03-08-2024

Eclipse day today

We had the total with just a very small ring, and it became cold as hell, went very dark and when the light came back a few minutes later it was like a flare going off. Pretty cool, check out the video: https://www.facebook.com/amber.smithnorton/videos/1158032788889359/?comment_id=960302808821076&notif_id=1712608856489662

Here is a free second episode of America the Dead! Enjoy, and be glad no zombies popped out of the ground during the total eclipse!

EARTH’S SURVIVOR’S AMERICA the DEAD: BOOK ONE

Based on the series by W. G. Sweet

Episode 2

PUBLISHED BY

Writerz.net Publishing

AMERICA the DEAD: BOOK ONE

Copyright © 2013 all rights reserved.

Writers: W.W. Watson, Geo Dell, W.G. Sweet, G.D. Smitty

This book, in this blog format, is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please point them to this blog entry. Thank you for respecting the hard
work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or
incidents depicted are products of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to
actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2013 Writerz.net No part
of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any
other means and, or distributed without the authors permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in
reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

EARTH’S SURVIVOR’S – AMERICA the DEAD: BOOK ONE

CHAPTER ONE

(Continued)

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

March 1^st ~ Katie Lee

The traffic leaving the parking lot had slowed to a
trickle. The lot nearly empty. The live shows were over. The bands packed up
and gone. The dancers gone before or at the same time. The club was empty
except Jimmy, the club boss, Don the main door security, and me.

“Why are you still here, Honey,” Jimmy asked as he came up
to the bar. He was on his way back from the parking lot. It was a short trip
across the parking lot to the bank night deposit on the lot next door.

“I had an idea that Harry would be by tonight… He wanted
to talk to me,” I shrugged. Harry was a Bookie, at least on the surface. Off
the surface, or maybe it would be truer to say under the surface, Harry
controlled most of the organized crime north of New York. Jimmy… Jimmy
managed the club, among other things, but the best description for Jimmy was to
say Jimmy solved problems for Harry.

“Wants to talk you into staying here… That’s about all,”
Jimmy said.

I turned away and pretended to check my face in the
mirrored wall behind the bar. I wanted to Dance. I had suggested to Harry,
through Jimmy, that maybe it was time for me to move on if there wasn’t any
hope of me dancing. “Anyway. I ended up tending bar. So…”

“So it’s not dancing.” He dug one hand into his pocket and
pulled out a thick wad of bills. He peeled two hundreds from the roll and
pushed them into my hand, folding his hand over my own and closing it when I
started to protest.

But,” I started.

“But nothing. We did a lot in bar sales. You and I both
know it was because of you…” he smiled, let go of my hand and stepped back.
“It was me, not Harry,” he said

I fixed my eyes on him. I knew what he might be about to
say but I wanted to be sure.

He sighed. “It was me that put the stop to your dancing…
You’re too goddamn good for dancing, Honey. And once you start?” He barked a
short, derisive laugh. “The law thing? … Right out the window… what’s a cop
make anyway… In this town… maybe thirty or forty a year?” He settled onto
one of the stools that lined the bar, tossed his hat onto the bar top, and
patted the stool next to him. He continued talking.

“So, thirty, maybe forty, and what’s a dancer make? I can
tell you there are dancers here who make better than one fifty a year… And
that’s what I pay them, that’s not the side stuff or tips.” He moved one large
hand, fished around behind the bar and came up with a bottle of chilled Vodka
from the rack that held it just below eye level. He squinted at the label.
“Cherry Surprise,” he questioned in a voice low enough to maybe be just for
himself. “This shit any good, Honey?”

“It’s not bad,” I told him. I leaned over the bar and
snagged two clean glasses when he asked me, setting them on the bar top. He
poured us both about three shots worth.

“Jesus, Jimmy.”

He laughed. “Which is why I don’t make drinks.. It’d break
me.” He sipped at his glass, made a face, but sipped again. I took a small sip
of my own drink and settled back onto the bar stool.

“So, I said to myself… Smart… Beautiful… Talented…
And you have that something about you that makes men look the second time. You
know?” He took another small sip. “Man sees a woman walking down the street, or
across a crowded dance floor, beautiful or not he looks. That look might be
short or it might be long. Depends on the woman. Then he looks away… Does he
look back? Not usually. But with you he does. There are women men look at that
second time… For whatever reason., and you’re one of them. I looked a second
time, and then I really looked, for a third time. And I’ve seen a lot. That
tattoo makes men and women look again.” His eyes fell on the tattoo that
started on the back of my left hand, ran up my arm, across my breasts and then
snaked back down over my belly and beyond. I knew it was provocative, that was
the rebellious part of me. I had no better explanation for why I had sat, lain,
through five months of weekly ink work to get it done.

