Origins

The Wanderer spoke softly, and Lisa listened. Whatever the Wanderer said, however important, she kept her face unreadable. He said maybe two sentences before she turned away and sat where she had been before.

Next, he looked at Samuel. Samuel stood and walked immediately to the Wanderer. The Wanderer drew him away from the fire, toward the mouth of the cave. They talked for a while — maybe five minutes. Samuel asked a question here and there, but was mostly quiet.

It seemed strange to me that these two could soak up this man’s words and take them at face value. Who was he? There was no such thing as prophecy or mysticism. There was only science and brute fact. My father had taught me as much, and the world we lived in only solidified that stance. If there were a God, if there were anything — why would he have let this happen?

Yet, the man had known much — things that weren’t necessarily impossible for him to know, but things that were very good guesses, nonetheless.

Samuel returned to his spot by the fire. The Wanderer stood, looking at Anna.

She rose and walked forward, as if meeting her death. The Wanderer spoke to her for maybe half a minute — after which she nodded once. She stood there a moment, and then came back. She did not meet my eyes when she sat.

It was just me and Makara. The Wanderer shifted his gaze between us, as if wondering who should go first. Finally, his eyes rested upon Makara.

“Come, Makara,” he said.

Makara got up and went to the Wanderer. He spoke to her in much the same way as he spoke to anyone else. I could tell she was fighting back tears. It was not as if the Wanderer said anything unkind to her — Makara would not have cried about that. It did make me wonder what he had said, though.

It was my turn. I had never felt more afraid in my life. I was starting to doubt myself. At first, I hadn’t thought this man had any ability to see the future, at least no more than I did. Now, I wasn’t sure.

I walked past the fire, and stood in front of the Wanderer, as the rest had. His eyes were filmy. They spooked me. Cloudy and gray, they were bright and reminded me of their eyes. It was as if I were staring into the eyes of a ghost.

For some reason, it felt as if he were much older than he had let on.

“How are you, Alex?”

“Don’t you know already?”

I knew I shouldn’t have been cheeky, but I couldn’t help it. The man paid no heed — he only smiled.

“Just like your father,” he said. “He never had the stomach for any of that mystic crap, did he?”

My eyes widened. How could he have known about my father?

I tried to find some explanation, some excuse. A lucky guess here just didn’t seem to cut it.

“Did you know my father?” I asked, in a whisper.

“Maybe. It is doubtful. I will tell you what I haven’t told the others.”

I took a step back. I didn’t know what to say, but I wanted to know what he meant.

“Years ago,” he said, “I became lost in a Blight. There was something in the air that made me fall asleep. I woke up insane, and I became the Wanderer. I was blind, but I began to see things with my mind. Something happened to me, out there…and now I can see everything. I know everything. Only I can’t speak it. I am not allowed. Something beyond stops me.”

“None of this makes any sense.”

“Sometimes, it doesn’t have to.”

I tried to make sense of that one, but it only left me more confused. I willed my brain to shut itself off.

“I will tell you what I can, Alex. All of this is bigger than any of you realize. It will all be made apparent, soon — and all of you can decide what to do about it. At least, the ones of you who survive. It was written that there will be wars and rumors of wars when the end comes. Maybe the end isn’t coming — but an end surely is. And it is an end none of you will want to face.”

“Some will die?”

“Some?” the Wanderer whispered. “Maybe all. As soon as you cross the border, into the Great Blight, everything will change. You will be fighting for your very lives, every second, every breath.”

“We already are,” I said.

“You think you are. Something is out there, far more sinister than the crawlers, far more ancient, far more powerful. Something wants you dead.”

“What is this something?”

“I don’t know it, but I can hear it in my dreams. A Voice. A Song, which encompasses the whole world. It will enthrall all life unless you can silence it.”

There was no way I was getting anything out of that, so I decided to ask questions that required a straight answer. “How soon until we get there?”

“Tomorrow evening will be your last night on this side before you stand before the Gates of Hell.”

“You say that as if it is an actual place.”

“It is.”

The Wanderer grabbed my shoulders, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. “It all hinges on you, Alex. You have wondered, more than once, what your place is here. I am telling you now. Without you, this mission will fail. Without you, the world will fall and everyone will die.”

“What is the xenovirus?” I asked. “Why is it killing us?”

“I can only say so much, Alex. The rest you will have to discover on your own. But there is something out there trying to stop you. Something does not want you reaching Bunker One, and it is not just the Novans.”

The fact the Wanderer knew where we were headed did not surprise me. This man finally had me convinced.

“What do I have to do? Just tell me, and I will do it.”

“You must be ready. I have told everyone else what they must do. There is a sacrifice you must make. You will know it when the time comes. That is remote yet, but never forget my words. You must make it, or all shall crumble to dust.”

I remained silent. The Wanderer had more to say.

“You have a gift no one else here has. If this group can’t come together, you all might as well leave and return to Raider Bluff and wait for the end. Because the end is coming. I always thought Ragnarok was the end. No. Ragnarok was only the beginning.”

The Wanderer’s warning sent chills down my spine.

“The beginning? What’s going to happen?”

“I cannot see that far. There are too many strings. It all depends on you, though; I can see that much.”

I looked away. No pressure at all.

“Just tell me what I must do.”

“You will know, in time. Just remember my words.”

“I don’t even know how to interpret that.”

The Wanderer was still holding onto me. He had not let go for two minutes. He did so now.

“Your potential is far beyond what you even realize. There is always something we can do to make another’s day brighter — a smile, a kind word or gesture — the small things give us the strength to do the big things.”

The Wanderer turned from me and faced the fire, its orange glow reflecting off his face. He went off to sit where he had eaten. Everyone watched him quietly.

“I have said all I came to say,” he said. “I just need to have a bit of a rest and I’ll be off.”

“I’ll bring you a blanket,” I said.

The Wanderer smiled. “That would be good.”

I went to the Recon, and found him something to cover up with, my mind a blur. Once I’d grabbed a thick blanket, I returned and handed it to the Wanderer. He accepted it, wrapped himself up, and lay with his back to the fire. Within moments, his breathing was even with sleep.