2050: A Time of Courage

Chapter 21: Commander Petrovich

Traveling on the open road can bring a sense of freedom.

As I make my way through various cities, following the instructions left in the pages of Kristenson's journal, I find myself wondering what it would be like to have this luxury. Life, I decide, would be much less monotonous for a person who finds themselves constantly on the move.

One would have the power to go wherever they want and the chance to take their time traveling there.

I see another side to a life of constant travel, though. If a person is always leaving one place for another, they never truly get their chance to be great. How, I wonder, would people like that expect to leave an impressive mark on the world? They might circumnavigate the globe, but they would never do anything meaningful in any one place.

They would be just another face in a textbook, conquistadors exploring what has already been charted a million times before.

Everyone is born to be great, though some are more prone to waste the potential than others.

My travels to find Kristenson will lead me down the proper pathway, direct me on how to begin the next phase of my mission.

I have just crossed the Irish border when I make the decision to abandon my current car for a new one. If I have been reported to any form of authority, there is no doubt in my mind that someone will have alerted them of the most probable model and color of my getaway vehicle.

The town I stop in is little more than a village, the shop across the street from my parking space looks as though it may collapse in on itself at any moment. This store may seem insignificant with only a handful of cars surrounding it, but it provides all the opportunity I need.

Collecting my gun and supplies, I climb out of my SUV at the same moment a young woman exits the shop. She moves quickly, as though getting home with her newly-acquired box of cereal is the most important task that she can accomplish today. I watch her as she moves toward her own vehicle, an inconspicuous blue car that looks as though it has lost a few battles of its own during its time on the roadways.

I beat the woman to the car, effectively keeping her from getting away. Her keys are still in one hand, wallet clutched tightly in the other as she keeps the box of cereal tucked under an arm.

"C-Can I help you?" she inquires, voice trembling as she takes in my raised gun, "I-I'm not g-going to hurt you, I s-swear. P-Please!"

There is no need to kill her if I can avoid it. I would hate to cause such a scene so soon after my last one.

"The keys." I say simply, leveling my gun with her temple, "Give me the keys and I will let you go."

Terrified, she looks around as though hoping someone else will appear to save her. This street is completely empty at the present, though, and there are no windows from which the store's occupants can see us. I see the exact moment when she realizes that her choices are limited, the instant she knows it will be the keys or her life.

Bowing her head, she admits defeat as she hands them over, sprinting up the street as though even now she is afraid I will decide to take her life. Satisfied with a job well done, I situate myself behind the wheel of this vehicle, depositing my gun and supplies in the passenger seat and opening Kristenson's journal to its final page once again.

After the brief stop, the drive seems to pass in a blur of gray pavement and an even drearier sky.

It takes two more hours for me to locate the building that supposedly now serves as Kristenson's laboratory. The structure is positioned at the top of a hill on the far outskirts of an embarrassingly small village, and the lane leading up to it is little more than a dirt trail. The wheels of my car protest the uphill drive, the terrain attempting, it seems, to keep me from advancing.