Perspective Protagonist...Group novella

Seven travelers. They are traveling on foot for the moment. The Moon has been hit by a comet, and civilization has broken down completely. These seven travelers have come together by pure random chance. This is a story told by these travelers in the first person as though they were narrating or relaying it to a friend.

It is summer, but you wouldn't know it from the weather. Bandits are not uncommon, and the cities are swept up in tribal wars over the quickly diminishing stores and fuel. Our travelers have fled Chicago, and are making their way West to find land that they can live on in peace and begin to rebuild. The defacto leader, Patrick, has or had a grandfather that owns or owned ( he had not talked to him since the impact, as there were no phones, mail, or any other means of communication) a large piece of land near Durango, Colorado.

how to play

Choose a character.

If you are first, you may take Patrick, or create one of the six remaining characters. Your first post should include a name, a physical description of your character, a brief background, and a description of his or her personality. You may want to include a proffession, skill set, expertise, or material possessions. This is now YOUR character, and he or she has free will.

Wait until all seven slots have been cast

Once all seven slots are filled, we will begin the tale. If we don't get seven people that will stick with this, we may reduce the size of the traveling party, or just scrap the whole idea.

Telling your side of the story

The first to post sets the pace.

Write a one post entry about a time period that you see as appropriate, keeping in mind that the rest of the cast will be giving their version of your events if they were present during what you describe, or telling of their own experience during the time period you set. Try to be descriptive while leaving doors open for the other players. Set traps or prop up another member of the cast. Have fun with it.

Progression

After everyone has posted their character's entry, the second character that was created will do as #1 did in the first section.

Adaptation
If you decide that you no longer want to play, you are free to off your character by whatever means you deem fitting. You are also free to lend your character to a friend, or give it away. If you simply abandon your character, and you don't respond to prodding, your character will be written out or claimed by another willing participant.

If there are more people that wish to participate, they can assume the role of any "non-core character" mentioned by any of the "core-characters." That is, If Patrick sees a bandit in the woods and runs from him,or meets a lost child, YOU may then define the bandit or child as described above under "Choose a character" and he or she then enters the "Progression" in the order that you appeared in the story.

There is no set plot, but for the sake of the story, please try to keep the overall structure in mind. As a reminder, you need contention, conflict, and resolution for a story to be a story and not a wandering journal.

I hope you will join in. This idea came so quickly, and all at once that I have not spent any time refining it. It seems to me, though, that by keeping chaos invoilved in the creative process, this will refine itself.

Who will take the first character?

My character will be Aaron a 13 year old male labeled ADD by his now defunct school. When we start writing, let me know if I'm working within your concept. Let's go people, sounds like fun. :)

My name is Vark. That's short for Aardvark, which has been my nickname for as long as I can remember. It's my nose, you see. That, and I like to eat ants.....just kidding. I'm 17, and I would have graduated this year. My younger brother Aaron survived, too, but My Parents, and our other sister, Winnie all died in the earthquakes on the first day.

My real name is Rebecca Wise. Patrick found us huddled in the doorway of the Library that very day, and we've been following him ever since. We're going to Colorado. I don't really know why. I made a promise to myself that I would take care of Aaron until he could take care of himself. He's got A D D, and he's a pain in the ass, but Mom would KILL me if I let anything happen to him.

Mom.

Sounds like a cross between 'The Stand' and 'Lucifer's Hammer'.

I'm in, and because it seems obvious, I'll be Patrick. I'm about 30 years old, and I am/was a nuclear physicist working out of Fermilab, just outside of Chicago. Average height and build, and just beginning to go bald in front, but the rest of my hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

Getting through college wasn't easy for me. My parents died in a plane crash when I was 10, leaving my grandfather to raise me in Colorado. Through him, I learned a lot about woodsmanship, fishing, hunting and trapping. I had always had a knack for math and science, and I managed to churn out good enough grades to get into MIT. Grandad had to sell off some of his land just to buy my books and tuition, but I still had to work to pay for my room and board.

I couldn't afford to travel, so the only contact I had with Grandad was the rare phone call. When the job at Fermilab came through, just after graduation, I snapped it up, but I've been pretty unhappy being so far away from the mountains and my only living relative.

Oh, yeah...did I mention that I'm pretty handy at building useful and original devices out of ordinary parts and stuff? :D

Nelson

My name is Nelson. I believe the only reason I survived was my fortuitous library visit in the middle of the night, and my introverted habit of preferring the lower basement levels--no undergraduates, you see, and only the very rare graduate student at those hours. I had been rechecking an obscure reference for my lecture the next day: Apocalyptic Imagery in Modern Literature. Doubly ironic when one considers how hard I had to fight to keep it on my schedule this year (this dozen-year tenure veteran already served his time as an associate professor, thank you very much, and I'll be goddamned if they think I'll teach ENG 305 again just because they have a staffing shortage.) My bravado aside, there were several weeks when I thought I'd be forced into it by a contract technicality, in which case it could very easily have been an evening of grading (read: skimming) four-page writeups on how Don Quixote truly was a quixotic protagonist, instead of being safe down in my literature-laden bomb shelter.

I've teamed up with several other survivors, and we're heading to Colorado. I'm not sure what we'll find there, but I do know the psyche needs companionship to survive, and it seems more prudent than attempting to find a use for my current skillset in this brave new world.

Patrick Forrestor, I presume?

Ok, so Patrick, Aaron, Vark, and Nelson have left Chicago, and started on the road to Durango. As they round a bend in the road they meet.......

(insert your character here)


let's go...we need three more victi...er people to play with us!

I was sitting on the corner with my dirty Lee jeans and a white tank top, my hair was messed up and i felt like crawling back under the rubble from which i had just emerged. I felt a world of lead on my slender shoulders, and i was sure my eyes were portraying much more than my tender 20 years of age.

I had been trapped inside the house with my mum for hours, she had been trapped underneath the bathroom wall (which had come down on us during the earth quake) but i was the only one who made it out of there.

i sat down on the pavement and stared at the ruins. I just wanted to get away from there and feel safe again, but the reality of that seems a life time away.

In the distance i could hear voices, and at first i thought i was going mad, but they got louder and louder until around the corner came two men, a boy and a young woman. They approached me and the older man, whom looke dto be about 30 years old (and a little nerdy) knelt down to touch my brused face.

"are you ok?" He asks

"Im Skye, i dont know whats happened...." My voice breaks as i try to hold in the tears of fear and confusion.

"Are you alone?" His leadership and caring nature shine through his eyes as he looks about the road.

i sit for a moment assessing the group now surrounding me...

"Yes.. yes i am alone. Can i come with you?"

How many Hail Maries...ooops..wait..thats a Novena...

:3eye:

well, it seems like five is the number....for now at least.

