Chapter 2
My internal clock chimed at six in the morning, time for another update. I sat up, pulled out my tablet, booted it up and sent out the usual text message. Survived another night, nothing to report. I then checked on my school and personal emails. Not that many emails this morning, some of the emails were acknowledgements of the ones I had sent the night before. I cleaned up both inboxes and turned off my tablet, I stuck it back inside the safety of my backpack and pulled out an MRE breakfast. The fire pit I had laid out was reduced to mere coals, but still burned hot. I added in some more fuel and boiled up a cup of tea. As I ate my MRE packet, I stared out into the wide open savanna, the morning was gloomy, but peaceful. I felt I had the whole Island to myself. My thoughts then drifted over to the Wildchu colony near the human camp Mark had discovered. If they were at risk, then I had to take action. I wouldn't go out there without a rikachu, but I didn't want any company. I wished to be left alone, but I had to make a decision.
I decided to go check on the Wildchu colony before swinging around to investigate the hiker camp. I need to get a good idea what was out there, the best way to do that was to interview the Dixierats residing there, they might have more information on the people camping nearby. I moved my tea out of the fire to let it cool, then finished off my MRE before tossing the packet into the fire. I waited until my tea had cooled before I drank some of it. I was still tired, so I slept against the wall for another hour. The gloomy world changed back into a bright overcast day. I drank the rest of my tea, cleaned out the steel cup, then repacked my things into my backpack. Before I left my camp, I drank down most of my canteen, refilled it with my steel bottle, then I made one giant piss into the fire. Clear urine, just what I want to see. I don't plan on coming back till evening, so the last thing I need was to learn that I accidentally started a forest fire in a protected wilderness territory. My long-ass piss wasn't enough to put out the fire, but I felt assured that it should be enough to keep the flames down while I am away.
I put on my pack and left camp, making my way toward the colony. I stuck to the edge of the large savanna, I didn't want to be spotted by humans or pokémon. Again, I was out here for solitude, not to chat. The wind wasn't blowing, which played to my advantage. I walked around the large clearing and stepped onto another pokémon trail. The trees were taller and thicker than in my area, an older part of the Frontier Zone. The trail hadn't been that used as much and I didn't notice any burned marks in the ground. My ears swiveled, listening for signs of life. I walked fast, not wanting to stay in one area for too long. After walking the first two kilometers, my legs were tired and I had to stop to rest. I pressed my back against the trunk of an old oak tree and took a deep breath. I drank down some more water, panting. I was not in the best shape as I should be, my heart was pounding hard against the wall of my chest. I pushed myself a little too hard, but I had a lot of ground to cover. I rested for ten minutes, then got back on my hind legs and continued walking.
Outsiders within the Wildchu colony could not see the burrows that were so well hidden within the hills and trees. The engineers who designed the plots of land constructed the burrows out of concrete. They were all raised and heated with coils, powered by some nearby powerlines. All the burrows were dug out of the hills, constructed out of concrete, and buried under topsoil, trees, and shrubbery. When a chu crawls into a burrow, they had to climb up rather than climb down. This raised platform helps trap hot air and allow heavy carbon dioxide gasses sink. There was also a small trap door in the roof that lets in air, it also acts as a natural air conditioner during the hotter months. Nearby wells were drilled and hand pumps sunk into the aquifers, that way the chus have access to clean water and don't have to worry about disease that much. The population of the colonies were low since most of the Dixierats were within the border zone, so there was always enough food available to keep the chus fed and happy.
When I reached the colony, I didn't see many chus right away, but after walking around one of the burrow mounds, I could see some pikachus started popping out of their holes. Strange, these chus were descended from me, and yet I was from another generation. I was their leader, I founded the Dixieland Nation, but it wasn't my country or my culture. It was their country and culture, and I'm just some old fogey from a forgotten generation. Despite the massive age gap, I was well loved by the Dixierats. I think they gotten the fact into their heads that I was a chu just like them. When I approached one of the pikachus, it gave a cute smile before crawling up to me, cooing its heart out. The mouse pokémon gave me a hug and hung on to me like I was an old friend. I rubbed the pikachu's cheeks and ears. Chus loved to get their ears and cheeks rubbed, this chu cooed and sighed. Just as he released his hug, four pichus crawled up to me. They looked like siblings, I could tell by how they smiled and the way their black marble eyes gaze at me. I made a warm smile, they chirped with excitement.