Jimmy rubbed one huge open palm across the stubble of his
cheeks. “Jesus do I need a shave…” He took a large drink from his glass. “It
wasn’t the tattoo. It caught my eye, but that wasn’t what made me look that
third time…”

“Katie, I took a third look because I saw a young woman
that doesn’t need to have anything to do with this world. You’re too goddamn
smart, talented for this. So I said no. I let you dance a few times but I
didn’t want you to fall into it. I made the decision that you should tend bar instead
of dance.” He tossed off the glass.

“I see that,” I told him. Although I didn’t completely see
it. He was reading a lot about what he thought, what he saw, into who I really
was.

“Yeah? I don’t think so, Honey. And that’s a reason right
there. Honey… Like
a treat… When did it become okay for anyone to call you that? Because I
remember a few months back when you started hanging around… It was Katie and
pity the dumb bastard who didn’t understand that. Now it’s Honey to any Tom,
Dick or Harry that comes along.” He saw the hurt look in my eyes. Reached below
the bar, snagged the bottle, topped off his glass, I shook my head, covered the
top of my glass with my hand and smiled. He put the bottle back and continued.

“I’m not trying to hurt you only keep you on track. I’m
giving you the keys. You drive. All I’m saying is set your ground rules. Make
them rigid. Don’t let anyone… Me… Harry… These boys that work here…
Customers… Don’t let anyone cross those lines… You see, Katie?”

I nodded.

“Yeah? Then why not call me on calling you Honey? I’ve done it since we sat
down… Why not start there?”

“Well… I mean, you’re the boss, Jimmy.”

“Which is why you start there. I don’t allow anyone to talk
anyway to anyone that doesn’t want that… Let me explain that… You got girls
that work the streets. You don’t see it so much here, it’s a small city, but it
happens. I spent a few years on the streets in New York as a kid. Happens all
the time there.” He sipped at his drink. I took a sip of my own drink and
raised my brows at what he had said.

“Yeah? Don’t believe it? It’s true. I fought my way up. I
have respect because I earned it…” He waved one hand. “Don’t let me get off
track…” He smiled and took another sip from his glass. “So, I’ve seen girls on
the streets… Whores… It is what it is. Would you hear me say that to them?
Maybe you would… Maybe you wouldn’t… If a woman sees herself as a whore…
If that’s all it is… What it is… Then who am I to say different… Do you
see? It’s a living, or it’s a life… There is a difference. Now back to you.
You want to dance. Some of these girls,” he waved one meaty hand at the empty
stage area, “work the other side… Some of them do that for me, some do it on
their own… Some don’t,” he sighed. “Either way you would not see me treat
them any other way than what they want to be treated. I mean that if you
believe you are a whore and that is what you see then that is what you show the
world, and that is how the world sees you… Treats you,” he settled his eyes
on me.

I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice. I had been down this
road on my own. What did it say about me? That it only mattered that I made it?
That money mattered more than anything else? Would I be swayed by the money?
Was I even being honest with myself about my motivations? I really didn’t know.
I knew what I told myself on a daily basis… That I wanted to follow my Father
into law enforcement but was it whimsical like so many other things in my life
that I never followed through on?

“You are not just a dancer… There is a part of you that
is… A part of you that likes the way a man looks at you… Likes the money…
But there is another part that is the private you… The real you. You need to
keep those distinctions.” He rubbed at his eyes, tossed off the rest of his
drink and rose from the bar stool. “Let me drop you home, Honey,” he asked?

I stood, leaving my mostly full drink sitting on the bar
top. “I have my car,” I told him.

“It’s late… Creeps around maybe.”

“Jimmy. Every creep in my neighborhood knows I work
here… For you. Guys
stopped talking to me, let alone the creeps.” I laughed but it wasn’t really
all that funny. It had scared me when I realized who Jimmy was. Who Jimmy
worked for. In effect, who I worked for… Another questionable thing?
Probably.

Jimmy nodded. “Smart creeps. There’s a lot of woods up
north. Easy to lose yourself with or without a little help.” He looked at his
watch and then fixed his eyes on me once more. “So you keep your perspective.
Set your limits. Draw your lines,” he spoke as he shrugged into his coat,
retrieved his hat from the bar top and planted it on his head, “Don’t let
nobody cross those lines… You start next week… Let’s say the eleventh?”

