1. The Trek
After Humans - Episode 1
At some point I couldn’t feel my toes anymore. The cold, made worse by the moist conditions, had numbed them. Maybe it was for the better, because they would probably just hurt, like my knees hurt. Or perhaps it was the hunger that had numbed me, it definitely had affected my ability to think. I had been walking for days now, loosely tracing an abandoned highway. Avoiding the open, but some risks had to be taken. A bus, laying on its side, on the middle of the highway, amongst its own rubble, probably caused by a crash. At a safe distance I knelt down, leaning against a tree, watching the bus. Watching the bushes around the highway. Watching up, for the tree tops. There I was, watching, and listening. Leaves rustled, some rain dripped from the leaves above me. I had to wait, observe. I sat like that for at least five minutes, until I deemed it safe, safe enough to approach. Still cautious, I slowly rose up. Stepped forward, climbed over the roadside barriers. Now I was in the open. I listened to my own heartbeat, it felt like I was in the middle of an empty stadium, not knowing if someone would still be watching me, from somewhere. Soon I decided that being slow served no more purpose, being exposed as I was. So, I walked, faster and faster. The bus in the middle of the empty highway had seemed near, but I must’ve walked for over a hundred meters to get there. I looked through the cracked front window, to make sure no one was inside. I climbed on top of its side, and entered through its missing door. Why would I do any of this, you might wonder? Because this bus might be full of valuables, and with valuables I didn’t mean money, gold, or anything like that. No, I meant real valuables, like food, clothes, matches, whatever. I was praying for a raincoat, anything synthetic to block the rain. A tent. That would be a blessing.
I threaded cautiously over the broken glass of its former windows, but couldn’t prevent the crunching sound. Then I saw it, a backpack. It looked as though undisturbed by the forces of entropy, as if it were left here yesterday. Imagining how it would be full of goods, I completely lost my composure and practically dove on it. I ripped the zippers open, and saw the contents… empty crisps bags, crushed aluminum cans, and some pebbles…
All this effort, time and hope had been for nothing. I lifted the bag over my head, and threw it down with force, I kicked it with my numb foot, which was probably not a wise thing to do. I was capable of screaming, yelling, cursing, but I didn’t. Out of desperation I actually shed a tear, or two. Heading back to the front door, which was an opening in the ceiling now, I struggled to lift my undernourished self up.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
I froze for an instant, continued to climb out, to see I was surrounded by about a dozen men around the bus, armed with pitchforks, and other archaic farming tools. I was not in the state of mind for any witty comments, so I remained silent. As I stood there, I was surprised about my own lack of fear.
“What do you have for us?” asked a bald man.
I stood tall on top of the bus, trying to look fitter than I was, looking down at them, at him, as if not intimidated. I took my time, for I was used to dealing with people, with conflicts, with winning. I wanted to say something, but still couldn’t come up with anything, as if I were empty.
“Your shoes,” he pointed.
I focused on him, their leader, I supposed. With a remarkable tattoo on his cheek. Tattoos, remnants of a culture where decorating your skin had been fashionable for some time. An art-form that would slowly cease to exist among people, I imagined. The others looked weak to me. Weak, probably like me. Ill-fed.
“You heard me. We will have your shoes, whether you give them, or whether we will take them from your dead body.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. “Who are you?” I asked finally.
“Give me your goddamn shoes, I said.”
His tone shook me. I assessed the moment. I had no choice but to give up, quicker than I would normally. I was good with conflicts like these, as long as it wouldn’t get physical. But the time of verbal sophistication was over, as good arguments were meaningless against force. I knelt down, untied my shoes. They were soaking wet, but still, they were shoes, with soles. I gently offered them to him, their leader. He snatched them away, inspected them briefly. Nodded.
“Let me join you,” I pleaded.
He laughed, and then his boys laughed, “just be happy we let you live, okay?”
I didn’t nod, nor say anything. I stood up, looked over them, yet felt powerless. I watched them walk off with my shoes, into the forest. I knew that if I would have joined them, I would have divided them, would have become their leader, but not this time, I guess.
Despite the circumstances, I wasn’t desperate yet, I had my own plan B, as plan A’s didn’t exist anymore. The rain intensified, as I carefully got off the bus, now I had to walk on my socks, socks that were already disintegrating around my feet, until at some point I would have to walk bare feet in the cold, through bushes and sharp gravel.
Oeh! Mooi begin! 😊