Griff, if you're still interested, why don;t you start us down the road?

I was climbing in the rubble of the school with Becka, "You're not my Mother!" hassling me, as usual, but I got some great stuff. I finally got coach Jackies whistle, Who's in charge now? fweeeeeeeet.Who? Me! fweeeeeeettt! I've got the whistle, I'm in charge. fweet I found the Coke machine all smashed open, cool, loaded up on pop. Ha, can't turn of the Coke machine now can ya? dumbass custodians. fweet Cept Big Fred, crap I hope he's okay, screw the rest of these clowns, my man Fred now he's the man let me hide out in his office whenever Mrs. Cranky sent me to ISD Bitch. fweeet I'm not a pussy, I'm not gonna cry. Got some other good stuff in my pack to, got Stoneys stash, that'll be worth something. fweet Gotta take care of Becka, she's not tough not like me. She's crazy falling in with this crowd, buncha geeks. Gotta remember to call her Vark around people, she thinks it makes her sound tough, whatever. fweeeeeeeeeeet

The last thing i thought we needed was to load up on fizzy drink, surely we could make our way to the old supermarket just a few blocks away and collect some actual recources that could help us reach Colorado without developing sugar diabeties first.

the kid is just so hyperactive he is driving me crazy! i swear if he blows that whistle one more time i am going to stuff it up his left nostril! but i have to be nice, i mean they did let me come with them, otherwise i dont know how i would have survived, with all the bandits creeping around.

tweeeet

URGH! "no Skye, you have to be calm" i tell myself, after all Aaron is Varks little brother. Vark is the other girl that is with the group, She is about my age and very pretty, but we havent really spoken as yet. I dont know why but there is an unidetified urge inside of me that i must impress her, i really want her to like me.

I hardly slept at all last night. We camped in the school garage. Aaron's breathing had been irregular all night, and I couldn't stop being jerkied awake every time he stopped snoring. Sleep Apnia, Athsma, and the dry dusty post impact weather don't mix well. I think it makes his ADD worse, too. He is always impossible after nights like last night.

When I finally did get to sleep it was fitful and dream ridden. I dreamt that there were seven of us, and we were looking out over a plain. There was an enormous radio tower that had bent at an odd angle. My sight was drawn to it, and at the base of it there were 3 dark silohouettes of men walking towards us. They were probably a mile away, but the land was so flat that I could see them; dark against a molten sky. Sunsets have been incredible ever since "the day". Even in my dreams, apparently. These were dangerous men coming toward us, and we had to get away from there.

I awoke to Patrick's hushed but urgent whispers to get up and get ready to travel. "Vark! Up and at em!" "where's Aaron?"
I looked around, not knowing at first who was talking to me or where I was. "huh?"

"Aaron!" I shouted. And I waited. No answer. "Maybe he went to go pee"
"Well you'd better get him, cuz we're leaving in a half hour, with or without you two." He said.

I can;t figure this guy out. One minute he's all chivalry, if a bit awkward about it, and the next, he's impatient and aggressive. I guess we all have our quirks. So, Now I have to find A. He was talking about going to see the school last night when we were going to bed, so I decided to look there first.

As I approached the school at a trot, keeping in the shadows of the early morning, I could hear a shrill whislting. I hoped that aaron wouldn;t be stupid enough to be blowing that whislte with who knows who hanging about. I followed the sound because I just knew. Knew that was such an Aaron thing to do. I came into where the Gym used to be. I could see him at the far end of the area standing triumphantly over a very deceased soda machine. He saw me as I enter the area, and started shouting some nonsense about being the boss while blowing the whistle even harder. I didn;t want to shout and raise even more alarm, so I made faces and waved my arms, made decapitating motions and shhhh faces. It only seemed to make him think I was playing along. Did I mention that he's a pain in the ass? By the time I navigated the rubble and got into earshot, he had busied himself rummaging in the debris.

" You little bastard! Stop with the freakin whislte already! You trying to get mugged?! Stupid little kid! C'mon, we're leaving! NOW!"

He made the standard "not my mom" remark, but he did start toward me.

" C'mon, Aaron. Patrick says he's leaving with or with out us. We have to hurry!"
fweeeet!
I slapped him in the back of his dirty little head.

God, I want a bath. A nice hot bath. I don;t even have to have soap. I just want to relax and soak. Maybe in Colorado. I'll have to ask Pat if he has a nice big tub waiting for us.

Loading each others stretched out shirts with cans of soda, we began to head back to the garage. About a third of the way across, I twisted my ankle. I can walk, but it is very sore. I'll have to be more careful. There are no doctors anymore. A broken leg would probably get me abandoned.

When we got back, They were all waiting to go. I noticed a flicker of rage pass across Skye's face as she watched Aaron do his soda dance for Patrick. Drinks were important. He had done well finding a machine that had not been raped already. The angry look had faded by the time Skye turned to me and offered to help me pack up our bedrolls.

Skye is a little bit of a kiss ass, which is kind of strange because she's older than me. She's nice, though. And gorgeous. I hope I fillout like that. I still feel like a girl. She's a woman. a little scattered, maybe...or it could just be an act. She seems to look to me for direction a lot. She must have been very dependant on "mum". She talks a lot about her. I guess some people just have submissive personalities. Not me. I'm a leader. I still miss MY mom, though.

I don't know if Patrick is a leader...he seems uncomfortable with it, but he does seem to be the one making the decisions. Patrick is a little paranoid. He says he has good reason. Says some bandits took his first backpack, and knocked him down in the middle of the street in broad daylight.

People stuck together in little groups nowadays. It was the only way to appear strong enough to defend yourself.

So, I lived in Durango for 7 years. Do I get to be in on this?

looks like " big Fred" the janitor could be defined if you want, or you could wait for the next person to write you a character in their next entry. After you see a character you like, define him or her, and then join in.

I'd been watching them from my hiding place in the air ducts over the roof of the gym. I knew places in this building no one ever dreamed of existancing. I hadn't been janitor in this place for 10 years for nothing. Hell, the janitor job itself had been my way of going into hiding every since my life fell apart 10 years ago. This whole comet thing seemed like only the latest in a serious of disasters that had turned my life upside down. Disasters had been my profession once upon a time. And in between disasters there had been to cool quiet of the Colorado forests where I cruised timber sales for the US Forest Service. Fire had always fascinated me. Fire had drawn me like a moth to the flame. I put in my application and passed all the rigorous tests. One morning the supervisor of the Uncomphagre National Forest sent out a radio message to me where I was spiked out with the timber crew. "Chief, pack your bags. You've been accepted for the Forest Service smoke jumper school up in Bozeman." The supervisor thought it was funny to call me chief since I'm a full blooded Navajo. The rest of the timber crew was yelling, "Congratulations, Fred!" as I climbed into the Forest Service truck to drive back down to the district office to catch the plane for Bozeman.

