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The sun rose, and light reflected off the snow in the Canadian Rockies. Jericho created another fire and collapsed to the wet ground, wrapping himself inside of two blankets he took from the downed plane. He was exhausted and hungry, but exhaustion won out. The light was too harsh for his damaged eyes, even closed, so he wrapped the blanket over his head.
Jericho took three deep breaths and, for the first time since leaving home and strapping himself into a business class seat on an Air Alaska flight, he fell asleep.
Jericho didn't dream. Ever. Sleep for him was an ocean of calming darkness where his mind went silent. No thoughts, no emotions, no worries. Jericho always hoped when he finally did meet his great samurai end, this was what waited for him in the next world. The serene grip of sweet oblivion.
Someday.
But not today.
Jericho sprung up and pulled the covers off his head. The sun had set and the bonfire he built hours earlier went cold. As did the woods. The warm day subsided into an arctic evening. Jericho grabbed the coffeepot he put out hours earlier and drank.
Before falling asleep, he packed snow into the pot and let it come to boil on the fire. Boiling the snow not only melted it down, but also cleared away any impurities. Now the water was clean and cold. He chugged the pot, hoping to fill his empty stomach so his hunger would mellow.
Jericho kept tracking south, or at least he hoped it was south. After all this, whether or not he was on the right path wasn’t clear anymore. The last flare burnt out, but the moon reflecting off of the snow gave him more light than he expected. It wasn't perfect, but this entire trip was far from perfect.
After walking for a few hours, at around 8:30 at night, Jericho approached a clearing. A good half-mile of open space. He got excited, hoping a town or something might be nearby. Regardless, he kept a steady, even pace as he walked through the clearing. He needed to be careful not catch a—
CLIK
Jericho turned the torch down to see what his foot stepped on. To his surprise, a set of train tracks ran just underneath his feet. He saw a long stretch of track running from east to west, cutting the space in half. The site of the tracks, which were probably laid about one-hundred-fifty years ago, excited him.
Of course, there was no guarantee these tracks meant he was any closer to society. Who knows where they even went? Or if they were still in use? Even if they were, it could be days, or weeks, before a freight train rolled through. He could always follow them and see where they led.
Jericho looked from the east to the west. From both ends, the tracks stretched into the darkness. Maybe they went back into the mountains or spread over a ravine. There was no promise that following them meant finding his way out any sooner. Following them might be a bad idea.
South was still the path. He had no real reason to go off course. Then again, he didn't have a reason to believe he was on the right one to begin with. Jericho stepped over the tracks and headed back into the woods, away from the clearing.
A big part of survival is trusting your instincts, and his told him to stay south.