Road Trip Chapter 3

It's a little tough to get time to write when sharing a computer with your siblings. Oh well. The wait's over, here's chapter three folks!

The last chapter!

Looking for chapter one? Here you go.

Road Trip:

Chapter 3

Looking back, I suppose I've always been a roamer. Just like Dad, I've always had the desire to just move, whether aimlessly or with a location in mind. One time when I was younger, I remember wandering away from Mom while in a Walmart because I saw a toy on a shelf. It took her longer than it should have to realize I wasn't just uncharacteristically silent and she backtracked till she found me again.

She never was the observant one.

But this is a habit I've had my whole life, and I've never been as acutely aware of it until now, looking at a map of the United States resting on a small folding table while standing outside of the van with the three of them. Aid still had my gun of course, and I could feel the intimidating-yet shorter than I had first assumed-presence of Standoff to my side, taking a defensive posture like she was ready to break my neck at the first opportunity. The only one who was directly facing me was Bolt, who stood at the other side of the map with a disbelieving expression on his face.

"What you're telling me is," he asked again, "That you came from here, and were here when the Old World ended," he pointed towards New York City, "and came all the way here," he moved his finger towards our current location, a town in Ohio known as Richwood. Hadn't heard the name before now, then again, geography was never my strongsuit.

"It looks a lot bigger here then it did on the walk." I shrugged. "It just became routine I guess."

"It's the fact that you walked," he continued, "that surprises me. And it looks like you went through Pennsylvania too, which means you crossed paths with the men from Higgs Field. Am I wrong?"

A shiver went down my mind, I was pretty sure I still had a scar from where they shot me with that harpoon.

"No, I've met them, didn't like it, don't want to ever again." A chuckle was earned from Standoff, but Bolt and Aid just nodded. Standoff was the only one of their group who could take that lightly it seemed.

"What did you even eat?" Bolt asked, but he mostly said this under his breath. I took that as an excuse to not answer it, questions made me uncomfortable and I'd been asked more than a few on that day.

"He looks like he's missed a few meals," Standoff answered for me, grabbing my admittedly rather stringy arms. I tried recoiling, but then gave up rather quickly. Her point had been proven.

"The world's running out of canned goods," I answered grumpily when Standoff finally let go of my arm, "Should have learned to butcher when it was easy." Bolt laughed.

"Well they were lighter times," he cheerfully stated, "where such skills were not required."

"Gotta love how you only need to learn them when it's too late." I deadpanned. He grinned in response to my sarcasm.

"So," he said, "got anywhere you want to go? I mean, you can't have walked all that way for no reason."

I shook my head. "I was just roaming. I've got no plans for the future. Know any shelters where I could go?"

Standoff took the opportunity to speak. "Trust me, we haven't found any that aren't more dangerous than the zeds." Aid seemed bothered, but held her tongue.

"What about the Blue Merchants?" asked Bolt. This earned a skeptical look from Standoff.

"Those guys? You saw the gangs there, that group only had the illusion of control over its guys." Bolt sighed.

"Yeah. Not a lot of safe places left," Aid stated.

"How about we," Bolt started. I caught him turn his eyes towards Standoff, who was mouthing the word 'no' and didn't seem to think I noticed.

"Okay, group meeting," he said instead. "You just... stand right there Brakes." He led the two sisters off behind the van, leaving me too think.

If I was correct, Bolt was about to ask me to stay with them. Standoff, however, seemed intent on vetoing that possibility. She didn't seem to be the trusting sort. Wasn't quite so sure about Bolt, but he at least seemed to be willing to give me a chance. There was no way Aid trusted me though. I saw the look on her face in the car. That would mean two votes against one, right?

Yeah. I was on my own. I sighed when I realized it. And then, I looked up towards the road and saw a few figures roaming up the hill.

Without hesitating, I ran to the other side of the van.

"I don't know, I just-" Standoff cut off her words when she saw me. "The hell are you doing?" She snapped.

"Zeds," I answered. Their eyes widened, but like clockwork they immediately set to work. Aid pulled out a handgun-my handgun. Standoff grabbed her quarterstaff out of the van, and Bolt grabbed a crossbow.

"Sit in the front," Standoff ordered. "You aren't gonna want to be in the front lines without a weapon."

Road Trip Chapter 2

Here's chapter two!

The next chapter!

Looking for chapter one? Here you go.