Three years later in the hot dry summer of 1994, they dropped our crew in the mountains outside Glenwood Springs to fight an uncontained fire that was roaring out of control. I looked down at the flames from our plane and I KNEW. I was second in command of our crew. I told our crew boss it was a bad place for a jump. He laughed. "You gonna start talking native superstitons at me, Fred?" So we made the jump and the crew boss was the first to die. It was a crown fire and we'd landed half way up a ridge. Trees were exploding all around us. Some of our crew tried to outrun the fire. They knew better, but they panicked. Some tried to deploy their fire shelters. In a fire storm like that, they were worthless. I managed to do a back burn on the area immediently surrounding the place where I'd landed. I crawled between two huge boulders and watch the flames engulf everything around me. I watched 8 brave men - my friends - meet hideous deaths. After that I quit the service and left Colorado, but I couldn't leave the nightmares behind. The comet seemed minor in comparison.

As I watched the motley group gathered in the gym, I was glad to see that Aaron was among them. He had a way of getting into mischief, but he was a good kid. I used to let him hide out with me when he got into trouble. I could sense a certain tension between the group leader, Patrick and the woman, Rebecca. Rebecca had a way of questioning Patrick without ever really putting it into words. Skye is just a young girl, but appears to be holding up quite well. Nelson, the intellectual, is an unknown quantity. They were talking about Durango, a place that it is only about 30 miles from the home of the Dinee'h, my people. I wanted to go home, and it would be easier to make the journey with companions, than alone.

I dropped down from my hiding place and walked toward them with my hand raised in a gesture of peace. "May I join you?" I asked.

The first of a new lifetime of nights on the ground was finally over. My back certainly wasn't feeling any younger, though it would have been a nice irony to discover, even this late in life, the rejuvenative properties of sleeping on hard earth.

Aaron, the young boy with us, and his older sister returned from who knows what adventures carrying a shirt full of sodas stretched out like a stuck pig for the chief's feast. I politely declined the carbonated pig meat. I didn't even try to explain the counterintuitive effects of such beverages towards dehydration, although Patrick seemed to give me a glance of approval when I told Aaron I would hold off until my body more desperately needed the sugar for sustenance. It was surprising, since I wouldn't expect to garner any respect at all from a man who so clearly knows his way around living in the outdoors. I'd certainly be interested to learn from him, but old dogs new tricks and whatnot, and I'd be afraid of wasting his time with my ineptitude.

Aaron's older sister prefers the interesting sobriquet "Vark" over her given name of Rebecca. When I mentioned that she shared a namesake with Rebecca Harding Davis--and proceeded to neglect her more substantial later contributions to literature, rather to specifically highlight the demoralized, darker characters in her earlier work--she seemed to perk up a bit, saying she wished they would have let her read such "cool stuff" in her school. I assured her she probably wouldn't like the real thing, and promised her I would still call her Vark as she desired. If creativity like hers were more often nurtured, perhaps we would have had better entry-level candidates at the university, and I wouldn't have minded teaching ENG 305 as much. But no use dwelling on what is lost.

Other than the adolescents and Patrick, there is a young woman named Skye (her real name, I was disappointed to discover) and today one more joined us, a former janitor named Fred. Apparently he and Aaron were already friends, and Vark she says she vaguely recognized him from her years at that same middle school. He is usually quiet, which makes him an odd companion for the rambunctious kid, but Aaron does seem a bit more relaxed now that he's here, so that's a welcome relief. Perhaps he will even lessen his antagonizing of Skye, but frankly I doubt it. She clearly never learned the rules of sibling rivalry (par for the course for an only child) and plays the victim so overbearingly that he virtually has no choice but to keep tormenting her. I hope for my own sake that Vark lends her a clue on how to deal with it soon--or perhaps these lecturn-softened hands could attempt to forge a new life on my own after all...

It was something of a chore to get the group rounded up and ready to head out. I had to send the kids rummaging through the locker room to find a couple of gym bags and backpacks to stuff a bunch of the pilfered sodas into. Resources are resources, and anything at all might get real hard to come by.

I'm not exactly sure how I came to selected the leader of this crew. Most of them are just kids, really. Hell, I guess I am, too, deep down. I'm scared as hell, but I know that we have to get out of this city before the surviving hoardes start turning really feral. I've already been robbed, but at least the thugs let me escape with my life. Next time, I might not be as lucky. I hope that the old saw "there's safety in numbers" holds to be true for this group.

It struck me as terribly odd that no one saw the comet coming until it was too late. It was said to have been a relatively old comet, and wasn't outgassing much, leaving it undiscovered until a scant week before the impact with the Moon. It also was an enormous comet, because, even with its relatively low density, it packed enough of a wallop to nudge our satellite in such a way that it triggered stupendous, violent tidal forces on the Earth. The last news reports I'd heard said that the San Andreas had gone completely apeshit, and there wasn't much left of the West Coast. Nothing much that people cared about, anyway.

I had been out of the lab and in the city, trying to stock up on some last minute emergency supplies when the actual impact came. Most scientists had poo-poohed the idea that it would be a major disaster. The moon was too solid, too far away, the comet was too insubstantial to do much more than make a big flash. Should be fun to watch, they said.

It was impressive when it did happen, but within 24 hours the first quakes had started, and another day later, the Earth swept across the path of debris that had been blown off the surface of the Moon. The rain of fiery stones caused almost as much damage as the earthquakes had the day before. By the time the brimstone had stopped falling, entire cities had burned to the ground. Forests were still burning in many locations around the planet, with little to no organized efforts to stop them. Apparently, the biggest part of the Rockies had been spared, and so I was determined to head West, out to my grandad's property near Durango, a place secluded enough, and with abundant water and game to survive on for awhile.

The big trick was going to be getting there, especially with a band of mostly suburbanite kids in tow. Fred was going to be a big help, from what I could tell of him. He had mentioned his time in the Fire Jumpers Service, so I knew he was tough, brave and smart. Someone else with some outdoors savvy was going to be essential if we were to keep everyone safe.

"We'd better get moving pretty quick", I said to the increasingly restless group. "We need to get some miles behind us before dark. We're going to have to have time to find a shelter of some sort, preferably someplace defensible, where we can see anyone coming for a ways off. Aaron, you're gonna have to keep that whistle quiet when we move out, man. We don't want everyone knowing we're coming, okay?"

Fred made me nervous. I don't know why. It always seemed like he was right on the edge of saying something to me. Something that would change my life. But the moment would never come. How did he do it? It made me really uncomfortable, anyway.

He had an odd habit of looking over your shoulder when he talked to you, too. Like there was someone behind you that was more interesting to look at.

