Walking the Roads

She told me that Klamath was in the middle of nothing but detailed three of the closest settlements. Of course, there was The Den over 50 miles to the southeast. Nobody had to explain why I didn't want to go there. To the west, almost 60 miles was the tribal village of Arroyo. I never really liked being around tribals. That one in Buckner House named "Sulik" was a little odd and for some reason people around town thought I was a tribal due to my skin color and strange nature. Also, before Vic the Trader went missing, he mentioned that the place was going through a really bad drought. I also overheard some trappers say that Arroyo was planning for some kind of ritual to somehow end the drought. I didn't really want to be sacrificed by tribals in hope of rain, so I decided to give a slight pass.

The only other place worth mentioning was some place called "Redding." Apparently, Redding was a huge town in northern California that occasionally sent trading groups up to Klamath. She couldn't tell me much about the place but mentioned that their trading gangs had been trying to get Klamath to adopt these strange gold coins as currency. Inquiring more about the trip, Maddy said she only been there once as a little girl and the road took a full week and a half one way. Maddy handed me a prewar map and drew a circle around Redding showing where we were. It looked far. When I asked about it, she told me that it was almost 140 miles south with a lot of nothing in between. When I asked if there was anything to the north, she said that if I could get past the gecko fields, mountains, and irradiated woods, there might be something.

Realizing I didn't have too many options, I made the decision to leave Klamath for Redding. I didn't know what my future had in store for me. As I fell asleep, I wondered what Redding and the road to it would be like. I was scared of the unknown, but like I said; I left into the wasteland at the age of 12. I traveled for years into my teens across the wilderness of Idaho and headlong into the Klamath situation. The events around Klamath taught me a lot of lessons about the world, and the situation I found myself in was a big turning point. It was the second week of January, 2241 and I was preparing to walk into more unknown.

The bronze watch showed 5:25 and the sun was just starting to glimmer through the trees. I sat there at the table and took account of everything I snagged from the slavers. I had my three warm jackets for the cold, set of dirtied and bloodied black cargo pants, and a slightly used pair of black combat boots courtesy of those slavers. I grabbed the 10mm automatic rifle that I rightfully found/looted and loaded a full magazine into it. In my pack, my trusty backpack, I put five cans of food, 6 bottles of water, a metal cooking cup, 4 lighters, a rusting combat knife, and a flask of Klamath Bob's moonshine. Before putting the first aid box in the top of my pack, I opened it to see an assortment of all kinds of medicines.

I held up the familiar looking syringe that saved my life earlier and noticed three more in the bottom. With my body still writhing in pain from the past few days, I injected one of them and tilted my head back. In those few minutes of sedation, I felt my body repairing itself… I don't know what prewar genius invented the stimpack, but that was apparently the "Cure All" substance. Coming back to reality, my body felt perfectly fine and the scars showed weeks of natural healing.

Robert and Maddy entered the living room together; I assumed they were husband and wife or something. Maddy smiled, all dressed up for a hunt and tossed me a little sack full of caps.

She said, "You're gonna need some cash in Redding, this should be about 80."

I thanked her and added it to my other cap stash in my satchel. We weren't very close, just friendly considering the circumstances. So, I put another bottle of water, and three full magazines for my rifle into the satchel and walked out the door.

Walking into the cold breeze, Maddy shouted from the doorway, "You're welcome back in Klamath, just give it some time."

I gave a slight wave and proceeded through the Trapper Town on my way to Redding.

I briefly thought about exploring the crashed "Vertibird" but walking through the Trapper Town, I noticed some of the trappers were debating whether it had a crazed military robot, a ghostly spirits, or a large purple mutant stalking the woods and protecting it. I made my decision when I overheard that one of the townies' hunting dogs never came back from sniffing the place out. As curious as I was to see the remains of the captivating flying machine, I didn't feel like going missing. As the sun got higher, the traffic around Klamath died, and I was completely alone in the wastes for the first time in a while. At almost noon, I stopped at an old road sign and looked back the way I came. The black smoke cloud from the flying machine was just a speck in the distance, slowly dying into the wind. Turning back to the road in front, I was facing down miles of decayed highway and scorched trees. It was a picture of our world.

For a moment, I considered walking back to Klamath, but by that point there was probably a slaver team turning the place upside down looking for me or whoever was responsible for annihilating their small operation there. So, the only way was forward. This was the farthest west of Idaho I'd ever been and as I walked the prewar road, I suddenly had the growing feeling of homesickness. Aside from my likely cannibalistic family hundreds of miles away, I didn't have a home. The cleared weather illuminated the old California/Oregon roads and a cold breeze from the south hit my face every step of the way. Walking on into nothing for hours, the sun was starting to set in the west. Just as I reached the uninhabited ruins of a place called "Dorris" California, I checked my watch to see the time. It was 7:03pm and the sky was getting darker. Having no idea what called the seemingly desolate town home, I rested in an old gas station.

Gas stations were usually a good place to rest up as a scavenger because loot had been long gone and the shelves were plenty, giving great concealment. Nobody taught me this: but out of instinct, I knew never to hide in the main rooms or lobbies of abandoned buildings. So instead, I found the man-sized walkway behind the wall of shattered glass coolers and laid my bedroll out. The trash clutter on the shelves concealed me, and there was only one way into the compartment, so I felt safe. I cracked open a can and listen carefully for anything outside, whether it be slavers, tribals, or monsters. Finishing off the can and rubbing my blisters from the day, I listened to the outside as the sky got darker and darker. I fell asleep easily after that long day of constant walking.

