The next morning, before we parted ways, he asked me how I was dealing with being on my own. I told him I was doing okay, I had just visited friends a couple of weeks ago. He told me I was the first person he had seen in about a year, and if I ever found myself alone as long as he had been, I should keep a journal to keep my thoughts in order. It was good advice and I thanked him as I shook his hand and watched him walk away.

And now I\'ve been alone long enough that the silence is almost painful at night, I\'ve decided to start a journal. Finding the paper was the hard part, but I found some in a school of all places. I had a little laugh at the irony. Well here goes.

We thought we were so smart. We thought we were so prepared. We were wrong. The scientists were so proud of their telescopes and computers. They were confident they would see any space born threats. The government had all the nuclear weapons they could want, and enough rockets to send them anywhere. It was back in 2012 that we learned too late how ill equipped we really were.

The scientists saw it coming, an enormous meteor the size of Australia. A massive slab of rock soaring through the eternal night of space. It was coming straight at us, and the general consensus was to destroy it before it destroyed us first. The governments of the world worked as one for the first time ever. There was hope kindled in every heart, we would save ourselves, and we would have worldwide peace for the first time. At approximately 12:05 pm eastern, August 8th, 2012, the rockets were launched. Two thousand nuclear warheads carried the hopes and prayers of the world.

The rockets intercepted the meteor two days later. The scientists reported the total destruction of the meteor. The world celebrated for days. Then the celebration ended. There was a gross miscalculation. We were so desperate to destroy the meteor, we didn\'t realize what would happen after, and because everyone was celebrating, no one was watching the skies. The meteorites started falling all over the world. At first people thought it was pretty, then they realized it was death. Showers of burning meteorites fell everywhere. Whole cities went up in flames overnight. In the span of seven days, it was over, and the world was silent. We called it The Fall.

The first year after The Fall was the hardest for the survivors. Those who had managed to seek shelter during the catastrophe now had to survive off the scorched land. There wasn\'t much to go around and fighting quickly broke out. I remember the riots over food and water. All traces of humanity was gone from the peoples eyes. There was only hate and desperation. I would look down on them now, but I was one of them. I had sometimes thought I was hungry before The Fall, but now I knew what true hunger was. The constant hollow ache, the weakness, feeling myself dying slowly, so slowly. I now know what dog tastes like.

For arguments sake, one might say maybe 20% of the worlds population had survived The Fall. During the first year, another 5% failed to adapt, dying in the fighting, or from sickness, or injury, or starvation, or just plain accidents. After The Fall, there was always more dead bodies to find. The survivors wandering around the ruined streets in a daze. Again, I was no different. Imagine walking down a dark flight of stairs that you\'re well familiar with. You\'ve used these stairs all your life. Suddenly you step down but the last stair isn\'t there anymore. You find yourself falling thought space where there was always a sure foothold before. That was what The Fall was like. One day the world was as it always was, then it was suddenly gone.

I remember The Fall clearly. I was one of the lucky ones who found shelter in the fortified cellar of a bank. There was an old abandoned fallout shelter left over from the 60\'s. There were only four of us there that week. No one else was lucky enough to find our refuge. There was room for so many more... After The Fall, we emerged from the shelter and went about the business of survival. One of the four died a month later. She broke a leg, and with no doctors, it became gangrenous. The other two went off together with a small band or survivors. They settled a small village together. I stop by once or twice a year to catch up. We stay up late every night drinking and reminiscing about the old days. They\'ve both started families and have found their happiness. Sometimes I envy them.

Only four years after The Fall, mankind had not gotten far. The Fall had reduced the world to the technological dark ages. The devastation of four years ago had left very little that still worked or could be fixed. Small communities had gathered here and there, never with too many people. They survived by farming and raising animals. These people\'s whole world was in those small villages. It would mean several days of dangerous travel to the nearest neighboring village. Roving bands of raiders still plagued the villages, sometimes taking one or two villagers with them to keep their gene pool fresh. But rudimentary civilization wasn\'t good enough for some. There were always wanderers. Nomadic people who didn\'t like to settle too long in any one place. People like me.

Over the past four years, I\'ve had several run-ins with other wanderers. Most of them are amiable enough, willing to live and let live, but there are a few who would just as soon gut you and steal your boots. I made a good friend of one of them anyway. He doesn\'t like to talk about Before too much, but boy can that guy drink! We even traveled together for a short time, and we had a pretty good time, so we decided to go our separate ways before we got sick of each other. In general we all try to avoid each other, the world\'s a lot bigger now and there\'s more than enough space to go around. We wanderers have adopted a nomadic lifestyle which suits us, drifting like the breeze wherever our fancy takes us. Personally I prefer the warmer climate of the south. I always hated winter.

Surviving alone was the hardest transition at first, but as in all other things, the more I did it, the easier it got. I tried keeping a dog for a while, just for company, but I soon got tired of him. He was just another mouth to feed, and his jokes were terrible. I spent a summer with a caravan to make a little money, not that I really needed it. The trip was mostly because of the caravan master\'s daughter who had taken quite a liking to me, and as I like sex, I took a liking to her. Inevitably her father found out and I had to leave. Quickly.

Sometimes I wonder how I\'ve managed to survive all this time. I managed to stop myself wondering \"why.\" I once read somewhere that survivors of disasters often go through a guilt phase, wondering over and over why they survived when others \"more deserving\" died. After four years, I\'ve learned that there is no fairness to life. There is no rhyme or reason, no \"time to go,\" people just live for a while, then they die. I\'ve made and lost many friends since The Fall, they died in different ways, and there was no preventing it. So I disconnected with the human race for a time. I wandered here and there, seeing many things, and meeting many strange and interesting people.