Today we made almost 12 miles before we came to another little town. Patrick and Fred went ahead to scout the town while we parked it in a little schoolbus stop shelter and had lunch. Ricky loves Sarah. I shook my head. Ricky and Sarah were both probably dead.

After about an hour, we could hear Patrick calling to us from down the street.

"Lucky day" was all I could make out, but I could tell he was excited by the way he hopped up and down in the street. We gathered up our bags and started toward him at a trot.

Everyone seems pretty pumped up for a bus ride. Running down to meet the guys I was kinda hoping for some cheeseburgers or something. I guess they’re happy to get moving, whatever. Just what I want to do, ride some nasty old school bus that smells like French fries. That’s too weird. Fred thinks it’s cool though so, I guess I’ll just go along. He’s pretty chatty about this bio-diesel thing, so he must be impressed by it. I guess it is pretty neat that we can fill the tank from the fryers at Mickey D’s. As long as I get to keep the skateboard I found, I don’t care. Becka was grumbling that I’d need to ditch it, but if we're riding, I’m gliding.

I wonder why Granola Boy really wants us with him? Patrick says it’s for protection, I hope that’s it. Professor Nutter started going on about Cadbury Tails er somethin’. People just look at him like he’s out of his mind. If he’s straight, I bet he has a crush on Skye, the way he always pairs up with her and tries to give me crap, weirdo. As long as he stays away from Vark, I don’t care. It’s gonna get old curling up on these bus seats especially with folks complaining about tapping on metal, man, what a touchy bunch.

The red plastic seats pull at my skin as I shift in my seat. its been years since I sat on a bus, mum always drove the statesman anytime we went into town, but I don't think ill ever be behind the wood grain dash again. I look down at my hands, the keratin is splitting already and the polish is wearing off, it might be a while before I get my next manicure, hell it might be a while before I get my next wash! I didn't realise just how dirty I was until I was getting on the bus, everyone jumped aboard yet me and Vark were left standing at the door, I motioned for her to go first until she indicated it might be an effort for her to make it on the bus because of her injured ankle. I wished I'd id been lathered in my CK-one- as I had my arm around her waist and helped her make it onto our salvaged method of transportation. As soon as she was seated I made my way to the back end of the bus. for a fleeting moment I had forgotten about our dire situation. I had forgotten about mum, about how I had just left her there to rot. I promised myself as soon as it was possible id go back, id go back and make everything right again. god how I missed her.

Aaron's behind me in the long back seat of the bus, bouncing up and down, putting his feet on the back of my seat and pushing in tune with his humming to a rock song he was obviously playing in his head. I just stared out the window trying to pretend I didn't notice, I wonder if I was the only one who secretly wanted to throw this kid out the window? i know Nelson must feel some sort of detestation toward the little punk because I've seen him share my gaze toward him.For now ill keep biting my tongue.

I think Patrick is getting a real kick out of this, playing the role of babysitter for all us homeless misfits. He reminds me of a father driving his kids to a theme park, constantly looking back to check on our solemn faces. the only one he doesn't seem to take this persona with is Vark, its like her personality cancels his out when they communicate. as I study his face from the back of the bus I notice a change in his posture, his body stiffens and I notice the movement in bus slow to a braking crawl.

Nelson, who I secretly think believes he should be in charge, becomes impatient. "what's going on?" he asks Pat.

Pat holds up a finger to shush the suspicious group. Aaron stops kicking my seat and struts over to Vark, So protective for such a young kid.

We all stand to get a better view out the cracked front windscreen.....

The modified motor for the school bus that Patrick rigged up worked better than I would have ever imagined. I entertained Aaron with descriptions of how soggy french fries were fueling us down the pock marked highway. The mileage the bus got was miserable to say, the least, however. I estimated that a 1,000 potatoes had given their lives for every mile we managed to travel down the road. Sooner or later (most likely sooner), we'd come to a place where there was no Burger King and then we'd be on foot.

As the bus lurched along, I studied my companions, wondering how they'd hold up when the walking began. Aaron would be no problem. In fact a good 12 or 15 miles on his skateboard each day would go a long way toward making him a more managable traveling companion. Vark would be fine once she recovered from a minor injury to her ankle. She could easily walk all day and then ask pointed questions of me and Patrick and Nelson all night. I judged Nelson and Skye to be the two physically weakest members of our party. I doubted that Skye had ever done anything more difficult than filing her nails and Nelson looked as if he could collapse if he had to carry a stack of his English 305 final exams up a flight of stairs.

The bus came to a stop, interrupting my musings. Patrick motioned us all forward. "We're coming up on a town in another mile," he said. "I'm going to pull the bus off the road out of sight of the highway. I want you to come with me, Fred, to reconnoiter. The rest of you stay with the bus. If Fred and I aren't back in two hours, you're in charge, Nelson. "

Patrick parked the bus behind some trees. He and I got out and bagan to walk into the town. It appeared deserted. It looked as though many of the buildings had taken direct hits from the debris from the comet’s explosion. What had once been the church was among the destroyed buildings. The stench was unbearable. We could see an arm or leg here or there sticking out of the rubble.

“Must have all gathered in the church to pray,” said Patrick. “So much for God’s mercy.”

I looked up at the dust filled sky, now turning blood red from the sunset. I thought of the long journey across the plains and high mountain passes which lay ahead of us, the lack of food, the roving bands of marauders. “Maybe THOSE people were the ones God had mercy on,” I replied. Patrick was silent.

On the next street over, we made a real find. A sporting goods store was still standing. Its windows had been shattered by the explosion of the building which had once stood next to it, but the interior of the store remained miraculously intact. Patrick and I stepped through the broken glass into this treasure trove.

I grabbed canteens, packs, a tent, and two excellent Silva compasses. Patrick snagged some sleeping bags, a second tent, flashlights and a store of incredibly precious batteries. We staggered out of the store, laden down with goodies. And then it happened.

"I'm TIRED of this sitting-around shit. Always waitin' on Patrick to come back and tell us 'Okay, it's safe to sit on the bus for another three hours," sputtered Aaron, sticking his tongue out and whacking one wrist against the opposite shoulder, in what I must admit was a pretty amusing gesture, despite its oddity. Gradually I became aware that his aimless pacing up and down the aisle was getting farther away, and I sat up higher just in time to see his head disappearing out the door. He must have leaped out of the bus from the top step, since the rest of his trajectory was evident out the window. He tumbled into the dirt and hopped back onto his feet.

"I'm gonna look around. Maybe there's another busted soda machine somewhere!" Aaron called out as he trotted off.

I tried to stop him, but his immediate reply (I'm pretty sure he'd been working this up for awhile) was, "Patrick said you're in charge if they're not back in two hours. It hasn't been that long yet." He turned and walked backwards briefly while we debated it, but he never stopped moving.