The closest one crawled up to me and I rubbed its ears and cheeks. It slipped into a trance-like state, almost toppling over. I sat down and cradled the chu and groomed its back. I recalled old memories how my own mama groomed me out in the woods. She had a method of licking my fur to get the toughest debris out, especially around my ears. Later on in life, I wondered how she hadn't gotten sick from ingesting all that crap. These days I would use a comb, I would not put my mouth on any pokémon's fur. No need, because I have a comb and fresh running water at home and it works way better than simple licking.
I spent an hour or two grooming pichus and pikachus alike. They shared me stories and local events, events that I was never aware of. It was a culture that was different from my childhood, but yet so similar. These chus had moments where they get together, dance, sometimes go on long trips around the island. On occasion a chu from the cities would come back to visit friends, or would leave for the cities for the winter. The migration pattern would vary every year, but most of the chus who reside here were permanent residents and they stay put for the most part. Which in turn means all the money that went into building the burrows was well spent.
After I greeted most of the chus, a big burly raichu appeared. The lightning rod tip was snub-nosed, indicating the raichu was a female. She came up to me and gave me a firm hug. In the old days, some raichus were bullies. Not a Dixierat raichu though, as she hugged me I felt protected in her arms. Her fur was warm and soft, even though she smelled like shit.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"Very good, Tes, how are things?"
"I'm investigating a human camp, Mark said it should be a group of hikers but I'm checking on it just to be sure."
"Very thoughtful of you, we had a pichu spy on them earlier. They look friendly enough, and they have a lot of food in storage."
I nodded. "Okay."
"However, they stuck all the good stuff inside a burlap sack and suspended it in the air between two trees. Chus can't reach them without making noise and our best climbers live in the cities."
"Do they keep any food on the ground?"
"Just their soda pops, but they keep their coolers close to their tents. None of the chus want to take the risk in getting caught digging in their soda bins."
Dixierats tend to have a guilty-conscious, it's what keeps them compliant and adorable. They know what is right and wrong, and getting caught will wreck havoc on their poor little hearts. The only things the Dixierats consider for politics is pessimism and optimism, both ideal viewpoints are polar opposites of the other and govern every chu's way of thinking. Pessimism is the consideration of bad consequences, optimism on the other hand refers to the consideration of good and pleasureable outcomes. The pessimists tend to be loyal and are easily controlled, while the optimists tends to be deviants. I was somewhere in between the two, since I have seen the miseries of the world and knew what true happiness is. So the prospect of looting somebody's food stash didn't bother me one bit. I didn't say that out loud to the raichu, wildchus tend to be pessimists and will get worried. Instead, I nodded, saying, "Good to know, I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
The raichu smiled, "If you can, try to get the bag down. We have some pregnant chus that need the extra food, just don't get caught."
"I've been a wild pikachu since birth, I'll be sure it stays that way."
The raichu threw its arm toward the west. "The camp is that way, just follow the trail until you see the human symbol scratched onto the bark of a tree, it will be just around the corner."
I shook the raichu's stubby paw, then she walked off. I watched her crawl back into her burrow, when she was out of sight I turned around and left the colony for the human camp.
. . .
The pokémon trail hadn't been used that often, rain had washed away much of the footprints. I could make out two sets of big rabbit-like feet of a raichu, perhaps they belonged to the same chu. I kept walking down the trail, taking me farther and farther away from the colony and found the markings on the tree. It was a simple stick figure, carved into the bark, with an arrow pointing toward the direction of the camp. The Dixierats were starting to understand symbols on their own, which was nothing new. Mice pokémon were smart creatures, even the chus who live in my household understood signs and symbols like any other person. But a mouse pokémon still had to be taught, perhaps the parents and grandparents of lab rats had inherited some knowledge from them, or maybe Andy had taught a few chus himself. Whatever the case may be, it felt reassuring to know that not all chus were that dumb.