I nodded.

“Take the balance of the time off… By the time the
eleventh comes around you should be ready for a whole new world. A whole new
life.” He stood looking down at me for a second. “The big talk I guess. For
what it’s worth I don’t say those things often, Honey.”

I nodded. “I believe that… And, Jimmy?”

He looked down at me. He knew what was coming. He expected
it and that was the only reason I was going to say it. I knew better than to
correct Jimmy V. There were a
lot of woods up north. They did go
on forever and they probably did hold a lot of lost people. I may be slow but
I’m far from stupid.

“Please don’t call me Honey,” I told him.

He smiled. “Don’t be so goddamn nice about it… Don’t call
me Honey,” he rasped, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Look ’em right in the
eye… Don’t call me Honey… Put a little attitude in your look.. A little I
can fuckin’ snap at any minute, attitude… Let me see that.”

I Put my best street face on. The one I had used growing up
on the streets in New York. I knew that I can snap at any minute look. I’d used
it many times. “Don’t call me Honey,” I told him in a voice that was not my
own. My street voice, “Just don’t do it.”

“Goddamn right, Doll,” Jimmy told me. “Goddamn right…
Scared me a little there… That’s that street wise part of you.” He took my
head in both massive hands, bent and kissed the top of my head, “I will see you
on the eleventh,” he told me.

I nodded. I let the Doll remark go.

I followed Jimmy out the back door past Don who nodded at
me and winked. Don was an asshole. Always hitting on us when Jimmy wasn’t
around. But Jimmy was his uncle. I was employing my best selective perception
when I smiled at him. I wondered if I would ever get used to him. Probably not,
I decided, but maybe that would be a good thing. Of course it didn’t matter. I
never saw Don again. Or jimmy. Or anyone else from that life.

I said goodbye to Jimmy V. Crossed the parking lot for the
last

time and drove myself home. I parked my rusted out Toyota
behind my Grandparents house and twenty four hours later my world, everybody’s
world, was completely changed…

Katie March 2nd

This is not a diary. I have never kept a diary. They say
never say never, but I doubt I will. I have never been this scared. The whole
world is messed up. Is it ending? I don’t know but it seems like it’s ending
here. Earthquakes, explosions. I’ve seen no Police, Fire or emergency people
all day. It’s nearly night. I think that’s a bad sign. I have the Nine
Millimeter that used to be my father’s. I’ve got extra ammo as well. I’m
staying inside.

Katie March 3rd

I lost this yesterday; my little notebook. I left it by the
window so I could see to write, but I swear it wasn’t there when I went to get
it, then I found it again later on by the window right where I left it. Maybe
I’m losing it.

There are no Police, no Firemen, phones, electric, the real
world is falling apart. Two days and nothing that I thought I knew is still
here. Do you see? The whole world has changed.

I got my guitar out and played it today. I played for
almost three hours. I played my stuff. I played some blues. Usually blues will
bring me out of blues, but it didn’t work. It sounded so loud. So out of place.
So… I don’t know. I just stopped and put it away.

Katie March 4th

I’m going out. I have to see. If I don’t come back. Well…
What good is writing this?

Katie March 5th

The whole city has fallen apart. I spent most of yesterday
trying to see how bad this is. I finally realized it’s bad beyond my being able
to fix it. It’s bad as in there is no authority. It’s bad as in there is no
Jimmy V. I hear gunshots at night, all night. Screams. There are still tremors.
If I had to guess I would say it’s the end of the civilized world. Unless
things are better somewhere else I have to believe that. Power, structure, it’s
all gone. I mean it’s really all gone. This city is torn up. There are huge
areas that are ruined. Gulleys, ravines, missing streets, damaged bridges. The
damage costs have to be in the billions… And that’s just here. There’s me and
my little notebook I’m writing in and my nine millimeter. I’ve got nothing else
for company right now.

I’ve got water, some peanuts and crackers. How long can
this go on? What then?

Katie March 6th

I’ve decided to leave. I can’t stay here. There was a
tremor last night, and not one of the really bad ones, but even so I was sure
the house would come down on me. It didn’t. Maybe though that is a sign, I told
myself. And scared or not I have to go. I have to. I can’t stay here. Maybe
tomorrow.