Once I met a cult that went on endlessly about the end of the world. How these were the end times and Jesus was coming to bring judgment to the sinners, that fire would rain from the heavens and the faithful would be called home to Glory. I politely voiced the fact that The Fall had happened four years ago, and yet the world was still here, that if the end times had come, why were we still here. I was escorted out of the village and told never to come back. Well if waiting to die makes them happy, who am I to shit in their cereal?

So I wandered some more, and my only companions were my sword and my shot gun. I\'ve had plenty of practice with both, and I was pretty good, as many raiders could attest if they were still alive. But it\'s the Dregs that are the worst. The Dregs are the people who have gone feral, living like animals, totally wild. I prefer to avoid them when I can, because if they see you, they go get their pack and hunt you. Killing one or two isn\'t enough to discourage the others, you have to kill them all, and I just don\'t have the stomach for all that blood. Before The Fall, I would have denied that I could ever kill anyone, but now it\'s just a fact of life. I would have been appalled, I would have said that killing after so many had died was wrong. Well maybe it is. But the world has changed a lot since then, and it\'s kill or be killed now. Sad really...

The Fall was the worst thing that ever happened in my lifetime, and yet, it was also the best. Before The Fall, I was always dissatisfied with the way the world worked. Politics and pollution, money, pointless laws and restrictions, too many people, Donny Osmond... Just kidding. But now for the first time in my life, I am truly free to decide the course of my life. I\'m not tied down to a job, a family, bills, debts, or the laws of man. I can go where I please when it pleases me, I can do what I want when I want to, I am free. I miss my parents and siblings, my nice safe life before The Fall, but I would miss this life too. Go figure.

Anyway, my hand is starting to cramp up from all this writing, and I\'m ready to get some sleep. It seems the teacher was right, the night isn\'t so lonely all of a sudden. Maybe I\'ll write some more tomorrow, if nothing else, it\'ll keep me from going crazy for a while. What was the old joke about how a brain is like a parachute? It only works when it\'s open? Yeah something like that, trying to remember and put things in order will be good exercise for the old noggin.

End of entry.


Second entry.

Someone\'s been trailing me for three days. I thought I had lost them in the last ruined city, but they found me again. I\'m not too sure who they are, I wasn\'t too interested in finding out anyway. Curiosity isn\'t a good trait to have in the wasteland, there\'s enough things that could kill you without going around looking for them. I\'ve been wracking my brains for days trying to figure out who would want me enough to send out trackers.

Hopefully they weren\'t sent by the caravan master to tell me I\'m a father to his daughter\'s baby. I\'m definitely not the kind of guy to settle down with a wife and kids. As I\'m writing this, I\'m holed up in an old subway tunnel. It\'s caved in about twenty feet back, but the open end seems stable enough. I also found the remains of a campfire near the back, so I figured it was safe, but no fire for me tonight. Even a dry wood fire will make enough smoke to be seen by moonlight.

I remember going camping with my father and little brother. Well I suppose \"camping\" isn\'t the right word for what we did. My father had a friend who owned a small cabin on the side of Mount Kearsarge in New Hampshire. We would park the truck by the river at the base of the mountain, cross the river, and hike up the old logging road for about an hour before we came to the cabin.

Apart from a wood stove, the cabin was the definition of roughing it. No power, no radio, no other lights but oil lamps and candles. Water came from the stream nearby. That was all. We\'d shoot soda cans with the .22, swim in the stream, and just generally relax. My brother and I would explore around the cabin, catching newts and other various unwary critters that young boys find fascinating.

There were times, since The Fall, when I considered going back to the cabin, but it\'s a long way back to New Hampshire, and it\'s just too damned cold in the winter to settle on the side of a mountain in the northeast. And again, I\'m not the settling type.

I guess I\'ll try to get some sleep.

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They found my hiding place. I heard them stumbling on the rough ground in the dark outside. I quickly gathered my things and slipped out of the tunnel. Looks like no rest for the weary tonight. I suppose I ought to just confront them and find out what they want, but not at night, and not when there are three of them and only one of me. I passed an old SUV earlier this evening, I guess I can hide in there until morning.

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The tables have turned. I\'ve been watching my would-be hunters. I truly lost them last night, got some sleep, and headed back to the tunnel. They were camped in the tunnel, lighting the fire I didn\'t dare to start. Now that I\'ve had a good look at them, I know I was right to hide from them. These are bounty hunters, they have the option of bringing in their marks dead or alive, but they usually opt for \"dead.\" No need wasting food and water on an extra mouth on the way back, when it\'s just as easy to kill your target, sling the corpse over the back of a horse, and save money on supplies.

In my experience, all bounty hunters are scumbags, and they do more harm than good. There were only three of them, I could snipe them from where I was hiding since it was only about fifteen feet away, kill two and make the third tell me who had hired them and why. I unslung my shotgun and checked the safety and made sure it was loaded. I took aim and waited for one of them to move away from the others. Pretty soon one of them did. A late riser and obviously needing to take a leak, he left his boots and weapons by his bed roll as he made his sleepy way to a cluster of bushes. Perfect.

I took aim and squeezed off a shot. One of the bounty hunter\'s head disappeared in a red spray. I quickly pumped a new shell into the chamber and shot again. The second hunter fell to his knees clutching a ragged hole in the chest. The third hunter tried to run back to his guns.

\"FREEZE!\" I shouted. He stopped dead in his tracks. \"I\'ve got a bead on you, so don\'t make a move.\" I said, standing up and making my way cautiously down from my hiding place.

\"Now you\'re going to tell me who hired you to find me, and why.\" I said.

\"I-I never h-heard the guy\'s n-name,\" the hunter stammered. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. \"We were in the town of Fireside when we saw the wanted poster in the tavern. There was a picture and a description that matches you. The poster just said to inquire at the bar. We did and we were shown into a room in the back. Whoever hired us didn\'t tell us anything about the job, just find you and bring you in alive.\"

\"Well thank you very much,\" I said, and blew his head off. I searched the bodies and their bags and soon found what I was looking for. The wanted poster. I held it up to the light and, sure enough, there was a hand drawn picture of myself. Not too bad either. I folded it up and slipped it into my own bag. I then took their supplies and started south. It would take me about three weeks to get to Fireside from here. Someone had a lot to answer for...

