May 2, 2008

Every once in a while, you meet people on the road.

When all of you are walking, it gets kind of awkward because from a distance it's a little hard to tell the difference between we've been walking for days and we're tired and braaaaaaaaains, and then everyone ends up pointing guns at each other's heads, although usually by the time the ( Read more... )

March 30-April 5, 2004: New York City

It's beyond bizarre to sleep in safety again. Actually, that's just bizarre -- what's beyond bizarre is how little time it's taken for Tom to fall back into the nervous habits of survival that Milliways had nearly trained out of him. It's beyond bizarre that safety became so unfamiliar, so quickly.

Tom tries not ( Read more... )

March 30, 2004

As the gates clang shut, Jess tucks the gun into a back pocket and leads the way into the building. Tom trails a step behind, cricket bat over his shoulder.

"Welcome to my lair," she tells him cheerfully as they step inside, footsteps echoing. "Look out for Wolf."

Tom blinks at her. "Wolf?"

The clatter of nails on the floor is the only ( Read more... )

March 30, 2004

"So where exactly are we going?"

Beth and her partner -- Rue, she'd introduced herself as -- exchange glances. Beth snickers. "Skullcrusher Mountain."

". . . Oh, thanks, that's not ominous at all"There's a couple local gangs that call it that," Rue clarifies, voice implying an eyeroll. "Rumor has it they set up a trebuchet to deal ( Read more... )

Day 9 ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

It's a pleasant March afternoon in downtown Harrisburg, Pennsylvania -- sunny, partly cloudy.

In the courtyard of Pennsylvania Apartments, the bang of the front door slamming is still echoing when it opens again ( Read more... )

I'm not going away, you know, Tom.

Tom's eyes snap open, and he sits up in the bed, flailing out for his gun, and then letting out a pained ah as bright lights hit his eyes. The bed rattles strangely. His flailing hand hit cold smooth metal and tightens -- but it's not his gun, it's a railing.

It's the side of the gurney he's in.

What the fuck is

Now, ( Read more... )

Tom doesn't usually dream.

Or at least he doesn't remember them. Or maybe he really doesn't. That has more to do with the fact that he rarely sleeps deeply -- that's a survival habit -- than with any mental unbalance.

Probably.

He's pretty sure.

He's never been big on dreams, anyway. His always seem to involve being naked on the first day of school.

( Read more... )

It takes a long time to get anywhere by foot, especially when you're constantly looking over your shoulder for hordes of the undead. It's been nearly two months since Tom left Detroit at a dead run, heading East. Now he's nearing Philadelphia, backpack over his shoulder, gun stuffed in his waistband, and he's really looking forward to finding ( Read more... )