The Fence Mender

Chapter 11

It was crazy—practically suicidal—but Xander had already made up his mind as he walked through the city square. Once again, the tables were filled with citizens having their tea and talking about the latest news.

"They got Liberty," said one.

"If they got Liberty, how long before they get us?" cried another.

A slow panic was taking over the city, as it did every time a city was sacked. None of it mattered to Xander. He had formulated the thinnest of plans, hardly thought out, with a statistical probability of failure high enough to scare anyone away.

First, he would need to know how to get to Liberty. He was familiar with the general layout of the region, but the delivery drivers knew the safest routes. A quick visit with Vance and a handful of old lingerie catalogs got him information on security details. This would give him the line he needed to follow. Next, he would need protection. Every citizen had at least one gun, but if he had a prayer of surviving in the outside world, he would need something of a higher caliber. The remaining case of wine bought him five minutes in the weapon locker where he removed a number of handguns, a shotgun, an automatic rifle, a flak jacket, and a crossbow with a least fifty arrows.

At the church, Xander carefully laid out all his supplies and, one by one, placed them in his mender's bag. He had outfitted himself in several layers, his casual clothes mixed with some of the military wear he poached from storage. His vest was loaded with ammunition clips and holstered handguns. The front pocket contained a compass which would be required to help chart his course, with a canteen clipped to his belt carrying at least two days' worth of fresh water inside. Everything there seemed to have a specific purpose, save for two items: a small bail of barbed wire with clippers and a book. More specifically, the copy of Atlas Shrugged she had asked for. He placed the mending supplies in the bag then carefully wrapped the book into a plastic sleeve and slid it into the remaining open space.

As he left the church, presumably for the last time, he didn't even so much as look over his shoulder. Everything that mattered was ahead of him, far away from where he stood. There were no ties to this place. It was a room to shelter him from the elements and where he laid his head when he slept. His life wasn't the time he spent there repairing the fence or tracking transmissions. It was only when he spoke with Anna that he truly felt alive, his life was the twenty minutes a day they spoke, and the other wasted hours in between was existence. Xander had everything he would need for this fool's errand, but there was one more vital component he would need if he had a prayer. 

He would need a map.