There is no way to sum this up-
So much has happen that is unexplainable since I stopped in Ohio, I'm not sure I can begin to express it. In fact, I think I understand how Henry feels about all this better than I understand how I feel. That of course is the issue anyway. Maybe if I take a deep breath and focus on Henry's point of view, I'll be able to write it down in some way that makes sense.
I- no, Henry (I'm going to use Henry in place of I even though in my mind it's I, because they are Henry's thoughts, after all, even if they're in my brain and being written by my hand, and if that isn't hella confusing, just wait.)
Henry, who's from Santa Barbara, spent a couple of months in Winston Minnesota trying to help out the local sheriff and later being a medic amid all the destruction. As of several weeks ago, there wasn't anyone left to help, so Henry packed up a hummer that had been dispatched from Minneapolis-St Paul Air Reserve Station to help keep rioting down, with provisions, books and weaponry and set out for Chicago. Along the way, he encountered a large number of unearthly creatures, nasty beasties, which he mostly avoided because, well mostly because there wasn't anyone around to protect but him. He avoided them until he had stopped off in Spencer Illinois (he saw it on the map and figured what the hell, maybe the place will be lucky for a guy with the same name).
Henry was walking through the outskirts of town when he heard something he hadn't heard for days- a human voice (my- uh, Noah's voice to be exact). It was screaming. Henry thought it was a woman. He followed the sound of it and came upon a skinny man being chased by one of those big roach things Henry had seen a few times along his journey. Henry pulled his pistol and chased after them. By the time they were in shooting range, the roach was attached to the man's shoulder and it was, well it was doing something to him Henry couldn’t quite figure out. The man was face down on the ground, convulsing and keening in pain. Henry got up as close as he could, took aim and shot a bullet through the roach. It went still and the man below it went still, as well.
Henry was hoping that the poor guy was still alive, so he went over and tried to pick the dead bug off of him. As soon as Henry touched the roach, he lost feeling in his hand. He tried to pull his arm back, but the loss of feeling was working its way up his arm. Henry picked up his gun with his left hand, set the business end right up to the roach's shell and fired three more rounds into it. An instant later, the roach melted into a psychedelic rainbow puddle and was absorbed into the man on the ground. Henry's hand came free, but it was numb for days afterward.
Henry checked for as pulse. It was there, but weak, so he picked up the man. He was pretty light and Henry carried him to the hummer. There wasn’t a hospital in town and the one doctor's office, he'd found had been ransacked some time earlier, so Henry found an elementary school and brought him in there hoping that the nurse's office might have some supplies. It didn’t have much, but it did have clean cots, running water and bandages, so Henry decided to take it.
Three days later, the kid- he really was just a kid, maybe twenty three, maybe a little older, the kid woke up, vomited and passed out again. A couple of hours later, the kid- Noah woke again, ate a little canned soup, got washed up and told Henry his life story. To clarify: Noah told Henry, not Noah's life story, but Henry's; Noah told Henry Henry's life story. He also told Henry exactly what he was thinking right before he said it out loud. Henry though that the kid was running some kind of scam for a while, but he couldn't find any way how he could have been, and Henry did have a certain amount of experience spotting cons, both personal and professional. Eventually, he grudgingly admitted that maybe Noah really did hear his thoughts and have his memories. Hell, stranger things had happened in the last few months, that's for sure.
After a few days, Henry and Noah settled into a small house near the center of town and while Noah continued to heal and get used to having Henry inside his head all the time, Henry gathered things- foodstuff, clothing, gasoline, propane, firewood, candles, medicines, firearms, ammunition, paper, pens, batteries, tools, building supplies, rabbits, seeds, whiskey, extra tires, engine parts, toothbrushes, soaps, bedding, chickens, books, toilet tissue, boiled and bottled water, flashlights, shoes, bandages, salt- lots of salt, buckets, brushes, brooms, mops, buttons, needles, thread, scissors, pins, sewing patterns...
Wow! Henry went right round the bend with all that, didn't he? I'm writing from Noah's perspective again and, on rereading what's down here, Henry did miss a few things, like the fact that I can't stand to be more than a few hundred feet from him for more than an hour or I get the shakes, or like the really big argument I won about why we should be living in the same house instead of a few doors down from each other (it really helped to know where he was going with his reasoning before he got there), or how so very protective of me he is, or how even though he's a son of a bitch, I love him like family already, and he, much as he might deny it aloud, feels the same love for me. It's too bad he's straight, and old and not my type anyway, really.
