DATE: 09.20.2224 | TIME: 1752 HRS
LOCATION: Elevated Interstate, Unknown Sector
STATUS: Weary, Moving
Been walking this raised road for what feels like a lifetime, concrete spine stretched over patches of land that vanish and reappear beneath me. Sometimes I catch glimpses of the ground: mangled trees, shattered roads.
Far ahead, I see them , skyscrapers, jutting like skeletal remains against the skyline. Could be Louisiana. Could be a ghost. Either way, the thought of home stirs something deep enough to keep my boots moving.
The carcasses came next. Smelled them first. Then the flies, then the Stingwings. Didn’t last long. I put them down and scraped their slime — don’t know yet what it’s for, but I’ll find a use.
Rad‑X keeps the worst of the poison at bay. Old Negro spirituals keep my mind anchored. Those songs hold me steady when the rest of the world feels like it’s slipping.
Eventually, fatigue took me. Found an abandoned delivery van parked halfway across the stretch. Crawled inside, shut my eyes. Hoping the next leg of this road brings me closer to those towers.
Closer to home — if it’s still there.
—Big Chief
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