"I'll go after him..." sighed Vark.

"No. You and Skye stay on the bus. You couldn't catch up to him with your ankle. And between me and Skye, we have ever-so-slightly a greater chance of his listening to me telling him come back to the bus."

God, it had been a long time since I'd run anywhere, and I had to outright sprint to get to him before he disappeared entirely. I even forgot about my back in lieu of my burning lungs.

We had managed to round up a pretty good load of useful gear, but getting it back to the bus was proving to be a problem. It wasn't difficult to come by a couple of grocery carts, but shoving them along through the debris-strewn streets was nigh impossible. The carts were heavily laden, and we had to make more dry land portages than I would have ever thought possible.

The strenuous effort had us both breathing pretty hard, and we had wrapped bandannas around our noses and mouths to try and fight the stench from the rotting corpses. Fred had remembered seeing "Silence of the Lambs", and grabbed a container of Vicks from the rubble of the drugstore where we'd pillaged for med supplies. Smeared liberally across the bandannas, it actually did cut the smell to tolerable levels.

The streets were utterly deserted. Anyone who had ever been a pedestrian was either buried under tons of rubble or had apparently left town some time ago...and that was very, very strange. After all...*we* were here. Why wasn't anyone else?

After Nelson passed out of sight in pursuit of Aaron, Skye and I were alone. She came and sat down next to me on my bench. Resting her head on my shoulder, she sighed. "what's the matter, Skye?" I said.

"It's just so lonely. This whole big empty world. I miss mum, too." I put my arm around her shoulder. She seemed to go limp against me. And she was 3 years older than me. She's scared like a girl, I thought. But then she straightened and I could see her resolving herself. She was pretty strong after all, I guess.. I gave her a hug anyway. People need comfort.

As I hugged her, I looked out through the window of the bus, and could see a solitary figure outlined against the horizon, walking the road out of the town toward us. It wasn't Fred or Pat either.

"get down!" I whispered in her ear. She looked at me like I was crazy, but once I twisted her head around and pointed, she got the picture, and we both ducked down. I wondered if it was too late to hide. I could see him plainly now, and wondered if he'd seen our shapes in the bus. He was huge. At least he looked it from this distance. AS he approached the bus, I could see that I was right. He was probably 6'8" or so. He was smiling. A friendly smile. "Hello in there?" he called.

I raised my head enough to get a better look. He was older. maybe 45 or 50 with a greying beard and hair. An Old black gentleman, I thought. He wore a tattered 3 piece suit. the vest barely contained a bulging muscular chest, and his biceps strained at his sleeves. He had the look of an athelete, save his age.

Skye was the first to speak to him.

Aaron bound of the bus, a sense of relief washed over me, and I suddenly felt a twang of guilt for not thinking of his safety. We were a family (of sorts) now, and we had to take care of each other. that's why I didn't protest when Nelson went after him, but he didn't need to be so damn derogatory toward me. Stupid old fool, I bet I could run twice as far and twice as fast as him... if I wanted to. Everyone thinks that just because I don't swear and spit and let that fact that civilization is diminishing make me uncivilized they think I am a just a prissy little princess. For their information I did Girl Guides for two whole years AND I have done orienteering!

I remember mum being so proud of me when I had gotten my first badges on my sash, one for cooking (we made chocolate crackles and mine were the yummiest!) and the other for uniform. I always had the neatest uniform. my sash always pressed and my shoes always shiny. I always matched my hair ribbon to my skirt and never slouched my socks. look at me now. Bugger finding a soda machine - find me a David Jones retail outlet with new clothes and rose scented body wash!

~grumble~

my stomach turned, I was so hungry. I hope the others came back with something soon. I don't think I could walk another step without substance. I thought about what our lives would be like from here on in.. it was just a big black blanket of what if's... I had no idea of what would become of us and what lie ahead, everyone else seemed so eager to exorcise their survival techniques, I just wanted my mum, and my big comfy bed, and the security of our home. I felt so unsafe and alone, who leaves two young ladies alone on a bus anyhow? I look at Vark, a pillar of strength for such a young thing. her beauty and strength shine from behind the dirty marks on her face as I slide down next to her. she envelopes me in her warmth and I feel 100% better.

I was in my own world for what seemed like only a second when Vark told me to get down, I startled out of my daze and looked at her questioningly.. she enclosed my chin in her soft hand and jerked it round so as I could see the man approaching the bus. Panic filled my guts and I gasped in panic.. he had seen the bus and was coming toward us he was probably mid 40's and he was huge! Thoughts obsessed in my head of what he would do upon finding two young girls alone in an abandoned bus. I thought about hiding, I thought about running. and then.. I thought about Vark.

I stood up and stomped over to the door of the bus, as he approached I looked him daringly in the eye..

"We don't have any food" I put my hands on my hips and attempted to position my tiny body in a authoritarian stance.

He stared at me with shiny eyes. little black curls on his head and a beard starting to make its home on his face.

"We don't have anything so please just leave" My voice sounded so weak, I felt pathetic and foolish trying to be the strong one. Vark stood behind me now and she asked him "what do you want?"

He reached into his jacket pocket and I thought.. that's it, that's it we are gone, he is going to shoot us and take our bus. His hand came out of the Jacket and held..... a small plastic bag full of salted peanuts. a peace offering? he reached up and placed the bag in my hand. Wary shone in my eyes and hunger stabbed at my belly as I stood aside and let him on the bus.

"What's your name?" I asked

He grinned; an incomplete, but beautifully white, set of teeth flashing at the girl. "My name?". A chuckle. "Miss, if I ever had a name, it sure as hell don't mean anything now."

He turned and pointed out the front of the bus. "If it's food you're after, you're headed the right way." Half of his grin returned, but it was a nervous reaction, not the hi-beam he had turned on at first. "But there's no one alive. Not a soul."

He eased his large frame tiredly onto the frontmost seat and leaned his head back, eyes closed. One was reminded of an animatronic Disneyland character being shut off for the night; there was no relaxation, no sigh of relief. Just a cessation of movement.

The others looked at each other, mouthing opinions, suggestions, unspoken fears about this strange nameless newcomer and his intentions. The quiet tension built as people nervously tried to edge past the long leg in the aisleway. When the man spoke, several almost screamed, so wound up they were. This resulted in the same half-grin as before.

"Monroe," said the grin. "You can call me Monroe if it makes you feel better. You think I'm a bad man? Why? Because I'm large or because I'm a black male?"

A quiet, sad chuckle. "Some things don't change even after the apocalypse." He nodded his head forward. "Up ahead there's a peach cannery. On the left, you'll remember it. Hope you ain't allergic to peaches, because that's all there is...except for the peanuts, they were in the breakroom. I wouldn't recommend going in there, though." A slight shudder, then back to the animatronic half-slumber.

