- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Weekends
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy (medieval or modern), sci-fi, steampunk, genres involving dragons
"And stay out, you filthy Wanderer!"
Both were true, and the insult ran through Aerin's mind long after the metal gates slammed in his face. Huffing, he pulled his hood over his head, covering the cropped blond hair and shielding his eyes from the glaring sun. It was the fifth settlement he'd been removed from. The Illstar-infected people didn't want him around. No one did. He was only trying to help.
Another sigh escaped his dry lips, and it made him reach for his water bottle. It was growing light in weight, something that wasn't a good sign. Pure, unaffected water was increasingly rare, but he could take whatever he could get. Shouldering his pack, he left the settlement in the dust, continuing on his path as a Wanderer.
After the Illstar spread, Aerin had discovered he wasn't like the others. Illstar had not killed him, and no symptoms had arisen even after a year since the virus had spread into the world. He became shunned, not welcomed. It was truly awful being banished to the now wasted Florida terrain.
At least there weren't any alligators to snap at him.
As far as Aerin could tell, he was near what used to be the Everglades, and the only reason he thought that was because there were dried up rivers and dead trees. The only reason he knew he was in Florida was because of the "Welcome to Florida" sign he'd found smack in the middle of the road two weeks earlier. He had come from the northern state of Wisconsin, even if that territory rivaled that of Florida. It was a long trip, one that had been worthless so far.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost skipped over a tiny pond of dirty water. It would have to do. He pulled off his hood along with a mask to filter the dust and grime from his face, cupping water in his hands and rubbing it on his cheeks. He took a small sip, wishing he could spit it out after. It tasted foul, but it quelled his thirst for the most part. He dipped the bottle in, filling it to the top. Finding shelter was his next objective. The Everglades was a national park, wasn't it? They had to have buildings somewhere, even if they were abandoned.
Aerin couldn't trust his eyes anymore. After the sunlight played tricks on his vision, giving him mirages of friendly people or trees, it was hard to think anything was real. However, he almost ran headlong into a dilapidated brick building since his head had been cast down. Plants that hadn't been killed off by the Illstar were growing over the building, but he was able to wrench a door open. Heat blasted past him, and he moved inside before he closed the entryway. Fumbling for a light switch, he flicked it on, finding a single, uncovered light blazing before dimming. Well, it was better than nothing.
Aerin dropped his backpack on a table, unslinging the LSAT light machine gun from his shoulder and setting it beside his pack. He'd picked up the weapon about seven months ago, having found it after a battle had ensued between the infected and some Wanderers. He'd taught himself how to fire it, though reloading and aiming were still not as good. But he had it, and it made him feel better in case anything broke out within a settlement. He also had three knives and a .44 Magnum pistol. Bullets were hard to come by, so he often shied away from using the guns, but they were there.
Now, if only he could find someone who didn't immediately want to shoot him for being Illstar-immune...
Both were true, and the insult ran through Aerin's mind long after the metal gates slammed in his face. Huffing, he pulled his hood over his head, covering the cropped blond hair and shielding his eyes from the glaring sun. It was the fifth settlement he'd been removed from. The Illstar-infected people didn't want him around. No one did. He was only trying to help.
Another sigh escaped his dry lips, and it made him reach for his water bottle. It was growing light in weight, something that wasn't a good sign. Pure, unaffected water was increasingly rare, but he could take whatever he could get. Shouldering his pack, he left the settlement in the dust, continuing on his path as a Wanderer.
After the Illstar spread, Aerin had discovered he wasn't like the others. Illstar had not killed him, and no symptoms had arisen even after a year since the virus had spread into the world. He became shunned, not welcomed. It was truly awful being banished to the now wasted Florida terrain.
At least there weren't any alligators to snap at him.
As far as Aerin could tell, he was near what used to be the Everglades, and the only reason he thought that was because there were dried up rivers and dead trees. The only reason he knew he was in Florida was because of the "Welcome to Florida" sign he'd found smack in the middle of the road two weeks earlier. He had come from the northern state of Wisconsin, even if that territory rivaled that of Florida. It was a long trip, one that had been worthless so far.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost skipped over a tiny pond of dirty water. It would have to do. He pulled off his hood along with a mask to filter the dust and grime from his face, cupping water in his hands and rubbing it on his cheeks. He took a small sip, wishing he could spit it out after. It tasted foul, but it quelled his thirst for the most part. He dipped the bottle in, filling it to the top. Finding shelter was his next objective. The Everglades was a national park, wasn't it? They had to have buildings somewhere, even if they were abandoned.
Aerin couldn't trust his eyes anymore. After the sunlight played tricks on his vision, giving him mirages of friendly people or trees, it was hard to think anything was real. However, he almost ran headlong into a dilapidated brick building since his head had been cast down. Plants that hadn't been killed off by the Illstar were growing over the building, but he was able to wrench a door open. Heat blasted past him, and he moved inside before he closed the entryway. Fumbling for a light switch, he flicked it on, finding a single, uncovered light blazing before dimming. Well, it was better than nothing.
Aerin dropped his backpack on a table, unslinging the LSAT light machine gun from his shoulder and setting it beside his pack. He'd picked up the weapon about seven months ago, having found it after a battle had ensued between the infected and some Wanderers. He'd taught himself how to fire it, though reloading and aiming were still not as good. But he had it, and it made him feel better in case anything broke out within a settlement. He also had three knives and a .44 Magnum pistol. Bullets were hard to come by, so he often shied away from using the guns, but they were there.
Now, if only he could find someone who didn't immediately want to shoot him for being Illstar-immune...