Katie March 7th

The streets are a mess. I’ve spent too much of the last
week hiding inside my apartment. Most of my friends, and that’s a joke, I
didn’t have anyone I could actually call a friend; So I guess I would say most
of my acquaintances believed
my grandparents were alive and that I lived here with them. They weren’t. I
didn’t. I kind of let that belief grow, fostered it, I guess.

I planted the seed by saying it was my Nana Pans’
apartment. You can see the Asian in me, so it made sense to them that she was
my Nana. But I look more like I’m a Native American than African American and
Japanese. It’s just the way the blood mixed as my father used to say. But
Native American or Asian they could see it in my face. And this neighborhood is
predominantly Asian. Mostly older people. There were two older Asian women that
lived in the building. They probably believed one of those women was my Nana
and I didn’t correct them.

I can’t tell you why I did that. I guess I wanted that
separation. I didn’t want them, anyone to get to know me well. My plan had been
to dance, earn enough money for school, Criminal Justice, go back to New York.
Pretend none of this part of my life had ever happened. Some plan. It seemed
workable. I wondered over what Jimmy V. had said to me. Did he see something in
me that I didn’t, or was he just generalizing? It doesn’t matter now I suppose.

My Grandmother passed away two years ago. The apartment she
had lived in was just a part of the building that she owned. Nana Pan, my
mothers mother, had rented the rest of the building out. The man who had lived with
her was not my Grandfather, he had died before I was born, but her brother who
had come ten years before from Japan. They spoke little English. People outside
of the neighborhood often thought they were man and wife. She didn’t bother
correcting them my mother had told me. Nana Pan thought that most Americans
were superficial and really didn’t care, so what was the use in explaining
anything to them? Maybe that’s where I got my deceptiveness from.

I had left the house as it was. Collected rents through an
agency. For all anyone knew I was just another tenant. Of course, Jimmy V. had
known. He had mentioned it to me. But Jimmy knew everything there was to know
about everyone. That was part of his business. It probably kept him alive.

So I stayed and waited. I believed someone would show up
and tell me what to do. But no one did. I saw a few people wander by
yesterday… Probably looking for other people, but I stayed inside. I don’t
know why. What all my reasons were. A lot of fear, I think.

There have been earthquakes. The house is damaged. I went
outside today and really looked at it. It is off the foundation and leaning. I
should have gotten out of it the other night when I knew it was bad, it’s just
dumb luck it hasn’t fallen in on me and killed me.

It doesn’t matter now though. I met a few others today and
I’m leaving with them. I don’t know if I’ll stay with them. I really don’t know
what to expect from life anymore.

I’m taking this and my gun with me. Writing this made me
feel alive. I don’t know how better to say it.

I’ll write more here I think, I just don’t know when or
where I’ll be.

Old Town

He came awake in the darkness, but awake wasn’t precisely
the term. Alive was precisely the term. He knew alive was precisely the term
because he could remember dying. He remembered that his heart had stopped in
his chest. He had remembered wishing that it would start again. That bright
moment or two of panic, and then he remembered beginning not to care. It didn’t
matter. Nothing mattered. And he had drifted away.

Now he had drifted back. But, drifted was not exactly
right. He had slammed back into himself where he lay on the cold subbasement
floor where he had been murdered by a roving gang of thieves. And he knew those
things were true because he remembered them. And he knew they were true because
he was dead. He was still dead. His heart was not beating in his chest. His
blood was cold and jelled in his veins. He could feel it. Some kind of new
perception.

He lay and watched the shadows deepen in the corners of the
basement ceiling for a short time longer and then tried to move.

His body did not want to move at first. It felt as though
it weighed a ton. Two tons, but with a little more effort it came away. He sat,
and then crawled to his knees.

In the corner a huge rat stopped on his way to somewhere to
sniff at him. Decided he was probably food and came to eat him. He had actually
sat for a second while the rat first sniffed and then began to gnaw at one
fingernail. Then he had quickly snatched the rat up with his other hand,
snapped it’s back in his fist and then shoved him warm and squirming into his
mouth. A few minutes later he stood on shaky legs and walked off into the gloom
of the basement. Looking for the stairs and the way up to the streets.

March 8th

I debated with myself about how to start this. Isn’t that
stupid? Not whether I should start it. I guess that means that I have some hope
that I am not the only one.

Actually, I know that I’m not the only one. I’ve heard
gunshots more than once. I’ve heard a dog barking. And I’ve seen several dogs,
cats, squirrels, etc. . . .I’ve also heard what sounded like a car or a truck,
but I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Everything is so quiet; it
could be anywhere.

