Bonus Ending
The trader wiped his brow as he entered the massive gates at xTerra.
After several long days’ travel, he could use a cold drink.
With a dozen tents set up near the Gathering Hall, it appeared to be a farmer’s market day.
Since he was last through three years ago, the fields and buildings had expanded.
The gate guards directed him to join the bustling market.
The trader checked the sun’s position. Lots of time left for shoppers today.
He threw open the back doors of his trailer, unfolded the tables, and opened the metal flaps to expose his portable store. Without hurrying, he set up some of his more popular items.
A crowd gathered, watching while he set up, unpacking goods to sell and trade.
A group exited the main buildings—people who looked official.
The trader pulled out his bag of mail and extracted half a dozen letters addressed to people possibly living in xTerra.
Some of the mail had been on the move for years, since there was no longer a postal service or a regular route out here in the wild.
Travelers and traders like him often carried letters from town to town.
He’d started collecting anything for the West, always planning to loop back through xTerra.
This time it had taken longer than usual.
He’d been sidetracked near Pittsburgh for longer than expected.
He spread out the weathered envelopes on the table.
Several groups wandered past, buying trinkets and eyeing the letters.
If the names were familiar, word would get out, and the owners should turn up over the next few days.
A familiar face, perhaps someone in charge, said, “Have you got sugar and coffee?” At his nod, one man said, “We’ll take as much as you’ll sell.” That was common.
The trader said, “I’ve got twenty-five bags of roasted Mexican coffee I can trade. Half that of sugar.” This was his biggest stop in the West, and he’d been saving this stash for xTerra.
After this, his loop would return east via a southern route. He’d enjoyed the route and planned to repeat it next year.
One woman picked up a creased, faded envelope addressed to Kat Sullivan and Ryan Griffiths.
“This is for us.” Her hands shook as she glanced over her shoulder at her partner.
“I haven’t used that name in years.” That happened from time to time as lost family members searched for closure.
A letter that old may have been written and sent as a Hail Mary.
“That one’s come a long way,” the trader said. “I got it from someone who got it from someone else. They told me it’s more than five years old, as it went via Electron City up in Canada. Might go back all eight years since the asteroid.”
Kat turned to the man beside her with disconcerting, mismatched eyes, who must be Ryan. “You open it.” Her hands shaking, she passed him the letter.
Ryan ripped the flap and slit the envelope along its length using the blade of his pocketknife. He removed several sheets of stationery and scanned the first page. He flipped to the back page to check the signature before breaking into a huge grin.
“It’s from Nick. He and Jake didn’t make it into the presidential bunker, but as of seven years ago, they’re alive and are part of a community outside Baltimore.
” Ryan looked up. “They’ve adopted three children and work with a refugee relocation group.
They hope we’re here and safe.” He dropped a handful of coins on the table as a payment for the letter.
There was never a set price for mail. Just whatever coins or goods anyone paid.
“If we write back, how long will it take to get to Baltimore?” Kat’s voice quivered with excitement.
The trader shrugged. “I’ll be back in that area before spring.
If you have something before I leave next week, I’ll add it to the outgoing mail.
” He returned his attention to the bystanders.
“Alright. What have you brought to trade?” He rubbed his hands together.
He loved bringing good news and reconnecting friends and family.
Seeing smiles like these made what he did worthwhile, no matter the danger of traveling the wild.