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Chapter 5 - The road

Before the morning grey light set itself upon the land, Aleksei was out cold on the ragged couch. The lack of sleep caught up with him and struck him into a prolonged state of repose. As he lay asleep, he wasn't woken up by any sound made around him, catching up on the nights he spent contemplating. The hard and dirty cushions felt strangely soft and welcoming, embracing his heavy body deprived of rest he craved, yet couldn't find a way to obtain.

Philip found the last can of beans in the pantry and heated them up. He had to revive the dead fire from scratch, but after a few minutes of struggle, he managed to set the old newspaper ablaze. It hissed comfortably and spread over the firewood it has been offered and crackled in a silent controlled seance of molecules. It slowly turned its cold and bitter surroundings into a more pleasant environment. One that could be called a home.

Once the toneless meal boiled, Philip woke up the remaining two guests and they ate in uncomfortable silence. Alina kept throwing a question-filled look at Aleksei laying on the couch while Philip carefully watched her every move. He figured she was used to the active and vigilant Aleksei and assured her that he wasn't dead as he bit off chunks of his food. The child ate the first meal it had since the last breakfast with immaculate speed and patiently waited for Alina to finish her portion. Once they were done, she helped with the dirtied remains and mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Philip only returned a bleak nod.

Alina wrapped the kid in several layers of clothes too big to fit and went outside. While they took a walk to the dam filled with dead fish, Philip dove into the plans his overworked friend started. Aleksei knew the lack of rest would get him sooner or later and while Philip soundly slept on the couch in the middle of the night, he pushed himself to the limits of his wake mind. They depended on finding the right way, and after going on zero power for the rest of the night, he did it. He found the way through to the chamber of treasure.

Philip read over the plan Aleksei left behind before passing out. There was a path scribbled and outlined with a red marker on one of the maps. It glowed on the paper like a beacon, casting a fraction of hope into the corners darkened in melancholy. The path slithered across the woods and connected to the main road, only to diverge back into the dirt roads stretching across the extensive hills. Philip tried to read the notes scribbled on a torn piece of paper but the handwriting was too shaky and stretched to read. He eventually gave up on trying to understand the plan and focused on what would help accomplish such a risky voyage - weapons.

For the rest of the day, Philip scavenged the cabin and its surroundings for anything useful. While he collected the parts with no purpose, it reminded him of the days when the world wasn't divided. If he had a coin for every time someone called him paranoid because of his hobby, he could smelt them and make a small golden statue. He admitted it was a strange pastime to have in the modern time of technology, but he liked it nonetheless. It gave him a sense of control over his surroundings. He had something, took it apart and forged it back together again into something new. Something with a purpose yet unknown to even Philip himself.

Some were fascinated by the present. The overwhelming advance through the sands of time towards something great. The gift of technology, enhancing both life and death. Others loved the future. The thrill of unknown wonders and dangers that await us on the road over the horizon. But Philip preferred the past. It had a thin layer of dust filled with particles of mystery idly laying over it, inviting him to blow it off in pursuit of forgotten wonders. In a way, the past was more of a mystery than the future itself. It gives lessons to be learned in the present and inevitably models the form of the future. All while staying dead - already behind your back, yet dragging itself after you as a reminder to not step into the same hole twice.

Silence. Peaceful silence. Hanging in the toxic air. He didn't open his eyes. It was too good of a moment to let it slip. So he laid motionless, holding onto the time uncaringly running out of his grasp. The numbness was so appealing he could get addicted to it. No stomach to be fed, no skin to be kept warm, just thoughts floating around in a white void of nothingness. Devoid of the body but not devoid of purpose. Free.