Age of Gentech

Bear28 · 01-19-2016, 08:56 PM

John surveyed the land around him. It was the fourth place he had looked at with Kyla at his side this month. A place where they might be able to make a new life with each other. A place destitute and rural with no one around to judge them. After all his years of being a member and soldier of the Humanity Coalition and being raised and taught to hate all splicers, he was sick and tired of the life and wanted to give it up.

Another big part was Kyla.

He surveyed the land of the desert and found a windswept cave in a crag of rocks. There were natural defenses from the rocks and he could see that the cave had been occupied before. An old metal bed spring was sitting in the hallow of the cave balanced on rocks to keep the metal from touching the pet gravel and sand. It was an old creaky bed springs. The type that his grandparents would have used and it more than likely dated from the 1920’s. From the size it must have been a twin. He was surprised that it was whole and had not rusted in the desert air. Even though the remains of the mattress had long since disintegrated.

Kyla emerged from around the rocks. Her gray and white fur dusty from the air. She continued to sniff around the camp her tail wagging as he made more explorations.

There were no natural water sources nearby, that posed the biggest problem. He had seen a few rabbits around. So there would be food if one liked rabbit. He kicked over a metal and rusted out bucket with a small square cut out of it and the bottom had had a hole knocked in it. Someone had fashioned it into a makeshift stove in the past. Sun and wind rotted wood had been stacked neatly next to the opening of the cave. Deeper in the cave he found a flint rock and a steel striker. The steel of course had succumbed to time and had become encased in rust. He clanked it against the flint and saw a small spark, rusted or not it still worked.

“What do you think?” he asked as he looked over at Kyla.

She perked her ears at him and wagged her tail. Her blue eyes happy and full of curiosity. It was one of the things he loved about her. She was a Siberian Husky, who looked a bit funny at the moment sense she has recently been shaved, in preparation for coming out to the hot temperature of the desert. Still furry but not as fluffy as she was normally. She sniffed the air looking back at him, her tail wagging.

“It’s too hot,” she rolled her tongue out panting. “But there are rabbits nearby. Can I hunt?” Kyla did not exactly open her mouth to speak to him but John understood her anyway. Science still could not explain how certain animals could do this, hell they still had no idea what had caused the Awaking in animals. Or maybe it was the Awaking in Humans to suddenly understand their animal companions? No matter, John understood her as if she had spoken.

“I don’t care. Go have fun,” he smiled at her and rubbed an ear. “Just stay close in case there’s any danger.”

Kyla wagged her tail as she ran off in search of prey. John pulled the wrist rocket out of his back pocket, forced the hinged armrest into place and lightly tested the tension of the rubber band. Out of a pouch he pulled out a hunting steely and loaded it into the weapons sling. It was not as good as a gun but he was accurate with it.

With the slingshot loaded he made his way down the hill carefully with the weapon in hand. Unlike pistols or bows where he could have one hand free for balance, the slingshot required both hands. The stone in its firing pouch between thumb and index finger and the weapon held tightly in his other hand.

Still exploring the land he came across a 50 gallon drum with the top missing and filled with bullet holes. Next to it was a fair length of steel cable. It was partly rusted but if he needed it he knew where to find it. It was strung out as if it lead somewhere but he was not sure where.
Was it abandoned? Or was it laid out as some type of marker?

He continued to fallow it.

A few steps later and a rabbit burst out of the sage brush in front of him. Without thinking he raised the sling, sighted his prey, and fired. The rabbit died 20 feet away, summersaulting in the air from the force of the stone that hit in the back of the head. John did not even need to walk up to it to know that it was dead. But he was raised by hunters who had thought him to always make sure of his kills and to make the shot and death quick. In fact during his first years of deer hunting to put food in the family freezer he was given only one bullet for the 30-aught-six bolt-action rifle. It had never been fun to sit in the snow and cold or hours on end and miss his one shot to walk back home half frozen and empty handed.

He picked up the dead rabbit and whistled loudly. Within moments Kyla was at his side panting. He offered her the rabbit. She sniffed the carcass then gently took it from him and disappeared under a bush to eat out of his sight.

Although he had been raised in nature and knew the natural cycles of predator and prey, had butchered his own fair share of game both in the wild on the hunt and on the farm where he had once lived, and more in his army survival training; he still did not like to watch carnivores eat. At one time he may have found such actions interesting from an observational standpoint but now he just found it revolting and morbid. He still hunted to keep his wilderness skills sharp; one never knew when he might have to catch his dinner. And if he wanted to go off grid he would not be shopping at every mom and pop grocery store he came across for food.

He let Kyla enjoy her meal as he continued on down the hill, another stone loaded into the wrist rocket.

He came across tree limbs and branches that had been long ago stripped of their bark and had been siting and drying into hardness and sun rot for who knew how many years. Soon after he came across an old junk yard of metal rings, old cans rusted to blackness, broken and rusted buckets, and broken glass. The shards of glass glimmered in the sun reflecting back clear light or colored light rom brown, green, blue, indigo, or purple glass. He kicked tin out of his way, picked up a few of the unbroken glass bottles and containers. Some of them dated from before the 50’s by their shape and color. He had never heard of Scherlery or National Distillers. He wondered how they had even sold their products when on the glass of the bottle itself were the words “Federal law forbids sale or re use of this bottle.”

He would stop and pick up junk he found, examined it and tossed it away. The recent additions to the junkyard where beer bottles from someone who had come out to the desert to have a drink. Not a good idea as alcohol only dehydrated the body in a place where the environment was already doing that job on its own. He also came across spent shells from both shot guns and rifles that made him concluded that this abandoned junkyard also serviced as a shooting range.

To close to human civilization for his tastes.

Kyla came walking up behind him panting in the desert heat. He wiped perspiration from his own brow. He looked down to see that her maw and torso were covered in slowly drying blood and some rabbit fur was sticking to her own.

“You know dear you are quit a messy eater,” he said as he shook his head.

She wagged her tail and looked up at him. “Look who’s talking. You are always eating chicken with your fingers instead of a fork and knife like your parents do.”

He rolled his eyes at that comment. He continued walking and Kyla shadowed his steps silently behind. Both examining the world around them. Kyla bushes and holes and John bottles and old junk that had been left out here in the sun and sand to rot and rust.

Relics of another era.

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