The Wasteland Wanderer

Harrison Cornell

TW: Some gore

The earth is nothing more than a shadow of its former self. Hate covers the world from all the destruction that ensued. Life is rare to find, whether that be human life or plant life. The sun appears overhead as a figure approaches the horizon with a spec beside it. The figure wears a dark cloak, covered in dirt, grime, and blood as the cloak waves in the wind. The only question is if the blood is their own or someone else’s. Beside the figure is a dog, a golden retriever, who is wide underneath; she is pregnant. As the figure makes his way across the wasteland, an acacia tree comes into view. He looks up towards the tree with hope. If there is vegetation, then there must be water. The tree becomes bigger as they walk closer to it, with a puddle underneath it. The dog waddles up with its tongue sticking out, huffing, and puffing, and begins drinking from the water. The figure looks down at the puddle and sees his reflection. So many years he has been wandering this wasteland. Thinking about how he got so lucky or unlucky to live this long after the attacks. He looks up at the tree, reaches toward it, and snatches a leaf.

“Fruitful,” he says as he takes a deep breath in, smelling the tree, and letting go of the leaf, it dances gracefully as it hits the ground. His voice is low and gruff, like he smoked for years, or breathed in the air of the wasteland. The dog continues to drink as he kneels next to her. He moves his cloak out of the way. He has a satchel of important items; some dirty gauze wraps, a folded pocket knife, spare bullets, a small black box, and an empty bottle. He taps his belt which holsters two guns, one with a hook at the end, grabbing anything in its way, and one designed for shooting any entities that show their face to him. He grabs the bottle from his satchel and begins filling it up from the puddle. The dog looks at him as he fills it up, water drips from her tongue, then she goes back to drinking. He sighs as he struggles to get more water in. There is only enough water for one of them. He stands and looks over the horizon again. He calls her name, “Grace.” She stops drinking, more water drips from her tongue. He places the bottle back in this satchel and pulls out the small black box. He bangs on the side of it. As the cracked screen flickers, it turns on slowly. A low hum emits from the device. A map of the surrounding area shows up. He looks at the area and finds a small town a few kilometers west of his location. There may be a place to stay for the night, or it could be a ghost town. He looks up towards the sun, holding his hand up, and begins counting how long he has until the sun sets for the day. After a few moments, he begins walking toward the sunset. Grace follows, waddling behind him. She is slow from the weight of her puppies, which causes pain in her paws. After a few minutes of walking, he slows down and stops for Grace to catch up with him. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and kneels next to Grace. He kisses the top of her head as he holds his breath. She smells like both a wet dog and a dog who has been out in the sun for too long. He feels sorry for Grace because he should have kept a closer eye on her in the last city they were in. He stands up and walks towards the town again.

From the way Grace waddles, he suspects she will go into labor soon, so he picks up the pace to get to a possible shelter soon. While the Wanderer picks up the pace, Grace cannot move any faster, causing a noticeable gap between them. Within five minutes of walking, the gap between them is so wide, a bus could park between them if there were drivable vehicles still around. The Wanderer looks at the horizon and sees a small speck in the distance. He stops dead in his tracks and looks back at Grace. The sunset glistens off her coat, revealing all the dirt, ticks, mites, cuts, scrapes, and bruises from how long they have been running. A look of sorrow encases the Wanderer's face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking at all the pain and suffering he has caused her throughout these years and being unable to help or heal her. The moment is ruined by a high-pitched scream like someone used a death whistle off in the distance. He looks up towards the sun and realized he is out of time. A panic state covers the Wanderer, he grabs Grace, but when he grabs her, she yelps out in pain. He lets go of her and readjusts his grip, and grabs her again. He begins booking it towards the speck he saw in the distance. Her old bones and aching legs can get some rest, but the Wanderer feels that rest will be short-lived.

