Thursday, September 26, 2013

Day 22

I made my goodbyes this morning and headed out again. I've spent the past few days helping out by hunting up any food I could, while most of the townsfolk tended to their injuries and fortified their new home. They're still debating whether to stay in the underground tunnels or to come up and try to rebuild nearby. Personally, I'm thinking they should just fortify where they are. The old Fest Town was a bit of luck, cobbled together from the remains of buildings that were already there, fortified with scrap metals. Finding enough scrap to build a whole town again'll be difficult. They have secure walls and a ceiling already, plus its harder to set fire to and more defensible if their attackers come back. They can easily farm outside and nearby, it's not like they'll be closed up in there. We even found a generator, Armstrong said he's going to try to get it working, even if fuel is kind of at a premium.

I'm making my way northward. Tracks from the guys that attacked the town look like they came from that way. Last I heard, there should be the remains of an old highway around here somewhere, I'm hoping I can find it and parallel it. I don't want to walk directly on it, it'd leave me too exposed, but walking just close enough to keep an eye on it should let me see anyone else trying to travel the easier route.

The attack on the town is still fresh in my mind. It makes me wonder what happened to humanity. I mean, were people always like this? We've got bands of raiders roaming around, taking anything they want and killing or enslaving anyone who tries to stop them. People trying to eke out whatever crops they can get from this wasted soil. Groups like this New Church promising peace and love while they kill those who don't join right up. I haven't seen anything like it in the books I've managed to find, but I have to wonder if I just didn't find the right books, or if I missed something or glossed over it. I mean, maybe it was worse before, and that's why the world ended? I've met one Dyer who claimed he was alive when the Cataclysm happened. He talked about bombs blowing, and everything turning to shit after. But, I mean, the guy was a research guy, a scientist, totally dedicated to his lab. Still is, really. Maybe there was something else, he just didn't see it all. Were the bombs from an error, or an attack, or just a side effect of something else going on? Or was everything better before, the Cataclysm just let people be more of who they are on the inside?

I know I don't have any answers. I'm not a philosopher, or a head doctor, or anything like that. And something tells me I'll have to find a lot more books and maybe some audio recordings too, before I know what led to the Cataclysm. And honestly, I'll probably never figure it out. But it does make me a little...I dunno, not sad just...fatalistic, I guess, about humanity's future.


I've never really worried about good versus evil, or morality, or anything like that. Just never been that introspective. All I think I can really do is what I've been doing, for the same reasons I've doing them. Part of it is enjoying helping others, yeah. But its just a small part. The bigger part is...when you help someone out, you save them, you drive off the bad things...they open their arms to you, and their hearts. They make you feel welcome, and one of them. That's the part I like.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Day 18c

Like I said, it's been a busy few days. Right now, most of the survivors are living in the labyrinthine depths that I had recently swept the Fallen out of. Andrew's rejoined us, the Mutate herbalist. He saw the smoke on the horizon, and came back to investigate. His herbs have helped a lot, and Cailin's been following him around like a puppy ever since he helped her mother. She's even been trying to talk her mother into them going with him when he leaves, so that she can learn from him. It's a hard sell to her mother, and even more so to Andrew himself. Cailin herself just seems to view it as a done deal, and I've got to give her points for tenaciousness. Others of the survivors have left, saying they'll find some other town or something but that they couldn't stay here. They were given a fair share of the leftover supplies, and all the best wishes anyone could muster. They'll carry word of what happened here.

Once we made our way here, we first made another sweep of the place, making sure nothing else dangerous was here hiding. That done, we secured the place the best we could, and then those of us who were able to made our way back to town to scavenge what we could. There's not much, but it'll give everybody food enough to last a few days, and there were still some blankets down in the shelter. I'm going to stick around for a while, and I'm going to hunt and explore and make sure everyone's as all right as they can be. And then I'm going to find the bastards behind this, and make them pay.

See, we had left the bodies of the gunmen laying where they died. I found where I had knocked out that one, but I had forgotten about him and he apparently recovered enough to leave. I only hope that he didn't see where everyone went. I searched the other bodies, though, trying to figure out who they were, why they had done this. Of course, I also took their guns, the townsfolk can use them. They weren't dressed like raiders: no armor bits, no garish colors or accessories to frighten their victims. They looked like regular guys. But in one of their pockets, I found a small notebook. Opening it, I found bits of paper similar to what had been in the book carried by that Brother Francis. This wasn't as big, wasn't as full, but it was obviously another copy of the Word. There wasn't much to it, but what I saw chilled me. Things about stoning women, dashing children against stones, fighting unbelievers. At the end, there were even some sort of cartoon pages about various things, obviously just individual parts of a whole, including one of a member of some competing group being thrown into fire.

Whoever and wherever this New Church is, they seem bent on making sure that their Word is the only word, the only way, and the only law. They're enforcing it with pain, death, and fear, and seem to be taking their Word from only disjointed bits and pieces of other things.


Almost all of Fest Town has been wiped out, the town itself burnt to ashes and scrap metal, its people scattered and injured. That sanctuary against a harsh world is gone. Max is dead, a good man dedicated to protecting and providing for his friends. And Jennifer is dead, I found her body inside the house that had been given to me. I-...I don't know how much I cared for her, but I did care. She was a sweet girl, and she was comforting to wake up to. No one deserved this, least of all for simply not agreeing to follow someone else's way of life. Someone is going to answer for this.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Day 18b

I'm still kind of recovering from everything that's happened. So much loss, so many people killed, especially the way the world is now with people so few and every day a struggle to survive against the world itself...it's sad, it's pointless, and it just angers me. Yeah, I killed those raiders just a few days ago. Yeah, I killed those raiders just the other day, but they were rapists and slavers and killers. Bad men that this world didn't need. The people of Fest Town were welcoming, trying to make new lives and bring some sort of civilization back to this world. And they were wiped out by fire and by bullet.

