[center][h3][b]Tyler Martin[/b][/h3][/center]
[hr]
An unexpected hissing sound made Tyler jump several step backwards, tripping over the concrete blocks that made up the sidewalk in front of the door. The overgrown jungle that had most likely been a trimmed grass carpet back in the old days cushioned the fall, while his mouth went agape with incredulity. Bashing noises came from inside the building as he straightened up once again. He wasn't sure what could have been. As long as the world rolled, his time alive had taught him to expect the worse out of things so he hesitantly took a few steps forward, Gradually stretching his neck forward, he noticed light reflecting on some flickering yellow eyes.
Feline yellow eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. With all the space nature had reclaimed over the years, it wouldn't have been surprising to find a cougar or some other big, nasty animal in ghost towns like these. The sight of his hometown, of overgrown gardens and ashen remains was extremely desolating, and gave off an unprecised sense of menace.

At his arrival at Eatonville he had been greeted by lonely ruins of burned down buildings. Apparently, for one reason or another, an uncontrolled fire had blazed away the town from the face of earth. For each step he took forward the groves of charred supports had screaked menacingly as if daring him to enter the crumbling structures. Unfortunately for them, he hadn't survived that long to meet a miserable end in some hardly worthwhile scavenging. He had even stopped by the local High-School (it felt somewhat right to), only to quietly walk away a few minutes later as the solar rays heavily pierced through the dilapidated building. In practice, all the city was like that. It seemed that only the furthermost neighborhood had survived the great fire that had engulfed the little town years before. Unsettling as it was, he didn't feel any emotional attachment or empathy to that place. What irony, really. Nobody dared to remind him of what he had left, perhaps in fear of some kind of psychological trauma they were not able to handle. Eventually, he had even forgotten the name of that tiny town he was now walking through. It had taken him three hours of endless wanderings to finally find his former home, which, fortunately, was still in once piece and untouched by the fire. Other than that, Eatonville seemed completely deserted.

However saddening that place could be, returning to his roots seemed like an obligated course. He finally stepped through the frame of the door, hoping to scavenge what little other people hadn't already taken. Which, to his surprise, was more than he had expected. In the pantry there were left a pair of tins containing sardines in oil, hidden in a dark corner, along with two big plastic containers of water. In the bathroom laid three dusted toothbrushes and some toothpaste. No usable medicines, unfortunately, just another pair of patches. In the garage he found several charged batteries, while the kitchen offered no supplies worth carrying where he was going. He stopped. Where was he [i]actually[/i] going? He seriously had no idea. The bike ride to Eatonville had kept him from thinking about it, and neither remaining there or returning to the facility were viable options. 

With those thoughts in mind he opened his parents' bedroom. The checked blankets were still there, the invernal quilt folded on the left corner of the bed, ready to be stored away for the good season. The shutters prevented most light from entering in an otherwise very bright room, so he opened them and examined the surroundings. Two faded faces smiled at him from inside the frames of a photo. He crouched to get closer to the picture, only to notice the presence of an unexpected white bundle carried by his mother. His eyebrows connected together, his mouth quietly humming. He decided to take the photo with him, so he closed the bedroom's door behind him and proceeded to examine the dining room. He couldn't help but notice that by then the cat had grown bold on him. He seemed to quite enjoy the scene with gleeful detachment from his sitting position on the edge of the dining table.

"Shoo, I don't have anything to share". The remark didn't have the desired result. The cat continued to stare intently at him, tail gently waving back and forth under the table. Tyler asked himself if that was a good sign.
"Stupid animal" he uttered, shaking his head. He slouched past him around the room, searching in every closet, under every piece of furniture for anything. One thing in particular catched his attention. Resting on a giant bookshelf there were hundreds of CDs covers. Most interesting of all, though, was a little CD player abandoned under a pile of fallen rubbish (a bundle of blonde haired cartoon action figures with several qualities written on them). He took it from the ground and, being no batteries inside, tried fix it by putting a pair in the empty space. "C'mon buddy, aren't you going to work? I know, 15 years aren't that good on your circuits, but you ought to know I'm a very demanding employer."
The CD player joyfully uttered its answer with a clicking noise. Its only eye, overlying an inscription saying "on/off", flared up to signal its readiness. Tyler raised his forehead at the unexpected surprise, curling his lips in a single-sided smile. 

"F[img]http://i.imgur.com/9P7lQEx.png?1[/img]ing sweet, isn't it, mr kitty? Today's my lucky day, it seems."

He grasped one of the dusty CD covers and drew it closer to his face to discover its contents. "The best of Mozart" there was written in a serpentine cursive. He had never imagined his father would listed to that. Fine taste and all, he appreciated classical music as well, but... actually, he had never given much thought to his father over the past years. The memory of that man he had barely known brought him an unpleasant feeling of loss and melancholy, so he decided to shove it all aside by listening to other kinds of music. After few seconds he settled for an inspiring title. "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" he read out aloud. Tyler took the disk outside the cover and waved it in the general direction of the cat "I heard it once in a film. Whaddya think, catchy enough for your new human friend?" asked, trying to appear playfully threatening by squinting his eyes. Without waiting for an answer he put the disk inside the player and pulled on a pair of earphones, hitting the play button.

The drums began to play and the music immediately flew inside him. He started snapping his fingers at the rhythm. "Nice choice, mr kitty cat". It took him very little to start moving around in what could be considered a dance. As long as the cat was the only one watching, there was no limit to how ridiculous he could behave. It was just too much fun.

For now, it was time to catch breath. Not literally, of course.