Road to Nowhere

8/16

Starting a new journal. I lost the last one in the trailer of that semi. Guess I should’ve spent ten seconds to check my own pockets. But maybe it’s for the best. If there’s someone out there to find it, maybe it’ll bring them closer to me. But I can’t wait around here. Have to keep moving.

8/18

I saw a deer today. A real, honest-to-God deer. Thought they’d all died out. Between the snow and ash, I haven’t seen a hint of green for miles. But there it stood, in all its shaggy, soggy glory. Not fifty feet away. If I’d had my rifle handy, this entry would be very different. Maybe next time.

8/19

It’s quieter than usual. No wind. No crows. I heard a voice coming from one of the old office buildings, but like all the others, all it held was dust, rust and dead computers. To think I might have some company is apparently a wasted thought.

8/22

No sign of the deer. Or anything else edible. Down to the last can of pears, and there’s not a scrap of food left in this town. On to the next.

8/23

I saw a trio of vultures circling this morning. They took me about a mile off the road, but the promise of meat was too great to pass up. When I reached them, they scattered and left me the remnants of the deer. It wasn’t much, but the cold preserved a few bits here and there. The rest was lost. What killed it is still a mystery, and the vultures left little to examine. I just hope it doesn’t find me.

9/4

Made it to town. Had to trade shoes with some poor sap left in the ditch. He couldn’t speak, but I assume I had his blessing. The first corner store I searched yielded the following:

Energy drink, two cans

Jerky, one ounce

Twinkies, four boxes

This is a place of bounty. Of safety. For now.

9/7

The sporting goods store had a shelf of camp stoves. I cobbled together what I could from the rust wafer and tarnished brass. Should I find fuel, the cold would cease to be a concern. I heard the voice again, from the back room. And again, there was no one. Surely not everyone was trampled, burned and starved. There must be someone, and they must be somewhere else.

9/13?

The wind is picking up again, rattling the few intact windows left in this store. I have enough food and fuel to stave off the inevitable, but there’s still something missing. I can’t put my finger on it.

9/16?

I wrapped my things in a tarp and left the store behind. I need to keep moving. It doesn’t matter where. It doesn’t matter when I get there. All that matters is that I get there.

9/

I think it’s still September. It’s hard to tell without the sun. I’m losing track of where the road is meant to be. It was hard enough without all this damned snow. Aside from myself, there’s nothing out here. No movement, no sound. The only smell is that of burnt, rotting vehicles and their burnt, rotting inhabitants.

10

I heard the voice for the third time. I followed it, and there she was. Trapped beneath a car, sinking into the mud. A skinny thing, and pale as the ground around her. I tried to help her, tried to pull her out. But I was too late. She died in my arms. I still hear her.

10

I’ve been walking for days. Weeks? There’s nothing around me. No town, not so much as a building. The last car vanished in the horizon behind me. No feat, but not reassuring either. She’s called to me several times. I still can’t find her. Not after that.

11

The food is gone. I am alone, the stove burner my only companion. There’s something ahead. I can’t make out what it is. A stone, jutting from the earth? An armored vehicle, abandoned at the last minute? I have to keep moving.

11

A single gas station, pumps long empty. A pickup truck was parked in the back. Its owner was inside. No conversation, no camaraderie. A pile of bone and threadbare flannel behind the counter. The man was dedicated to his craft. He left me a single candy bar. Happy Thanksgiving.

12

There’s something here. Following me. I can hear its feet shuffling through the snow. Shadows dance across the ground, but it stays well out of sight; my stove is only so bright. What does it want? If it’s a human being, they must be much more resilient than I.

12

I haven’t slept in a while. The thing still follows. Through town, I could hear it dashing between the buildings. Staying far enough away to retain anonymity, but close enough to remind me of its presence. It is not human. It is waiting.

12

I can hear her wailing in some far-off part of the city. There’s no one else left. I have to find her. I must find her before the thing stalking me makes its move. A race against death.

13

She must be here. There’s nowhere else to go. A vast, flat stretch of nothing leads to the ocean, and this is the last stop. Why go further? To escape the beasts lurking in the dark? Or is she running from me?

14

I still hear her voice over the stinging wind and the howls of the night beasts. She sings to me. Such sweet melodies, long forgotten. She may yet have a change of heart. Please, please come back to me. I’ve missed you dearly.

15

I saw her today. She stood in the street, arms stretched to the sky. A fine silk gown draped over her shoulders. She sang in chorus with the beasts, howling along with abandon. Tomorrow I will approach her. I will ask her forgiveness.