The watch beeped for the eighteenth time in the past half-hour. The Postman ignored it.

The guide to Ben wasn't quite operating properly. Its intensity had dimmed a few hours back, and he'd briefly thought that Ben had met his end in the bowels of the mobile reactor, but it had hung on. If the Postman had to give a title to it, he would have said that it was being stubborn.

The suburban area he now walked through bore signs of the reactor's passing. A clear line of visible wreckage was struck through the entirety of the neighborhood, devastated houses and crushed vehicles marking its trail. Some kind of construction had been built in the center of the square but had been utterly leveled. Perhaps it'd annoyed the reactor somehow.

Stepping among the collapsed beams and cracked asphalt, the Postman continued to follow his guide. The sun had long since set somewhere behind the clouds, and now the world was darkened under its ocean sky. Light was neither a necessity nor a hindrance to the Postman, and so he kept moving.

Even so, he was beginning to feel a slight amount of dullness. He wasn't immune to the degradation of stamina, and he knew he would have to rest at some point. An hour or two would be more than enough, but the delay was an inconvenience he didn't want to have to worry about.

He spotted movement up ahead. It looked as though he wasn't alone in the subdivision, which could either be a welcome surprise or a negative one. Both options could be considered a hindrance if it stopped him from delivering the letter in his satchel, which only served to remind him of the invalid mail he was carrying.

Dan's letter couldn't be delivered, because there was no guide to lead the Postman to the boy's parents. There wasn't anything the Postman was aware of that could block him from finding someone, which left him with only one morbid alternative. The standard procedure for mail being delivered to the deceased was an immediate return-to-sender, but the Postman did not want to see Dan's expression when he received the news. Implacable and unbiased he might be, but he wasn't sociopathic.

Something slunk from the shadows around the Postman, and he raised a hairless eyebrow. Wolves were an uncommon sight, especially ones that hadn't been irradiated or mutated into who knew what else, and these were no exception. Most of them had sores, patches of skin where no fur grew, and several had lumps. The largest one was at least twice the size of any of the others, with an extra haphazardly placed eye and abnormally sharp teeth painfully sticking out of its mouth. Its own gums and lips were torn from the teeth, and the Postman winced at the sight. Most mutations didn't injure the host, but this creature had no such luck.

The mutated wolf walked forward, wet nose sniffing at the air. It seemed almost confused at the lack of scent coming from the Postman, as though it'd been expecting something else, and the Postman realized something rather important. This pack of wolves was neither monstrous nor old, and so none of them were aware of the neutrality that the Postman possessed.

He thought quickly. Being torn apart would be a major inconvenience, especially if the wolves ate parts of him. Granted, they would die quite rapidly from the toxicity, but their stomach acids would have melted a good portion of him, and he would rather not go through that again.

Slowly reaching into his satchel, he removed a package of dog treats. The bag was unopened, and although the Postman wasn't sure how long it'd been in his bag, it effectively drew the attention of the wolves. Tearing it open, he allowed the smell of snacks to spread through the air.

Their reaction was immediate. Saliva began dripping from their mouths as they moved in, but the Postman raised a hand abruptly. They froze, teeth bared as they waited for him to make a move.

Leaning down, the Postman picked up a decent chunk of concrete. Making sure they could all see it, he raised the chunk in the air and squeezed. His sleeves hid the way his arm popped, and when the concrete crumbled in his hand, it looked effortless. The wolves hesitantly backed away, ears back and mouths watering. The Postman proceeded to remove a snack from the bag and tossed it onto the ground before them.

The Postman had no intention of keeping them at a distance. There would be no point in intimidating them with strength - they would believe that they could take him down by working together, which was probably true. He needed to make them think that he could provide alternative sustenance, that he wasn't a threat to them. Giving them food would hopefully teach them that he didn't want to fight, but was prepared to.

One of the smaller wolves padded over to the snack, sniffing cautiously at it. The alpha, the mutated wolf, snarled as it moved forward. The offending beta immediately backed away, tail between his legs as he showed deference to the greater specimen.