End of entry.



Third entry

It\'s been hard to find the time to sit down and write lately. I\'m still three days away from the town of Fireside, but I feel like I\'m being watched and followed, even when I have a clear view all around me. I\'ve been sleeping badly, waking up to the slightest sound, and having disturbing dreams of running from a mob of people with no faces. I hope I can find some answers in Fireside and get the bounty off my head. I\'d prefer it if avoiding people was a choice, not a necessity.

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Two days later-

I\'ll be in Fireside in the morning. I\'ll spend the rest of this evening disguising myself. Nothing too elaborate, but a shave makes a hell of a difference. At first I was reluctant to shave off my beard, clean shaven men were a comparative rarity nowadays, and it might attract more attention than some other kind of disguise. But finally I decided a clean shaven man would be less likely to be considered a filthy wanderer.

That was another part of my disguise: I had to try to clean my clothes. I usually carry no soap, in the wasteland there\'s no one to tell you smell. Luckily I found the old deserted shell of a convenience store. There wasn\'t much left, but after a little digging I found a few old Bic lighters that still had some fuel in them, and buried deep down, amazingly, was a box of soap. The bars were mostly destroyed by time and moisture, but there were a couple of bars in the middle that had somehow survived intact.

So now I sit here in my (kinda) clean clothes and finish this page. In a minute I\'ll sharpen my knife and try to shave with it. I hope I don\'t botch it too bad, it would be a cruel joke to have survived all this time only to end up killing myself trying to shave.

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The next morning-

I arrived at the outskirts of Fireside fighting the temptation to keep rubbing the side of my now shaven face. I did a pretty good job considering I don\'t have a mirror, and the nicks had already scabbed over. As I made my way into town I was relieved to find I was not the only traveler arriving in town. There was a foot sore caravan throwing down their packs and stretching with a chorus of groans. There was a group of merchants riding in a slave drawn cart full of various wares.

I hate the sight of slaves, I always have. When my business in town is done, I\'ll try to take them with me and bring them to my friend Wendal. He was one of the people who hid in the bank vault with me during The Fall. He\'s the head of his own small village now, and whenever I free slaves, I usually bring them there. Wendal\'s always happy to take them in, there\'s plenty of room, and more people means more can get done.

I made my way to the tavern and let myself inside. I\'d never really been interested in \"westerns\" when I was a kid. I\'d seen \"Silverado\" and \"Magnificent Seven\" and even \"The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly,\" but that was about it. Walking into the Fireside Tavern was like stepping into one of those old movies. I miss popcorn. There was sawdust on the floor to soak up spilled drinks and spilled blood. Over in the corner sat an old man trying to coax a tune out of an old guitar. I think the guitar was winning.

Up on the \"stage\" there was a couple of local girls trying to dance along to the music. I only spared them a glance, because next to the door was what I was looking for, a bulletin board. There were several notices tacked up advertising upcoming events in the tavern, a few job openings, and the wanted posters. There were only three, and mine was right in the middle. I pulled down the poster and took it to the bar. I slapped it down without a word and waited. The bartender picked it up and, without a word, motioned that I should follow him behind the bar.

He lead me to a door that opened to a dark room. He stepped back and gestured that I should go in. When he closed the door behind me my eyes started to adjust to the dim light, and I could see it was an office, and seated an a large desk in the middle of the room was the shape of a large fat man sitting in an equally large and fat arm chair.

\"So you\'re interested in hunting this mark are you?\" he asked in a jowly, fat voice.

\"That\'s right,\" I said, \"Can you tell me anything about him?\"

\"That\'s none of your business,\" he said with a quiver of fat annoyance. \"All you need to know is that I want this guy alive, and if he\'s not, I\'ll make sure you die too, only not as fast!\"

Now I\'ve heard this kind of bullshit before. Overfed losers trying to talk tough and acting outraged at the idea of anything less than absolute obedience and respect. Whatever this guy\'s reason for putting a mark on me, I wasn\'t going to pussyfoot around with him. I calmly pulled out my shot gun and pointed it at his head.

\"I asked you a question, Fatty. Now are you going to answer me, or am I going to have to smear your thick head all over the wall?\" This was clearly unprecedented. I don\'t think anyone\'s ever questioned the fat man\'s authority before. He started to shiver and sweat and stammer. \"Slow down Porky, I don\'t want you having a heart attack before I get some answers. Now why are you looking for me?\" At this his eyes popped open.

\"Y-YOU!?\" he nearly toppled over backwards in his shock. His fat hands fumbled to the desk top where I could now see a gun was lying amid the clutter. I reached out and snatched it before he could get it. He slumped back in his chair and looked fatter than ever. Sweat was pouring down his cheesy face. \"Talk,\" I said.

End of entry.


Fourth Entry

I emerged from the Fireside Tavern and stood squinting in the sunlight that dazzled my eyes that had adjusted to the dim light inside. So now I had my answers: the fat bastard was positioned by the raiders who called themselves The Pack. They had stationed agents in all the local towns and villages to oversee the slave trade and control the local economy.

Merchants and traders had started doing good business in the past year and commerce was starting to pick up again. Now it looked like the raiders were trying to stake a claim on the new business. And they had put out hits on anyone who was known to openly defy the raiders. I admit I have made it a habit to go out of my way to kill raiders before. Sometimes I didn\'t have to go very far out of my way to find them, and sometimes they came to me. Now it was time to pay for all.

