Wanderer (Book 1): Wanderer

How much longer can we continue to wander like this?
I’m reminded of the warning on the street sign. Is this my long road?

Entry 22
I had no idea where we were going. To be honest I never really did, and I’m not sure if I ever would.
One good thing about being up so high is that I can’t hear the screams, but I’m afraid I saw the smoke vehicle at the bottom of the mountain yesterday.
We settled in for stew and another cold night. I let Mandy sleep with me in the sleeping bag, for both our sakes.


Entry 23
We came to a clearing in the woods this afternoon and we were now perched at the edge of it carefully surveying the object in the center.
About one-hundred yards away from us sitting there like the black monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey, is a black SUV. There’s something special about it though, it’s clean. The windows aren’t broken, the tires aren’t flat, and except for some dirt rooster tailing off the rear wheel wells, it’s spotless. The driver’s side door is open, but other than that I haven’t seen any sign of its occupants.
They could have medical supplies and other provisions so it’s too valuable to pass up, and as remote as it may be, it could still work. It also bears a great opportunity for the scavengers to set a trap. I’ve circled the woods around it twice and found no evidence as such, but one can’t be too careful.
A few hours later and the sun was starting to set behind the trees. It would only get more dangerous the darker it got. It was now or never. I pulled out my pistol and headed for the SUV. As I got closer I could hear the chime from the dash letting me know the keys were still in the ignition. It also meant it still had power.
A quick perimeter check of the vehicle showed no signs of traps, at least none that I could see.
I climbed into the driver seat and stared at the keys. Mandy came up and sat next to the open door of the SUV wagging her tail. If I turn the keys and the engine starts, what then? Do I drive out of here? There really are no roads, but the tires are off road tires and it obviously wasn’t air dropped here. Or would it explode, like Robert DeNiro’s Lincoln in Casino? Probably not.
I looked at Mandy one more time for confirmation and she seemed to approve, so I held my breath and turned the keys.


Entry 24
It was a colder night than the rest and I’m grateful for the warmth of our body heat. The last occupants must have run out of gas here, or did they do it some ways back and pushed it this far hoping to find some sort of savior, as I have? Did they find them? Or were they driven off by the scavengers, or worse?
I folded the back seat flat so we could lie down and I put in one of the CD’s I found on the floor. Slow jazz or something, I’m not sure.
Mandy was curled up by the front seats while I leaned against the back hatch. I noticed the previous owners had hung a rosary from the rearview mirror. Did they forget it, or were they disillusioned with it and left it behind on purpose? Either way I’m not sure so I leave it in case they come back for it.


Entry 25
I’ve lost all sense of direction since we left the SUV. The tree tops covering the sky make it nearly impossible to see which way the sun is moving. It’s been 4, maybe 5, days since trekking into the mountains and so far we’ve found no refuge.
The effects of starvation are starting to set in. I’m delirious, light headed, and I have to stop almost every hour to rest. We had the last can of stew back at the SUV. Now we only have a can of beans and a can of corn left.
Mandy, poor thing, has lost all interest in sniffing and hasn’t stopped panting. Her skin is tight against her bones. I’m afraid she’s not going to make it much longer.
We stopped for lunch and each had half of can of corn. That’s it. One can of beans of left and after that no more food.
I haven’t seen any wildlife up here and I don’t know which roots or berries I can eat. I skipped over that book in the library.
We made camp next to one of the larger trees and I started a fire. I hadn’t lit a fire the entire time fearing someone would see it. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted the last can of beans to be nice and hot.
The spoon scraping the bottom of the can is probably the worst sound I have ever heard.
Mandy curled up next to me once I set the sleeping bag and hadn’t moved since. If not for her chest moving up and down from her breathing I would’ve thought the worst.
I slowly drifted into sleep. My dreams were filled with the usual fodder.
After I realized it was me who was going to be in charge of my survival it was time to take action. I started by backing the truck parallel to the garage creating a barricade. I siphoned the gas out of the tank before slashing the tires so no one could easily move it. Next came the house itself.
On the windows I used board after board covering them up. Screws and a quick weld to the dead bolt of the front door secured it in place. I only stopped once or twice during my days of prep to watch Mandy, who was still a puppy, play with a little stuffed sheep.
I made the best of it while I could. I used the stove, some of the lights, the air conditioning, but not enough,