Road Trip:

Chapter 2

I like to think I'm a bit more observant than this morning proved. Normal people might say this in a, 'Oh I may not be the most observant person in the world, but I like to think I could spot a car,' but I say that differently than most because I am the most observant person in the world. Which doesn't say as much now, but the point still stands, Dad raised me better than that, it was time to reclaim my pride. I started looking around their van.

The first thing I noticed while Standoff and Bolt traded seats, allowing him to drive and her to sulk about him 'controlling,' is that they took my backpack. Where they put it? Probably in the back, the van we were in had a large back made for carrying many items. They took basically all my stuff except the little notepad they let me keep in my right pocket, but they did take the contents of my left pocket and put it in the unnamed girl's lap. Which wouldn't be as much of a problem if those contents weren't a loaded gun. Probably Standoff's suggestion, this other girl didn't seem bloodthirsty enough to think or say, 'I'll shoot him if needed.' Though considering the nervous looks she gave me... it would be best not to try my luck with her.

They clearly had just about ran out of room in the back though, in a few seats behind me there were several jugs filled with water and one filled with gasoline. And on the floorboards around us were a variety of items kept around for their safety, including Standoff's aforementioned 'glorified stick,' which was in fact a long quarterstaff with metal rings around the blood-stained ends. A crossbow sat on the ground next to a quiver as well, but presumably any other weapons were small enough to be kept on their person.

"So what do you go by?" Bolt's voice cut off my train of though, and I started feeling the vehicle move again. I looked at him and thought for a moment. I hadn't told anyone my name in a long while.

"Well," I replied, "my name's-"

"No, no," he interrupted once again, "Names are of the Old World." Standoff rolled her eyes. "What do you go by?" It took me another moment to process that, my brain was running a bit slow after it was slammed against the pavement. But I realized quickly that none of the rest of them went by a name, just a nickname.

"Think of it this way," Bolt explained, "I'm Bolt, I'm the mechanic. I get my name from that. That's Standoff, she's the fighter, took down the Champion of the Higg's Field's Raiders after a two hour tie. Or rather, a standoff." She what? I remembered Higg's Field's Raiders well, as I passed near their base a while back. First and luckily only time I've ever been shot at by a harpoon.

"That's Aid," he continued, motioning towards the girl who was still looking at me like a scared kitten. Cute, but terrified and with claws. "She's the doctor." A silence. "Nothing else really to say about that, as usual Standoff is the most memorable one." He and Aid chuckled. "But what do you go by? You got any title?"

What was I? I had always wanted while growing up to follow in Dad's footsteps, become a private detective and go on exciting adventures. He taught me everything I know about how to watch and pick up details, how to soak info out of a talker, how to catch a runner's trail. But what could I do here? What name could I-

"Brakes." Standoff said. We all looked at her, and she continued. "As a reminder. Besides, he could always change it later."

I chuckled at that. It could act as a reminder for me as well, I needed to keep my wits about me. "All right. Brakes it is." A silence passed before I asked a question. "So what is this about the Old World?"

I could almost hear Bolt grin. "Well, you see-"

"It's some bullshit he keeps saying," interrupted Standoff, who seemed to make a habit out of doing exactly that. "About how the Old World is dead, and we live in the New world now."

Bolt simply glared at her. "I thought you weren't listening all those times I explained this."

"No, just not caring." He sputtered at that comment.

"Not caring?" he hissed, but then sighed. "Well of course you weren't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped back.

As they continued bickering, I looked towards Aid. She had her lips pursed together in an annoyed but resigned expression.

"They do this often?" I asked. She simply sighed and nodded, and after a short silence between us I threw out another question.

"How do you feel? About the whole, 'Old World,' thing." She looked down and bore a thoughtful expression before responding.

"I... it's a simple fact that the world I grew up in is dead. But... Bolt goes really far with this concept. My name is all I have from the Old World because it's the one Mom gave me. So... Judith. That's my real name."

I smiled upon hearing that, but not because I knew her name. Because that look of worry on her face was gone. She seemed like the sort who was only comfortable when talking, not when listening. Not wanting someone who was scared of me to be responsible for keeping me in check with a gun, I asked another question.

"So... you're Standoff's what, cousin? Sister?" She looked shocked that I guessed this so easily. I never would have guessed if I hadn't seen them though, they acted completely different but looked almost the same. Wordlessly, she nodded. Shit, she was worried again. And now that I knew she was Standoff's sister...

Well I had a funny feeling Standoff was scarier with her bare hands than anyone with a gun could ever hope to be. So I resigned myself to closing my mouth and listening to their bickering for another hour.