But that\'s not to say I\'m deluded enough to consider taking on The Pack single handed. I\'d need a small army for that, and there just aren\'t enough people available who are willing to risk whatever they\'ve managed to scrape together in the past four years. I can\'t say I blame them, but it still leaves me in a tough spot. I figured the first thing I needed to do was get as far away from Fireside as possible. I was only joking about the fat bastard having a heart attack. I didn\'t expect him to go ahead and actually have one.

----------------------------------------------------

That night-

I made about fifteen miles today, tomorrow I\'d better try for twenty. If that fat bastard was connected to the raiders, it\'s only a matter of time before they start searching for me, and I want to have a good head start. As far as I could figure, my only option at the moment was to get myself a posse and start striking raiders camps one at a time. It shouldn\'t be too hard at first. It should certainly be an unexpected move on my part.

Meanwhile I needed to hole up somewhere and get some sleep. I stumbled around in the semi dark until I found an old pile of junked cars. I made myself a fairly comfortable bed in the trunk of a burned out Thunderbird. My grandfather used to have one of these. I pulled the lid down and fell asleep.

I had a dream that disturbed me for days after. I was back in the bank vault during The Fall. Wendal and the others were there with me. Then one by one they got up and walked out of the vault. I tried to call out to them to tell them to stay with me where it was safe, but I couldn\'t make a sound. Finally only Wendal and myself were left. But as he was about to leave he turned and started to close the door. I couldn\'t move or make a sound. \"You\'re going to die alone,\" he said before the door shut and locked me in, alone in the dark.

I awoke with a start and it was all dark around me. I panicked and thrashed out with my arms, knocking open the lid of the trunk. The early morning sunlight streamed in and I lay back breathing hard. Only a dream, only a dream I kept thinking to myself.

I packed up my gear and climbed to the top of the car pile to get a look around. Back in the direction of Fireside I could see a dust cloud rising up from the road. Only a large group of people could raise that much dust. I decided to get moving in case it was the raiders. I turned north. I needed a place to hide out until I had a more solid plan and maybe some better resources. I decided to go back to New Hampshire. It was mid-winter now, so by the time I got there it would be early spring.

As I walked I remembered again the cabin on the side of Mt. Kearsarge where my father used to take me and my brother camping. That would be a good place to make for, if it was still there. If it wasn\'t, no matter, there had to be hundreds of places like it to hide out in. The White Mountains were lousy with cabins and hunter\'s lodges. There had to be at least some that were still usable.

It also occurred to me that I could visit my old house. In the four years since The Fall, I had never been home. I wondered if there was anything left. Any of my things still there. My books or old clothes, my swords and knives, my porn. Just kidding. I could still find that anywhere. There was even the slim possibility that some of my family had survived all this time and I could see them again. Best not to get my hopes up too much. But still...

End of entry.



Fifth entry


It\'s been a long road, but after four years, I\'m finally home. All in all, I was surprised at how much still remained. Massachusetts was a mess, as expected. There wasn\'t much left after fires and looting, but New Hampshire was virtually untouched. I didn\'t see anyone as I made my way up the remains of I 93 and onto I 89. Manchester was a desolate wasteland of burned buildings and charred craters. I stopped my the old mall, but one look around told me there was nothing left. I passed Concord without bothering to look around. I was only twenty miles from my parents\' home in Warner and I wanted to get there as soon as possible.

The next day I arrived in Warner and hope left me. There had been a fire and half the town was gone. I could easily see where my parents\' house had been from the highway. All that was left was a pile of half burned wood and drywall in the crumbling remains of the foundation. If my family had survived The Fall, they wouldn\'t have stayed here. Mt. Kearsarge rose above Warner, but I passes it by for the moment. I was only another twenty miles from my place in Newbury. I camped in the park-and-ride on the edge of town and started early the next morning.

As I walked along I listened as hard as I could, but there was nothing to hear but bird song and the occasional chatter of squirrels. I had seen no signs of human habitation anywhere. Late that evening I arrived at Newbury harbor on the side of Lake Sunapee. I camped again the shell of the old police station where I found some shotgun shells that still seemed good.

The next morning I came home. I was a little surprised to see it still standing. The front door was standing open and the yard was a small jungle. I went inside and looked around sadly. It was dark and filthy. Animals had been in and out of the house for who knew how long. I climbed the stairs and went into my old room. Everything was exactly the way I remembered it. Over in the corner hanging above the tv was the portrait of myself, a memento from my days in the drama club in high school. On the stand in front of the window was my sword rack. Every other available surface was cluttered with my old action figures. They were going to be worth a lot of money one day. Not anymore.

I ran a finger over the dusty tops of my DVDs and looked at a few of the titles, beloved movies and cartoons that I would probably never be able to watch again. I went to the closet and saw all my shirts hanging as I had left them. I pulled a couple out and laid them on the edge of the bed. Everything had a damp, musty smell. I then went to my book shelf. I pulled out \"Lord of the Rings,\" \"Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,\" and \"The Stand.\" I also pulled out \"Support Your Local Wizard\" by Diane Duane. I opened the front cover and found an old hundred dollar bill I kept for emergencies. I put the bill back and replaced the book on the shelf.

Hanging on the wall by the door, a forgotten treasure, my Tom Anderson \"Pantera\" claws. Kind of like Wolverine claws fixed into handgrips like brass knuckles. I took these down and set them on the bed with my shirts. Next I selected my Nodachi sword from the rack, one of my old favorites. Finally I took off my travel worn boots and put on my old boots. I laced them up, trying to keep from being overwhelmed by the memories and emotions whirling around in my head. I pulled my old back pack out of the closet and repacked all my traveling supplies and my shirts and the claws. It was time to leave. There was nothing for me here anymore. Out in the yard I took a last look at the house.

