The End of The End

Chapter 2

Thorander woke up and stretched, he was happy he had slept well. He sat up and looked at the sun that was just beginning to rise over the wasteland, then he looked down and saw the dead bodies surrounding his small camp. He let out a sigh, he got tired of killing, even when he knew that the people he killed had probably murdered multiple people themselves. Thorander could be cold and ruthless, you pretty much have to be if you plan on making it in this wasteland, but, being in Alpha-1, he never really had to kill anything other then animals. He thought he was pretty much done killing humans, but, in just a matter of a few hours, he had killed over almost twenty. Evil, despicable, and drugged up humans, yes, but still humans all the same.

It wore him out just thinking about it, so he stopped doing so and got up. He walked over and grabbed the knapsack full of the supplies he took from the dead Crushers. He kicked dirt on the fire and walked back towards the remnants of the asphalt road. He looked up and saw a sign, it originally said: "Chicago: 55 miles," but that was spray- painted over with: Triton: 75 miles." He almost forgot he had to pass through the ruins of Chicago to get to Triton. Thorander didn't remember much about his hometown before the war. He did remember living there with his parents as a child and how much he enjoyed it. Even when he grew up, he still loved living there. A tear fell from his eye as he thought about all his friends and family that had died in the explosion from the bomb that had detonated right inside the city.

He wiped the tear from his face and walked on. He knew from the stories he heard that the radiation was all gone, so there was no threat from that. But he also knew from the stories that there were some horrible creatures in there. He wished he still had the book he was given about all the wasteland creatures, but it was still in his old house, he felt stupid for not grabbing it. He remembered that the bomb was dropped on the West Side of Chicago, which was the safest side because it didn't contain the amount of mutated humans that the East Side did. Some of the people living on the East Side were killed by radiation. Most of them, however, were turned into mutants or zombies. It was horrible, and the worst part was that his family lived on the East Side. He hoped they had died, any death would be better then being turned into those monstrosities.

He walked for miles and miles, not coming across any living things, human or otherwise. Just a quiet, desolate, and worn out wasteland, despite the openness of the area he was in, he felt boxed in, maybe even slightly claustrophobic. He was pretty sure it was the lack of living beings. Most people didn't wonder the wasteland, they were either too scared or didn't have enough experience to be able to do it without getting themselves hurt or killed. He had wondered about thirty miles when he came across something surprising.

It was a small group of people surrounding a campfire. Thorander could see two grown men, two grown women and two little girls. This surprised Thorander, as most families didn't travel, it was too dangerous to do this, and as bad as Thorander knew it sounds, children are a liability when traveling the Wasteland, they slowed you down and they couldn't really defend themselves. Thorander immediately felt guilty for thinking like that, knowing full well he could never leave behind a child. He shook the thought from his head and headed towards the camp.

The moment they saw him approach, they got up and drew their weapons. The two men were armed with a baseball bat. One of the women held a baseball bat as well and the other held a long metal pipe. The children hid behind the four people, looking scared but, surprisingly enough, not crying or screaming. Thorander took out his knife and gun, quickly placing them on the ground, putting his hands in the air. He did all this as a sign that he meant them no harm. The group cautiously approached him, their weapons lowered but not put away, which was understandable, you couldn't trust anyone in this wicked wasteland anymore then you could get clean water from any of the rivers left around this area. They searched him, checking for any other weapons, which of course he didn't have. They took a look at his small stash of supplies, but left everything where it was supposed to be. One of the women, who appeared to be a mix of African and Native American, picked up his knife and stared at the carvings. Then she looked at him and said, "These are Native American deities and spirits, ones from all different tribes. Someone with at least a basic knowledge of multiple native tribes must have carved this. Although, as much work as whoever carved this knife put into it, the carver probably cared a lot for these tribes and probably knew them very well."