For Tyler West, it began, like so many journeys, with an ordinary day.

The prepper convention that Sunday was a good one. He had bought a few things within his budget, packed the items in his backpack, took the bus, and started walking home. His Aunt’s house was a good two hundred meters from the bus stop but the cool late autumn afternoon made the walk a pleasant one. He had some chores waiting for him but Tyler was confident he would be able to finish them before dinner.

After dinner, he planned to go over his new acquisitions. Then a good night’s sleep before the Monday grind as a paralegal assistant. The pay was decent and he figured he will have saved enough in a few years to start his college enrollment again. He had the equivalent of two years left. His peer group would be ahead of him by that time in the rat race but he didn’t care. To him, at twenty years old, a mere five to six years advantage is negligible. He knew he was smart enough to catch up and surpass many of his contemporaries.

He did have to contribute five hundred dollars a month to the house upkeep. But he figured he was lucky for having an aunt caring enough to offer him a room and get him his present job. Aunt Emily was a spinster, very strict, conservative but kind enough to acknowledge him as family and offer him a place to stay after the accident which killed his parents eighteen months ago. The estate proceedings afterward, with lawyers, banks, taxes all exacting their pound of flesh, left him a mere 4,800 dollars.

As an only child, he abruptly found himself homeless, the house repossessed. He didn’t expect his parents to be that deep in debt. Finishing his college degree had to be placed on hold. But the grief, shock, and messy aftermath of his parents’ death made him stronger in his resolve to succeed. In a way, being alone and responsible for himself was a maturing process.

He turned right at the next alley, a shortcut which would save him the distance of walking to the main intersection crossing the main road. The neighborhood wasn’t so bad with only a few gang members in the area. As there was still daylight left, he figured using the isolated shortcut would be safe. He figured wrong.

As he neared the exit of the alley, two figures came out, blocking the way.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Tyler,” said one. This one was wearing a hoodie and though Tyler couldn’t see his face, he recognized the voice.

“Bernie.”

“The usual, Tyler. You know the drill. Your wallet, your watch, and your backpack.”

Tyler knew it was useless negotiating with them. Begging for mercy was never on his mind. He already got shaken down twice before. The first time was his wallet and a cheap watch. The second time was only his wallet as he didn’t have the extra money to buy a new watch then. He was fortunate his wallet was nearly empty during those incidents and he had left his credit and social security cards at home. This time, he had all his important cards in his wallet plus a good two hundred dollars. He really didn’t spend that much back at the convention.

“Face the wall, asshole, and raise your hands,” said Bernie’s companion.

Tyler didn’t recognize him but surmised he must be a member of Bernie’s meth head pack. He also knew there would be at least two more blocking the alley at his back. He can’t fight four guys at the same time, who may have knives or worse, a Saturday Night Special.

Tyler did as he was told. He faced the wall and raised his hands. He could taste his fear but he could also feel the rising anger at his situation. He glanced left and saw two more guys blocking the way. He could see the switchblade in one guy’s hand as they approached him. He estimated them to be thirty feet away, having followed him when he entered the alley. Bernie and his companion were a lot closer. Around ten to twelve feet and walking towards him. Looking at them, he could see Bernie’s companion was holding a steel pipe.

“No guns,” thought Tyler. He could feel his fear giving way to his anger. He hated the feeling of helplessness and it fed his rising anger. His adrenaline rose as his rage at his situation started to cloud his vision.

Bernie finally reached his right side. He could see the sneer in the meth head’s face.

“Wimp,” whispered Bernie.

“Wussy wimp, boss,” his companion added as he laughed.

Tyler turned and punched Bernie’s face. He could hear the nose crack and felt the pain in the bones of his left fist. It was like watching his body doing the act without his consciousness taking an active part. He could see Bernie thrown back and hitting his head on the opposite wall. Blood was already running from Bernie’s broken nose. At the same time, Tyler’s right hand grabbed the raised arm of the pipe-wielding companion and pushed it back against the guy’s head. As he heard the crack of the pipe hitting, a spurt of blood from the man’s forehead colored the scene.

Without looking back, he ran for the exit and turned right. He could hear the shouted curses of the two other guys. All he could think about was to put a lot of distance between him and the meth heads. But as he started to run after turning right, a sudden bright light blinded him. He could feel himself falling, his legs still pumping as if running on solid ground.

Shocked, blinded and bewildered, Tyler started to panic as he could feel himself falling. He put his hands in front of him but there was nothing. His pumping legs could feel no traction. Then he slammed into water.

A few hundred miles away, a forest ranger continued his watch over the wide, dry, and rocky plain before him. His position overlooking the expanse was his favorite one. Concealed from below, the scraggy trees surrounding his hiding place afforded the best view of the gathering horde encamped before him.

He could see more arriving and adding their strength to the mass he was watching. Flags and pennants flew through the windy air, marking the orderly alignment of tents and makeshift shelters. In the distance, he could see animal pens and rows of wagons lined up. His group still had a day to stay in this place, then back to town to report on what they had seen.

Aside from him, three more of his companions were on watch duty. All experienced rangers with years of living in the wild. Six others were taking their rest in the small dell behind him. With a smile, he thought of their coming back to the delights of the town inn and a comfortable normal bed for a change.

He was still absorbed in musing when the sharp blade slid through his throat and cut through his larynx. His killer stood up and gave a hand signal to the others waiting on the sides of the copse. They moved out, as silently as they had come.

Behind them, the bloodied bodies of their victims lay in various poses of death, awaiting the coming of the carnivorous beasts which now moved towards the spot.