Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (4 page)

“I always fancied myself a cowboy,” I told him.

“That means you’d have to ride a horse.”

“Okay, so we’ll pass on that.” I’ve never been a fan of any animal that’s bigger than me. Time and frost heaves had completely ravaged the thoroughfare. Larger trees had still not completely cut through the eleven inches of roadbed. But refrigerator sized chunks of the broken material was pushed up at odd angles everywhere. The carriage was constantly cutting back and forth among the mini monoliths. It got so bad at some points that I was convinced that
for every mile the horses walked we had only gone a tenth of that in roadway.

“This gets worse every year,” Tommy replied.

“I guess it’s a little late in the game at this point, you already told me that where we’re going is a surprise, but can you at least tell me how long we are going to enjoy this hard-ass seat?”

“You could always get in the back with Purpose. He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“And miss all this?” I said, pointing to the trees.

“We’ll be in Portland tomorrow.”

“Two days for a normally two hour drive? Is that it, is that where we’re going?” My heart dropped for a moment when I realized I sounded like my kids when they would ask ‘Are we there yet?’ Seemed so damn aggravating at the time. The stupid shit we got mad at meant nothing when you get right down to it. There’s family, there’s love…that’s it. The rest is bullshit that we heap on ourselves. ‘We’ complicate our lives. We’ve always striven to make the world a harder place than it needed to be. Family and love.

“You alright, Mr. T?”

“Fine, sorry. I’m fine. Must be allergies or something.”

“Vampires don’t have allergies.”

“Then can we get dust in our eyes?”

“We can,” he answered.

“Then that’s what happened.”

“Portland is one of the places that
most resembles the Wild West.”

“Portland, Maine? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s actually called Robert’s Land now.”

“Do we really need to stop there? I don’t really play well with others.”

“There is no way around it. Robert’s Land is pretty much the last outpost in Maine, not many people live north of it. We just stay low, get a room, some supplies, and leave in the morning.”

“Have you met me? I’ve been tossed from Chuck E. Cheese, and once I’d even had a priest try to punch me out…then, to top it off, he banned me from his church. How does that happen with a religion that preaches forgiveness?”

“Do your best, please.”

“t size=“I’m not promising anything,” I told him as I folded my arms across my chest. “So, about this Ro
bert’s Land, talk about an egotistical bastard.”

“That’s the kind of thing that’s going to get us in trouble. The people of Ro
bert’s Land love him.”

“The bastard is still alive?”

“Mr. T, he saved Portland when it was attacked by the Micmac.”

“Indians attacked Portland, Maine? I spent way too much time in my yard. Is it alright to call them that now? Or should we go with something like Pre-Apocalyptic Indigenous Peoples?”

“I really should try to find another way,” Tommy replied.

“Are there Indians around now?” I asked, spinning in my seat.

“We’ve been surrounded since late last night.”

“What? And you decide to tell me now?”

“I’ve made a tentative peace with them. They let me travel through their land.”

“In exchange for what?”

“I don’t destroy them.”

“Really?”

“They know what I am and they leave me alone. They know who you are as well.”

I looked at him incredulously.

“Not much happens in the woods that they don’t know about.”

“Would you really hurt them?”

“If they tried to hurt me, what choice would I be given?”

“Makes sense. So they’re really not going to bother us? No arrow to the back or anything?”

“They would have to get too close and I’d be able to tell. Had a brave once that was trying to make a name for himself.”

I had opened my mouth. Tommy answered before I could ask.

“I took no pleasure from what I did to him, but it was a clear message of my capabilities. It will not be tried again.”

I doubted that seriously, there were stupid young men born every day
who thought they were invincible and had something to prove. Back in my day, you just joined the Marine Corps.

I was looking around as casually as I could, which was about as pronounced as a third grader getting ready to lift a box of crayons
from his drawing partner. So, not very, if that visual wasn’t clear enough. I hadn’t spotted one Micmac when Tommy spoke.

“There’s something else I need to tell you, Mr. T.”

“When are we going to be done with the revelations, Tommy?” I asked as I sat back down, convinced that Tommy was incorrect about us being followed.

“It’s about Purpose.”

My beating heart skipped a beat, even the half that technically didn’t have a heartbeat (yeah… I don’t know how that works either, not like there was another half-va

“It’s nothing bad, I promise, I just thought you should know.”

“It’s nothing bad…you promise?”

“I swear,” he told me.

“Alright out with it then.”

“It’s about his name.”

“I get it, no need for explanation. He was the purpose I needed to get out of that house.”

“That’s part of it, Mr. T, but you missed something
.”

“What? What did I miss? Is there something more philosophical?”

“No. His name was A. Purpose.”

“The ‘a’ is long? I’m not getting it.”

“On the card there was an A and then a period.”

“Yeah
, I guess there was, I must have figured it was just a handwritten typo.”