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Two days later I arrived back in Warner and started my approach to Mt. Kearsarge. Hiking up the mountain had been a popular field trip activity. Good for a days exercise, a couple hours to hike to the summit, lunch in the clouds, then another hike back down. I had stopped by the grocery store down in town where I was lucky enough to find a trove of canned goods, and in the hardware store next door I found some camping gear like a folding hand saw and a shake-charge flashlight.

I waded the river with some difficulty as it was swollen with the spring run-off, and two hours later, I reached the cabin. It was a little run down, but nothing I couldn\'t fix up. I might have to hike back down to the hardware store to get some tools, but that could wait. I busted the lock off the door with the butt of my shotgun and went inside. I was pleased with the overall condition. The wood stove was a little rusty, but still usable. The mattress was obviously ruined with mold and eaten away by rats or other nesting animals, so I dragged that out first and left it in the woods.

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That night I sat at the rough wooden table and rolled a smoke while listening to the soft crackle of the flames in the wood stove. Fortunately people in New Hampshire liked smoking pot, and grew plenty of it in the woods. Now I was safe for the moment, comfortable, and I had time to think. It was time to give some thought to the problem with the raiders...

End of entry.


Sixth Entry

I had been staying comfortably in the cabin on the side of Mt. Kearsarge for over a month when trouble finally found me. The Dregs. The feral people that lived like pack animals, hunting other people like wolves, savages who had forgotten their humanity in the bloody aftermath of The Fall. I had often wondered how they could have changed so much in only a couple or years. How they could have gone from intelligent human beings to mindless bestial creatures of pure rage. Now I knew why there were no human settlements anywhere in the area: The Dregs had hunted them and driven them all away.

I was sitting by the small stream that ran down by the side of the cabin, I was busy cleaning my gun when I noticed a rustling in the bushes about fifty yards away. A cold rush ran down my back. I quickly reassembled my shotgun and reloaded it. Suddenly with a savage cry, a naked man, covered in filth with long tangled hair, burst out from the bushes and charged at me. I waited a second but he seemed to be the only one. When he was about ten feet from me, I pulled the trigger and blew his head off.

I quickly ran inside and gathered up my things. When there was one, there were always at least a dozen others. When I came out I realized there were more than a dozen. A lot more. It was hard to count heads, but there had to be at least thirty of them, crouched down like dogs, or slowly circling the cabin, snarling and watching me with hungry eyes.

I pumped a fresh round into the chamber and fired off another shot into the air hoping to scare a few off, but no such luck. The Dregs were almost mindless in their determination in the hunt. I knew that I would have to kill them all if I wanted to walk away alive, but the idea didn\'t have much appeal. If only there was a way of creating a diversion so I could make my escape. But what could I do?

Then it came to me: fire. With nothing better to try, I ran back inside the cabin and opened the door of the wood stove. There was still a good bed of coals from the previous night. I grabbed the camping shovel and scooped out a good amount. I came back outside slowly, trying to balance the small pile of coals on the shovel. The Dregs had moved closer while I was inside. I held up the shovel, hoping the concept of fire was not lost on them. It was.

With a sigh I threw the coals into the bushes and long grass near the cabin. Immediately there was a small blaze that began to quickly grow. This got The Dreg\'s attention. They began to scream and run around in total confusion. I watched for my opportunity to slip away and soon it presented itself. I made a dash for the path and started to run downhill. Unfortunately a small group of Dregs saw me and chased after me. I was about halfway down the side of the mountain when I slipped on a patch of mud and went rolling over several rocks and small fallen branches.

When I came to a stop I painfully picked myself up and checked for injuries. Nothing too serious, but I had banged up my left knee pretty good, so running was no longer an option. I got up and began limping as fast as I could down the path. Already there was a lot of smoke blowing down the mountain behind me, and I could see many birds and other animals running downhill on both sides of the path.

In all the confusion and noise, I guess it was no wonder that The Dregs caught up with me without my notice. As I limped along, I was hit from behind and bowled over with a heavy weight on my back. I looked over my shoulder and saw the face of a young female Dreg. I elbowed her in the head, knocking her off long enough to get to my feet. There were three other males with her and they had me surrounded.

With no other choice, I reluctantly pulled out my shotgun and started firing. The first went down looking stupidly at where his right shoulder used to be. The second bought himself a little time by slipping on loose stones and dodging my shot. I quickly pumped in another shell and nailed him with the second shot. Now there were only two left, one male on his feet, and the female still on the ground in a daze. I pumped another shell into the shotgun and took aim, but before I could pull the trigger, the male lifted his head and sniffed the air. The smoke was very thick now. With a leap, he charged off into the trees, leaving me with the female.

I started to head down the path again when she lifted her head and looked me right in the eye. I was about to turn away when, with a shock, I recognized my sister.

End of entry.


Seventh Entry

She won\'t talk anymore, but every time I look in her eyes, the message is loud and clear: I should have come home sooner. If I had come back after The Fall, I would have been there for my sister, and she wouldn\'t have ended up as one of The Dregs. When I found her on the side of Mt. Kearsarge, or rather when she found me, everything I thought I was so sure of suddenly didn\'t matter anymore.

The forest was burning all around us, but she was crouched down by the first of The Dregs I shot when they caught up with me. She was making a low moaning cry that I could only assume was the sound of her mourning the fallen. She then dipped her fingers in his blood and smeared some on her cheek like war paint. But when she turned back to me, instead of attacking, she cautiously crept over to me and lay down at my feet. I was totally flabbergasted by this.

Looking back on it now, the only theory that makes any kind of sense was that I killed what I can only assume was her mate, I had somehow claimed her as my property according to whatever social hierarchy The Dregs possess. But I didn\'t have time to ponder this at the moment. The flames and smoke were threatening to overwhelm us where we stood.

