Gingerly, Alfred walked down the center of  a dusty, deserted highway. He was surprised to see open space where traffic jams were once inevitable. He had not left Brooklyn Heights in many years due to imposed curfews and a lack of public transportation. He noticed the roads were in dire straits and potholes were more like sinkholes!

Roadway maintenance was a thing of the past. As more and more tax dollars went to weapons, blue-collar workers were laid off into nonexistence.  Much of his trail was nothing more than rotten rubber, rubble and rusty relics.

As Alfred Sat on the hood of a neglected, mint green,  Toyota Prius.  Ancient plastic grocery bags swirled around his head. He opened the cap to his dependable, rusty thermos and took a gulp of water rations. Drinking, he remembered the sounds of cars beeping and the annoyance of sitting in  traffic jams. How he longed for them now!

Exhausted resources had left most of society without private transportation. After the EMP retaliations only the government managed to get cars operating. In order to run, any vehicles had to have been made before computers. The government confiscated all working vehicles from its citizens.  The police would drive around in classic mustangs. (As if they weren't high and mighty before.) The rest of the cars were rendered useless and lay strewn about like dead bodies after a battle.

"How long have I been walking?" Alfred wondered wishing he still had his watch. He knew time was no longer an essential element in today's society. He also knew Bell didn't have much of it. 

Alfred beckoned, "Oh King Rophe, I implore you to please lead me to a copy of The Book. And please keep my precious Bell alive until--" As Alfred was ending his plea, a ruddy boy of fifteen rode by on a useful bicycle practically running into the back of the Prius. "Hey watch where you're going young man! Get out of the middle of the road!"

Compelled to stop, the boy turned his bike around and rode back to Alfred. While straddling his faded red bicycle he asked sarcastically, "What road? I don't see any roads here old man."

"First of all, "Alfred objected, "I am not old and secondly what you are standing on happens to be what's left of the Long Island Expressway."

"So it is... so it is..." the boy agreed holding out his hand. "The names Leon."

Shaking his hand Alfred engaged in the pleasantry, "I'm Alfred Quest. Pleased to meet you Leon."

"Where you heading Mr. Quest? I'd be happy to give you a lift on my piece of junk." Leon said, patting his corroded, trusty companion.

"I'm heading back to where I grew up. Mr. Leon. And you should be grateful you have wheels, such as they are."

"Oh I am sir, I am... but if you don't mind me saying... There ain't no going back. Hop on. I can take you as far as Woodsburgh."

Incredulous Alfred exclaimed, "Imagine that!" As he climbed on the back of the bike he added, "Woodsburgh  is precisely where I grew up."

"Imagine that," Leon smirked knowingly as he delivered Alfred to his destination.

A painful 17 miles later Alfred and Leon entered Woodsburg,  once a bustling community of thousands now a deteriorated "Mayberry" gone to seed. To Alfred it appeared to be a ghost town with store windows either boarded up or broken out.

"This is it Alfred. Good old Woodsburgh. " Leon stated as he and Alfred dismounted the bike.

Alfred groaned as he rubbed his lower back.  He glanced at the ruins. "It can't be," Alfred said unbelieving. "It's gone... the town, the people--everything." Alfred turned around slowly in disbelief.

"Yeah to the naked eye it seems hopeless." Leon was matter-a-fact in his speaking.

"And  to the seeing eye as well," Alfred agreed. "This town is not a town at all! It's dead, like the cars we saw abandoned on the  expressway."  He sighed, shocked to see his boyhood town in ruins .

"If you don't mind me asking Mr. Alfred just why did you want to come back to Woodsburg  in the first place? I mean even before the purple lights it wasn't much."

"Leon I'm looking for something and I'm afraid I can't tell you what it is--even though you have been so kind to me."

  "Hey it's cool, it's cool...  And I know it's hard to tell the 'safe' people from the spies." As he spoke, Leon picked up a stick and drew a straight line on the ground. Knowingly Alfred took

the stick from Leon and made three points, turning it into a crown.   

Breathing a sigh of relief Alfred whispered, "The words of the king are right and true..."