“No, the A is for his first name.”

“Purpose has a first name?”

“Augustine.”

“What? Augustine Purpose Talbot?” I asked. “Apt?” Purpose stood up barking merrily at me, I turned to pat his head. “Well, I guess he knows. Can I call you Oggie? Short for Augustine, because otherwise that’s a mouthful.” I asked him, his tail wagged crazily in reply.

“I told you I’d tell him,” Tommy said to Purpose, or Oggie.

Purpose barked once in response to him.

“You can talk to animals? Forget it
, I don’t want to know.”

Tommy smiled and was looking forward. “We’re getting close. Do you want to start practicing your lines?”

“You should take your show on the road you’re so funny. I still don’t see any damn Indians.” I told him as I whipped my head around as fast as I could trying to catch one of the slower ones off guard.

“They’re starting to pull back.”

“Is it because I’ve almost seen one of them?” I asked puffing my chest out.

“Not so much. We’re getting closer to Robert’s land.”

“Nice ego bruising,” I told him. We passed the burned out husk of a log cabin. “Raiding party?” I asked, not taking my eyes from it, wondering about the panic the man of the house must have had trying to defend his family from the advancing savages as they tried to kill his kin or take them into their tribe. The fear must have been overwhelming as he did all in his power to keep them safe. I thought I could just make out a swath of blood on the remnants of the door. Most likely the final resting place of John Q. Settler.

“Lightning strike.”

“Well, you ruined that story.”

Tommy looked over at me with a queer expression. se express(Hey
, it’s my journal, they used to use queer and gay all the time in literature from the 19th century and there was no negative connotation associated with it - I figured it was far enough in the future to bring it back, fashion always cycles around. Besides, the likelihood that anyone from the 21st century was around and going to be able to read this was very slim).

It was a mile or so when we came upon another house, although to call it more than a shack was being optimistic. There was a small plume of smoke funneling out of the hole in the chimney. A severe-looking man stopped doing whatever it was that he was doing in his field of rocks (if you had ever lived in New England you’d know what I was talking about) to stand and look at us. Even from this distance, I could see his hand tighten on whatever farming implement he was carrying. An even more severe-looking woman opened the front door (
and I would imagine the only door) to watch as we passed. Now I knew why he looked so cross at least, then, from behind the wide skirt of the woman, came the biggest surprise of all, a cherub. That’s the best way I could describe him.

Couldn’t have been more than five years old, fat cheeks and a plume of golden ringlets encircled his head. He was smiling from ear-to-ear as he peered around his mother. He waved mightily
, which I felt compelled to do back. His mother grabbed his hand and ushered him back into the house.

“He’ll be important someday,” Tommy told me.

“He’s important now,” I told him, he nodded in response. I was now affixed with a lopsided grin which Oggie felt needed a licking.

It had been a good ten minutes after we passed the house that I could see smoke on the horizon. “Robert’s Land?” I asked already knowing the answer.

I was nervous. The world had moved on, life had moved past my existence, yet, here I was. Would they recognize me for the outsider that I was?

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I told Tommy
. I was squirming in my seat.

“You’ll get used to it, there’s just a little adjustment period.”

“As long as my ‘adjustment period’ doesn’t get my neck on the gallows,” I half laughed.

“That would be bad.” Tommy answered.

“They have gallows?” I asked rubbing my neck.

The town, for that’s what it was, was bustling. They had built a community on the ashes of Portland
, and they seemed to be thriving. It was a strange interplay of the old and new, a hardware store owner was using the husks of old televisions to display his wares. Plastic had survived the ages and seemed to be in high demand if the prices were any consideration, but I had no idea what a ‘Robert buck’ was worth.

“Provincial money? Do they not trade with anyone else
?” I asked as the cart moved past the store. We had attracted some attention; most kept to themselves though. In a lawless world, going unnoticed is often advantageous.

“Travel is difficult, and distrust runs deep
. Many of the smaller settlements are mostly self-contained.”

“Do they have beer?” I asked as our cart was approaching an establishment named Bradley’s Tavern. My mouth was watering at the prospect of the golden amber liquid.

“Mead and some rot gut they call whiskey that’s more likely to make you go blind.”

“No beer then?” I asked longingly as we passed. Oggie was standing up and surveying the entire scene. I
had to imagine seeing so many two-leggers was unsettling. He didn’t bark, which I was thankful for. Unlike when we were passing through Micmac territory, I now felt that we were being watched and scrutinized.

“We don’t like your kind here!” someone shouted. It was difficult to follow the voice as it echoed off some of the buildings.

“I didn’t say anything,” I pleaded to Tommy. “I get the feeling it would just be better if we passed on through.”

“I know you’re right, but I need to get things for the horses
, and for us, and we’ll have to wait until morning. Getting a room at the hotel is the least suspicious thing we can do.”