\"Come on!\" I said to her and grabbed her arm. She flinched but didn\'t pull away. I got her to her feet and, still holding her arm, led her down the path as fast as I could on my injured knee. Only when we came to the river did she offer any resistance. I guess she had been taught or conditioned to never cross the river, perhaps it marked the edge of their territory. In any case, I was crossing and so was she. Reluctantly she allowed me to lead her across, then we could slow down a little, with the river behind us to slow down the fire.

About an hour later, we arrived at the ruins of our parent\'s house. I had thought maybe bringing her home might spark some memories, but my sister seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. With some free time now, I rolled up my pants leg and looked at my knee. It was heavily bruised and starting to swell, but it looked like it would be okay, although there would certainly be some stiffness for the next few days. I pulled out one of my shirts and tore it into strips to wrap my knee.

With first aid taken care of, I turned my attention to my sister. Her long blonde hair was tangled and matted with filth. Her once fair skin was heavily tanned and freckled from constant exposure to the sun. She had always burned easily as a child. She was also nude, so I pulled out another of my shirts and, after some persuasion, managed to get it on her. The shirt was at least long enough to serve for the present.

After a rest and something to eat, which my sister accepted with all the grace and charm of a dog being fed scraps under the table, we hit the road. I decided to make for the coast and then go south, so that by the time autumn came around, we would be far enough south to avoid winter. As we walked I talked to my sister constantly, reminding her of one fond memory or another, trying to reach her, but as I talked, she just walked along beside me in silence.

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We made camp that night on the side of the highway. There was an old SUV abandoned by the side of the road, and after pulling out the old trash left in the back, it served as a weatherproof shelter. I didn\'t think my sister would consent to get in, but when I climbed in the back, she followed me without a sign of fear. I pulled down the hatch and lay down to sleep.

I had another disturbing dream that night. I stood in front of my parents house as it used to be. The house was in flames and I could see my parents and sister looking out at me from the living room window. They seemed to be calling for me to help them, but I just turned around and walked away.

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The next morning I awoke to find my sister asleep beside me, curled up like a cat. I tried to get up without disturbing her, but she immediately woke up and looked at me with fear in her eyes. She grabbed my hand and held on tight.

\"I\'m not going to leave you,\" I said, laying my other hand over hers. I don\'t know if she understood me or just my body language, but she let go of my hand and seemed to relax. \"I promise I\'m never going to leave you alone again,\" I said. She cocked her head slightly to the side like a dog. My dream of the previous night was very clear in my mind, and I knew exactly what it meant. It was my fault she ended up like this. I had abandoned my family in the aftermath of The Fall, and the only thing I could do to make up for it was to stay by her side and protect her now. No matter what.

End of entry.


Eighth Entry


It\'s been three weeks since I found my sister living among The Dregs. She still won\'t talk, but she\'s started responding more when I talk to her. I still hope to one day bring her back to her old self, but I\'ve accepted that it might take a long time. Certainly one of the most puzzling changes brought about by The Fall was The Dregs. In only four years, they had completely lost all traces of their former humanity, living in the wild like a pack of wolves, hunting anything in order to survive, even other humans. And how my sister ended up as one of them I may never know, unless she ever tells me herself.

We had traveled south and east making towards the seacoast. I intended to make for Hampton first and then go south from there, taking it easy and generally spending time with my sister in hopes of getting her to talk to me. We stopped off in Concord on the way, where we found a massive crater from The Fall. Everything in a ten mile radius was completely blown away. But the mall still stood intact, although it had been heavily looted in the past. There I was able to find some clothes for my sister, but I had to help her to get dressed. I tried to get her to put on shoes, but she made it clear this was not an option. I figured it wasn\'t a big deal. She had been running around barefoot for the last four years, her feet were probably as tough as shoes anyway.

The next issue to address was food. There had been several grocery stores in the area, but if the mall had been looted as much as it was, I was sure the food had gone quickly as well. Still I had to provide for my sister as well as myself now, so I had to check. Sure enough the first store we went to was cleaned out. In fact it looked like people had set up a residence inside, but it was long abandoned. The next two stores were also no good, but finally we found one that still had some canned goods and packages of beef jerky in the back store room. I loaded up as much as I could fit into by back pack and we returned to the highway.

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The next few days were uneventful. We walked and I talked to my sister about things we had done together in the past. I wasn\'t sure if she was really taking in anything I said, but she seemed to at least listen to the sound of my voice. At night we camped wherever we felt like, I prepared dinner while she would sit and stare into the fire. We slept under the stars or in abandoned cars if it was raining, and every morning I woke up to find her curled up close beside me.

And that\'s how it was for about three weeks. We didn\'t see any other people, human or Dreg. Occasionally we would see deer, a few stray dogs or cats, even a pair of foxes playing in a field. Before I could stop her, my sister ran out into the field and chased the foxes. At first I thought she was trying to catch them, but after a while I realized she was just trying to join in the fun. For a minute I just stood there in shock, but before I knew it, I found myself laughing. Whether because of how funny she looked or from sheer relief, I don\'t know, but a feeling of hope grew in me then. She was still human enough to appreciate fun, perhaps that was a way to help her regain whatever she had lost that made her become a Dreg in the first place. Eventually she came back, grinning almost like her old self.

\"Have fun?\" I asked with a grin of my own. She didn\'t respond but I could tell something was happening between us. That glimmer of hope swelled up again. I knew I could reach her eventually. One day she would be my little sister again, not this strange, wild girl standing in front of me with mud on her feet and grass in her hair.

\"Well come on, then,\" I said and started down the road again. She trotted along beside me, still grinning from ear to ear.

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We stood on the beach under the hot summer sun. Seagulls were soaring on the breeze overhead, occasionally squawking to each other. My sister was wandering around checking out some seaweed that had washed up on the shore. The town of Hampton had been nearly demolished. As near as I could tell, a tidal wave, probably cause by The Fall, had washed over the town and leveled most of it. There had still been no signs of human habitation anywhere. Once I found the remains of a camp fire, but it had been rained on at least twice so there was no telling how old it was.