Taking a deep breath of the snack's aroma, the alpha briefly considered it, and then snapped it up. Rolling the taste around in its mouth, it raised its head and growled at the Postman. It wasn't a malicious growl, thankfully.

Opening the bag again, the Postman scattered the remainder of the treats around the floor, and the wolves began salivating even more. Instead of moving, they glanced at the alpha. Staring down at them imperiously, it nodded, and they pounced on the treats. Even though they were moving around him, stealing quick looks at him, none of them bothered the Postman.

The language of wolves was one the Postman could understand, but not speak. It requires limbs and appendages that he simply didn't have. An ear twitch, a slight change in facial expression, a movement of the tail - body language was more frequently used than verbal in their world, and the Postman didn't exactly have a tail. He could still pick up the gist of what they were communicating to each other, however.

At the moment, they were more or less discussing whether or not it would be worthwhile to eat him. The whelps wanted to at least try the taste, but the beta was adamant that it wouldn't be worth the casualties if the Postman turned out to be a threat. The alpha, curiously enough, was quiet, staring at the Postman.

He almost missed the alpha's question when it asked if the Postman could comprehend what they were saying. He might have been lacking in the communications department, but there were some gestures that were universal. The Postman simply nodded, and the alpha considered the new information.

With a deep-throated bark, it told the whelps and the beta that no one would be eating the Postman. One of them complained for a second, but the whine died in his throat when he saw the alpha's glare. Finishing off the snacks, the wolves moved past the Postman and gathered behind the alpha.

It stared at the Postman for a short moment, and then asked if anything was nearby that would be a major threat to the pack. The Postman shook his head, and the alpha turned. It offered no thanks for the small snack as it and its pack left, which was just as the Postman had expected.

Pulling his satchel back over his shoulder, the Postman took a moment to find the guide leading him to Ben and continued on his way. Thankfully, it hadn't been too much of a delay, but he would rather deliver the envelope sooner than later. There was a distinct tug on his mind letting him know someone had a package they needed delivered, and it was nowhere near Ben's location.

He paused in front of one of the few walls still standing and scratched a carving into it with his finger. It wasn't much - just a simple envelope. It would let anyone who saw it know that they were within his range, and then he would have more letters and packages to deliver. It was a cycle that would hopefully never end.

Unfortunately, it was unlikely that the wolves were the only presence in the devastated area. Animals and monsters were one thing. They knew that it was taboo to attack the Postman, although nobody was sure why. Humans had no such instinct. Much like Dahlia back in the skyscraper, they were unable to discern why it would be a bad idea to try and hurt him. He felt no pain, but he couldn't deliver mail if he was incapacitated, and that...

That would be unacceptable.

He shook off the dark thoughts of the consequences he would deliver to anyone who would hinder him, knowing that it wouldn't be helpful. He stayed away from people unless they needed something mailed, and that was it. What they decided to do in their own time was up to them.

Whatever the case, something had been following him ever since the wolves had left him.

Turning around, he faced the wreckage behind him. "Hello."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nothing moved. The street was empty, the streetlamps were dead, and the cars were rusting pieces of junk. They'd been looted for parts decades ago. The houses were stark and cold against the horizon, collapsed walls and rotting wood providing a dark frame with which to compare the rest of the world. There were dozens of places for someone to hide, and thousands of gaps through which someone could watch the Postman unnoticed. There were definitely better places in which to move through, but it was the straightest line to Ben.

His watch beeped for the nineteenth time, and this time he checked it.

How very helpful. He pushed his sleeve up and tried to ignore the indignant beeps and buzzes coming from it. After a moment, he decided that the mysterious entity in question could follow him as long as it liked, provided it didn't bother him. More likely than not, it was some curious monster stalking the infamous Postman and wanting to see if the rumors measured up to the real deal. It would be sorely disappointed. The Postman didn't go around ripping the limbs off creatures if they stopped him.

Well. Not more than once.

Whatever the case, he was wasting time standing there, and so he straightened his cap and started walking.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two hours later, it was still following him.