I- no, Henry (I'm going to use Henry in place of I even though in my mind it's I, because they are Henry's thoughts, after all, even if they're in my brain and being written by my hand, and if that isn't hella confusing, just wait.)
Henry, who's from Santa Barbara, spent a couple of months in Winston Minnesota trying to help out the local sheriff and later being a medic amid all the destruction. As of several weeks ago, there wasn't anyone left to help, so Henry packed up a hummer that had been dispatched from Minneapolis-St Paul Air Reserve Station to help keep rioting down, with provisions, books and weaponry and set out for Chicago. Along the way, he encountered a large number of unearthly creatures, nasty beasties, which he mostly avoided because, well mostly because there wasn't anyone around to protect but him. He avoided them until he had stopped off in Spencer Illinois (he saw it on the map and figured what the hell, maybe the place will be lucky for a guy with the same name).
Henry was walking through the outskirts of town when he heard something he hadn't heard for days- a human voice (my- uh, Noah's voice to be exact). It was screaming. Henry thought it was a woman. He followed the sound of it and came upon a skinny man being chased by one of those big roach things Henry had seen a few times along his journey. Henry pulled his pistol and chased after them. By the time they were in shooting range, the roach was attached to the man's shoulder and it was, well it was doing something to him Henry couldn’t quite figure out. The man was face down on the ground, convulsing and keening in pain. Henry got up as close as he could, took aim and shot a bullet through the roach. It went still and the man below it went still, as well.
Henry was hoping that the poor guy was still alive, so he went over and tried to pick the dead bug off of him. As soon as Henry touched the roach, he lost feeling in his hand. He tried to pull his arm back, but the loss of feeling was working its way up his arm. Henry picked up his gun with his left hand, set the business end right up to the roach's shell and fired three more rounds into it. An instant later, the roach melted into a psychedelic rainbow puddle and was absorbed into the man on the ground. Henry's hand came free, but it was numb for days afterward.
Henry checked for as pulse. It was there, but weak, so he picked up the man. He was pretty light and Henry carried him to the hummer. There wasn’t a hospital in town and the one doctor's office, he'd found had been ransacked some time earlier, so Henry found an elementary school and brought him in there hoping that the nurse's office might have some supplies. It didn’t have much, but it did have clean cots, running water and bandages, so Henry decided to take it.
Three days later, the kid- he really was just a kid, maybe twenty three, maybe a little older, the kid woke up, vomited and passed out again. A couple of hours later, the kid- Noah woke again, ate a little canned soup, got washed up and told Henry his life story. To clarify: Noah told Henry, not Noah's life story, but Henry's; Noah told Henry Henry's life story. He also told Henry exactly what he was thinking right before he said it out loud. Henry though that the kid was running some kind of scam for a while, but he couldn't find any way how he could have been, and Henry did have a certain amount of experience spotting cons, both personal and professional. Eventually, he grudgingly admitted that maybe Noah really did hear his thoughts and have his memories. Hell, stranger things had happened in the last few months, that's for sure.
After a few days, Henry and Noah settled into a small house near the center of town and while Noah continued to heal and get used to having Henry inside his head all the time, Henry gathered things- foodstuff, clothing, gasoline, propane, firewood, candles, medicines, firearms, ammunition, paper, pens, batteries, tools, building supplies, rabbits, seeds, whiskey, extra tires, engine parts, toothbrushes, soaps, bedding, chickens, books, toilet tissue, boiled and bottled water, flashlights, shoes, bandages, salt- lots of salt, buckets, brushes, brooms, mops, buttons, needles, thread, scissors, pins, sewing patterns...
Wow! Henry went right round the bend with all that, didn't he? I'm writing from Noah's perspective again and, on rereading what's down here, Henry did miss a few things, like the fact that I can't stand to be more than a few hundred feet from him for more than an hour or I get the shakes, or like the really big argument I won about why we should be living in the same house instead of a few doors down from each other (it really helped to know where he was going with his reasoning before he got there), or how so very protective of me he is, or how even though he's a son of a bitch, I love him like family already, and he, much as he might deny it aloud, feels the same love for me. It's too bad he's straight, and old and not my type anyway, really.