THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) by Myles Stafford Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Myles Stafford
knight-errant, yet I could do nothing more than offer heartfelt words and my shoulder – feeling so inadequate.
Brick knew that I could not linger. When I departed, he would remain with his wife, as was planned all along, but the arrangement seemed, to me at least, incorrect and unnatural. Nevertheless, I knew my friend well, and understood that he would honor his oath and obligations, unreasonable though those seemed.
The next morning, shortly after dawn, I said my final farewell to the closest, most dear friend that I had ever known, and moved on down the road.
Discarding the bike, and traveling only with Ben, I felt more at home in my old style of quick-paced travel. I would have to become re-accustomed to moving and surviving alone, and forced myself to think of anythingbut my loneliness. It felt almost as though Brick had died, as I was not certain that I would ever see his noble and understanding face again. God, it was so terribly difficult and lonely. The unknown lay ahead, and it filled me with foreboding.
At night I would often scan various radio frequencies to gather whatever news was available. More and more, there were survivors passing on updates and advice. There was some speculation about my location and situation, which is understandable given that I had avoided contact with most travelers. Also, there was a request from a small group of survivors in Maine who wanted to make it to Hedley. They wanted advice on weapons, handling runners, secure travel, and so on. I would have taught them all that I knew, but there simply was no way to deliver the information, unfortunately. I could not be everywhere at once.
Waking in the morning with an empty and depressed feeling, I cheered myself by remembering how, before meeting Brick, I sometimes sprinted through winding back roads of California with Ben, thrilled at my invincibility and a song in my heart as I traced my way north to Oregon. The thought livened my spirit and I marched on with a lighter gait.
I recalled sweaty days back in middle-school,running track in Florida with my twin sister. That hard endurance training gave me another foundation for survival in the post-apocalypse.
Scottie was a long distance athlete, breezing through the miles with stamina, whereas I was always a sprinter, using up everything that I had within minutes. I would run until I thought my lungs would burst as I pushed through extreme limits. Not always victorious, but I would never, ever quit, and I never stopped trying, even though I was sometimes dangerously close to running myself into a delirious, gasping heap on the school pavement.
Such good times
...
Chapter Four
“River”
O NE SURPRISING side-effect of the runner virus was exceptionally good health for those who proved immune to the airborne disease. Virtually all of mankind’s ailments disappeared within the first year following the pandemic. No cancer; no diabetes; no heart trouble; no malaria; no colds...almost nothing. The surviving population, when nourished and protected from harm, became almost like new. Over time, gray hair vanished; skin became clear and youthful on older survivors; injuries healed well. Everyone enjoyed a high level of fitness. It has been proposed that life-expectancy will be much extended, but confirming that theory will, of course, take many, many years.
There is also evidence that the birth rate is significantly down, but whether that is a psychological reaction to life in the new age, or the result of change brought on by the runner virus is unknown.
Keeping compass and map directed towards the Missouri River, my goal was to acquire some manageable watercraft wherein Ben and I could make reasonably secure and swift travel to the Mississippi, and then debark somewhere in southern Louisiana.
My father had taught me the art of land navigation, a skill that was honed when GPS satellites failed. Brick further increased my capacity for understanding wilderness travel, along with
Brick knew that I could not linger. When I departed, he would remain with his wife, as was planned all along, but the arrangement seemed, to me at least, incorrect and unnatural. Nevertheless, I knew my friend well, and understood that he would honor his oath and obligations, unreasonable though those seemed.
The next morning, shortly after dawn, I said my final farewell to the closest, most dear friend that I had ever known, and moved on down the road.
Discarding the bike, and traveling only with Ben, I felt more at home in my old style of quick-paced travel. I would have to become re-accustomed to moving and surviving alone, and forced myself to think of anythingbut my loneliness. It felt almost as though Brick had died, as I was not certain that I would ever see his noble and understanding face again. God, it was so terribly difficult and lonely. The unknown lay ahead, and it filled me with foreboding.
At night I would often scan various radio frequencies to gather whatever news was available. More and more, there were survivors passing on updates and advice. There was some speculation about my location and situation, which is understandable given that I had avoided contact with most travelers. Also, there was a request from a small group of survivors in Maine who wanted to make it to Hedley. They wanted advice on weapons, handling runners, secure travel, and so on. I would have taught them all that I knew, but there simply was no way to deliver the information, unfortunately. I could not be everywhere at once.
Waking in the morning with an empty and depressed feeling, I cheered myself by remembering how, before meeting Brick, I sometimes sprinted through winding back roads of California with Ben, thrilled at my invincibility and a song in my heart as I traced my way north to Oregon. The thought livened my spirit and I marched on with a lighter gait.
I recalled sweaty days back in middle-school,running track in Florida with my twin sister. That hard endurance training gave me another foundation for survival in the post-apocalypse.
Scottie was a long distance athlete, breezing through the miles with stamina, whereas I was always a sprinter, using up everything that I had within minutes. I would run until I thought my lungs would burst as I pushed through extreme limits. Not always victorious, but I would never, ever quit, and I never stopped trying, even though I was sometimes dangerously close to running myself into a delirious, gasping heap on the school pavement.
Such good times
...
Chapter Four
“River”
O NE SURPRISING side-effect of the runner virus was exceptionally good health for those who proved immune to the airborne disease. Virtually all of mankind’s ailments disappeared within the first year following the pandemic. No cancer; no diabetes; no heart trouble; no malaria; no colds...almost nothing. The surviving population, when nourished and protected from harm, became almost like new. Over time, gray hair vanished; skin became clear and youthful on older survivors; injuries healed well. Everyone enjoyed a high level of fitness. It has been proposed that life-expectancy will be much extended, but confirming that theory will, of course, take many, many years.
There is also evidence that the birth rate is significantly down, but whether that is a psychological reaction to life in the new age, or the result of change brought on by the runner virus is unknown.
Keeping compass and map directed towards the Missouri River, my goal was to acquire some manageable watercraft wherein Ben and I could make reasonably secure and swift travel to the Mississippi, and then debark somewhere in southern Louisiana.
My father had taught me the art of land navigation, a skill that was honed when GPS satellites failed. Brick further increased my capacity for understanding wilderness travel, along with
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