The Postman couldn't even get a glimpse of it, which narrowed the list down rather significantly. The overwhelming majority of monsters were based around either speed or strength, with stealth being the oft-overlooked third option. A Pripyatic mobile reactor, for example, was the embodiment of size and power in the apocalypse. They could get massive, rare as they were, and their appetite was endless. The radiation they outputted made it hard for anything to even approach one, much less attack it. They had no weaknesses as far as most people were concerned.

Formikazik, on the other hand, focused more on speed. They were small, sure, but it was hard to even see one when it was moving. It was that particular feature, combined with its needle-like teeth and scissor claws, that made formikazik one of the most hated and hunted creatures in the region.

The monster following him was neither of them. It was far too small to be a reactor and too large to be a formikazik. He wasn't sure how to feel about the revelation. If it wasn't something he was familiar with, then there was an all-too-real chance it wanted something from him.

Plenty of humans wanted something from the Postman. They saw his resemblance to their species and claimed he was related, that he should feel some empathy for them. All he had to do to remind himself of their callousness was to look at the landscape surrounding him. A charred, ruined husk of what it had been before the Postman existed. If he had been human, he was glad to be disconnected from their ranks. If he wasn't, which he considered to be a far more likely probability, then he wanted very little to do with them.

He delivered mail. Humans wrote letters and had packages. That was the extent of the relationship the Postman had with humanity, and he was satisfied with it.

Humans were never satisfied.

Either way, he needed to figure out what the creature following him wanted. It was moderately fast, and it didn't appear to be too strong. All of which landed it in arguably the most deadly group; those that practiced stealth.

The Postman had very little information on any of the monsters that used stealth as their greatest ally. They were the creatures that he never saw but could always feel, the ones that hid behind closet doors and under beds. The creatures who could conceal themselves in shadows and melt away, replacing their silhouette with a decoy to lure their target into a sense of false security. They were the only creatures in the apocalypse, aside from humans, that even remotely unnerved the Postman.

He turned the corner of a house wall and paused, waiting. He didn't hear a sound, but he sensed the mystery creature move forward, coming closer to his position.

Closing his eyes, he waited and drew his senses out to their absolute limit. He focused on the fact that this creature was disturbing him. It was disrupting his methodology, pulling his mind out of the fugue state he often slipped into during long travels.

It was preventing him from delivering the mail.

The wall beside him was made of half an inch of sheetrock. It wasn't anywhere near thick enough to stop the Postman's hand from punching through it and grabbing onto the creature. He felt a strange texture, like carapace mixed with rubber, and heard a startled sound. The quietest of chirps, but a sound regardless.

Stepping through the wall, he tightened his grip and glared down at the panicking creature trying to pry his grip off its shoulder. It was a painfully thin biped, a mottled gray covering it in its entirety. Its two-taloned feet strained at the concrete, trying to gain traction as its scythe-like hands worked their way under his hand. Its head was slanted, an angled surface hanging over a pair of white eyes and a small mouth filled with teeth.

The Postman's grip tightened, and the chirp jumped a few octaves in pain. "Why are you following me?"

"Let go!" It screeched softly, pulling away.

The Postman's eyes narrowed. It was unusual for any species to speak verbally, especially the ones based on stealth. More often than not, they didn't have vocal cords at all, which made this one... unusual. Unusual was rarely a good thing. "Why are you following me?"

Its skin distorted as light passed through it, making it temporarily invisible. The effect vanished as the Postman squeezed a little harder. "Answer."

Suddenly, it hung its body, going limp. The weight dragged the Postman's hand down a few inches but failed to get him to release the creature. The moment it realized its plot hadn't worked, it went right back to using its scythes to pry his hand off. All things considered, it was even weaker than the Postman had anticipated.

It was honestly rather pathetic.

The Postman abruptly let go of the monster. It stumbled backward with a muted yelp, rolling to all fours and uncurling to stand straight. It looked more confused than anything.

It clearly wasn't a threat. Since it would have a hard time slowing the Postman down, there was no risk of delaying the mail, and so it wasn't worth the wasted effort and time. After a brief moment, he found Ben's guide and kept moving. The mail waited for no one.

