I'd been sucsessfull. I'd managed to snatch some cans under the noses of the yellow-eyed freaks. I hadn't even encountered them.
I'd seen a few Narts on my march through the city but none of them had noticed me. They were like sharks in a way; if they attacked you were fucked but that usually didn't happen. They were usually just minding their own business.
Every street I turned on to might have been Margots. I knew that. Sometimes I'd peer into the windows, was anyone watching me? Was she looking down on me? And every street I turned on to left Joline further back.
I remained determined and undistracted.
Honestly, in some ways I was excited. I could start a farm, fend for myself, if someone came along and I liked them I could help them. If I had a bit of power I could pick and choose-. I wanted to slap myself. Power? Over what? Farm crops? I swore an oath to myself, then and there. I would help anyone who didn't oppose immediate danger to me. I would treat everyone equally. I would let anyone stay, until they proved to be a bad egg.
In a fucked up world there's only one thing that counts; lending a hand. I didn't believe in Karma, never had. But good things come back because people remember what you did to help them.
Around the afternoon the skyscrapers had thinned out to tall buildings. I was nearing the edge of NYC.
I have a question for you. There are two things everyone thinks of when they think of NYC. Taxis and rats. That's what I read in a broschure from the twenities. Funny thing is; after the war there were no more rats. Not one. Some species just couldn't survive the radiation. That had scared the shit out of me. Rats were robust. And if they couldn't survive, how could we? At the same time I knew it might be a single difference in our DNA that had made such a phenomeon possible. But is NYC really still NYC without rats?
I passed a cuddle of cans that stank terribly. This garbage was kind of fresh. That meant that someone's residence was around here. I tread more carefully. We hadn't gotten to the point of cannibalism yet, but I still could imagine that not everyone had an open mentalitiy about helping everyone.
I walked quicker but not considerably. I didn't want to seem nervous. After about ten minutes I returned to my normal pace. Somewhere in my the little dragon of disappointement resurfaced. Somehow I'd have liked to see someone, maybe talk.
The skyscrapers which had turned to houses which now turned into suburbs. I'd already been walking for a good ten hours, only stopping to piss twice and to have a snack around five hours into my trek. In about two hours I'd officially walk into the middle of nowhere. Just trees and fields.
The last big street sign had told me I was in Haledon, New Jersey. Didn't tell me much, excpet that I was on the right track.
I fished one of the wrinkled papers I'd ripped out of one of the books out of my pants pockets. It was the quote some author had put at the front.
Mutation follows Mutation follows Mutation follows Mutation Follows Mutation follows Mutation...
I'd thought it a kind of strange note, but I'd liked it. It reminded me of a code because it always repeated itself. I wasn't sure what it meant exactly. That even mutations mutate? Or that mutations always get more mutated?
I broke into a house that looked very much like the owners might have had a few bucks in their pockets. I was one lucky fish. There were six unopened plastic water bottles. I drank one and took three of the others. The rest I left for another wanderer who might pass through.
Back on the street I realized that my feet hurt and my knees hurt and I was starting to tire. I pushed myself to walk another hour or so, then I let myself pick a place, broke in and collapsed on the couch.
I didn't feel right about sleeping in the bedrooms. But I felt fine with the couch. Some people even let others crash on their couches while being there. But no one let's a visitor sleep in their Master Bedroom.
I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep until I woke up to loud music. And by music I don't mean singing, I mean music like there used to be. A loud bass; club music. I stretched and got up off the sofa. It was so loud that it couldn't be more than two streets down. I carefully left the house, being sure to hid my stuff in cabinets and cover it with old rags and bags. I walked towards the sound.
I turned the corner and immediatly lept back. There it was. I'd never been in one of those clubs. I'd never been much of a club person anyway. Three gorgeous women were standing at the entrance, almost as if there were still people there that they could call inside. Still men they could attract like sirens attract sailors only to empty their pockets and upset their wives. I smiled.
A minute later I was back in the house, in the master bedroom, going through the closet of the gentleman who'd previously lived here. I picked out a nice suit. Lucky for me it was my size. It was dark blue, and the material wasn't the sweaty and scratchy kind of cheap suits. It felt more like silk. I grabbed a tie and put it on. I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like the accountant I used to be. Only after several promotions and rich clients. I'd been on a good way up, a promising young man. For a second it felt like the war had never broken out and this was actually who I was. It would have been who I would have been. If only...
I walked out of my house with a spring in my step. I'd slicked my dark hair back, put a few rings on and even shaved the beard to a short stubble. I looked handsome; even hot. I turned the corner again. As if I had suddenly had a strong presence all three looked over at me simultaneously. They broke out in squeals of delight.
"Hey baby! Come over here!" One of them, a blonde, called. I walked up the steps to the entrance of they're club smiling. All of a sudden three pairs of arms drew me in. One girl touched my hair, the other slid her hand around my waist and the last, a chubby but beautiful girl held my hand. They drew me into the club. Red light replaced reality.