The day Papi had decided to take action against the three thugs, he also decided that civilization would not likely return anytime soon. Passing-on specific skills would provide his grandson the best protection once Papi was dead.
Pablo treasured his grandfather's time and applied himself to the lessons, but his heart was never really into hunting. He was much more thankful that Papi had also decided to give his grandson as formal an education as possible.
Papi had used his G.I. education fund to work towards a degree in mechanical engineering when he left the service, but eighteen months later, he met the love of his life and dropped out for a career as a Nascar head mechanic.
The salary was good, he enjoyed the excitement and challenges, and he was paid to travel. Even so, the Harley he had built from scratch for the open highway was the only real piece of the old world he missed.
Books were not a problem, as they went on "field trips" to raid local middle and high schools, then later found what they needed at the county library. Pablo fell in love the first time he entered the quiet, neglected dust of the dim library shelves, especially the old-fashioned index-card catalog the branch had still maintained.
It seemed to the boy that all the world's knowledge lay at his fingertips, but more importantly in an organized fashion that let his interests twist and curve in ways that could never have happened without the three-by-five way-markers, now that the computer catalogs lay dusty and dark.
Even with the vast storehouse of information, Pablo felt an ache of frustration because he could find no answers to what happened to the electricity, nor where the seemingly impossible technology of the appliance and the continuing daily trolley originated.
There was also the issue of health. Disease, whether from viruses, bacteria, or genetics, had disappeared from the human race, or at least the small population he encountered daily. Even his grandfather was now healthy and downright spry, not just for his age but for any age. Pablo's guessed it was due to something in the food provided by the appliance.
Science and medical research at the time of the last book publication hinted that such miracles were on the verge of discovery. Even so, the appliance and its providers were much more advanced than seemed possible.
There was also one troubling effect that was not apparent for some time; the fact that no one had seen a new baby later than nine months after the appearance of the appliance. The final crop of babies was perfectly healthy, but the future of humanity looked grim. This sad fact resulted in yet one more wave of suicides that further reduced the deflating population.
Pablo mused on all this during the return from his birthday field trip, which also let him take his mind off the white-tail deer carcass draped over his shoulder. Papi carried both backpacks full of their gear, so they each carried the same burden. Pablo always regretted taking the life of any creature and only hunted to please Papi.
Pablo also hated the flies that buzzed around him, and even the smell of the fresh meat somewhat nauseated him. Thankfully he would only need to eat one or two small meals from their catch because many of their neighbors would jump at the chance, at least the older ones. Those of Pablo's generation had the appliance food-mix down to a science that satisfied their every craving, all without adverse health consequences.
They reached the apartment complex, and Papi went upstairs to put away their gear while Pablo dropped the carcass near the appliance in preparation for dressing it out. Several residents owned wood-fueled grills they had cobbled together, and everyone looked forward to a communal feast.
Pablo saw Papi come around the top stair landing and shouted up to ask for his skinning knife that was still in one of the backpacks. Papi turned around in mid-step but misjudged and was one stair step below where he thought his foot would be on the landing.
He tripped and grabbed the railing, but years of neglect and weathering had weakened the wood. There was a loud crack as Pablo saw his beloved Papi fall to the sidewalk, followed by a sickening crunch as Papi's neck broke on impact.
Pablo ran over and bent down, but he could tell immediately that the fall had been fatal. Pablo sat, stunned, and cradled Papi's head and gently rocked back and forth. A small crowd surrounded him but waited silently for Pablo to work through his immediate grief.
Someone brought out a treasured bedspread, and Pablo allowed them to wrap the body in the makeshift shroud while some of the men began to discuss where to bury him. Pablo could not imagine putting his Papi in the ground, away from his beloved river, which the old man had spent decades watching.
Pablo talked the tight community into carrying Papi to a patch of trees that overlooked the water and tied the body in a sitting position. While everyone reminisced at the impromptu wake, Pablo sent one of the younger boys back to the apartment to retrieve the binoculars and placed them around Papi's neck.
He looked like he had fallen asleep in the middle of his bird-watching, which Pablo had seen him do a thousand times, and felt satisfied. He knew that it would not be long before the denizens of the wild would find the body and scatter it into the environment, but Pablo felt that would please his Papi.
The next morning Pablo stuffed a backpack with the barest essentials. He had retrieved the gun-safe key from around Papi's neck and opened the box with the intent of taking the Beretta, as much as a memento as for protection.
He also found a stack of notebook journals he had never seen before within the box. He replaced the pistol and picked up one of the small volumes. Papi had kept a journal he began the day Pablo first came into his house.
The notebook described his feelings towards the boy and the changes in the world, with direct and open words that brought tears to Pablo's eyes. He left the pistol, with the key inside, but took the journals. The next morning, he stepped on the floating trolley and left his old life forever.
~o0o~
Pablo rode the trolley for the next seven hours as it wound through town and made at least a hundred temporary stops. No one else got on, and the few people he saw ignored him, much as the residents of Pablo's old apartments treated the rare trolley traveler that came through their complex. The idea of going into the unknown still unsettled people, most of whom probably would never make the jump.
Just before dark, the trolley made an abrupt left turn and hovered over the top of a railroad crossing. Moments later, two other trolleys did the same, and all three joined with a gentle bump.
The trolley furthest from Pablo had one rider, an old, dirty man with a matted beard and hair, but the stranger laid across one of the benches and studiously ignored him. Pablo had lived in a tight community that seldom saw outsiders anymore, so he was just as happy he was left to his own devices.
The middle trolley had no benches but did have an appliance that sat in the middle of the platform. Pablo moved the slides and obtained food and drink, and a little later requested a disposal unit. The night was warm, but he checked to make sure this appliance also had an icon for a heating unit just in case.
The trolley continued to follow the old railroad tracks and soon left the mostly empty cities and towns as it continued into the wilderness. With nothing better to do and still in mild shock from the sudden death of Papi, Pablo moved his backpack around on a seat until it made a decent pillow and dropped into a disturbed slumber.
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