The sound of the river drowns things out. Even so, I
haven’t seen any other people. None. And I’m getting ahead of myself too.

I have no idea what has happened. Even here in Old Town. It
doesn’t really matter either, except to tell you, whoever you may end up being,
what happened from my point of view, I guess. Maybe it’s the same for you.
Maybe writing this out is a waste of time. But it keeps my mind off shit, you
know?

So, I wondered where to start? Today? Last week? Just
start, I guess…

I have heat. Food. Fire. And I’ve finally gotten myself
moved into this old factory, so my mind is more at ease. But again, I’m getting
ahead of myself. It started for me last week on the 2nd of March. Only six days
but everything here has changed.

I was having a few beers, watching the coverage of the
world countdown party; hey, it was supposed to be a joke, right? And,
supposedly, we had a few months to go. It was supposed to be one long countdown
party. And, one minute everything was fine, and the next the power was out.

Then the first quake hit…

I made it through that night and…. Two more quakes?
Aftershocks? Who knows? I was just trying to get through to the morning. Phones
were out; Sirens everywhere; No power. But the closer it got to dawn the less
noise there was. The sirens fell off. The rain started hard, and then the
lightning came. A thunder and lightning storm in the middle of winter!

It was spooky, and when morning finally came it didn’t make
much sense at all. Almost everything I could see in every direction was
flattened. The streets had cracked open and had become rivers. The temperature
was higher than it should have been as well. But that didn’t last.

By noon the rain stopped, and I kept expecting to see
someone. Emergency workers… Power Company… Somebody. Even a neighbor. But I saw
no one at all that day.

I guess as serious as it was, I wasn’t taking it seriously. At
least not the first day. I was still thinking, rescue… Help… It’s on the way.
This is the most powerful country in the entire world. Help is coming. So, I sat
on my ass and drank beer and ate bologna sandwiches and chips, staring out at
the street from my front porch which was perched on the edge of a twenty-foot
rain gully.

Just before dark the real quake hit. It had to have been
stronger than the previous ones. It felt like it anyway.

I barely jumped off the porch before it fell into the
gully. Scared the hell out of me. It wasn’t long after that when darkness
settled in, and I knew I was in trouble. Something in the whole structure of the
house was damaged. Every aftershock made it dance, sway around me. It was also
now a two-foot drop down to the ground since my porch was gone. And I didn’t
dare leave because I had no idea what it was like outside. No Streetlights. No
Moon, no starlight. No starlight, none! Then the storms came back, and the air
turned back to cold.

Every time the lightning flashed, I could see the street, or
what had been the street. There was no more street, not really. It was a river,
wide, and deep. All of the opposite side of the street was gone now too. No
houses, cars, telephone poles, satellite dishes. Nothing. It seemed like the
entire side of the street had washed away right down to the river. The water
roared past me, just a few feet from where my porch had been, flattened out,
and then turned into rapids breaking away to crash into the river further down
the hill. That was when I realized it wasn’t just the other side of the street
that was gone, the other two blocks that had been between me and the river were
also gone.

Later on, the rain turned to snow, but the lightning kept
up. Lightning in a snowstorm. How crazy is that? By the morning of March 4th, the river running past my house was down to a trickle, but the snow was piling
up. Down the hill the real river was over its banks. There was nothing else to
see, a few solitary houses still standing as my own was. But there was no one
around anywhere. That’s when I got into the hard stuff.

I drank myself to sleep and when I woke up, I’d lost several
hours. My watch still worked at that point. When I walked to the front door the
first thing, I noticed was footprints in the snow. Three sets. Two small, maybe
kids or women, one big. Going just past my house. No more than three feet from
my house, where once upon a time in some other world my porch had been, and I
had slept through it. I yelled and screamed for a half hour hoping that someone
would hear me, but no one came. No one yelled back and told me to shut up
either. Just absolute silence. No birds, just the roar of the swollen Black.
Nothing else.

I’ve thought about the day, the fourth, a couple of times.
Was it the fourth? The fifth? Did I sleep more than a few hours? I don’t know.
And that was the day my watch stopped working so I don’t know. One minute it
was working the next it wasn’t. The face was blank.

