A New Way of Life
Michael still thought he was only in the middle of a pleasant dream. He walked down the path in the direction he had chosen for hours by now, and he was starting to feel exhausted from it. By now, the sun had gone over to the other horizon, leaving him unsure if he was going the same way sometimes.
But this couldn't be anything more than a dream, right? How could any of this be real? He had passed by a few towns, but all their buildings were falling apart or looked as if they had been blown up in some cases. The buildings themselves didn't look familiar anyways, they looked like they belonged in a few centuries before Michael's time.
Of course, he made up the same excuses. 'Maybe I'm somehow in the mountains. Those buildings are really old.' But he couldn't explain why some of them were visibly blown up, or why he hadn't met a single other human the entire time he was walking, or why his exhaustion felt so real, as if he had actually been walking for miles all this time with no particular destination.
Regardless, the journey was starting to take it's toll on him. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything the entire time he was walking, and was starting to feel it. His seemingly limitless energy was quickly starting to fade now, taking a single step was starting to become trying. His throat ached badly, swallowing made it burn like red hot metal. A fitting analogy for what he would see in this place.
After walking for what felt like another eternity, the sun started to set behind the mountains. It was still light enough to see, albeit with little intervention from the sun now, but Michael encountered his first human today.
The sound of a cart could be heard behind him, he only recognized the sound because of all the times he'd gone to an old-timey place and taken a wagon tour with his family. At least it was something finally happening.
Michael looked back and saw that it was, in fact, a cart, one being pulled by two large horses, controlled with reins by a man past his prime. The cart pulled alongside Michael, and the elderly black man driving it slowed down to walking speed and looked at Michael.
"Need a ride, kid." The man asked.
"No thanks," Michael replied, "I'm just out for a walk." It was a flimsy excuse, and he may have been exhausted, but Michael wasn't about to accept a ride from a complete stranger. For all he knew, it could be a trap, but it was still only a dream to him.
"All the way out here?" the man asked. "How'd you get all the way out here?" Michael still wasn't about to answer any questions from an imaginary being, but the man continued. "Well, doesn't matter. You don't wanna be walking these roads at any point, there might be robbers up ahead. Climb in, I'll give you a ride to the nearest town."
Even with the mention of robbers around, Michael still didn't want to accept a ride from an imaginary person. Maybe if there were robbers, he could fight them, give this dream a little bit of action, make the monster inside feel less prevalent by unleashing it on people who deserved it.
"Thanks, but I'm fine." Michael replied, annoyed by this stranger's persistence. "I just want to walk."
"Alright." said the cart driver. "Don't say I didn't warn ya. Stay safe out there." The driver lashed his reins, ordering the horses to pick up their pace, and was out of sight within a few moments. Even if this was a dream, Michael wished somewhat that he had accepted the offer, at least he wouldn't still be walking now.
It was dark now, the moon showed it's crescent shape high in the sky, barely anything could be seen a few feet ahead, and Michael still didn't encounter the predicted robbers, just more broken buildings and dirt road. Why was that man driving a cart? Why wasn't he driving a car? It would be so much easier and less dangerous if there really were robbers on the road.
At this point, Michael was so exhausted that he would rather rest on the side of the road than take another step. He didn't even care if robbers would start looting him while he was asleep, he had nothing worth stealing anyway.
After a little more walking, he saw a light in the distance. As he got closer, he saw that it was a campfire some people had set up, perhaps more travellers like him who would be willing to share their food and water, and a warm place to sleep. Even if they were robbers, Michael would try asking for those things. Honor among thieves, right?
These people looked friendly enough, they didn't have a big stack of weapons nearby or any dead bodies they were looting, just some people talking by the fire.
"Can I sit with you?" Michael asked the men when he got closer.
"Sure," one of them replied, "have a seat, we were just getting dinner started."
Michael stepped in the warming area of the fire and took a seat on the ground.
"You have any water?" Michael asked through his sore throat.
"Sorry, we drank it all." another one of the men replied. "There's a river close by, we were gonna fill up there. How about this soup? It's got some liquid in it." He took out a bowl and got ready to dish some up for Michael with a ladle.
"I guess that'll have to do. Thanks." Michael replied.
The man filled the bowl with that thin, warm broth. Michael saw that the broth was somewhat red and filled with pieces of meat that were still a little red, but not many vegetables or anything else. He didn't complain that his healthy diet couldn't be satisfied tonight, he simply took a spoon and started drinking the warm broth.
"Wow." Michael said. "This is really good."
"Thanks." one of the men replied. "I don't cook very often, maybe I should."
Michael started eating more of the soup and the red meat. It didn't taste undercooked or unseasoned like it looked, in fact, it tasted quite delicious.
"What's in this soup?" Michael asked.
"Oh, you know," one of the men started, "Some venison, broth's made out of just water and a few other things..."
"What's with that cart?" Michael asked. It wasn't near the men, it was out in the distance, far away from the road, but no one would drive a cart like that. The cheerful atmosphere that Michael felt soon faded as he realized he saw that cart earlier. He also saw the clothes that same man from earlier had worn draped over the side.
"What's in this soup?" Michael asked again, but this time, in a fearful tone that the three men seemed to pick up on. So that man had been telling the truth, the cart was all the way over there so no one else would see it.
Without answering, one of the men pulled out a knife.
"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be." the man said, "Take off your clothes, and we won't beat you. Maybe a little older for our tastes, but we'll see past that."
These men were no mere robbers, they were something far worse. Now it became clear to Michael what they do. They don't just rob their victims, nor kill them, they do something far worse, especially to the younger ones. Michael dropped the soup, knowing full well now what that meat came from, and stood up quickly.
"Oh, guess you'll actually make this easy." said one of the men, holding his knife. "Make it quick, I can't keep it up forever, and I intend to finish before the moment fades."
Michael felt scared, but at the same time, he felt an intense rage directed at these men, these monsters in men's clothing. Instead of feeling the urge to run away, which would lead to a far worse fate, Michael felt the urge to stand and fight. But he knew well enough what would happen if he lost this fight.