The Perfect State: A Fictional Commentary on Humanity and Politics

The Journey: Chapter 3

Great North American Wasteland, 29 January 2048

5.00 PM, the Convoy missing the car of Miss Adelaide drove across the flat wasteland that was once the great plains; the pace was steady but firm and by 5.00 PM. they had covered good one-hundred miles or so. Unfortunately for Quent, Mane, and their families there seemed to be no ruined town in the near vicinity and the sun was beginning to dim indicating the sun was about to set. The orange light cast a beautiful hue over the desolate flat wasteland making it seem for a second like it was returned to its former glory.

Quent could feel his eyes get heavier and heavier every yard he covered, he knew he had to rest up and with no ruined town in sight they would have to set up camp in the wastes. A most dangerous thing considering the various varieties of now feral wildlife which roamed the former great plains once more.

Feral dogs would be the most common threat; after having no human contact for over a decade, the dogs most likely would have returned to their natural state. This would mean either Mane or Quent would have to stand guard for the convoy for one of them and their families were resting up a most unenviable duty.

Quent stopped his car at a spot which was the most suitable; right next to a small shallow river. Although the water was most likely unusable due to the chemical weapons used in the second civil war; it would be a small barrier between any prey and the camp.

Quent got out the car at the same time as Mane to check the water; just in case it wasn't poisoned. Both looked at each other, they both did not want to try the water but someone had to. In a sense of fairness, they decided to flip a coin to decide who would taste the water.

The coin was a new dollar coin and on the reverse was a portrait of the Supreme Elder. Quent and Mane before stating which side, both stood there silently like as if they were in deep reflection. After a moment, they stated which side they wished to pick; Quent chose heads and Mane chose tails. In a tense moment, Quent flipped the coin and it came out heads. He let out a short expletive under this breath.

Mane relieved it wasn't him said to his friend "It's heads, you try the water."

Quent was hesitant, how many chemical agents and weapons had been in this river during and before the war?

Time was not on his side so summoning up all the courage he had in him; he cupped his hands, submerged them in the shallow river and pulled his hands containing the water to his lips. The water tasted fine if a bit of iron, that alarmed Quent who said to Mane "I think they dumped a mass of bodies in there, it tastes of iron like the iron when you taste your blood after a paper cut."

Mane replied "Fuck. I really was hoping it would be clean. Do you think it would still be safe for washing and boiling?"

"I don't know old friend, boiling definitely, washing maybe. Honestly, we don't have a chance in this matter due to circumstances, like usual."

Mane nodded in agreement.

Mane and Quent went back to their respective cars to tell their families that they would be camping here for the night. This would not be comfortable that was for sure.

So they set up camp; Quent and Mane prepared the food and drinks for the evening, Mane volunteered to stand guard for the night and they washed preparing for the next day's journey. After they had bathed and eaten, the children and woman went to bed just leaving the men. Quent and Mane had known each other for ages but never went camping. In an odd sort of way, this was their camping trip.

The sky over the Great North American Wasteland was clear, the lack of population caused by the conflicts of the 'Fall of Man' meant that the earth had started to return to normal. Stars filled the sky and the moon was prominently dominating the night sky.

Quent gave Mane some more ammunition in case he encountered any wildlife while on guard, luckily they had both the same handgun. He then retired to his makeshift bed in his car and tried to get some rest for the long day's drive ahead of him. At first, it was hard, thoughts consumed him and in a desperate attempt to sleep drank one of next day's alcohol rations. It worked like a treat and in a few moments, he was asleep.

He then woke up but he did not wake up to the same barren polluted wasteland; instead, it was a lush green plain, the prairie grass willowed in the wind. Quent thought to himself he must be dreaming. He got out of the car to witness the transformed landscape around him.

In the distant upon a small elevation, he saw a man on a horse wearing a sort of dress he never witnessed before. It reminded him of a long-forgotten age which he read of in history books of his youth. The man's face was stern as if he was focusing on something in the distance.

Quent trying to see what the man in a strange dress was focusing on looked around. He heard a great rumble and the ground started to shake under his feet. Frightened by this development, he pulled out his gun and looking around he saw the most magnificent sight.

In the near distance, hundreds of large hairy creatures were running in a group. They were being chased by more of these strangely dressed men on horses which rode without saddles. All of this seemed most strange yet familiar to Quent.

This spectacle of grand-scale continued on for another ten minutes until they disappeared over a small hill. Quent watched in amazement on the bonnet of the car, he never witnessed such a sight in his forty years or so of life.

Then one of the strangely dressed men came towards him, Quent was hesitant readying his gun to fire alarming the strangely dressed man. He then put his gun away realising they were a lot more of them than of him; the strangely dressed man then continued to come towards him.

Quent looked at the weathered wise face of the man who stared at him intently but without malice. He most likely spoke no English so Quent used non-verbal communication methods with him trying to say hello. The strangely dressed man then dismounted his horse and walked towards him. Quent observed everything; from the way, he dressed to the way his horse stayed still without command.

The strangely dressed man then stood next to Quent who had by this point got off the bonnet of his car. The man pointed west to the encampment to the small hill of which he had travelled down from. Then he mounted his horse and rode off into the horizon over the small hill which he had been pointing to just a moment before. The rest of the strangely dressed men went with him.

Quent still in amazement from what he had witnessed moments ago, stood still pondering what the pointing to the west by the strangely dressed man meant. He hoped it was a source of clean water, an oasis in this most barren inhospitable of places but that was just hope. Whatever he pointed to, this was too much of a coincidence to not take a chance on finding it.

Quent was not a spiritual person; being a man of rationality and science, he believed spirituality was nonsense. This experience he had just witnessed shook that fundamental belief to its core. Suddenly, a distant echo came across the plain and it sounded like the voice of Mane and just like that. All the green drained away leaving only the toxic wasteland remaining, it had just been a dream all along.