As soon as I caught the faintest glimmer of light, I awoke and began to quietly pack up. Before long, I was on the road again. Walking the streets of the old town at approximately 5am was eerie. Peering into the desolate shops down Main Street, it was clear that this town was looted many years ago, likely by the Trappers of Klamath. I didn't spend too long in Dorris, but I did find a few barely salvageable boxes of cereal outside a decaying grocery store that I gladly ate for breakfast on my way out of town.

Leaving the town and walking at a brisk pace, the wind felt slightly warmer and dark grey clouds gently floated in from the west. Walking on for hours, the clouds eventually covered the sky all around me and the breeze remained cool. I didn't know what old road I was on for a long time; the map said I was on Route 97 to the town of "Weed." I was just surprised that I hadn't encountered any monsters so far. In the dead plains of Idaho, I never really encountered any creatures. Stepping into Oregon at the age of 15 was when I first actually learned about mutants. Mom and Dad always told me about mutants as I grew up, but in the middle of Idaho, I never saw any. On those California roads, I had nothing but time and plenty of thoughts on my mind as I blindly made my way to Redding.

I knew that Metzger's guys from The Den were probably in Klamath trying to figure out what happened to Fat Jimbo, and were looking for clues about me or whoever did the killing. I trusted Maddy and the trappers not to rat me out, but walking into the wastes, I was still concerned about my rescuers. I was never religious, but I gave silent prayers for Robert, Maddy, and the other trappers who stood up for me and their missing friends as I focused on the trail. What happened to them, I still don't know. It has been a long time since I was ever in Klamath, but I like to think they're still doing alright.

I walked continuously into the unknown thinking about what I'd been through only a short time ago. I ate the raw food out of the cans as I walked, knowing that if there was anything hostile out here, they were waiting for me to stop. Walking constantly for hours takes its toll on your feet, but as the hidden glow from the sun shrouded in clouds began to get fainter and fainter in the west, the shadows got darker. I rested for a minute on a chipping road divider and just listened to the breeze while looking at my map. I wasn't entirely sure where I was, but faded road signs said I was at least going in the right direction. I was starting to get tired after this second continuous day of walking, but something seemed amiss. I studied the area feeling the cold breeze when I noticed something.

About 50 yards from where I came, I saw a tan skinned man with no shirt. He held a long spear, garbage can lid shield, and brown leather pants. I couldn't make out anything else, but then I saw him raise his spear in the air. My heart pounded and I racked a round into the chamber of my auto rifle. The man stood there silently still holding the spear when I heard a rustling off to the right. Two more similar looking men climbed up and over the highway dividers no more than 50 feet from me. These two I could see clearly. Both had long spears and makeshift shields. They wore similar dark brown or black leather pants and faced the cold winds fearlessly without shirts. The first person inched towards me and the others stood by. They looked very similar to that "Sulik" character at Buckner House, but were seemingly less friendly. Then, I noticed they had creature bones tied to their waists and tattoos all over their bodies. I would've greeted them, but they again looked mad, and I stood there almost petrified until the first man was close enough to truly detail.

As soon as I noticed the human skull tied to his belt buckle, I swear he shouted, "ALAKNAH KATA EAT HIM!"

I don't know what "Eat Him" meant in this guy's language exactly, but I knew what it meant in English. I turned to the closest guys who started to charge me, gave them a burst from my auto rifle, and ran as fast as I could west off the highway.

I didn't check to see if I hit any of them, but running into the woods, I heard shouting through the adrenaline buzz ringing in my ears. In full sprint for several minutes, I stopped behind a large tree to listen. Nothing broke the sound of wind through the trees other than my pounding heartbeat until I heard a loud *THUD* and felt a vibration. Looking left, there was the long pole of a spear sticking out of the tree, and beyond that were 20 savages running towards me.

Survival mode kicked into overdrive and I emptied my gun's magazine at the savage men. As soon as the last piece of brass left the gun, I heard a *Click* and frantically ran south as fast as I could. All the while I heard the savages' voices, and some very faint cries for help. I guessed I actually hit some of them with that blind spray of bullets, but I again didn't stop to see. As the "War Cries" trailed me, I ran even harder despite my dry mouth and nearly empty stomach. I don't know what made me go along, but I ran so fast and so hard that I eventually slowed to a fast walk as I clicked another full magazine into my rifle. I started a pattern of running for 5 minutes and stopping behind a tree for two minutes. When I stopped, I looked back the way I came, weapon up, and finger on the trigger. I'd take the moment to listen quietly.

The first two times, I still faintly heard the War Cries coming closer. After a few more times, all I heard was the wind rustling branches. That was when I noticed how dark it was. The moon glimmered through the clouds high above, and a very gentle rain started to fall. I hadn't felt rain in months. I was happy it wasn't snowing, but despite that, the wind was still ice cold and I couldn't see ten feet in front of me.

I ran again through the pitch-black woods for ten minutes and stopped in a little cradle between three tall trees surrounded by thick black bushes. I listened quietly for a few minutes and couldn't hear anything. They gave up… I thought. So, I cleared out the debris between the trees and set my stuff down. I held up the copper watch, but it was too dark to see. Curling my body into a ball on the ground, I hovered my hands around the watch with my spare lighter in front of it. Quickly, I lit the flame and saw that it was 9. I sat there bundled with my jackets, pack, and bedroll for warmth, closing my eyes, and listening for footsteps.