Journey of a Wanderer
Part 1
I awoke to another grey morning. The sun barely pierced the thick blanket of clouds that made up the sky. Each day was the same. Date and time were useless, existence was nothing but a stretch of gloomy days and pitch black nights. The world was dying. Its surface a desolate field of empty grey. I had been wandering for a long time now. I had no destination, everywhere was the same. I was driven forward only by the need for food, water and a vain hope. One that refused to die believing someday I would find others. Others with good hearts, the ones who were still pure. I often wondered if such people still existed. Every day it seemed more and more unlikely. I felt like the only star in an endless black void.
I carried a salvaged rifle with no less than four bullets for defence. Life will do anything to survive, many who still breathe do so only through despicable acts. Murder was everywhere. People would not hesitate to kill and eat you as soon as given the chance. I have taken lives to save my own many times before and I was prepared to do it again.
I rose from my nest of blankets. I had spent the night in the shell of what was once a house. This area was once a suburban neighbourhood. Families once lived here. It must have been a bright place, full of life. A sense of long forgotten memories seemed to hang in the air like mist. It was eerie and unpleasant. I wanted to be out of this place but my business here was not complete. Scavenging was a way of life, a vital part of life. I made sure to thoroughly search any promising areas for anything of use that I could carry. Gathering my supplies and pack, I crossed what was once a road and started towards what looked like a ruined convenience store. I approached looking for a suitable entrance. Half of the roof had caved in and the remaining looked very unstable. Some paint still clung to the rotted walls, faint lettering of ancient advertisements. As always I would have to be cautious. A relatively sturdy looking pillar still supported the majority of the remaining roof and a gaping hole in the wall close by looked like a suitable entrance. I stepped over some decomposing timber and entered. Inside everything was coated with dust. Two shelves were visible protruding from the rubble and the floor was littered with tin cans and decomposing food packaging. I shifted through the litter, brushing dust away and keeping my eyes open for anything of remote use. The dust concealed nothing but more than tin cans and packaging wrappers. I moved to look through a gap between two wooden beams which had wedged themselves against the remaining ceiling and the floor. Through the gap I could see the store’s counter. It was coated with dust and a cash register still sat atop it. Carefully, I climbed through the small gap I had peered through, my clothes caught on rusted nails. Taking great care I made the last few steps through the rubble and had reached the cleared space containing the counter. I swept the dust from the countertop which revealed two ancient and rusted coins. I stepped around to the back of the counter and continued searching. Beneath the counter were a row of three sliding cabinets. Two had been left open and the last was closed. I slid my fingers into the closed cabinets handle and pushed hard. As I had expected the door would not open. A new plan; I took a step backward and swung my right foot forward with all my might. It crashed through the cabinet door with ease. I took another step back and swung again, I repeated until most of the door had been removed and then knelt to look inside. Hidden within perhaps for hundreds of years was a safe. To some amazing underserved fortune its door had been left unlocked. I opened the safe and felt inside. I grasped something hard and metallic, bringing it to light I saw I held a pistol.
What a blessing. I examined it thoroughly, a 9mm in fine condition. I looked back inside the safe and felt around again. This time I withdrew a box of ammunition. I tipped the box’s contents onto the store counter. Five 9mm rounds lay upon the counter. I had not found such fortune for a very long time. I loaded the pistol’s magazine with the ammunition, holstered it in my belt and made my way back out of the ruins of the store. With a faint burst of vigour from my new means of self-preservation I left the dead township and set off to wander the empty plain once more.
I carried a salvaged rifle with no less than four bullets for defence. Life will do anything to survive, many who still breathe do so only through despicable acts. Murder was everywhere. People would not hesitate to kill and eat you as soon as given the chance. I have taken lives to save my own many times before and I was prepared to do it again.
I rose from my nest of blankets. I had spent the night in the shell of what was once a house. This area was once a suburban neighbourhood. Families once lived here. It must have been a bright place, full of life. A sense of long forgotten memories seemed to hang in the air like mist. It was eerie and unpleasant. I wanted to be out of this place but my business here was not complete. Scavenging was a way of life, a vital part of life. I made sure to thoroughly search any promising areas for anything of use that I could carry. Gathering my supplies and pack, I crossed what was once a road and started towards what looked like a ruined convenience store. I approached looking for a suitable entrance. Half of the roof had caved in and the remaining looked very unstable. Some paint still clung to the rotted walls, faint lettering of ancient advertisements. As always I would have to be cautious. A relatively sturdy looking pillar still supported the majority of the remaining roof and a gaping hole in the wall close by looked like a suitable entrance. I stepped over some decomposing timber and entered. Inside everything was coated with dust. Two shelves were visible protruding from the rubble and the floor was littered with tin cans and decomposing food packaging. I shifted through the litter, brushing dust away and keeping my eyes open for anything of remote use. The dust concealed nothing but more than tin cans and packaging wrappers. I moved to look through a gap between two wooden beams which had wedged themselves against the remaining ceiling and the floor. Through the gap I could see the store’s counter. It was coated with dust and a cash register still sat atop it. Carefully, I climbed through the small gap I had peered through, my clothes caught on rusted nails. Taking great care I made the last few steps through the rubble and had reached the cleared space containing the counter. I swept the dust from the countertop which revealed two ancient and rusted coins. I stepped around to the back of the counter and continued searching. Beneath the counter were a row of three sliding cabinets. Two had been left open and the last was closed. I slid my fingers into the closed cabinets handle and pushed hard. As I had expected the door would not open. A new plan; I took a step backward and swung my right foot forward with all my might. It crashed through the cabinet door with ease. I took another step back and swung again, I repeated until most of the door had been removed and then knelt to look inside. Hidden within perhaps for hundreds of years was a safe. To some amazing underserved fortune its door had been left unlocked. I opened the safe and felt inside. I grasped something hard and metallic, bringing it to light I saw I held a pistol.
What a blessing. I examined it thoroughly, a 9mm in fine condition. I looked back inside the safe and felt around again. This time I withdrew a box of ammunition. I tipped the box’s contents onto the store counter. Five 9mm rounds lay upon the counter. I had not found such fortune for a very long time. I loaded the pistol’s magazine with the ammunition, holstered it in my belt and made my way back out of the ruins of the store. With a faint burst of vigour from my new means of self-preservation I left the dead township and set off to wander the empty plain once more.