Inside the burning section of the town, I managed to find six more people, mostly huddled together as they tried to beat back the flames. They were in a relatively open area, but the heat surrounding them would have still roasted them, if the smoke didn't get to them first. As it was, two were down, passed out. The others couldn't help them, they were too busy trying to kick dirt onto the nearest fires as they coughed. One little girl knelt by a lying form, crying out for her mommy to get up, to move. I ran to them, shouting that they had to move. I picked up the comatose mother over my shoulder and the little girl in my other arm, got the others to pick up the other guy, and I made them follow me out. We retraced my path in, but it wasn't easy. The flames had narrowed what little pathway there had been to begin with, making it hotter and harder. One of the others stumbled as we went, and was supported by leaning on one woman's shoulders in order to make it out. I know their names now, but at the time my brain couldn't process names or even faces, we struggled to fight our way out. We managed to escape the encircling blaze just as Armstrong returned, and he helped me guide the rest out and clear of the devastation. A grand total of nineteen people were laid out on the sand and dirt outside of the town, all still alive.

None of us were unscathed. The back of Armstrong's bald head was already developing visible blisters. The little girl, Cailin, had burns on her leg that will mostly likely end up scarring, but she still managed to walk to her mother when I set her down even though she was visibly in pain. Almost all of us were coughing and wheezing, the cooler air abrasive to our throats. We paused, Armstrong and I, just long enough to catch our breaths, and then we turned and jogged back toward the fire, to search for any further survivors. We were too late. Even before we reached that wall of light and heat and death, we knew that it had grown to close together. Without speaking, we just looked at each other, and we both knew that while we might make it in, we'd never make it out again alive. All that was left was to wait for it to burn itself out so that we could search for bodies. I collected my bag again, and we rejoined the others. I dug out what water and food I had on me, and we parceled it out among the others.

And then the first gunshot rang out, and one of the townsfolk fell, blood streaming from the wounds that appeared on his face. I shouted for the others to get down, pulling out my rifle and tossing my pistol and my shotgun down for anyone else who felt well enough to use them. I looked around and saw three men approaching us at a fast walk, just firing away. I knelt and took a moment to aim, the smoke having made my eyes irritated and watery. It took me four shots before I hit any of the gunmen, catching him in the upper thigh and making him fall and drop his weapon. The other two kept coming, but now I heard someone else firing from behind me, adding their own shots to mine. Between the two of us, the last two attackers fell, dead and unmoving. The first one that I had hit writhed on the ground, clutching his leg. I rose, walking forward enough to be sure of my shot, grimly finishing him with a bullet to the head before I came back to see to the others.


That hail of gunfire had claimed six more lives, bringing the survivors of Fest Town to myself and a whopping thirteen other people.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Day 18

I know, it's been a while since my last entry, but a lot has happened. Had to kill some folks, had to say goodbye to some folks, and had to bury others. Fest Town's gone. Hope you haven't been looking for it, based on my earlier entries, but unless someone's taken the time to rebuilt it, all you'll find is ash and the skeletal remains of people's homes.

As I came back, I spotted the smoke on the horizon from the direction of town, so I hustled my ass getting back. Alternating between running and walking, to keep cool and not push myself to exhaustion, it still took me an hour to get back, and I crested a hill to see what was going on. By that time, most of the town was already gone, burned away. There were still fires burning at one end, circling what buildings remained standing. Judging by which areas which were still smoking, it looked like the fire had started at the gates and burned inward. I'm just glad there had been other exits, because otherwise people might've been trapped behind the flames.

While I looked, stunned for a moment, I noticed movement just below me. I crouched down quickly, seeing someone that I had never seen before, a man with a scoped hunting rifle aimed toward the town and a large bag next to him with a few pieces of lumber sticking out. I'm not sure I even really thought about my next move, next thing I knew I had jumped down and clubbed with my own rifle in the back of his head. He went limp, bleeding where I'd hit him, but he was alive. I left him there, taking his rifle and making my way carefully toward town. I didn't see any other snipers but no one shot at me, no one ambushed me. I assume they figured the fire would do most of it and just one guy would be enough for clean-up.

I weaved my way into town through burned-out gaps in the walls. Bodies were all over the place, scorched and burnt, lying in doorways and in the ruins of the buildings. A thought struck me as I moved through the destruction to where the fire still raged, and that was the realization that some of these buildings were spaced too far apart for the fire to have spread this easily without a lot of wind. I made a mental note to check more thoroughly later, for now I needed to see if anybody was alive and needed help.


I tossed most of my gear on the ground as I moved quickly toward the flames, and saw movement as I approached. Armstrong, the smith, was carrying one person over his shoulder while helping to support another one, getting them clear of the flames. He had a leather blanket or something tossed quickly over them all, helping to protect them from the flames, but it still had smoldering holes and ragged edges, all trailing smoke as he moved. He greeted me as he recognized me but never stopped moving. As he passed, he simply called out to tell me where he had taken anyone he had found, and he wasn't sure if anyone was left alive. With that, I dove past the flames as best I could, and began searching.