Patrick and I were pretty laden down with gear, but moving at a pretty fast clip, anyhow, because we both wanted the hell out of that mausoleum which the town had become. Suddenly, I saw Aaron tear around a corner up ahead. He was hopping like a crazed rabbit over piles of rubble. Nelson was right behind him, and although panting heavily, actually closing in on the wildly running kid. I felt a new respect for Nelson. The professor could actually do something besides rattle on and on about obscure authors nobody else had ever heard of. "Aaron! Over here," I yelled. "We need another man to help us carry these supplies!" Aaron turned his head in surprise toward me and Patrick with our shopping carts and duffle bags. The kid grinned and came trotting over towards us. Patrick shot Aaron an exasperated look and threw a large duffle bag at him which the boy easily caught. Patrick's look of irritation turned to one of outright exasperation when his gaze came to rest on Nelson. "Nelson! Where are the girls?" he barked.

Nelson looked exasperated himself. "If I hadn't gone after Aaron, Skye would have, and I figured it was safer for her and Vark to stay with the bus," he panted. "OK, OK," said Patrick. "Help us with this load of supplies we've gathered and let's get back there on the double."

I felt a sudden pang of fear at Patrick's words. Not again! Never again was Fred Chee going to loose friends like he had once before. And these people had become my friends. Was Skye OK?
And Vark? I quickened my pace to a trot and the others also began to move rapidly toward the direction of the bus.

The words of The Blessing Way that my people sang for good luck began to run through my head, "Grandfather! This day, your magic take out for me! Dark Cloud is at the door! Zig Zag lightening stands high above dark cloud. The way out is dark cloud..."

We came in sight of the bus at last. The two girls were there, but a huge black guy I'd never seen before was standing there towering over them. Vark had a look of fear on her face. I swore under my breath and quickly pulled out the old officer's colt 45 that my Dad had brought back from 'Nam and that I always carried since the comet came...

I was shocked at the amount of useful supplies Patrick and Fred had been able to recover from the small town. My reaction also extended to how much of it Aaron was able to carry. A good thing, since after my sprint I was barely able to walk back to the bus carrying my own girth, slight though it might be.

Fred was by far the first to see that there were three people in front of the bus. His eyes are extremely sharp--he was pulling out a gun before any of us even knew what was going on. Fortunately he also took off running towards the bus, otherwise I think Patrick would have had him in a defensive hold in another instant. I wonder if he had been poised for such an event since Fred had joined us--and did he half-suspect the rest of us of doing something dangerous at any minute as well?

Monroe turned out to be friendly, although you wouldn't know it from Vark's wariness. He joined us for our supper of energy bars and small packets of trail mix (Patrick promised Aaron on the next trip they would try to find some food that didn't "taste like freaking dog scrotum,") but later politely refused to stay the night. It was quite strange; he promised to be back in the morning, to lead us to the peach cannery ("Oh good, dog pussy to go with our dog scrotum, gotta have a balanced meal,") but outright refused all attempts to sleep with the group. Instead he ambled off into the darkness, whistling a tune quietly to himself.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to a very disturbing image: an older woman, though how old was hard to say given her extremely disheveled appearance, was rifling through our supplies. I yelled out, and she bolted carrying several bags, but the commotion woke everyone and before I knew it Fred and Patrick had her restrained. Both were exerting a good amount of strength, as the craggy woman thrashed about railing obscenities.

"What do you think you're doing?" hissed Patrick through clenched teeth.

I had her held down to the ground with a knee to her chest, but she didn't put up much fight. Instead, she just stared up with a mixture of fear and venom in her eyes.

"Bastards!", she hissed. "Rapists! Animals!"

I was starting to feel bad about pinning her so hard. There wasn't any fight in her, and her words spewed forth seemingly out of fear. Still, I didn't want to appear weak.

"Why were you stealing from us? You could have picked up this kind of stuff all over," I growled.

Instead of answering, she closed her eyes, struggled for a breath...and died.

"Good going, nerd," Nelson said, "you've suffocated her."

No, I hadn't...she had been breathing easily enough when she was pouring out invectives. Something else was wrong.

"Shut up, Nelson," I said. "Grab her stuff and see if there's anything in there to identify her."

"What does it matter? She's just another stiff," he replied, but he went to look anyway.

I leaped off the bus. There was no way I could hang out with these freaks any longer. Now they're killing people. The sun warmed the skline as I scampered over the rubble. The ruined walls of the zoo explained why people were staying under cover here. I saw the baboons working their way toward the bus. Someone had tried to rebuild the fence around this section of the zoo, but it was obvious they were not having an effect. The creatures spotted me as I turned back to warn my sister. I turned off the debris stewn road and slipped through a small park. I saw a trip wire strung across my path and hopped it only to hear a faint metallic click, everything went black and in that moment Metallica ripped through my head.

I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel the scream
This terrible silence stops me

Squinting into the sun and stretching, I saw the vague shapes of baboons crossing the field toward the bus. Baboons? Idly, I considered it. As the realization that they were really there, and really coming toward us slowly dawned on my still fuzzy mind. At the same time, I noticed Aaron lying face down in the field a short way from the bus. He wasn't moving. I screamed. I don't remember what I screamed, but Patrick was there instantly. I ran toward Aaron with Patrick close behind. No time to try to revive him, we scooped him up, and charged back toward the bus. The baboons could be heard screaming now. Only 100 yards away, and we had a good twenty to go to get back to the bus. Patrick flung aaron over his shoulder fireman style, and shoving me ahead of him bellowed, "Start the bus!" I saw Skye leveling a rifle out of the bus window over my head. I heard the chamber click. No bang. No whislting projectile. She swore. I didn't take the time to look back over my shoulder as I fled the monkies. There were at least ten of them. And they were loud! I charged up the steps of the bus, and turned to catch Aaron just in time to keep his head from bouncing off of the stairs. Nelson Already had the bus moving by the time Patrick cleared the doorway enough for him to shut the door.

The baboons shrieked and waved their arms as the bus pulled away. We had abondoned a fair amount of gear to them in our haste. The table and chairs were gone. The good lantern. I shook my head. Aaron!

He was breathing. But blood trickled out of his ears, and when I pulled his eyelids back to look at his pupils, his cornias were red with blood. His teeth were all bleeding too. What had happened? It was as if he had been blasted by some kind of electirc shock. Or maybe a loud noise. But I hadn't heard anything, and I didn't think there were any power lines near where we had parked. He seemed to be resting comfortably enough now, though, so I prepared a bed in the back of the bus.

