literature

The Road East -unfinished-

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Literature Text

CJ was not just another of many scavengers or feral creatures or hunters you might encounter on your travels in the wastes.  You didn’t have a quiet, brief, forgettable run-in where he was concerned.  He was certainly not what you’d expect if you caught him hunkered up high in a tree watching like a hawk.  He made sure of that.

With no family, few friends and the training of an old-world “gunslinger,” he abandoned the Northern Texas Youth Militia at the age of sixteen.  CJ hated Texas; it wasn’t just hot.  It was hot and dusty and boring.  The training facility he grew up at was not near any major metropolitan areas.  It was, as he said anytime someone asked where he was from, in the middle of nowhere.

Being bored meant being in trouble.  CJ’s final prank before running away involved Councilman  Paulsen being pelted with three month old rotten eggs.  It ended with a hell of a beating, but in the eyes of a mischievous young man, it was worth it.  He’d been thinking of leaving for some time up to that point, and afterwards he couldn’t see much reason in staying.

Geography classes had taught him that anywhere warm would swarm with Them.  Lately, the balance of fate had started to lean back toward the favor of mankind, but it would be years before the streets were safe again, and any dimwit knew that.  He was a survivor if anyone was, and he knew it.  His focus in training had been as a sniper.  Lean and limber as he was, climbing trees came just as naturally as it would for a monkey.

Before leaving on his trip, CJ did a good job of researching the major stops he would need to make along the way to replenish supplies and make sure he remained in reasonably good health.  He had earned his own rifle at the age of 13, when most militia students did, but he also made a point to grab a few extra weapons to take on his way, including a slingshot (which he happened to be pretty good at), and a knife.  Training taught that what you had in your hiking backpack could save your life, and he had it down to an art.  In other words, if CJ had been old enough to remember the old “MacGyver” television show, he would have been a big fan.

The following year, he wandered along a road only he knew.  He headed east, and he walked alone.  He had no specific destination in mind, aside from a fancy toward the photos he’d seen of the coast.  Florida, perhaps.  Savannah seemed nice.  Just anywhere but where he came from.  

“The ocean sounds nice,” he told a classmate after a lesson on the trouble with floaters and ways to safe guard yourself when in the vicinity of lakes or rivers or other large sources of water.  “I bet things are never boring at the ocean.”
Featuring ~cihge

Part of the problem was... I've had to debate about where CJ ends up on his trek. The other was a broken keyboard on my laptop, which is what I usually "write" with. I've been tinkering with ideas on paper, but haven't transferred them... And poor CJ feels as if I abandoned him in a tree.
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cihge's avatar
Good GOD (and I usually don't mention the Boss) I LOVE you. :eager: Seriously. YOU ROCK. Not to mention you got me totally right (if I were born in a post-zombie-apocalypse world, that is) - I mean hating boring ol' Texas, wanting a life by the ocean, the MacGyver fandom (I actually know who that dude is :D). And even if I do end up stuck in a tree I'd still LOVE YA. :D

You just made a... aah - whatever resides in my head - happy. :)

Even the rotten eggs in there - niiice. :D

:iconimhappyplz: