4-26-3192

I never really thought I would ever recognize a friendly familiar face from the past. When it was starting to feel like Swift and I were the only people left alive, he came upon us. It was like a demon from the sky. When I woke up, I found him sitting across from where I lay taking a look at the guns. He was impressed, and without even looking at me he said, “I know there’s no way in hell that you are able to keep a gun in such good shape. What’s the name of that one?” He pointed towards Swift who was still taking a nap with the gun, in the most nonthreatening way that he could manage. I wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was real or not. Could this really be Greg?

He laughed and made a remark of the confusion on my face. He must be real.

I moved to wake Swift up and asked him if he could see a guy. He looked at me groggily and slightly annoyed  and told me that I was still a girl, and haven’t really changed since he fell asleep only a couple of minutes ago. I pointed across from us. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

We all sat around the fire, we were too tired to move on in any direction because our naps ere cut short. I’ve missed Greg. It’s been a really long time since I saw him. I asked him if he had come across any people, any living people and he said no. It’s not like we ever liked people to begin with anyways. He handed me a bottle of rum claiming that it was for my birthday. Nobody ever knows their birthday in the Wasteland. We just assume that the cooling is the end of the year and we just add on to the last age we remember being. It’s only warming.

I sat down and took a look at the bottle and then back at him. I reached into my pockets and threw a large handful of caps in his direction. This should cover the cost of mine and let him get something for himself. I guess this was my present to him. I passed the bottle around the campfire and all three of us were amazed at how strong the drink was. Swift took a sip and his face lit up. It makes things less bland.

In the morning we gathered our things and parted ways with Greg, I held on to him for a little wishing that maybe sometime soon, we would meet again. And then I let go of the only man I have ever loved.

It’s not the time to get attached.

We came across a town and LO AND BEHOLD. I could hear their annoying voices chatter. I instantly regretted the fact that we have actually came across civilization, it was good when it was just down to us three. Rabies was slightly more vicious around all of these people. He felt the same way I did. I didn’t know what came over me but I quickly found a place to hang out for a little while after buying around a dozen bottles of a wide variety of drinks. I think that more people I’m around, the less I want to be around them.

Intoxication doesn’t come easy with these cheap useless drinks though. Every single minute makes me question hy I even worried or wondered about where the rest of humanity went.

I don’t think I could say much for humanity. If I could even associate myself with those arrogant assholes. I used to hear a bunch of different stories over the years, told on the outskirts of towns by the old to the young. People sound as though they were saints back then. Giving these children false hopes about what is really out there in the world. I wish I stayed in one place long enough to see the look on their faces when they finally realize that what they see, is exactly what they get. It would have been a good laugh, but I have better things to do. Actually I don’t, but I care even less.

I didn’t get plastered like I wanted to be, but I do think that the drinks had some Dreamer in them. I can feel it. Maybe I do like the people that sold me this shit.

4-17-3192

Today is a new day; a clean slate, but my paranoia of Swift still lingers.

Everytime I look at him, my stomach clenches, and almost makes me want to vomit…. He better do something quick to make me trust him again, or I’m going to excavate his face with my rifle….

———————————-

About two hours ago,  we saw a couple beast-cats roughly 270 feet ahead of us in the badlands, feasting on one of their fallen, and that made me realize that we’re running low on food. So I unwillingly asked Swift if I should “Go for it”, while pointing to my rifle, then at the beast-cats, then the empty food satchel hanging over my shoulder. “Do whatever the hell you feel like!”, he replied.

———————————-

I was thinking in the back of my head “Bad choice of words”, and then sitting back and watching the violent cartoon playing on the screen in the back of my skull; the one where I twisted my hunting knife into his sternum, and was sprayed with blood spatter…. That was fun, but the show’s over; back to reality, I guess.

———————————-

I raised my rifles’ sights up to my left eye, and aimed about a foot above the first beast-cat, in order to compensate the bullet drop…. I pulled the trigger, and suddenly a strong wind hit me like a foot in the side, knocking my aim off.  The bullet hit the beast-cat, but not in the heart like I wanted, but the right hind leg, giving it a nasty, bleeding limp. I aimed for it’s cannibalistic friend, and quickly pulled the trigger; the gun jammed….

I cursed it to hell and back, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it until I almost bent the barrel… Swift stopped me and said, “What the fuck are you doing?!” I yelled at him saying, “THIS PIECE OF SHIT COST US TWO WEEKS WORTH OF SUSTENANCE!”

Swift kicked my foot out from underneath me, and off of the gun. “A gun is like a fine wine; If you take care of it, it’ll age well.” I didn’t know what the fuck he meant….. But he picked it up off of the dirt, and pulled out a rolled-up towel from his pack and unraveled it on the ground and proceeded to take apart my gun. He took apart that gun as if it was a family heirloom; so fast and carefully….. I guess that’s why they call him “Swift”….. And he had a twinkle in his eye while doing it, like what I imagine a child on their birthday to look like….

———————————-

It took him 10 minutes to clear the jam, clean, and oil the whole gun…. Holy shit, he’s fast…. But I realized that he’s not as bad and heartless as I thought he was. If he cares this much about a gun, he surely must care about other people…. I gave him a tight hug.

“You’re welcome, now let’s go see where that wounded beast-cat limped off to,” Swift said.

I obliged.

Don’t know what’s going on? Catch up and be a cool-kid: CLICK ME!

4-3-3192

After I woke up I ended up staring at the ceiling for a pretty long time. I was shocked. I wasn’t even sure if I was dreaming. I wasn’t even sure if I had woken up. Either way, I pulled out the body of a young boy. The same young boy that had been following me. He had nothing but lint in his pockets. And a matchbook in his mouth, H.C. I pocketed it. I keep seeing it, and it looks more familiar as though each time I look at it I remember something that I just can’t manage to bring into my working memory for over a second.

He was staring straight at me. I couldn’t recall him being there from before, but he sat there as if he had never even moved. The blank empty look in his glassy eyes told me it was safe to go search him. Nothing in his pockets, but burnt out matches were poking out of his mouth. He looked like a trash bin. Degraded. Like the bodies in the Wasteland usually are. The building I thought was empty was littered with dead bodies. Dead bodies that sat around their apartments like they were still alive. Each one looking like the human bin. Looking like a human bin.   Swift was a bit more surprised when he saw them, he also noticed a faint sweet smokey smell coming from their clothing. It wasn’t enough to cover the putrid smell of rotting flesh.

It was still dark outside but I decided that it was time to leave. There was no place here where I could feel safe. Not with all those eyes watching me. Not with dead people that can move. Once we were outside, the wind took this delicate moment to ravish us with it’s nighttime chills. Needless to say, at times like these, sleep is for those who need it.

The sun rises and it sets. Still hasn’t decided to call a day off. The Wasteland is illuminated by the light. The light that highlights everything that makes this world dead. As dead as dreams can be.

Paranoia began to consume me. Swift’s every move is beginning to look very suspicious. With every hour I went with out sleep, the faster my mind started to think. I kept silent. I couldn’t let him hear what I was thinking.

I tried clearing my mind. What if my thoughts were being read? And then I collapsed.

I woke up in the shade, which I thought was nearly impossible considering the location we were in the last time I could remember. Nothing was in sight except for despair. Everything was blurry, but I was able to make out the little bit of food that was being handed towards me. I didn’t think twice about consuming, I was surprised I even had enough energy to reach out. I haven’t eaten in so long. I didn’t even realize.

Swift didn’t look as shifty as before. But maybe it was my mind trying to play tricks on me. He offered me some water. I took it only after he drank from it. I wasn’t going to let myself get poisoned. I’m not going to end up like his friends.

I recognized the music in the background just before it was turned off. My dad always used to listen to things before. I just can’t remember when he found the time to listen to them. I recognized the harmony or voices that crackled. Crob Bosby and the Nobfats?

I think I actually smiled.

Catch up if you have no clue.