I let out a heavy groan as my mind returned to the living world. I felt the hard rough texture of wood underneath me before I even opened my eyes. Then the unapologetic lurching of the wagon banging against my already sore skull. Another round of curses flew out into the air.

If I am knocked unconscious one more time I swear to...

The likelihood of lasting brain damage at this point was far higher than I was comfortable with. After a few moments of deep breaths and holding my head in my hands to steady the rampant pulse banging around. I was able to look up without my vision turning white.

To my surprise, I was not the only occupant of the worst Uber experience of my life. I was currently occupying the space closest to the back of the large wooden wagon. It seemed equipped with wooden bars all the way around. Even including a sturdy-looking latch closing the back door from the outside.

Nice little setup for human trafficking they got here.

There was also thin canvas draped over its entirety. Except for a small portion near the door, likely for convenient access for the kidnappers.

I took stock of my injuries. Noticing the fresh dressings across them and the goose egg that now swelled on the side of my temple.

At least they were kind enough not to let me bleed out.

More important than that were the two other human beings. Looking far worse for wear seated towards the front of the wagon. Likely to avoid some of the more viscous bumps. The threadbare tunics they wore matched my own. The lack of pigmentation and the thin rope tying it on like a potato sack made me feel almost naked.

They know how to make a guy feel beautiful, don't they?

I shook off the train of thought.

Now is not the time Shome.

Glancing away from my clothes and to my right was an elderly-looking man. His gangly beard and suntanned skin spoke of hard labor and little hygiene. The hygiene part may not be his fault to be fair to him.

The one to the left was a woman who looked around her mid-thirties. The distinction of age was difficult to gauge with the amount of dirt and soot that covered her face. They both hadn't moved a muscle since I regained consciousness. Not even responding to my plethora of curses.

How do I approach this?

I had never been much of a socialite, but the present circumstances required some answers.

“Hello there, you wouldn't happen to have been taken prisoner by a man dressed as a caveman recently by chance?” I implored the elderly man first. Seeing as he looked more aware of the world around him than the woman who still showed no signs of hearing me. For the first time, he looked over at me, up and down for a moment before knitting his eyebrows together.

“I would assume the Northmen don't take kindly to being called 'caveman'. You would do well to remember that.” His voice was a raspy thing that barely carried through the air.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know they could be culturally appropriated. One was too busy smashing me in the head with a bone before I could ask about his lineage and root of origin.” I snapped back. I knew it wasn't right to take frustration out on him. The past few days hadn't been overly kind to me. That, and my ignorance of everything that seemed obvious to others was becoming exhausting.

His response was one of the ugliest laughs I've ever heard. Similar to an old car engine trying to turn over with no oil.

Better than him being pissed I guess.

“I see you still have some fire in your heart kid, good on you. Some of us can't say the same.” His gaze flashed towards the still unresponsive woman. Then gazing off into nothingness mournfully. I coughed attempting to break the solemn atmosphere.

“I'm sorry… I didn't mean to snap. It's been a long few days. You wouldn't happen to know who is driving this carriage and where it's going by chance? Also on the topic, why are there ‘Northmen’ stealing people in the middle of my neighborhood? Also, goat demon creatures attacking on sight?” The look he gave me was a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Perhaps wondering if I was being sarcastic or if the hit to the head had caused more damage than I was letting on.

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

“Are you being serious boy? We are near the edge of the western frontier. Formerly part of the United States, though geography has changed so drastically... it is difficult to be sure. We are being carted to be sold in a Northmen mountain cave-dwelling if I were to guess. Little is known of the fate of those captured by Northmen. They are not the friendliest of New-Earthers, as you've experienced firsthand. As for the goat demon you described, my guess would be a Goabin of some species. They come in a disturbing variety, unfortunately.”

The more words the man spoke the faster my heart beat. Soon my vision became ringed with darkness as a panic attack clawed its way forward. I focused on the tingling of my hands. Trying to center myself on anything other than the information that he spoke. Specifically the United States in the past tense and the oh-so-comforting phrase ‘New-Earther’.

