Jack had grown to hate the wind. When the red sun
would creep over the horizon in the morning, the howling of the wind would
dispel any sense of security that the light of day brought, maintaining the
tyranny of the night. Whereas darkness impaired one’s physical sense, the wind’s
howling impaired one’s security, weakening one’s mental function. The sound of
the wind across the plains of the Midwest brought nothing but fear.
Ever since the Incident, Jack had been walking. He
had no real goal in mind, other than basic survival. He hadn’t met another
living human in nearly a year. The last contact he had was a brief stay in a small
town high school with three others. A few supply runs into the nearby town, a
few traps around the perimeter, and a shifting guard outside the sleeping
quarters ensured that they were able to hold out in relative comfort for
several months. But nothing lasts forever. As Jack had come to know, all
comfort is fleeting.
After that had fallen through, he had stumbled
across the plains for months, scavenging the ruins of small towns for supplies.
He usually found enough to make it to the next town, but it was far from an
easy existence. Eventually he had decided to make his way to the interstate –
while the masses of abandoned cars and torn down signs rarely provided anything
of benefit, there were usually gas stations or other locations near the sides
of the road that would have some supplies remaining.
He had been on the interstate for a week now. He
wasn’t sure which interstate it was, though he guessed it was I-55. At any
rate, it was littered with abandoned, malfunctioned cars and fallen road signs.
Navigating it at times proved a bit difficult – there was an overturned semi-truck
blocking the path at one point that took a while to navigate around. He
rummaged through cars from time to time, and one day found a small trove of
books – mostly novels – in the back of a large van. Though he suspected it was
an amusingly antiquated book burning van, there were a lot of classics in
there. He took a leather bound copy of Of
Mice and Men for himself, and continued onward.
Several days later he saw a large city in the distance.
He again couldn’t be certain (given that the road signs were mostly destroyed
by weather in the time since the Incident), but he was fairly confident that
the city was once Chicago. Though his instinct told him to stay away, he felt
drawn to the city, and walked in its direction. If anything, it would have
plenty of supplies for him to stock up on, and he held out hope that it might
hold a working automobile – but it was a slim hope at best.
He was right about the supplies – nearly every
shop in the downtown area of the city was filled with goods of all kinds. He
found a stash of working batteries – a rare commodity – and grabbed as many as
he could carry before moving on to the supermarket nearby, where he stocked up
on staple foods as well as a few necessary tools so he could gather and cook
some of his own food. Rather than leave immediately, however, he opted to stay
in the city for a few days and see if he could find anything else of interest.
He certainly did.