Me Today, AKA An Apology For Being Slow

Hello there all zero people who read this blog!

...I legitimately don't know why I have this blog. At first, I thought of my geography books. All of those are about people who went on journeys through other countries, and they had fantastic stories to tell about those experiences. Turns out? I'm only good at reporting experiences I've made up. Thus is the curse of being a fiction writer I guess. I have a sparse few experiences that I can vividly remember long enough to write down and record on a blog.

I guess I should give some status report though. The rest of the family is here now, and they have been for several weeks. The roof is complete and a porch is underway.

So what next? Well, I like writing. I write a lot of crap I never share simply because... like who do I have to share it with? I have a lot of worlds I've created in my head, and a lot of characters with their own journeys, and their own experiences-and those are so much easier to record.

I guess the original intention of this blog was kinda short sighted, and it hasn't taken me long to find that out. I'm not good at reporting life experiences, and I am a bit too private to give a lot of life details. This would not make a good blog, as you can guess. So... yeah.

I am working on Roadtrip, because one person said they liked it and that's enough for me to keep making it. After all, I'm used to an audience of me myself and I. So you'll see that soon enough, whoever you are.

I am curious though to how many people actual check out this blog frequently... so if you do come here often, I'd appreciate a comment on this post. I'm kinda new to this after all; I have no idea what most of these statistics mean. So say hi in the comments please, all zero readers!

Road Trip: A Short Story

I was feeling creative this morning, and I decided to write something. Please enjoy the writing that was fueled by caffeine and too much Cataclysm DDA.

Content warning: not really violent, but contains some intense language.

No longer just one chapter! Read the second one here.

Road Trip

In the zombie apocalypse, you expect things to change a little more than they have for me. I'm still alone, I'm still just scraping by, I'm still avoiding conflict wherever I see it, and most of all, I'm still terribly unlucky. I don't think I can fully express how unlucky I am without telling you a little story about what happened this morning.

So there I was. I just got out of the abandoned house I camped in for the night. I find it fun to look through these buildings now and then, just to get an idea of what life was like those three years ago. I can barely remember myself. But you can judge a lot about what the owner's lives were like from their homes and possessions. They had some jewish bibles and a menorah, so they were jewish, though a christian bible was hidden under the bed of the oldest son. There was a husband and wife, and three kids, at most two alive because one was hungry for my blood. They had a lot of empty shelves without a lot of dust on them, which had to have meant they had lived here recently, slowly taking food out of a stockpile. Big stockpiles of food might mean that they were the survivalist sort, the kind that preps for the breakdown of society. It seemed silly then, but of course foresight always looks silly until the dead rise. Nothing can look silly after that.

I got out of the house and listened, looking about. I wanted to loot the house across the street, maybe see if there was food in there. You can only last so long on grocery store jerky. But as I was walking across the road, I stopped when I heard a familiar noise, one that I hadn't heard in so long. So long, in fact, that it took me a minute to realize what it was, and the horrible mistake I had made.

It was a car. And just over the blind hill to my right, it came over.

I was hit by the last car in the zombie apocalypse.

Which leaves me where I am now. I woke up in the vehicle, several bandages wrapped around my chest and head. My vision was fuzzy and vague, and I could barely make out some voices.

"Would you cut me some slack already?" The first voice snapped. It came from the front seats, and although it was a girl's voice it was still one of the roughest one's I've heard. "Society as we know it has ended, order is dead, and you expect me to perfectly follow traffic laws?"

The second voice was heard, an exasperated male. "Yes! Yes I do because they aren't there for no reason, they're there for safety. Next time it might not be a guy, it could be a truck, or a hoard of walkers, or-"

"Yes, yes," the first voice interrupted, "You say the same thing every time Bolt. 'Be careful Standoff. Don't get carried away Standoff. You're just slowing us down Standoff.'" Her voice became grating, like a weakness that had long been guarded had just been unveiled.

"Uh... guys?" An unexpected third voice said from the seat right next to me. Her voice was softer and less defensive, and sounded worried. I turned my head towards it, and my eyes opened enough to see a young woman with black hair look at me with anxious green eyes. She looked very young, young enough that she might not have even been an adult when this mess started.

The first voice, who was apparently called Standoff, kept going. "Well you know what? I've had it Bolt. I've fucking had it. I'm done with you telling me what you do, I'm done with you're bitching, I'm done with you thinking that you're in charge because you 'own the van.' How much do you think that matters when-"

"It matters a lot!" Bolt broke in, his temper reaching its peak. "You think that you could keep this car repaired? You know jack about mechanics Standoff, so don't pretend that I'm not keeping this charade together."

