it saw him and flinched a moment, then relaxed and allowed it. He saw the cat raise its tail as he rubbed the animal behind the ears. The first symbols of friendship.

  After a few minutes the cat was like someone who had been lost and finally found civilization again. The Traveler sat and the feline circled him and rubbed up against him.


  "How did you make it this far, Cat? You must have some bad-ass survival skills."

  Finally, the feline began to relax. The Traveler picked him up. The cat did not mind. In fact, it had gone into a long purr. He looked the cat over. He seemed fairly healthy. No injuries, Shiny coat, and well-fed.

  "You seem to miss company." He sat the cat down on his lap. "Though you don't look like a cat that has struggled. You appear to be quite healthy considering the circumstances of the world."

  The cat jumped down. It trotted a short distance.

  "Leaving so soon?" The traveler asked. He watched as the cat turned to leave. Then it stopped and looked back. Then walked a few more feet and stopped again. It looked back once more.

  "Ah. You want me to follow. Sure, why not?"

  So, he started off behind the cat.

  He walked and followed for a while. The cat would stop every so often and look back to make sure the human was still following.

  "I'm still here." The Traveler would say.

  They came up to a small house. The cat worked its way through a small opening of the fence. The Traveler approached the gate. It appeared the fence surrounding the property was not originally tall, but apparently someone had fortified it with some old barn wood and made it higher. The gate was constructed of wood and iron rods with a heavy latch. The Traveler unlatched it, opening the gate cautiously.

  "Hello?" He called out. "Anyone home?"

  He stepped into the yard. The cat was sitting there. It nonchalantly acknowledged him and swished its tail. The Traveler took in the surroundings. Windows stood open on the small house. Decent shade from the sun by a couple of trees growing in front, near the porch area.

  "Someone has been holed up here since the beginning." He said to himself.

  Walking in though the doorway, he called out.

  "Hello?"

  No answer. Stepping in, he expected to find someone hidden in the shadows, waiting to attack. Still, nothing. He walked through the house, checking the few rooms it had as he went. Nothing. The cat, of course, followed.

  He stepped on the back porch. There was a fantastic view. The backyard sloped downhill to the fence surrounding the property. Beyond that, tree and an open sky. His attention fell on one large tree just off the back porch.

  Then he saw him. It startled for a second, a man sitting in the chair facing the great view before him as well.

  "Excuse me. I didn't mean to intrude on you, Sir. I mean no harm. I'm just passing through" he said as he began to walk down the steps towards the man. "My name is..."

  He stopped short. The man, who appeared to be late middle-aged, made no movements, no sound, no motion. He was gone. Death had overtaken the man. By the looks of it, with no evidence of animal bites or birds attempting to scavenge, he had succumbed within the last few days. Possibly within the last twenty-four hours. The cat looked up at The Traveler and just let out a slight "Meow." Almost like a question.

  "Sorry Brother." He said to the cat.

  The Journal

  The Traveler sat back, exhausted. He had buried the man next to the tree where he had found him. It seemed only right. Afterwards he found a rain barrel, drank some water, and decided to step in the shade of the house to cool down.

  Just inside the back door lying on the counter, The Traveler found a small journal. He located a comfortable chair to relax in and began to thumb through it. The man, whose name was Jim according to the journal, made constant entries, like a written diary to become his legacy for someone to find one day. Jim had lived here for most of his life before everything went to hell. The Traveler stopped, wondering what it was like to have a beautiful piece of property and a cat for a companion. Living life with no distractions from others. It's a life he would have liked even before The Turn. He opened up the leather-bound diary again and continued.

  "...I haven't seen or heard from anyone in several months. It's probably just as well. I really don't mind. I'll continue on."

  The Traveler flipped a few more pages.