Leon cupped his mouth bellowed the ending, "He is faithful in all he does!"

"Shhh..." Alfred hushed. "Young man you should not shout such things. You never know who's listening." Alfred was fearful and yet the twinkle in his hazel eyes revealed he was thrilled to find one of his own.

"It's all good Mr. Alfred. There's no one around for miles. Besides I've been expecting you."

"Been expecting me? What do you mean? We've never even met before today." Alfred was confused.

"Yeah but I know someone who knows you." Leon grinned charmingly. He wanted to play his game longer but knew he'd eventually give in.

Alfred removed his tweed cap and scratched his head. "Dear boy do you mean we have a friend in common?"

  "You could say that," Leon teased while fluffing his 'fro..

Impatient, Alfred stated plainly, "Look son, I'm on a mission to find--"

Knowingly Leon interrupted, "The Book?"

"Yes! How did you know?" Alfred was astonished.

"Well I just know stuff okay? And besides you ain't the first person to come to town looking for a copy." As Leon spoke, he sauntered down Wood Lane. He knew exactly where to look. "I only know of a single copy.  It was left in this town and I've never given it to anybody--I never had permission until today."

"Permission? Son what are you saying?" Alfred was no longer enjoying Leon's teasing.

Feeling he had better divulge a bit more information Leon added, "There was this old lady, about your age, who owned this bookstore. She hid a copy."

"Finally we are getting somewhere," Alfred said. "I remember that very bookstore. The Wood's Shoppe right?"

"Yep," said Leon and recited, "The Wood's Shoppe. Building your mind through books."

"I remember the Woods! Nice family!" exclaimed Alfred, while never letting on he and the "old lady" were once childhood sweethearts.

Heading towards the coveted store Leon chatted, "The word under the street is Mrs. Woods had the very last copy in the tristate area. Rumor also has it old lady Woods hid the book inside a cutout of a family recipe book. Kind of clever hiding the book in a bookstore don't you think?"

"Well where is Mrs. Woods? I must have a copy of the book. It's a matter of life and death!" Alfred ordered.

"Yeah hers." Leon's heart sank with mentioning her fate out loud.

"You mean she... died?" Alfred inquired, his heart sinking.

"No, well not yet anyway. They picked her up for recycling this morning. Whoever thought the world would come to this? I guess it's true Alfred. History does have a way of repeating itself." Leon said, sounding very much like a grown-up.

"Well Leon, without the book it will get much worse."

"You are telling me Alphie," said Leon getting a little too familiar.

"It's Alfred. And may I ask, is there a Mr. Woods?

"Oh you must mean good ol' Grandpa Woods?... Well there was, I'm afraid he died many years ago. It's rumored he died of a broken heart."

"Seriously?" Alfred inquired.

"Nah, I'm just messing with ya. The old guy had a heart attack. One minute he was eating his Oatio O's and the next minute he was swimming in 'em. Lotta good eatin' all that anti-cholesterol cereal did 'em huh Alphie?"

Ignoring the question Alfred pressed, "May I ask you something Leon?  Foregoing this is a ghost town and all...  How do you know so much about Wood's family and," whispering, "The Book?"

"Well Alfred--let me introduce myself a bit further." Bowing he continued, "The names Leon, Leon Woods." Opening the front door to the boarded up bookstore he added, "I'm my grandmother's only heir. Allow me to show you my inheritance."

Leon has soft brown skin. He's  thin but muscular, he sports a pronounced dimple in his left cheek.  When he smiles—his perfect smile, it looks like he's up to something—which he always is. He's extremely  charismatic and bright but hates studying. He believes he'd make a great boyfriend (if he ever met a girl--any girl.)

Nana Woods collected LIFE magazines.  When Leon saw photos of bell bottoms, headbands and long beautiful hair--his afro was born! On his 14th birthday his grandmother gave him her ancient metal pick. It never left his hair.  You never know... Today could be the day he meets that special someone. It could happen.

-End of Chapter 9-

Author's note: I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Please vote, comment, follow and add The Wasting  to your library. If you've got a book you'd like me to check out—I'd be delighted.