Read Online A Shrouded World - Whistlers by Mark Tufo, John O'Brien - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Tufo, John O'Brien
Ads: Link
looking rather warm, are staying relatively contained in the area where it started. The atmosphere isn’t all that dry, but it isn’t exactly moist either.
With smoke billowing into the already polluted air, I slow and continue my merry trek to see where this leads. It’s not that I have much of a choice really. I opt to stay close to the middle of the highway, edging through the tangled metal as best I can. Although keeping me in the open, which already makes me nervous enough, it will give me warning of anything approaching from the trees. I just hope it’s clear to the front.
I stop and reload my partially empty mag with the rounds from the other partly used one. The traffic jam continues ahead in an unrelenting fashion and I see no end to the hopeless blockade of vehicles. I think it’s a little odd that I haven’t come across any road signs that would give me an indication of exactly where I am. I guess time will tell.
Michael Talbot – Journal Entry 3
The lack of disorder when we first found ourselves on the roadway made me think that whatever had happened here was more of a controlled migration rather than a fight-for-life retreat. That and the ground wasn’t littered with brass casings unless this was some abysmal land that had taken gun rights from their citizens. In that case, they never really stood a chance. Sure, they left enough granola bars to keep a hippie commune going for years, but no guns worth a crap or jewelry. Most of the car doors had been shut; certainly something people in panic mode wouldn’t have cared about.
The farther we went along, the more that changed. It was subtle at first, like a car door open or full bottles of water discarded on the side of the road. Then it began to become more insidious, bloody handprints and then blood trails. Next came the true panic, possessions became afterthoughts as everything was shed in a desperate attempt to lighten loads. Aunt Mabel’s fine china set held little importance when your life was endangered, especially from an enemy that wished nothing more than to strip the meat clean from your still breathing body. The only question now was where were they trying to go? It took another mile until I got my answer.
“This place is a jun k food addict’s worst nightmare,” I said to John as I looked in another car, hoping they had something that didn’t say ‘healthy’ on it.
“Shit, ” John said as he placed his boxes down and began to stuff paraphernalia deeper down into his pockets.
“What’s the matter?” I asked , doing a quick scan. I was not overly concerned at this point. John and my versions of problems were vastly different.
“The Man, man.”
“English, John, we talked about this.”
He pointed instead , which was probably better. I could barely make it out through the maze of cars and trucks ahead. But once I really started to look, it was difficult to miss the olive drab of military vehicles. How he had seen it through the haze in his eyes was a mystery.
“That would explain the controlled movement of the people in the cars.”
“I figured it was the Rapture,” John crunched out.
I looked at him for a moment. “Don’t lose that thought , it’s still a possibility.” But anytime you really want a situation to get all screwed up, just throw the military into the mix. “Now, if we could figure out where everyone went, maybe we could get some answers.”
“Awesome , man, I always wanted to know how whales communicate.”
“Yeah maybe that answer , too. Let’s go.”
I was torn. A part of me wanted to make as much haste as possible to the blockade. Odds were high we would find out what happened here, who the howlers were, and maybe how to get back to where we belonged. On the other hand, I had a healthy fear of all things governmentally controlled. In times of severe crisis, the government is FAR less concerned with the safety and well-being of its citizens than it is the smooth running and
With smoke billowing into the already polluted air, I slow and continue my merry trek to see where this leads. It’s not that I have much of a choice really. I opt to stay close to the middle of the highway, edging through the tangled metal as best I can. Although keeping me in the open, which already makes me nervous enough, it will give me warning of anything approaching from the trees. I just hope it’s clear to the front.
I stop and reload my partially empty mag with the rounds from the other partly used one. The traffic jam continues ahead in an unrelenting fashion and I see no end to the hopeless blockade of vehicles. I think it’s a little odd that I haven’t come across any road signs that would give me an indication of exactly where I am. I guess time will tell.
Michael Talbot – Journal Entry 3
The lack of disorder when we first found ourselves on the roadway made me think that whatever had happened here was more of a controlled migration rather than a fight-for-life retreat. That and the ground wasn’t littered with brass casings unless this was some abysmal land that had taken gun rights from their citizens. In that case, they never really stood a chance. Sure, they left enough granola bars to keep a hippie commune going for years, but no guns worth a crap or jewelry. Most of the car doors had been shut; certainly something people in panic mode wouldn’t have cared about.
The farther we went along, the more that changed. It was subtle at first, like a car door open or full bottles of water discarded on the side of the road. Then it began to become more insidious, bloody handprints and then blood trails. Next came the true panic, possessions became afterthoughts as everything was shed in a desperate attempt to lighten loads. Aunt Mabel’s fine china set held little importance when your life was endangered, especially from an enemy that wished nothing more than to strip the meat clean from your still breathing body. The only question now was where were they trying to go? It took another mile until I got my answer.
“This place is a jun k food addict’s worst nightmare,” I said to John as I looked in another car, hoping they had something that didn’t say ‘healthy’ on it.
“Shit, ” John said as he placed his boxes down and began to stuff paraphernalia deeper down into his pockets.
“What’s the matter?” I asked , doing a quick scan. I was not overly concerned at this point. John and my versions of problems were vastly different.
“The Man, man.”
“English, John, we talked about this.”
He pointed instead , which was probably better. I could barely make it out through the maze of cars and trucks ahead. But once I really started to look, it was difficult to miss the olive drab of military vehicles. How he had seen it through the haze in his eyes was a mystery.
“That would explain the controlled movement of the people in the cars.”
“I figured it was the Rapture,” John crunched out.
I looked at him for a moment. “Don’t lose that thought , it’s still a possibility.” But anytime you really want a situation to get all screwed up, just throw the military into the mix. “Now, if we could figure out where everyone went, maybe we could get some answers.”
“Awesome , man, I always wanted to know how whales communicate.”
“Yeah maybe that answer , too. Let’s go.”
I was torn. A part of me wanted to make as much haste as possible to the blockade. Odds were high we would find out what happened here, who the howlers were, and maybe how to get back to where we belonged. On the other hand, I had a healthy fear of all things governmentally controlled. In times of severe crisis, the government is FAR less concerned with the safety and well-being of its citizens than it is the smooth running and
Similar Books