  "...I know I don't have long. I can feel it. My strength is draining. It's harder to move around. I know this happens with age, but this is just in the last couple of weeks. My breathing is getting worse. It really sucks, doesn't it? You survive the apocalypse, only to die from cancer or some other bullshit. I have no regrets except one: My companion, Cooper. I don't think there has ever been a cat quite like him. I think he's more human than myself sometimes. Although he probably feels I should be more cat like. Ha! He does find a lot of his own food. So, I know he can survive. I hope he understands when I'm gone."

  The Traveler, who had the full attention of the cat, spoke to him.

  "So then, Cooper is it?" The cat perked up and walked over to him. "Well Cooper... damn fine to meet you brother."

  The Traveler continued to read the journal.

  "... pretty sure this is my final entry. I can barely move. Feeling a lot of pain. To anyone finds this; I hope I you find me at my tree. I planted this lone tree in this back yard 30 years ago. It is my favorite place in the world. I'm going to go sit under it and probably take my last breath there. I also want whoever finds this to know. I have forgiven God for this. The world deserved it. And I deserved it. Neither of us have been very well-behaved. The world had gone to shit. I was a very bad person in my youth. So, I accept it. Cooper doesn't deserve it, but I'm sure God has granted him the wisdom to survive.

  Take care, Cooper. I hope you have a great life."

  Then it ended.

  The Traveler closed it up and looked up. He a single teardrop rolled down his cheek.

  Unexpected

  The Traveler settled in as it was getting late. He found some can food stashed inside. He made a fire and sat around it that evening and shared food with Cooper. Then found a bed and relaxed and was almost drifting off when Cooper jumped up with him and snuggled up next to him. It was the first time in many weeks that he had smiled before going to sleep for the night.

  The next morning The Traveler got up and found some food. After sharing once again with Cooper, he gathered his stuff.

  Putting on his gear, he spoke to Cooper.

  "Look Brother, I got a place that I want to get to. I don't want to leave you alone, nor do I want to drag you away from all that you know. But you are welcome to join if you like."

  Cooper stood on the front porch and sat down. The Traveler turned to walk away.

  Then heard, "Meow."

  He turned around. Cooper was at the bottom step.

  "You want to come with me? You can."

  Cooper adjusted his stance and swished his tail and uttered another; "Meow."

  The Traveler patted his own chest as an invitation to Cooper and said "C'mon then."

  Cooper ran and jumped up to his chest, and climbed up onto the top of his pack, like he was saying,

  "What are you waiting for? Let's go."

  The Traveler smiled. He turned and went through the gate with Cooper settling down on top of the pack already understanding it was going to be a long journey. Making their way down the road, they slowly disappeared from the view of the house

  Neither looked back.

  Are We There Yet

  Cooper turned out to be a fantastic travel companion. He liked the company of The Traveler. He made himself at home on top of The Traveler's backpack. Kind of like an ancient Egyptian Royal being carried around by his subject. Most cats after all, thought of themselves as royalty.

  The Traveler had grown fond of Cooper. Once as The Traveler stop to rest, Cooper jumped down and ran into the woods. The Traveler had a brief encounter with fear, fear that Cooper might not come back, might get hurt, might decide to do his own thing. Just as The Traveler was beginning to worry that he had possibly lost his companion, Cooper appeared out of the woods with a squirrel in his mouth. From then on, The Traveler realized Cooper would contribute when he could. Apparently, fire-roasted squirrel was a favorite food of Cooper.

  They passed the
time with The Traveler talking to Cooper. As they walked and made their way through the small towns and countryside The Traveler would tell him how he came to be the person he was. Cooper, being the cat he was, didn't actually listen. The Traveler also realized if he did not talk to Cooper for a long period of time, Cooper would pat him on the ear, as if to say Hey! You still awake up there?

  Cooper also had a sense of when ferals were close. The Traveler knew when Cooper would stiffen up and let out a low, barely audible growl that it was time to be on alert. Cooper would jump down and climb up the nearest tree if any got too close. Twice that had happened, and both times The Traveler was on guard and the result was a dead feral each time. After it was safe Cooper came back to him, ready to travel once more.