Sleep

Chapter 9

Tom kneeled in the brush and shoved off his backpack. He looked back at the city. It was distant, cloaked in dust from the wreckage. The roads closer to the restaurant were no longer visible, but he could spot the coffee shop and the array of rusted cars that were parked haphazardly along the curb. He opened the pack, and a cluster of items fell out immediately from the back zipper. The map, some newspapers, and some leaves. Tom picked up the map, and he glanced at the messy handwriting. It was small, but he could make out the word "refuge" among the scribbles that adorned the side of the map. Most scribbles were around a barely visible section of the paper, but he recognized Toronto as one of the words that were circled in red pen.

"Guess I'm heading there..." Tom murmured.

He put the map away and rummaged through the front zipper. Nothing.

"The radio..." Tom muttered.

He shook the backpack from the bottom, but there was nothing. He pondered the possibility of maybe going back into the city, but that thought faded when he realized the scavengers were still there.

"So no radio, and no cat," Tom sighed.

He shook off the dirt from the pack and waded further into the brush. The brush eventually led to an open road, where he walked until the sun had started to fade. Tom paused to check his surroundings, and he felt uneasy about being alone. He had never felt lonely until now, whether it was the lake where he felt the most familiarity or the restaurant where he found Amber. But now, surrounded by pine trees and encompassed by foreign terrain, Tom felt the pain for the first time. He heard the roar of water, and he knew that he was close to some salvation. But, Tom could barely see anything in front of him. He settled down inside of some bushes next to the road and slowly drifted away.