I made it so comfortable that he could probably sleep for weeks or months and not get stiff. Just there in the back of the bus. kind of out of the way in case we needed to get out the back door in a hurry. I had the feeling that he wouldn;t be waking up the next morning either. Mom would be killing me right now if she was still here. I was recalled from my reverie by the gradual slowing of the bus.

"Hey," Skye said. " we forgot Monroe." She was looking out the back window, and as I followed her gaze, I saw Monroe riunning down the street with the Baboons closing on him. "STOP THE BUS!" she yelled.

But it was too late. They watched in horror as the first of the baboons, a large male, reached Monroe. Teeth flashed and a scream different from those of the baboons rent the air. As he was methodically disemboweled and consumed alive, Monroe mercifully lost all sense of pain. He had the absurd sense of being in the dentist's chair. Oh well, at least there was no drill.

Skye worked the action of the rifle frantically as the bus skidded to a halt. But the baboons were no longer following. They had their meal.

The baboons were rabid of course, this explained both their peculiar behavior and that of the old women who had been screeching insanely and then abruptly died when Patrick and I tried to restrain her. When Nelson and I went through her pockets, trying to figure out who'd she'd been, I'd noticed several bite wounds on her arms and hands. They looked as though they been recieved while trying to fend off some sort of animal attack. I had to admire the old gal for managing to fight one off - must have been a small one.

Nelson and I carried the woman's body a suitable distance off from the bus and prepared to dig a hasty shallow grave for her. I noticed that Nelson's eyes were blood shot and he was staggering from fatigue. Probably done in from that chase with the kid earlier. "I can manage the digging, Nelson," I told him. I'm just going to scrape a hole and lay her in it - more burial than a lot of people are getting these days." Nelson nodded his head in weary assent and turned back toward the bus.

I had just finished covering the remains when I heard a rustling in the leaves in the bushes behind me. I turned quickly to face the sound and saw that it had been made by a wide-eyed little girl of perhaps 9 or 10, peering out at me from between the greenery. Her face was grimey and she must have been wearing the same outfit that she had on when the comet hit - a matching "Winnie the Pooh" sweatsuit that looked like it had once been pink.

I met her frightened gaze and held out my hand to her. "Its okay, kid," I said. "I won't hurt you. My name's Fred. What's yours?" "Rhonda," she replied shyly. "Would you like something to eat, Rhonda?" I asked her. She nodded her head vigorously in reply to the question, so I pulled out an energy bar that I'd grabbed from the camping store and handed it to her. She darn near took off my hand in her haste to grab the treat! When she finished wolfing it down, I asked, "Where are your parents sweetie?"

Huge tears welled up in her eyes and she pointed in the direction of the demolished town. "They were in the church. I had a stomach ache so I stayed home."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to come with us then," I said. I took her hand and we began to walk toward the bus. We arrived just in time to see the baboons devour poor old Monroe. The child began to shriek. Nelson saw us and swerved the bus in our direction, barely slowing down, but opening the doors wide. I grabbed one of the handles that stood on either side of the doors and lept onto the first step. With my other hand I reached out to grab the hysterical child...

I float in the weeds, staring up at the waters surface. I'm in Mr. D's pond. Everything is cool and quiet. Muffled voices reach out to me. I hear, but do not listen. There is light, but no color. With little else to focus on, the voices become more clear. Vark is here and other voices come and go. The Professor is reading aloud, "...Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?" asked Aramis. "Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his sword so skillfully... " His voice trembles with emotion, sharpening my focus, I lock easily on his words and drift upon them.

If a school bus in motion can be described as tearing, then we were tearing down the road, bumping along, leaving the demolished town dwindling in a cloud of dust behind us.

I leaned over Aaron, and watched his nostrils slowly flaring with each breath.

"He's alive...breathing," I said. I picked up his bloody hand and felt for his pulse.

"A little weak, but pretty steady," I reported. "I don't see any real bad wounds, just a few cuts and burns. Must have been a concussion charge instead of fragmentation."

A little blood ran from his ears, and I worried that he'd sustained a head injury; something we would be hard-pressed to treat in any effective way. Maybe he'd just punctured his eardrums from the blast?

"What the hell exploded?", Nelson yelled from the drivers' seat. "What the fuck did you people do back there!?" He was agitated, and it showed in his driving.

"Watch the road, Einstein, and slide that first aid kit back here while you're at it", Fred barked. He knealt down by Aaron, motioning me away with a wave of his hand. "I did some triage on the the fireline. I've seen burns and falling object impacts before; this ain't much different."

I stood up, feeling ineffectual and powerless. The bus hit a large bump, and I jolted backward, falling directly into one of the bench seats. All I needed was my Transformers lunch box and my yellow raincoat to complete the picture. It was as if Life was sending me back to school.

It was too much. Just too damn much. How many more times must I be an involuntary witness to torture and death before the world moves on? Get ripped out of sleep, watch a man I respected actually kill a woman, watch Aaron somehow explode and slip into a coma, watch that tall black man get eaten alive by baboons, and then, THEN watch a little girl get dragged along the side of the bus a dozen yards before her grip slips and she becomes dessert for the goddamned simians. The victims were more and more innocent each time. What next??

No one wanted to talk about the little girl. Certainly no one wanted to blame Fred; he did more than any of us to save her. Right now all we could focus on was Aaron. If we could save him, if we could protect just one person in this god forsaken wasteland, maybe it would be alright.

Truth be told, I wanted to veer the bus into the next ditch I found. That would be better really, better that Aaron never woke up, better that poor Vark and Skye didn't have to suffer anymore. But I doubted that I could really pull it off and be sure no one survived. And I would NOT be guilty of increasing their suffering when all I wanted was for the pain to stop. No. Just drive.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and I could see buildings coming up in the distance. Soon we would have to decide whether to look for that fabled peach cannery or continue on for fear of more animals on the loose. Jesus Christ, what if that zoo had a goddamned tiger?

Just. Drive.

I went and sat down next to Fred. He sat staring at his hands that were once the pillar safety and reliance for a child no longer of this world. He didnt even cry he was that shocked, his skin felt cold to the touch as i reach out and take one of those hands in mine. I give him a smile, strong enough to let him know that i am here for him, yet weak enough that he can see the need in my face. The need for him to continue helping me, helping us all. he has to keep it together, we all have to keep it together.

he lets me hold his hand for some time, we dont say anything just sitting in solemn silence and, i like to think, tunneling our energy to the memory and peaceful rest of the little girl we were never fortunate enough to get to know.