Feeling it was safe for the moment, I stripped down to my shorts and jumped into the water. It was slightly warm and refreshing. I turned to look back at the beach and I saw my sister watching me with a look of concern on her face.

\"Come on in!\" I called but she didn\'t move. I waded back up onto the shore. \"It\'s all right, don\'t be afraid,\" I took her hand and gently tried to pull her towards the water but she resisted. I decided it was best to not push her too fast, so I let go of her hand and backed up into the water up to my waist, showing her it was safe. \"See? It\'s okay.\" I splashed a little water at her. Seeing me standing in the water seemed to convince her it was safe to follow me, so she slowly came near the water. At that moment a wave washed up. She retreated up the beach in near panic, but I decided to remain silent and let her work it out for herself.

She looked at me as if trying to determine if I was playing a trick on her. I stood there watching her. Slowly she approached again, this time with a little more confidence. I held out my hand to her without saying a word. Finally she stepped into the water and came to me.

\"See? It\'s all right,\" I said taking her hand. It took another fifteen minutes or so, but she finally started to get over her fear of the water and have a little fun. We splashed around for a while before getting out to dry in the sun. Besides relaxing and having a good time, I had managed to get her cleaned up a little. I made a mental note to try to find a comb and a pair of scissors and do something about her hair. It was less muddy but still very long and tangled.

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That night we camped on the beach. I lit a fire and made dinner as usual. I also decided to try a new tactic. As I was stirring the soup, I started singing a few songs that I remembered she used to like. The effect was startling. Her head snapped up from watching at the fire and she looked at me with a strange look in her eyes. I noticed this but gave no sign that anything was out of the ordinary. After a moment she turned her attention back to the fire, but now there were tears in her eyes. I kept singing while watching her closely. After a moment she lay down on her side and went to sleep. I felt disappointed that there had been something happening but it had passed. Still I felt encouraged. I was starting to get to her. I felt strongly that if I kept trying, there would be a breakthrough. I went to sleep, with hope that tomorrow she might show some improvement.

That night I dreamed that I had lost her somehow. I wandered through a burned forest calling for her, but there was no answer. Suddenly she stepped out from behind a tree, but it was my sister as she used to be before The Fall. \"You\'ll never find me!\" she said in a teasing voice. Then she giggled and disappeared behind the tree again. I ran to the tree and looked behind it, but she was gone.

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The next morning dawned clear and bright, but something was wrong. I awoke expecting to find my sister curled up beside me as usual, but she was still on the other side of the fire pit where she had gone to sleep the night before. I tried to not be too disappointed by this. I figured she had been too tired from the activities of the day before to wake up in the night and come over to me. I hoped this was the case. My dream came back to my mind and I wondered if I really would ever find the part of her that was my sister.

End of entry.


Ninth Entry

We traveled south without incident for nearly a month. Much to my dismay, my sister had pulled away from me somewhat. It was rare now that I would wake up in the morning to find her curled up beside me like she used to. I tried and tried, but I couldn\'t figure it out. All I could do was keep talking to her and try to make her remember who she was.

Because we had been taking it slow, it took us a lot longer than it normally would for me to reach Wendal\'s village. Wendal was a good friend who had taken shelter with me in the abandoned fallout shelter under the bank during The Fall. There had been two others, a young man by the name of Greg, and a young woman by the name of Stacy. Unfortunately Stacy had broken a leg shortly after The Fall, and as there had been no medical help available, the leg had turned gangrenous and she died before the leg could be removed.

I had come to the conclusion that I could make no further progress with my sister\'s rehabilitation on my own. What she really needed was to see other people living and interacting with each other. At least I though so. Also I remembered Wendal making mention once of a psychologist who had settled in the village. I was almost ashamed of myself that I didn\'t think of him sooner. Of all the luck to know of a psychologist in this day and age, and I go and forget all about him when I could use his help more than anything else.

But first I had to do something about our appearance. We were both filthy and smelly from the long weeks on the road, and neither one of us had had any kind of bath since our stop at Hampton beach. As we passed through one small town, I looked around until I found a drug store. After much rummaging through the debris, I found scissors, a comb, shaving razors, a small hand mirror with only a small crack near the edge, a crumbling bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that had not completely dried up.

Next we wandered around until we found a small river that was deep enough to bathe in. Cleaning myself was no issue, but I doubted I could convince my sister to give herself a good scrub while I went away to give her some privacy. Still it was worth a try.

\"Alecia, are you going to be able to wash yourself?\" I asked without much hope. She cocked her head to the side slightly, like she did any time I tried asking her a question. It was comforting to know that she knew I was asking a question instead of just talking to her, but it seemed she still didn\'t or couldn\'t understand me. I tried demonstrating how to soap up and rinse off, but when I hander her the soap, she just kind of sniffed it then looked at me.

Well I knew what I had to do. With a sigh and as much of a professional attitude as I could muster, I got her undressed and helped her wash, which she took with surprisingly good grace. I figured it was no different that any family member who had ever had to wash an invalid loved one. At least I didn\'t have to force her. After the initial cleaning, it was time to do something about her hair. I had added some water to the shampoo and let it sit a while to re-hydrate. Now it was ready to use. I began washing her hair, and this time she started to get fidgety, but I began to sing to her and she quieted down.

After about an hour, I had finally gotten her hair clean, combed out the tangles, and cut it down to a manageable length. After she was dressed again, I felt a pang of sadness looking at her. She almost looked like her old self, but the person looking at me from her eyes was a completely different person. I held up the mirror for her to see her reflection. She gazed at it with rapt attention. I handed it to her and she absently sat down while staring at it. It must have been the first time she had seen her reflection in four years. And certainly the first time she looked like who she once had been.

As I watched her, I saw she had tears in her eyes again.

