Free A Different Alchemy by Chris Dietzel

of cataloging gear would have been assigned to one man to supervise and to four others to perform, and would have lasted two weeks. Everything had been so extraordinarily and unnecessarily complex back then.
    No one even cared about maintaining the barracks; everyone had vacant houses to choose from. Even people who had been homeless before the Great De-evolution now had a place to call their own. One of the few feel-good stories on the news from the previous month showed a man who had been living on the streets for forty years, now in his sixties, moving into the abandoned mansion of the Eagles’ star wide-receiver. Of course, the same station reported three days later that the man burned the mansion to the ground before disappearing in the night. Such was the world.
     
    **
     
    The tank continued north along the beach. He passed signs for places he had heard of but never been to, places like Long Branch, Sea Girt, Spring Lake, Shrewsbury, Avon-by-the-Sea. When he passed a sign for Loch Arbour, he thought back to a girl he had known in college who had grown up there. Sarah was her name. Or Stephanie. Something with an ‘S’. It was a long time ago—before he married Katherine, before Galen was born. A different lifetime. The girl, whatever her name had been, had dated Jeffrey’s best friend in college until, both of them drunk at a party one night, his roommate punched the girl right on her mouth in front of everyone. Jeffrey had leapt over Katherine’s chair and, with one swing, broken his roommate’s nose. When news of the fight made its way back to the school administrators, Jeffrey had actually been forced to attend two weeks of anger management classes, proof that the world’s priorities had been jumbled even before the Great De-evolution. Jeffrey and his old roommate never spoke again.
    At Monmouth Beach he pulled over, filled the tank with gas, making sure the reserve canisters were also full in case he got stuck too far away from the next functioning gas station. It wasn’t until then that he thought about what other supplies he might need. All he had with him were the clothes he was wearing and the tank. He had no toothbrush, no other pairs of pants or t-shirts, no extra socks or underwear. Not even a roll of toilet paper. These were things he was going to need if he was serious about making his own way.
    He left the tank outside Granson’s Seafood Buffet before wandering away from the main strip to find a hardware store. The place he came across was the size of an ice cream shop, with nothing more technical than hammers and screwdrivers. He took a couple of simple tools, put them in a duffle bag, and looked for whatever else he might need. He took a container of industrial cleaner and some clean rags. Behind the counter he found a stack of blankets and took two of those as well.
    A dog was sniffing at the tank’s tread when he went back outside. He saw two possible outcomes: either the animal would want his companionship and follow him around, or it would be wild and attack him. But neither of these things happened. When it saw Jeffrey, the dog merely turned, walked away, and disappeared.
    He put the tools in the tank before walking in the opposite direction to find personal hygiene supplies. He expected to find someone in the stores he went past, but each one was empty and quiet. Not a single person watched him from a store window or met him in the street. There was a drug store at the end of the next block. Other than the dog, there wasn’t a sign of life in the little town.
    Compared to the hardware shop, the drug store was picked over. The batteries were all gone. The packs of rubber bands were even gone, although he could think of no reason for someone to have hoarded them. Even the condoms were gone. At least whoever headed south was being responsible. He picked up a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. Almost all of the soap was still there. Whoever took the condoms and rubber bands was going to