After a time he pulls his hand away and turns toward the window, so i leave him alone in his thoughts. I move toward the back of the bus and sit alongside Aarons sleeping body. I watch him intently, its such a twist to see his bones lay so still, and his lungs but only breathe.

there is a little saliva leaking from one corner of his mouth, i pull up a corner of a blanket and gently wipe his face. I Smile as i think of how he would react if he conciously caught me doing this! Vark is watching me as i tend to Aaron, I can never tell the myriad of thoughts that may be lurking behind her eyes, she looks tired. I gather one of the blankets and motion toward her offering the blanket. Without expression she shakes her head and moves her gaze out the window. I refold the blanket and place with the other spare next to Aarons seat.

I rest my head against the metal bar on the rear of the seat, at every bump on the road below it hits my temple. Bump. Bump. Bump. It hurts. It feels good. I know i am still alive, despite what the rest of my body tells me.

As I gazed out the jostling bus window, a feeling came over me. A sort of numbness. I began to think about the ups and downs in my life. Looking back now, at myself at seventeen, it seems so trite. I had led such a perfect life to that point. Images from my past whistled by. Aaron coming home for the first time. My rollerskates. The pink bookstrap I used all through junior high. Eating dinner with my mom and dad and even Aaron. Never again.

My life had gone 180 degrees in an instant, and now I stood at the brink of being wholly alone. If Aaron didn't wake up, I would be the only one left. I felt like that should panic me, but the numbness stood between me and my feelings.

And then another image confronted me. I recall being troubled by the vivid memory of the hug Skye and I had shared. I had been comforting her, but in this instant, that image returned of its own accord. And I felt better afterwards. I also remember blushing furiously. It made me nervous around her. Wherever she was, I was conscious of her. I pushed the feelings down until I could think about something else. Anything else.

The pendulum. I sat and thought about how when something as bad as what happened to us all, there had to be an equal and opposite reaction. Something was due to fall our way. I had no idea at that time how prophetic my thoughts were, nor how soon they would be confirmed.

As we rounded the next bend, life began to take on a more rosy outlook. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"It's the world's largest prairie dog," shrieked Vark, jolting me out of a light, disturbed sleep. I had been dreaming of Rhonda, how she suddenly seemed to give up and let go of my hand just when I almost had her pulled on board the bus. Poor kid, I guess it was all too much for her, and in the end she preferred letting go, rather than hanging on for God knows what.

Nelson slowed the bus at the apparition which was looming over us. The World's Largest Prairie Dog was an icon for travelers of I-70 between Colorado and Kansas. Situated just outside of Oakley, Kansas, it was a sign that you had finally made it across 100's of miles of monotimus prairie and were near the state line.

I remembered being a kid of just 5 or 6 and driving with my Grand Dad to visit some distant Cherokee cousins in Kentucky. The signs had started appearing 200 miles back in Colorado. "World's Largest Prairie Dog! Refreshments! Campground! Only 200 miles!" The signs would appear again and again at 30 mile or so intervals.

My brother who was 8 and already doing well at the boarding school in Chinle, 60 miles from our grazing lands, read the signs aloud to me as we passed. "Gran' Pa! Gran' Pa!" we both begged, Can we see it? Can we stop?" My Grand Dad who had been disappointed too often by the white worlds' promises, sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, my God!" How tacky can you get?" exclaimed Skye, pointing at the thing and collapsing into laughter. Nelson stared at the apparition in bemusement and replied, "My dear, it doesn't get any better than this. We have arrived at one of the 7 tackiest tourist traps in the Western world."

God! I wished Aaron would wake up for this. He would have been out of the bus in an instant, climbing up the side of the Prairie Dog's face and taunting us all to come get him from its eye brow.

Patrick was snoring loudly on the bus seat right behind me. "Wake up Patrick! I said to him. "We're almost at the Colorado line!" He stirred uneasily in his sleep and muttered something that sounded like, "Damn net nanny..."

What was that? But I was too excited to care. "Come on, everybody!" I called out to the group. "Camping! REFRESHMENTS!" We all clambered off the bus to explore the delights that The World's Largest Prairie Dog had to offer.

Three years ago I had sat on this seat eating a Dagwood dog and a milkshake as mum used the bathroom to freshen up. I was in a different world now though.. a hard, cold new world, but one that still included the promise of refreshments and Dagwood dogs overseen by the worlds largest prairie dog. oh how this put things into perspective for me.

Glad to be off the bus I breathed in the air. it was fresh and cleaner than the smog and dust we had been breathing the last few days. I thought it would clear my head. I thought it would revitalise my will to survive and give me an empowering energy to breathe in a freshness and exhale all the negative aura of the trauma surrounding us. I was, of course, wrong.

mum
hunger
the earth shaking
Aarons still body
the self inflicted bruise on my head from the metal bars on the bus
Varks turbulent support
the peanuts
the peaches we never found
an ever grumbling stomach
the warmth of a hug
cracks in my heart
Patrick's control
cracks in my nails
Fred's control
cracks in my skin
Nelsons control
my total lack of control


My knees hit the gravel with a puncturing thud, I filled my fists with gravel and threw handful after handful of stone at the giant statue. screaming at it for our plight, screaming at the sky for our demise. Tears filled my eyes as the words of hatred filled my mouth. the stones hit the dog with small dings like a coins being dropped on the deck of a fibreglass boat. Patrick cautiously approaches me with a stern face and raised opened palms.

" Skye! HEY! Skye come on we just pulled up here to relax, there is no use for that wasted energy here.."

"F**k you Patrick! F**k that bus and F**k Colorado! lead me not to my death Pat, I can do that myself! "

I stand and turn on my heels, the horizon beckons my soul and my feet try to run, but with the energy of a dishcloth its more like a disabled canter. Patrick's hand grabs my elbow and with a firm grip turn my crying eyes to meet his stable gaze. how dare he be so calm. how DARE he be so in control! doesn't he know there is no hope!!

I pull back my head and straighten my body, with rushed rage and hopeless retort I smash my forehead into Patrick's nose. a head butt to his ego, but I doubt that it hurt him that much, so with my free arm I start to scratch at his arms and neck until he pushes me back onto the gravel, staring at me like a pathetic symbol of weakness. he stalks away. and I sit with my face burning and my lungs feeling like they have been extracted of all breathing privileges.

I don't know how long I have been sitting here, the dirt is making its new home inside the pores of my skin and I can hear the others making noise behind me. I hear the crunching of gravel behind me.. someone is approaching.

I feel the cool press of metal on my neck, just below my hair line. its a can of drink and its pushed hard into my skin, not offensive like, playful. a voice whispers in my ear

"thought you might need some sugar after that outburst"

The cola is then offered to me from some one now kneeling behind me , I reach up and take it, and the arm folds around me rests on my shoulders and collar bone with the thumb from that hand softly and soothingly stroking my neck. Long legs fold beside me as a comforting presence soothes my static mind. I know I needn't say a word as a look into Varks tired face and offer her an apologetic smile.

She offers one back.

Hey, it might be ok after all...