\"Alecia?\" I called her name softly. She looked at me, and for a second I could have sworn she was about to say something. Then she let the mirror fall to the ground and wandered away a little to investigate some flowers growing by the river. I shook my head sadly and picked up the mirror. I went to the water\'s edge and had a proper shave. I figured it would be good for her to see more or less as I used to look. I resolved to show her as many familiar things as I could. Something had to spark her old memories.

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Two days later we arrived at the village of Folly. The name was Wendal\'s little joke. He said it was folly to try to re-create the ways that we had lost in The Fall. The sentries let me pass without question. My history with Wendal was well known to everyone in the village and I was always welcome.

Alecia began to get nervous as we passed more and more people. Out in the fields, several people saw me pass and waved a greeting at me. Most of them were former slaves I had freed and sent here. I waved back and continued on my way. Alecia started to walk closer by my side in obvious anxiety. I held her hand and talked to her as we made our way into the center of the village.

\"This is the home of two good friends on mine, Alecia. I promise we\'re safe here.\" She gave no indication that she understood my words, so to help her relax I started humming a little tune for her. It seemed to help, so I kept it up as we approached Wendal\'s house.

Apparently word had gone ahead of us, because Wendal was standing outside his front door waiting for us.

\"Alan! Welcome back!\"

\"Thanks Wendal, it\'s good to be here.\"

\"I\'ll bet. I\'ve heard rumors that there\'s a mark on your head.\"

\"Yeah, that\'s why I had to go into hiding for a while.\"

\"And who\'s this little number?\"

\"Wendal, this is my younger sister, Alecia.\"

Wendal held out his hand to shake, but Alecia pulled back and half hid behind me.

\"Sorry Wendal, but she\'s had some...problems, and she\'s not really herself.\"

Wendal gave me a searching look for a moment. \"All right, come inside both of you. I can see there\'s something you don\'t want to talk about in public. I\'ll have Laura fix up something to eat.\"

Wendal led the way into his house. The village of Folly had been rebuilt on the ashes of another town that had been burnt during The Fall. The houses were small, more adequate than anything else, certainly nothing to be called luxurious, but all that mattered to the villagers was that it was home.

Inside we were shown to a small living room. Wendal\'s three-year-old daughter, Ashley, was playing with a pair of kittens. Alecia had always loved cats. After a moment of apprehension, she slowly went over to sit on the floor near the kittens. \"Hi!\" said Ashley with a big smile. Alecia didn\'t answer, but a hint of a smile crossed her face in return. \"You wanna play with kitty?\" asked Ashley, handing over one of the kittens. Alecia took the kitten and just held it for a moment, watching it with a look of real happiness on her face.

Wendal and I stood watching this for a moment until Wendal\'s wife, Laura, came in with a tray of sandwiches and instant coffee. I guess that stuff never goes bad, since it was never good in the first place. I thanked her as I accepted my share.

\"Do you want anything to eat, dear?\" she asked Alecia, but got no response. Alecia was totally absorbed in the kittens frolicking on the floor.

\"Don\'t worry about it, Laura, she\'ll come over when she\'s ready.\" I said. Laura shrugged and went off to begin preparations for dinner.

\"Now then,\" said Wendal, setting down his coffee. \"What\'s the big secret? Why didn\'t you ever tell me you had a sister somewhere?\"

I didn\'t answer for a moment. I looked down at my cup and tried to find the courage to admit my guilt. Finally I just blurted it out.

\"I didn\'t know she was still alive. I never even went to find out in all this time since The Fall. I was off taking care of myself while she was left to fend for herself. I wasn\'t even looking for her when I found her, it was an accident. She\'s been living with The Dregs.\"

\"What? She\'s a Dreg?\" I had never seen Wendal so genuinely shocked.

\"Yes. She\'s a Dreg, and it\'s all my fault. I should have gone straight home after The Fall. I should have been there for her. But I wasn\'t. I don\'t know how she could have ended up like this, and I don\'t know if she\'ll ever be her old self again.\"

\"No one can ever go back to what we used to be,\" said Wendal gently. \"The Fall can never be undone, the changes can never be unmade. The people who survived are not who they used to be, and never will be again. The world isn\'t what it used to be, and never will be again. All we can do is survive, adapt, and try to keep moving forward.\"

I sat quietly trying to absorb the wisdom of what he said. Wendal sipped his coffee quietly and gave me time to think. Over on the floor Alecia and Ashley were rolling a ball of string for the kittens to play with. Both the girls were off in another world for all they knew or cared.

\"Wendal?\"

\"Yes?\"

\"Is that psychologist still living here in town?\"

\"Doc Thayer? Yes. He lives over on the South End. I was wondering when you\'d ask about him. It\'s getting late now, but I\'ll bring you and Alecia over to see him in the morning. He should find her fascinating if nothing else.\"

\"I\'m not concerned with whether or not he\'s fascinated, I just want to know if he can help her.\"

\"That remains to be seen.\"

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That night we all sat down to dinner together. Alecia and Ashley sat side by side. One might think they had been friends for years, what with how well they got on together. Alecia didn\'t talk, and Ashley didn\'t say much, but between them there was more communication that I had managed in the two months since I had found her.

After dinner the girls were sent to bed together. Wendal, Laura, and I sat up for a few more hours catching up. We discussed the Raiders and their slow spreading influence on the traders. Wendal suggested several places I could go to look to hire mercenaries to help me get rid of the Raiders. Then Laura asked me about Alecia, so I had to tell it all again, but this time it seemed easier to tell. Laura agreed that I should take Alecia to see old Doc Thayer in the morning. If anyone could help her, it was Doc Thayer.

A bed was made for me on the sofa in the living room, and after looking in on Alecia, who was snuggled in bed with Ashley, I went to sleep. And as far as I can remember, I didn\'t have any dreams that night.



End of entry.