Tales from the Wasteland | The No Leaf Clover

Chapter 12

As the sun says its farewell to the Wasteland for the night, Rod and Alena continue their stakeout in the armored van. Rod is still snug in his seat, fast asleep. Alena, on the other hand, is reading an old forgotten story from the world that's long passed.

A small light hangs on her glasses, pointing at the faded ink. Even with the illuminated companion, she still squints at every other word. The vastly educated young woman is able to decipher the pale black letters to create the intended words. Gramps made it a point to teach his granddaughter how to read and write.

He instilled a belief that if civilization is to survive this apocalypse, they would need to recount and document all that they can. Humanity will have to someday learn from all their past sins to move forward in a generation of light and love.

Every day they would play word games and build puzzles together. Gramps knew that he couldn't be there forever. Someday, she would have to venture out into this unforgiving world with only the knowledge he gave her. The timeworn grandfather knew many hunters, with Rod being one of them and possibly his favorite. They have been friends for quite some time. When Alena was fairly young, Rod would help in self-defense lessons, often stopping by between contracts and expecting her to practice while he was away. When he returned, he'd test the young child. If she passed, he would go on to the next lesson. They had a kindred connection with each other. Alena always looked up to him as a big brother. The apprentice hunter would study extra hard when Rod left, so when test time came, she would not disappoint him. Which she could never do anyway.

On his prolonged stays, Rod would take his little shadow out into the Wasteland and give her survival training. He would teach her about plants, which types were safe to eat and which were used for medicinal purposes. Rod periodically slipped in some hunter training, even though Gramps disapproved during her younger years. He taught Alena basic rune reading and how to place runes in a certain order for specific effects. Painting certain runes on a blade allowed you to hurt a ghoul or poltergeist. She devoured this information and craved it like sugar. Her brain was a sponge in overdrive; the youngling had an uncanny ability to retain the information quickly, which explained her tinkering talent.

As far as anyone knew, Gramps had the largest collection of old world literature, consisting of books, magazines, and discs, second only to the grand library in the Dark City. Through many rummaging trips and a lot of trial and error, they were able to get an old television and disc player working.

Their small collection consisted of some music discs, old mechanic videos, documentaries, and some movies. There was even a disc of Pilates that Gramps and Alena would follow every evening after supper. The old man wasn't any good at it but Alena took to it quite well.

Though she may be young and reckless, the tools and training she received from Gramps and Rod made her a very well-rounded hunter with many skill sets that will allow her to traverse the most barren and vicious regions of the Wasteland.

She flips through to the next page with her eyes tracking each word that clutters the paper. Her eyes widen for a second, then a look of complete disgust washes over her sun-kissed face.

"Vampires don't act like that at all. Where'd they get these awful ideas? Have they never seen damn vampire? " She tosses the book into the back of the van then throws her hands in the air while conversing with herself.

"Why was everyone so sad? God, they didn't have anything to be sad about."

Taking off her glasses, the young tinker rubs her eyes, trying to shake away drowsiness. Placing them back on, she looks at the console. The window for Poppy's text is blinking. She taps the screen, bringing the window to the forefront. Excitedly she slaps Rod's shoulder.