Depression

Me and my dogs stayed in the museum for a little longer. Days. Maybe a couple of weeks, it didn't matter anymore. I was no longer myself. I buried Lisa and Karen, and burned the rest of 'em.

Didn't matter anymore. Still, I wasn't able to kill myself, something in me would not let me. So I instead made a makeshift speakers with some wires, a couple of disposable dishes, and some aluminum foil. I've been listening music from my mp3 player, at least for a few hours. The men brought enough food that me and my dogs never really needed to step outside. I looked on their gear: Weapons, ammo, food, water, medicine, you name it. There was even a few ceramic plates for personal armor. I tried to remove any idle thoughts by placing the plates inside the old Spanish Armor. It was a little rough, but I was able to do it, via trial and error that is.

The music was pretty much a godsend. It helped me not to fall deeper into depression, but the work I was doing also helped me. It took me days, but I was able to learn to use the radio. Most of it was trial and error, but a little of it was thanks to observation, looking at Karen move the radio.

After much silence, I was able to find another person. He called himself Johnson, and said he was from Tempe. I asked him what was going on in the US, and told me of the situation:

It seems America was in mess, just as here. The Federal Government started rationing oil and electricity, and only for keeping the peace. Local governments and militia types started to revolt, and already states like Texas and Florida started to call themselves "independent" from the US. Most other state governments started to do supply raids in neighboring territories, including Mexican cities. It seemed that I met one of these men, as I saw a series of codes right next to me console, written in paper. The writing was not Karen's, or Lisa's. I told him what was going on here, but I didn't go into much detail. I never mentioned the girls.

He told me they needed good people in Tempe, and if I came, I'd be treated nice. Was there a point in going? My roots were growing here. Also, from what Karen and I suspected, is that she was pregnant. I was gonna be a dad.

Whatever life there was here, now it's dead and buried, but not forgotten.

I took what I could carry in one of the vehicles the men had brought: A jeep. this was from the generator, to some food, lots of water, books, ammo, some weapons, and my dogs, obviously.

The jeep rumbled to life when I started it. And I drove in silence, with only my dogs seeing me with an expression that I could only imagine it was worry.