I walked around the tree and made my advanced toward the camp. I didn't have to walk far, I could make out the outline of a couple of green military tarps supported by wooden sticks. I quickly crawled over toward some bushes and perched myself at the edge of a hill, my back being covered by a thick oak tree. The plants had yet to bloom so there weren't that much concealment and my piss yellow fur was bright as the sun. My green backpack was helping more than the surrounding environment, I covered my face and arms with mud, then got a good look at the human camp.
The tents were indeed military tarpaulins, all constructed out of military-grade rubber and plastic, staked down with metal spikes. I could see at least three coolers placed near the tents, just what the raichu had said. I could see in the back two pickup trucks, both were painted olive green and fitted with beefy off-road tires. A large fire spit was burning, suspending a pot of boiling water over the fire. Surrounding the fire were four human beings seated in homemade bushcraft chairs. All appeared to be in their late teens and were wearing military BDUs of the Faradian National Guard. I couldn't make out the regiment insignias on their shoulders, but I had no problems seeing the purple Faradian flag on their arms. I guess that these grunts were on spring break, enjoying the fresh outdoors, drinking beer, having a good time. I could also see that they were armed, the faint shine suggested they were .45 Desert Eagles. A beast of a gun that can stop engine blocks and punch through basic body armor. Mark explained that these guns can be left out in a river between three to ten days and they still can fire, get thick sandy mud in the firing mechanism and they can still fire, club somebody in the back of the head and they can still fire, just so long as you clean it after use. If I'm not careful, I could get my head blown clean off. I've seen the pictures of mice being shot by a .45-caliber bullet, let's just say it doesn't make them any prettier.
It wasn't hard finding their food stash, in fact there were two of them. Bright safety orange bags were suspended between several trees with 550 paracord, somewhere around a height of seven meters. The bags were made out of thick plastic, they look like construction trash bags used for highway cleanup. I figured that was their day job, these types of bags aren't available at hardware stores but in government-runned facilities. The bags were placed far enough from the camp where pokémon wouldn't just waltz right in, but close enough to where they could see them. Whatever the bags may be, it had to be filled with food. Since Faraday Island is in peace-time, the soldiers will be off-guard and I might get a chance in looting the bags.
So I watched the soldiers for a bit. Studying their movements, taking mental notes. The soldiers would step away from the camp for a while to chop firewood or to take a leak. I had no idea if they had any other plans for this area. I saw no signs that they had any plans on hiking, since they brought in a lot of stuff. Instead, I watched the soldiers chop down trees to make outdoor furniture. I watched two of them fell this enormous oak tree near their camp and trimmed the trunk with its branches, they then split the logs into sections, then split them in half along the grain. I watched them muscle the logs into boards, then assembled them into a picnic table. I was impressed. They didn't use any nails, instead they use simple vine cordage and wooden stakes to put their furniture together. One soldier brought more than enough paracord and even strung out a laundry line to hang clothes. The grunts were enjoying the outdoors alright, relying on their ingenuity to keep themselves entertained. How bored can you get?
When it got around the afternoon, I left the human camp and stepped away to take care of my own needs. I walked back toward the Wildchu Sect Colony and stopped just at its edge. I then walked off the trail before setting up a small camp. I first gathered up some dry wood from my surroundings, dug out a spot for a campfire, then loaded it up with tinder and kindling. I lit the bundle with a simple match, then began building my fire. I kept it low as to avoid attention from the Dixierats but big enough to provide me warmth. I boiled up some tea, ate an MRE, and then ate another MRE. I felt confident about the food the human camp had, I was determined to seize their shit. Not the right thing to do, but I'm a pikachu, and we pikachus are pests. I will stick to my roots out in the woods no matter what.
