The Ride

I write this journal for whoever finds it. A written codex of my thought's, observations, and irritations. My own chronicle of the days after something flicked a switch, and sent the remnant's of humanity hurtling into a bleak, desolate future. I am now safe, or as safe as one can be in a world slowly losing it's war against the forces of death. Secure deep in the cusp of a valley that allowed one Rebel soldier to hold off a company of Union troops during the War of Northern Aggression. Stockpiled adequately for fire & forage. Power provided for through Solar & water turbine. A veritable fort. Thank God for those right wing nutjob's.
Survival isn't something you can learn. It's not a trait you can developed in book's, movies, or television. Nor is it a product of intense study. Survival is a byproduct of several chaotic elements that intersect at random. Survival is comprised of about 10% blind luck. 30% location, and 70% sheer stupidity. Most people do enough dumb thing's in those first moment's when it hits them, that karma must start smiling on those of us who do make it.
Those first moment's after the change I never really witnessed. Secured as I was within the back of a midnight blue cargo van, traveling north on Rt. 119 into the backwoods of Logan,WV. I'd taken a last minute position on a no-budget film crew. With a masterplan I'd revised so many times, that I'd lost count, and an ever shortening bank account.
I had hoped to forge a new world for myself, through strength of willpower alone. It didn't seem to work out that way....I guess some might say it actually did. My large 300+ frame was nestled comfortably in the back amongst lighting trusses, the odd make-up case, and a flat spare tire. I'd been deadheading home for the last three-hundred miles or so, since my own Jeep broke down, somewhere outside the Virginia state line. Trapped with two stoner's, and hauled as cargo is an interesting way to hitch a ride home.

As Andrew Slate drove & Juan Mundez rode shotgun, we negotiated the last round of toke trials, when the radio crackled to life in a burst of static.
"There is an epidemic of mass murder being committed by a virtual army of unidentified assassins. The murders are taking place in villages, cities, rural homes, and suburbs with no apparent pattern or reason for the slayings. It seems to be an explosion of mass homicide."
That first WTF moment, coiled with the choking, of acrid smoke,
left me puking in the floor of the truck. "Did I just hear that?"
I asked the driver Andrew. A young man, Andrew was a born & bred mountain boy, A nondescrepit beard reminiscient of Grizzly Adams adorned his chubby face. His medium build, shook violently as his body bounced from the Van's less than adequate suspension. Turning his head, he spit tobacco juice into the trash strewn center console, and turned the sound up. Juan Mundez
franticly pointed out the windshield while passing the torch back
towards me.. "Traffic's backed up on the fourlane Chief.
I snared the prize, and glanced up, to face a line of car's longer than any I had ever seen. It stretched clear to the next mountainline. A distance of more than a couple miles.
The radio crackled back from static once again.
"Brock, I'm on location with Father Savini who's recently transferred to our local parish. Father can you tell us what you've witnessed.?"
"My child, The unburied dead are coming back to life and seeking human victims." The shock on the reporters face was evident from the pause in her voice, Silence in media was golden humor for those in the game. The reporter's voice caught as she spoke once again. "Father Savini, Do you really expect our listener's in Logan to believe the bodies of the recently deceased are returning to life to feed on the living.?" Father Savini's accent
seemed to deepen as he spoke, the weight of a world apparent in his tone of voice. "It is the end of times." The ratcheting of a shotgun's slide was the last sound audible as static overtook the Van's underpowered speakers.

I glanced around to each of my traveling companions as I raised the small ember into view.
"That's some good shit."