#oneaday Day 661: Wasteland Diaries, Part 9

I’d continued walking down the long, wide road. According to the map, it looked like the most direct route to get where I was going, though there weren’t many places to hide if the weather were to turn unpleasant. Fortunately, in the days I’d been travelling — I’d lost count — it hadn’t as yet, but it was always a possibility.

The road extended off into the distance, mostly straight, veering a little to the right as it approached the horizon. This part of the world was quite flat, and the scenery was becoming rather monotonous. I decided to take a short break and get something to eat.

I sat down and rummaged in my pack for what supplies I had left. The tinned food I had had been in perfectly edible condition so far, but I was starting to get a little low on it. I’d need to resupply soon.

I cracked open an unmarked can which turned out to be filled with baked beans. While eating them cold wasn’t the most pleasant thing, I didn’t have the means of easily making a fire with me — and besides, over the course of this journey, I’d become accustomed to eating food just “as is”. With a smile, I wondered if I’d ever been a fussy eater in the past — if so, this situation would be working wonders for it. If the only thing you have to eat is that which is right in front of you, that’s what you eat.

As I sat by the edge of the road, watching the few wisps of cloud in the otherwise blue sky passing by, my thoughts turned inward, as they often did when I stopped and contemplated. I was no closer to understanding who I was or why I was making this journey, but I still had a lingering sense that the truth was being wilfully withheld from me.

That was ridiculous, of course, since there was no-one around to “withhold” anything except me. Perhaps I was repressing a memory, and doing so had become such second nature that it was now automatic, instinctive.

I didn’t want to repress it any longer, however. I wanted to know. My mind evidently had other ideas.

I sighed and finished off the last of the beans. The most basic of foods tasted great while out on the road, though I wondered if I’d ever eat a full meal again. I tossed the can aside and gazed into the middle distance. The light breeze in the air was relaxing.

I closed my eyes for a moment and attempted to clear my mind of all distractions — to sit down and have a quiet chat with myself over what it was that was really going on.

All was darkness for a short while, the only sound the wind rustling the dry grass beside the road. As I concentrated deeply, inwardly, however, it was as if a plume of smoke was slowly clearing and gradually coming into focus.

There was the house again, but this time it was different. I couldn’t hear anything this time, there was no colour, and I didn’t feel like I was in control like I was in the dream. I felt myself drawn towards the door of the house, saw my hand reach out and open it and enter a small but homely living room. Sitting on the floor, her elbows on a coffee table and her head in her hands, was a woman. She had long, flame-red hair — the only colour in this otherwise monochromatic image — and was beautiful. I knew her. I knew her well. I reached out and touched her on the shoulder and–

My eyes snapped open. I felt a pain in my head as if someone had jammed a poker through it. I screamed, and it felt like the earth shook. The pain didn’t subside, even as my cries of anguish echoed through the empty landscape. My thoughts were confused, jumbled, mangled, as if someone had grabbed my brain and was wringing it out. I had no control over myself, save to cry out and scream.

My vision blurred and I couldn’t see what was happening. I tried to get to my feet, but couldn’t move. I felt the ground cracking beneath me, the earth shaking and shattering. I gritted my teeth and tried to break through the pain, but I couldn’t. It was too much. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and was in no hurry to ever experience again afterwards. There was such power behind the pain, such fury. But it didn’t want to kill me. It wanted me to hurt.

I fell prone on the floor and passed out from the horrific sensations. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke, it was dark. I knew before I looked up from the floor that it had happened again — destruction, devastation, chaos born from anger. But why?

It had happened as soon as the memory — for that must have been one — was making itself clear. Answers lay within that memory, but I was convinced now, more than ever, that there was something beyond my control, powerful beyond my wildest imagination, stopping me from accessing it.

But what? And how? I didn’t know, but even as the throbbing in my skull slowly subsided, I resolved to get to the bottom of this — to solve the mystery of my memories and figure out just what it was that had occurred to turn this world of ours into a wasteland, devoid of human life — and what it had to do with me.

I closed my eyes again and sank into sleep. This time, dreams did not come as slumber claimed me, only much-needed peace.