Once my fire burnt down into hot embers, I sipped my tea and drifted off into distant thought, listening to my surroundings. Dixierats chirp in the distance, checking up on one another. A thriving mice pokémon colony in the middle of fucking nowhere, reminding me of the good old days of my past. I held that thought for a moment, then drank the rest of my tea. I packed up my things and grabbed a stick, then began stoking the ashes. Heat bloomed from the coal bed, pumping out a surge of energy. I stood up and let the smoke drift over my body, making sure it coated every strand of my fur. I even took some ash and lathered it around my feet and armpits, getting that burnt leaves smell deep around my hide. I then took my shovel and dug a hole, I then dumped the ash and coals into the fire before letting out a monster piss to quench it. A slight tint of yellow, not good. After I emptied my bladder, I drank down my entire canteen and refilled it with water from my bottle reserve. Now refreshed, I filled in the hole, put on my backpack, then broke camp.
I had the thought of sleeping off the rest of the night, so I returned to the Dixierat community and searched for a vacant burrow. The only way to tell if a burrow is vacant is that the smell was stale rather than shit. I found one such burrow just on the edge of the chu colony. I crawled into the hole and then up a small ladder. The burrow walls were made out of solid concrete, the whole space was empty save for the bedding of the previous owner. The bedding had long since decayed, nothing more than sticks. I grabbed the sticks and tossed it out the ventilation hole. I then sat down in the bowl of the burrow and sat my backpack aside, I then fell asleep for a while.
. . .
I woke up from my nap around 1800 just to stretch my legs and get a drink. I booted up my tablet and messaged everyone that I had checked up on the Wildchus. I didn't tell them where I was, the GPS did the job for me. I then turned off and put my tablet away before getting a drink out of my canteen. I was getting bored again, so I put on my backpack and stepped out to mingle with the Dixierats a bit. A lot of the chus walked up to me and just sniffed my fur, but a few just wanted to chat. I asked if they had any complaints about anything. The only major issue was food. They complained about having to ration it because there was just not enough. Even though they would get an occasional shipment of fruits and vegetables from markets that were rejected due to minor imperfections, they devoured them the moment they arrive. The chus wanted protein from meat products, they were getting tired of eating only berries and broccoli every single day.
Besides that, the only minor issue was boredom. Nothing happens out in the Frontier Zone. Ray would come out on occasion and entertain the Wildchus with music and tunes. But he almost never comes out during the colder months, so the wildchus had to resort to other means. I asked if any of the chus knew how to read, only two raised their hands. They said they had some aftermarket paperbacks on hand but they were getting worn and old. I made a mental note to ask Ray if he could buy a few books from the bookstore and come out here to deliver them. One chu had a weather radio, but the batteries were dead. He kept it going by charging the built-in nickel metal hydride battery but he could only get a few minutes out of the radio without overloading the battery. Some chus have gotten so bored that they left for Featherbelly's shop in Faraday City, most hadn't come back. Those who do brought back all sorts of stuff: books for the literates, (which I doubt they're even literate), a radio with batteries, some potted meat, and "entertainment pictures" courtesy of FB herself. But these chus don't always bring enough, so there's always a struggle on who gets them first.
So far things had been peaceful despite the inconveniences. A few chus were looking forward in nosing into the nearby human camp in search for goodies. However, they were well aware of the risks involved and so they hadn't attempted a raid. They had enough food and water to keep them going, but they always desired more. However, they do remember the harsh memories of poachers taking potshots at them from back in the day. To them, this wasn't worth getting shot over anymore. I shrugged, Dixierats are guilt ridden and don't travel too far from their comfort zone. But for me, I'm willing to take the risk. I had been doing it for ventured, nothing gained. So I wrapped up my visit by saying a few goodbyes. A few Dixierats didn't want me to leave, so I reassured them that I will come back some other day. I looked up at the sky, the sun was going down. Time to do some homework.
I walked back to the human camp and got myself situation in the same position. The humans had gathered back around the campfire, cooking up some dinner. I could smell potted meat and vegetables rising from the pot hanging in their firespit. My pikachu instincts kicked in, my mouth watered and my belly grumbled. I couldn't help it. I tried to stay focus, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the food the soldiers were cooking. I tried drowning out the thoughts by drinking down my entire canteen, filling up my stomach with water. That helped somewhat, but enough to keep my instincts in check.