He gets closer to the structure when another scream pierces the air behind him. He wants to see how far away it is from him, but he does not want to drop Grace out of fear. The last time he laid his eyes upon it, he barely escaped and could not sleep for five days. He continues running toward the horizon. He is close enough that he can see what it is, a little shack of some kind. There are trees by the shack, so there must be a water source. Another scream echoes throughout the wasteland and the mountains behind him. He can see more details of the shack and hope begins to fill his mind, but it is short-lived as another scream echoes, only this time, it sounds like it is on top of him. A cold shiver runs down his spine, and he fears what is about to happen. He continues to run towards the shack, his stamina running out and his legs about to collapse from exhaustion. He pushes himself to continue to run and not slow down. The shack
gets closer with each step he takes. A smile comes over the Wanderer's face as he is so close to the shack. The sun is officially down, with the only light coming from the moon overhead. He makes it to the shack and drops Grace, making his way to the door, and begins pushing on it, but it does not budge. He tries the doorknob, but it is locked. He takes a step back and begins kicking the door open, but it too does not budge. Grace gets down near the ground and begins to growl. The hair on her back stands up, and she begins to bark. The Wanderer kicks the door again, and the door swings open, but he fears he is too late. One last scream echoes right behind him. The Wanderer puts his hand under his cloak and turns around slowly.

Before him stands a grotesque winged creature. The creature is black with hints of red on its skinny shrink-wrapped skin, wings on its back like a bat, and stands over six feet tall. The monster has ears like a bat, a big mouth full of sharp discolored teeth, and drool drips from the corners of its mouth. The monster looks at the Wanderer and produces a horrific scream. The Wanderer covers his ears and closes his eyes, for the scream is deafening. That allows the monster to jump toward the Wanderer, snatching him up with its feet, and begins flying high in the air. Its dirty, long claws dig into the Wanderer's cloak, causing it to rip, and his arms begin to bleed. He moves his arms, but it is no use. The monster flies higher and higher with each flap of its wings, getting further and further away from Grace and the shack. Grace watches as her master leaves, presumably for the last time. The monster launches the Wanderer in the air and catches him upside down with its arms extended straight out. Fear covers his face, as the monster smiles and growls. Its breath reeks of death, and its slimy tongue licks the Wanderer's face. The saliva burns as he cries out in pain. The monster screams again, with the Wanderer covering his ears once more. He tries to reach for his satchel which hangs by his neck, but it is just out of reach from his hands. The monster stops going higher, then begins to release its grip on the Wanderer. One finger, then another. The Wanderer begins to panic and reaches for his belt, but just as he grabs one of his guns, the monster releases him. As soon as he begins falling, he shoots the gun with the hook at the monster, latching it through the monster’s foot, and pulls it down with him. The Wanderer laughs as the monster begins to panic and struggle to release the hook from its foot. It begins to flap its wings hard, trying to slow their descent. The Wanderer can feel himself decelerating, but knows he is still going to hit the ground. He brasses for impact and hits the ground hard. A cloud of smoke and dust kicks up from his impact, with the monster falling soon after. As the dust settles, Grace waddles over to the Wanderer as he groans and slowly moves to pick himself up. The monster has its eyes wide open, its mouth open, its tongue sticking out, and a potent smell. The Wanderer covers his nose and kicks the monster, thankfully
nothing happens.

A sigh of relief exits his body, and he begins to move toward the shack. As he opens the door, a scream emits from the monster once more. He turns around and sees the monster standing up, one of its wings broken, with thick green blood oozing out of it. The monster breathes heavier than before, with the tongue still sticking out. The Wander looks directly into the monster's beady red eyes and lowers his hand toward his belt once more. The beast begins to charge at the Wanderer on all fours. The wanderer pulls out the other gun in his belt and shoots the monster once, nothing happens, twice, nothing happens, then shoots a third time. The monster falls and tumbles over, rolling as it reaches the Wanderer's feet. Grace approaches the monster, but backs away as the smell is too much for her. Green blood oozes from the holes in the monster’s body, with the blood smoking as it hits the atmosphere. The Wanderer pats Grace and enters the shack, leaving the corpse of the monster to perish with this world.

Harrison Cornell is a young author, writing his first poetry book and self-publishing it at the age of nineteen. He is a senior, graduating at the beginning of May, and plans to pursue writing novels, poetry books, and ministry. Harrison enjoys writing poetry, writing short stories, reading books, playing single-player games, and spending time with friends.