"Look guys this is really important-" It wasn't long before the unnamed third voice was ended by Standoff's attitude.

"Oh you keep this group together now huh? So are you the one who fights off zeds with nothing but a glorified stick? Are you the one who butchers our catches?"

I realized it would be a while before anyone other than the girl sitting next to me realized I was awake. I tried pulling myself upright into a more comfortable position, but immediately collapsed and let out a groan of pain. That car did me more damage than I thought.

And then I noticed the silence. Seems like they heard me.

"Uh..." Words escaped me in this situation. What was there even to say? I felt a sudden stop as the car was pulled over, and both Standoff and Bolt turned around and looked straight at me. I could feel the unnamed third girl's eyes drilling into my skull as well.

Standoff looked much like the unnamed girl. They had the same black hair, but Standoff's was less curly and pulled back in a ponytail. She seemed older than the others, and had a tired look to her, the kind you have when you've been under a lot of stress for a long time.

Bolt was a spindly man, didn't look too tough. He had a bunch of stubble on his face and looked ragged as well, but not quite as much as Standoff. His hair was a frazzled mess, looking like he either didn't have the supplies to care for it or didn't care enough to.

"So..." I started awkwardly. "It turns out that even in the apocalypse, you still need to look both ways."

They both shared a look.

And then I heard laughter.

It mostly came from Bolt and the unnamed girl, but I noticed even Standoff was repressing a giggle behind her face palm.

It turns out that some things do change, because in that moment, I knew I wasn't alone anymore.

Today's ending is another's beginning.

So that's what I wrote. I had fun writing it, and I hope you had fun reading it! If anyone at all like it even slightly, I'll probably write more, so hang onto your hats folks.

Building a House, AKA Why I Need To Lift More Weights

So here I am, sitting on a picnic chair, sleeping in a truck that's older than me each night and building a house with Dad. Yeah let us pretend for five seconds that I'm doing much.

Here's a story for you: A while ago, Mom recognized that she was overweight and worked to fix this. She is now an example for hard workers everywhere because over two years later, last time I checked, she has lost over fifty pounds and can lift over two hundred pounds. Meanwhile, I'm having trouble lifting two by fours.

...as a general rule, Mom was right, I need to life weights.

So how is the house coming along, you may be asking my audience of probably, like, three people. Well, first we put down the pylons. The house rests on those, and wooden posts built off of those hold up the floor, and earlier today we placed the final wall. Now they aren't complete walls, just boards that plywood can be tacked onto. But they're up. Honestly, I thought getting those walls up would kill me, holding those up is a nerve-wracking job for somebody who isn't pumped full of anxiety. But I live!

...I mean, my arms are still tired, but I guess that counts as living.

In other news, this is something that happened that isn't worth it's own post. On our way into town, we saw a work truck pulled over at the intersection where our road meets the main one. Upon further inspection, the stop sign that normally stands there was completely flattened, and the top of it was several feet away in the ditch. It appears that somebody hit it squarely while going way, way to fast.

Somebody did not stop xD

What's Happening now?

So what's going on right now? Well to cut a long story short, we got in a pretty confusing situation with our hotel, and we have to leave tomorrow. So what's next? I'm probably gonna be living on the property even though there aren't any building's, we'll set up some tents and live there.

The big thing about that is that we might not be in a situation where I can even come on for a status update, which means that starting tomorrow I'm most likely going to be inactive for a bit, though something might change between now and then.

That's the situation! Expect to hear more about this soon, but for now, I'll see you when this is through.

Eleven Days Later

On the night of December 13th, 2017, I landed in Hawaii with my Dad and Little Bro. Eleven days later, I have started what I said I'd do at the beginning and finally started this blog.

So! Over the course of this blogs existence, expect the following:
Me talking about whatever crap's on my mind.
Me talking about how cool I think Hawaii is.
A large quantity of random conversation excerpts from this household.
And maybe in the future self written web-fictions that I plan on making.

Who knows! Have never had a blog before, so who knows where this will go.

So what's happened over the eleven days already? Well I'm not an expert at putting my thoughts into words, but I've prepared a post already that you'll see very soon. Soon enough you'll see more than that.

Anyways, that's that! Welcome to My Culture Shock Journal! Ask me anything in the comments if you want to, the odds of fifty+ people asking is low, so I should be able to answer a great many of them.