The world closed into blackness as the sun slipped below the horizon. The only sources of light were the the soldier's campfire and the faint glow of Faraday City's skyline to the north. The grunts did nothing special, they just sat and talked, drinking beer. One guy had finished wrapping up the leftover food inside one of the orange bag and tied it back up the tree. I watched as he tied the back onto the rope. I then noticed he picked a bell off the ground and tied it to the rope. Not a surprise. The one bag with the bell had to have already opened food and the other bag just held canned good and sealed wrapped snacks. The soldier walked back to the tree where he pulled in the paracord. The rope straightened, resuspending the bag in the air.
The grunt rejoined his comrades where they finished their beer. They then finished up their dinner and threw their scraps into the fire. One by one the soldiers crawled into their tarpaulin tents and into their sleeping bags. The remainder just sat in his chair, staring at the fire for a moment. He then got up and walked back to the tent, then went to sleep. I waited for five, ten, twenty minutes, just being sure that the soldiers were asleep. I got confirmation when I started hearing soft mellow snores purring from the tents. Satisfied that they were asleep, I then went to check on the orange bags.I could tell what the contents were just by looking at the bags. I could make out rectangular shapes sticking out at one, cylindrical shapes at the other, and nothing from the bag with the bell. The ones with rectangles were obviously boxes and chip bags, which didn't interest me. The other bag had to be canned goods, which held the protein. I could still smell the stew from the soldier's dinner. If they ate V-meat meat earlier, they had to have more stashed away. I first worked on several ways to approach this.
I could cut the line and let the bag drop. But the noise will stir the soldiers. I had no idea how much beer they had drunk, they had tossed all their empty cans into the fire. I was not going to take the risk that they could be heavy sleepers, so cutting the line was out of the question. Climbing the tree and rope is also a possibility, but the rope is too thin and I'm too old for climbing. I could fall and hurt myself, the last thing I need out here is a broken hip and my family would not let me back out here after an injury like that.
I decided to untie the lines and lowered the bag to the ground, similar to how the grunts took it down for dinner. I inspected the lines and saw both lines were tied just a meter up from the base of the trees. Both lines were wrapped multiple times and only held in place with a single stick. No complicated knots, which would work havoc on my arthritic hands. I grabbed the stick and carefully unclip it from the rope, I then jump down and uncoiled the rope. I got up to the final wrap before I slowly release the tension from the rope. I watched the faint outline of the orange bag lower to the ground. I bit my lip as it made its way down.
Next thing I knew, the bag slipped and it crashed to the ground. It sounded like a heavy thunk in the silence, I felt my skin crawl. Well, shit. I done goofed. With little time to waste, I rushed up to the bag and ripped it open. I pulled out a four-sided can with a pull top. My eyes lit up. Victory Meat, or V-meat for short. What a find! I stuffed the bag with all the V-meat I can grab, then grabbed other goodies such as soda and candy. I heard the soldiers stirring in their tents. I turned. One of them had a flashlight out. I put my backpack on and dashed for the forest, I'm not sticking around to see how they would react to their pilfered food stash.
. . .
Returning to my refuge was a challenge. The world had plunged into a deep shroud of darkness, so black that there wasn't any color. Overcast skies covered the stars, further creating the sense of dread. The only way I could navigate through the dark forest were the shining lights from Faraday City. The clouds were reflecting the ambient lights of Faraday City, tripling the light pollution. This gave me a sense of direction, but only around clearings. My natural night vision helped a lot, the world became bright enough to where the environment started to become familiar. After double-checking Faraday City's ambient light pollution, I managed to find my way.
When I got back to my private burrow, my legs were stiff and my back felt sore. The fire had burned down into ash, but I could still feel its heat. I was tired, I didn't feel like enjoying my price. That could wait for tomorrow. Instead I threw in a couple of logs and a bundle of twigs between them, letting the heat from the firepit to rekindle the blaze. I let out a final yawn before climbing into my burrow and dropped onto my bedding.
The next morning, I felt refreshed but felt really cold. My body was stiff and my hands and feet were numb, on top of that were the aches and pains from my overworked muscles. I felt miserable, I needed to warm up. I climbed up onto my feet and scooped up my backpack, I took it outside and stumbled into a surprise. I dropped my bag.
A thin layer of white snow had formed overnight.
Fuck.