Sprinting to hide behind the cover of a nearby building, the stalker kept following the Postman. Its footsteps were perfectly silent, and its shape melted into the backdrop as it walked, but he could still see its eyes glinting from the shadows.

Why was it following him? It clearly wasn't trying to attack him, and it didn't seem malicious. There weren't many reasons he could think of aside from food and valuables that monsters would find interesting, and the Postman had neither.

He stopped walking, and the creature froze. Its eyes were wide and confused from the doorway it lurked behind, uncertain of what was going on.

The Postman pivoted on one foot and began walking straight towards the creature. It hurled itself backward, tumbling between a chink nothing should have been able to fit through and scrambling to its feet on the other side. It couldn't see him from its present position, and the Postman took advantage of it.

He kicked the door in with a brutal motion, taking long steps forward as he did. Vaulting over the rubble, he locked his legs around the creature's neck, twisted, and leaned back. It sailed over him, screeching quietly the whole way, and crashed head-first into the ground. Hooking his ankles, he tightened his grip and grabbed onto its jaw, forcing it to make eye contact with him.

"Why are you following me?" He asked the question in a low voice, but he was deadly serious. Normally, it was far harder to rile him. Perhaps the creature had some sort of aggression-inducing chemical compound? He'd thought he was immune to such things.

It coughed hoarsely, eyes bugging out of its head. It took the Postman a few seconds to realize he was choking it, and he promptly loosened slightly. Sucking in a much-needed breath, it whispered, "You know where humans are."

The Postman raised a hairless eyebrow. "And?"

"And I need to find humans!" It blurted, scythes struggling to work their way under his legs and failing miserably. "I can't survive on my own! I'm not cut out for that."

The Postman's eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with me?"

It sagged. "I don't know where to find people, and mine won't let me come back!"

"Answer the question. What does that have to do with me?"

Staring at the ground for a moment, it muttered, "I want to follow you to people so I can live with them."

That wasn't even an option as far as the Postman had been concerned. It was such an out-of-the-blue question, he wasn't sure how to respond to it. The creature took it as a question and continued hastily, "Look, it was an accident! I didn't mean to-" It cut itself off, thought for a moment, and then inaudibly whispered, "I just don't want to be alone."

The Postman figured it out with a sudden flash of understanding. There were a host of issues with the human race, but one of their peak oddities was their insatiable curiosity to see if any and every creature could be petted. Odds were, a group of humans had adopted the thing and gotten rid of it once it got too big, although the 'accident' that it had mentioned might also have been at fault.

He unlocked his legs and stood up, brushing his uniform free of dust. The creature scuttled backward on all fours, the scythes making a barely distinct clicking sound. It gazed up at him, hope in its eyes. "So can I come with you?"

The Postman stared down at it. "I deliver mail. I am not a guide." If this thing was going to startle the people that the Postman received mail from, then it would be a hindrance. Straightening his tie, the Postman left the creature and found the guide to Ben.

It didn't follow him this time.

Stepping out of the wrecked building, the Postman scanned the horizon and found the trail of destruction left by the reactor. He started heading through it, keeping the guide to Ben at the forefront of his mind. He'd lost time, and even though it hadn't been too much, lateness was an unforgivable offense to him.

It was proving a little more difficult to traverse the terrain than he'd anticipated. Chunks of concrete and foundation rods poked out of the ground, forcing him to take constant detours. In the end, it took him twenty minutes to exit the subdivision, on the outside of which he found the creature waiting for him.

It had a stamp taped to its forehead and a smile on its face, even as it refused to make eye contact. "Postman, I want you to deliver me to people."

The Postman closed his eyes and tried to think of an excuse.

Unfortunately, he couldn't.

"You can cloak, can't you?"

It brightened at the words and nodded happily. "Yes, of course! Why do you ask?"

The Postman walked straight past it, staring ahead. "I don't want to see you."

Its excitement dimmed somewhat. "Oh. Well - okay." Its shape blurred and faded until the only thing the Postman could see was a stamp floating midair. "My name's Scratch, by the way."

The Postman ignored him and hoped that Ben wasn't too far away.