Hold it together Shome, now is not the time, priorities. But a fucking Goabin! This can't be real!

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and almost jumped before realizing it was the old man who shuffled over.

“I know circumstances seem bleak but don't lose that fire, that hope. You are only cheating yourself by giving up now. Trust me.” His words brought me little solace. His sentiment was appreciated and had the added effect of bringing me back from a bout of mild hysteria. I took a deep inhale before nodding my head in thanks.

“Thank you, one other thing and I know it may sound strange, but what is the date?” The look he gave me then was pure pity as if confirming I was at least part vegetable without a doubt. He smiled nonetheless answering with enthusiasm.

“Well depending on who you ask it may be different. I was a bit of a historian before the Flare so forgive the over-explanation beforehand.” He chuckled at himself which turned out to be as odd sounding as his laugh. All the while not knowing the type of suspense he was placing on my soul.

“To the Old-worlders it would be July if memory serves. The year 2034, though the exact day I cannot be sure since my recent... situation. To those more accepting of change. It would be 10 ASF, also in July mind you. We can't let go of some structures after all. However, some suspect that the new arrangement of continents and topography. Would hint at increased landmass and even planetary size. The findings of course are preliminary at best. With none of the real scientific tools available. Measuring with the accuracy required for global adaptation has become impossible. Though communication at a global level now is a pipedream in any case. I for one-” He was not wrong about the over-explanation. However, he didn't seem to notice me zoning out after the first few words he spoke.

2034... Ten years I was gone? How? It felt like less than 48 hours!

“2034, 10 years... ASF. What does it stand for?” My voice felt like I was speaking through a straw. I had to know. He didn't seem to mind the interruption almost excited about my involvement. His disappointment at my lack of knowledge was clear in his response.

“Well… after the solar flare of course!” He wheezed in exasperation as if stating the most obvious thing in the world. My eyes widened slowly as the slight tickle of a memory resurfaced.

A news anchorman in a crisp blue suit read from a page laid on his desk, a smile on his face.

“The reports are saying the solar flare will cause some slight power outages all across the world. Along with the loss of select phone services for up to a day. This is all within the expected damages so no need to worry folks. It may even be visible to the naked eye if you're lucky enough to be outside this evening. Don't forget to keep an eye out!”

I took a moment after the dazed memory resurfaced to let all this new information sink in. This all sounds so absurd. The sort of science fiction that would put most fans of the genre in a raving mess.

I wasn't entirely sure if I could be honest with the old man. Telling him that I had only awoken from a lucid nightmare in which I fought against and killed other humans. Only to teleport back to lying in my front yard.

That wasn't even bringing up the spiritual experience with an old war veteran. Who also knew far more than he was letting on. Here I thought the old man sounded crazy!

I have more pressing issues at the moment. Such as the kidnapping Northmen who were now carting us off to some unknown location to do who knows what to us.

Returning from my thoughts. I noticed the old man was still rambling. A tangent about the size of the planet has changed. That is based on the different locations of the constellations according to him. Which would have been interesting to hear about if we weren't in such dire straights at the moment.

“What did you say your name was?” My voice took him by surprise as his gaze returned to me breaking off his tangent. “My apologies young man, I don't believe I introduced myself. The name is Robert, Robert Luren. Though full names hold little meaning these days I'm afraid.” I reached my hand out as he finished his introduction while returning one in kind.

“Well good to meet you, Robert, I'm Shome, Shome Bircal. I hope you don't mind my questions. It seems as though we may be keeping each other company for the foreseeable future.” I finished with a crooked smile.

Letting loose what was beginning to be his signature cackle. He slapped my shoulder ruefully. “That's the spirit, Shome. As I said with my previous profession, teaching is in my blood so you won't find complaints here! Not much else to do in this wooden prison!”

What a boon being trapped with a man who has limitless patience for stupid questions. There is still a lot I need to know about what happened to the world in the last ten years. Having been absent for the largest event in human history. I'll tell him about my peculiar situation after getting a better picture overall.