There were a couple of more aftershocks that day and I
began to wonder if my house would be standing much longer. After all, nearly
everything around me was destroyed already. And, I thought, what if that was an
aftershock? Like I had thought the first quake was the real one and then the
one the next day was so much stronger. It made me realize how stupid I was to
still be in that house. And, I thought, no wonder no one is answering when I
yell. They were all smart enough to get away from the buildings. Leave. And if
I left also, I reasoned, I’d most likely catch up to them. Whoever they were,
wherever they had gone. That was when I had glanced at my watch and noticed
that it had stopped working.

I had been in the habit of looking at my watch all day. Just
nervous, I guess. I was positive that I had just looked at it and it had been
working. But when had that been? What time had it been? And when had it been
that I had looked at it? How long ago? All I could remember for sure was that
the last aftershock that had started me wondering had been at 2:57 P.M. I
wasn’t sure of anything after that. Even when I thought back on it later,
wondering what day it was, I wondered why I had never thought to push the
little date button to see what the date had been. Or had I? Had I and then
forgotten that I had? Had I only remembered subconsciously that it was the
fourth? Anyway, the watch was dead. And what time was it? And where should I
go? And how soon would it be dark? After wasting time wondering about things like
that. Things that were absolute bullshit in light of everything else, I just
jumped down into the snow and headed off towards Old Town.

There were a few buildings standing in that direction. It
was still snowing pretty hard, but I could see the outlines of the buildings
through the snow.

There were planes overhead in the night. I know that sounds
crazy, but I awoke to hearing them. There was a strange smell in the air, and I
was thinking, in my dream? Maybe in my dream or maybe awake, anyway I was
thinking crop dusters. Like they were crop-dusting. Spraying something. It was
weird. Now I could see traces of blue… Powder? Something, on the snow and
it made me remember the dream. But I pushed it away and walked. Too much to see
and comprehend as it was without worrying over bad dreams.

Normally it’s no more than a fifteen-minute walk down to
Old Town. I figured that if anyone was still alive that was where they would
be.

In fact, I told myself, they probably would have some
buildings open for shelter. Fire Department passing out blankets… Bottled
water… Hot soup. I could see it so clearly in my head. I was wrong, of course,
but that’s a story for tomorrow. My fingers are shot. Hey it would be easy to
write this on my computer keyboard, but computers are a thing of the past now.

I’m warm. I’m dry. I’m pretty much okay. I survived the day
the world ended, but my fingers are sore and I’m tired, so I’ll pick this up
tomorrow.

Katie March 8th

Fresh snow today. The whole world is covered in clean,
white snow. It makes it look like nothing ever happened here.

I’m with a man named Jake. He’s crazy about me. I just
can’t feel the same. I could fake it, but I told myself I’m not going to do
that. But I can’t keep on this way either. It is too hard on him, too hard on
me.

James and Jana Adams are also with us. I don’t know what I
would do without Jana. She is levelheaded where I am impulsive. A thinker
where I tend to just act. A good balance. James has an idea of rebuilding his
people’s lands. He’s Native American, so is Jana. It sounded crazy when he first
said it but after I thought about it, it began to make sense to me.

Lana is the other member of our party. She hates me. That’s
because Jake wants me, and she wants Jake. Maybe that will fix itself before I
have to fix it by leaving and going on my own.

Today we decided to see if the city was any better on the
other side of the river. It isn’t. We crossed the river on a railroad trestle.
There is a traffic bridge, and it looks passable, but it’s clogged with cars,
and some of those cars look purposely placed to block it off. That creeped me
out.

We walked across the trestle, carefully, and went up toward
the park. There are markets up there, and we found tracks in the snow. One
person. A man I would guess from the boot tread.

I cannot tell you what that was like. Seeing a footprint
left by someone else. Someone else alive in this whole mess. I felt connected
to him. I can’t say it or explain it any better than that. Like a connection
existed forever and I only had to find it. I tried to explain it to Lana, but
she just shrugged. We have this thing with Jake between us though. She wants
him, he wants me. I don’t want him. It could be so Goddamn simple, but it isn’t.

Except the footprints. Maybe the footprints are the answer.
I think they are. I believe they are. We just need to find the person, the man,
that goes with those footprints and… And I don’t know. I really don’t. But I
think he’ll know.

The only bad thing today; we came across a dead man laying
crumpled by the side of the road. I could have sworn he moved so I hurried to
him but as I got closer, I could see that he was dead. Long dead. We stood for a
moment and then walked on. Later when we came back, he was gone and I
thought, was he
dead? Was he? But
I know that he was. I suppose that wild dogs or something got him. We didn’t
talk about it but it bothered all of us.

###

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