I see the faint but beautiful rays of rich orange sunlight flood in through the cracks of basement door.I awake from my short but refreshing slumber.I then remove the lead bar from the door and step up into the storage room,the lights are out,"I should really go try to trade with one of the local foraging groups for some gasoline for the generator" the back of my mind utters the phrase into existence.I grab my sattis and a small flint and a chunk of iron for starting a fire if i so unluckily don't make it home in time for darkness.I also grab some trinkets I'd saved from a few weeks ago,right after the bombings,along with some random metal scrap all to trade with the locals.I exit my house through a window that had been broken over nightfall."It would've taken something much stronger than a chainbear to break through those barricades,but maybe just maybe the old man wasn't crazy after all." I say speaking only to my lonesome.I soon walk through the thin trees that camouflage my hideout into the mass expanse of the "Dead Zone" an area where it was once full of beautiful oaks and pines now only contains blackened husks that ooze out a thick black liquid straight from the heart of the "trees".I pass through the "Dead Zone" and enter into the beautiful still living "Brights" where the trees are not disease ridden.I trek on-wards north towards a temporary trader camp I've heard about from the hushed whispers of rats,a small race of people mutated by the X-Bombs causing them to become short and hunched over,who live underground.The rats will occasionally come to me to trade and rest.As I head through the thick gorgeous brush of the "Brights" I hear the metallic click-clack sound of a chainbear rubbing its razor sharp metal claws together in order to sharpen them. Chainbears used to help humans cut down trees for use in building houses and other forms of architecture.The chainbears where a genetics experiment gone wrong when some Anstotuian scientist wanted to create a stronger,more controllable version of the bear. I don't see the bear,that worries me,so I try to be as quiet as possible whilst I try to sneak around the general direction of the click-clack sound.In doing so I step in a small hole and twist my ankle out of place.I writhe in pain,silently.I pick myself up off of the ground and continue on my way to the trader camp.When I arrived at the encampment I was greeted by a small female child.She was no older than year nine.I found it odd a child so young was with a band of traders with the youngest being of year thirty-seven.The young girl notices my limp and goes to get the groups medical official,who immediately goes to work resetting my ankle. A single loud snap followed up by a whelp of pain echoed throughout the Brights.I hand the traders doctor some bandages so she can wrap my ankle.The leader of the group asks me why I'm here.I tell him i came to trade.I show him the trinkets along with the random metal pieces and a sharp bone knife I'd found along the way.The leader asks what i'd like in return.I respond with ,"I just need a few gallons of petrol for my generator." He thinks it's a fair trade and has one of his men go fetch me a container of the precious fuel.It's dusk now.The leader of the trader group asks me if they can come to my hideout so that they can rest and eat.I happily oblige seeing as night will fall soon and i don't like traveling alone past noon.After about three hours of walking we arrive at my hideout.We all enter through the window next to an old wood stove that I use for heating the place.As soon as everyone of the twelve traders settles in I barricade the window and fill up the generator.As soon as it becomes so dark we can't see I flip the switch to on and the old reliable generator hums to life.And so another night begins...
prev chapter
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing