A Dying Breed

A Dying Breed: part 1

The heat from the unmasked sun floods into the room as day breaks and the night slips away. I awaken to the smoldering remains of my small fire from the night before. I push myself to a sitting position and looks around at the cracked and broken stone walls of, what I assume to be, an old, pre downfall, department store. I take a deep breath of the dusty, hot, dry air and I sigh. Looks like it's gonna be one of those days...

I pull my small, warn satchel in front of me. I pull the broken binding away and shift the thick leather out of the way. All I have left in the old "heir loom" was a box of 15 .308 rounds, 2 cans of food, 4 bottles of clean drinking water, and a flint and steal. You'd figure I'd have more, since I've been out here for 20 years, 5 without my parents, and no group to feed.

My old rifle lay next to me, it still reminds me of him, of my father. It's been 5 years and I still haven't forgotten them. I fear i never will. I haven't cleaned the old thing in 4 months. Ever since I lost my cleaning kit to those raiders I haven't used it much, preserving it I guess.

It surprised me when they saw I was awake, the raiders, they appeared afraid, even mortified by my attire. They are usually fearless, drugged out, and unafraid of any battle. It surprised me when I stood and they dropped most of everything they were holding and ran into the night.

Aside from that, however, I need to pack up and get moving.

The sun was just over the ridge as I started putting away the few utensils I had for eating and cooking. I also grabbed my empty water bottle that lay next to where I slept.

I stand up slowly and begin to stretch out and I groan at the feeling. I brush the dust off of my old duster that I retrieved from an old building on a scavenging mission one day, and I check the leather mesh I have underneath. It isn't much, but it helps with fighting animals and people with small blunt weapons. I bend down to pick up my old leather desperado black hat and I fix if over the gas mask that I wear. The mask doesn't work like it's supposed to and the right eye lens is smashed out due to aiming problems, and the neck of it is thick, so it's also a sort of protection. I fasten my boots as well before I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Once I have it situated, I pick up my rifle and situate it accordingly to how my bag is placed and I take one last look around. This was a good testing spot, a shame to leave it this way.

I stomp the remains of my fire from the night and I walk out into the hot morning air.

My old duster helps with the intense heat of the dying star that we call "sun" as I make my way through the areas. Ever since the EMP and radiation bombs, the atmosphere has suffered a great deal, and can no longer block out enough of the sun. In short, you could drop a slab if meat if the pavement and hear it sizzle half a mile off.

I start my trek on the right side of an old, warn down road headed north to Tennessee. I try staying in the tree line as much as I can, no need for extra heat for my travel. As I walk down I look back into my satchel, 2 cans of food and 4 bottles of water with 1 empty... I can't manage in that for long, I need to find somewhere, soon, that even seems remotely scavenge-able and worth a stay.

I cautiously walk ahead, it's been a few hours and I haven't come across any buildings at all, it frightens me. I've drank about half of a water and I'm getting hungry. I need to find a place soon or I'll be in the woods tonight. The woods at night is not a very safe placed to be. Hungry animals roam in the cold nights, they pray on the weak and feast on the sleeping and it's disgusting. I keep an eye out all the time but you never know what could happen. I guess living alone for 5 years in silence teaches you some things.

I'm frozen, there was a noise, it sounded as if it was on my right, deeper in the woods. I kneel down close to the ground and swiftly but quietly move to the nearest bush that I feel us suitable for my size.