SO! I FINALLY got this story out. It's been awhile since I last tried Non-anthro writing...so yes, there are no furries here. And the next story Blue Moon, or Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence (the sequel to this one) will not have furries either. BUT I'LL GET WORKING ON SCENES FROM A MEMORY SOON SO YOU CAN SEE SOME FUR AND NOT SKIN.

Anyhow, enjoy.


Strange Déjà Vu
Regression

We were surrounded by a brilliant white light. The light led us away from the past, and into the present. This light wasn’t some normal light, as if from heaven, no. This light was the sheer force of a nuclear war.

This wasn’t a conventional war either. Not some battle fought with lawyers, guns, or money. This was a war fought with weapons of mass destruction. Russia, having been quiet for so long, stockpiled a massive nuclear weapon, and launched it all at the center of America.

The blast radius encompassed the entire center of America, making a large circle from the center of the country outward stopping at the upper half of Texas, and the lower part of Michigan. Fortunately for some, they had prepared for this, and bought gas masks and other equipment to fight the coming fallout.

Another fortune for this former student is that he was not alone in his endeavor. After the blast shook his town to its foundations, the survivors left their holes. Some died immediately from the change in climate, while others could not adjust to the new environment. This student and his friends, now family, were forced to adjust.

Date: December 19th, 2012
Overture 2012

The vault had become our home at this point. We have rigged it to whatever needs we may have, including a water duct, a sterile medical bay, an air filter, and even weapons. Between the three of us, we were pretty damn lucky. Other luxuries that reinforced this luckiness were things like a typewriter, a working radio, gas masks, and medicinal supplies, as well as the knowledge to use all of these things.

However, two flaws pervaded over this home of ours. One, we had a limited food supply. Because it’s the winter, we’ll have a hard time heating food up without poisoning it, so hopefully we can conserve that resource. Second, our food came from the pre-explosion stockpile, which has lasted a good while, but limited nevertheless.

The second flaw, would be that other than the three of us, no one is around for miles, perhaps more. As far as we’re concerned, we could be the last three clean people in Texas. Rumors from the radio say that there’s a trading post a good 2 days travel away, which isn’t so bad.

As far as weapons go, we have enough guns and ammunition to last us a whole year, provided all three of us shoot one bullet, every day. The gun I specifically use is a Mosin-Nagant, which uses 7.62x54mmR, or .30 caliber bullets. The Nagant has iron sights on it, but I have a telescopic sighting system just in case.

My friend Desmond carries a Peacemaker, which uses the same bullets, luckily. The gun itself is basically a revolver, tearing through most defenses pretty easily. He prefers this weapon because it’s easier to carry, while being accurate.

And finally, the last person in the group, Reuben, uses a TT-30 handgun. It’s light, and definitely usable in one hand, though it carries different bullets, though he has pretty much the same amount. He carries this weapon in co-ordination to his Katana that is usually located in his right hand.

Even though I stated that we may indeed be the only people around here, we still need guns for two reasons. One, if someone is ‘hot’, then we can’t have them contaminate our environment. And two, if some animal mutated from the immediate consequences of the cataclysm, it needs to die.

Date: December 20th, 2012
Strange Déjà Vu

For the first time in about a month, we had to open the Vault’s door. Outside, was the world we once knew, only it changed. Changed by the 2-day war that ravaged it, and by the ones who provoked that war.

The Vault’s door was a large metal gear-shaped door. Though, before you can go through that, you need to go into the Quarantine chamber, which basically soaks you, dries you, and blows clean air on all of your stuff, since the air outside is contaminated.

Coming from the inside, the Quarantine is just a door, and really nothing more. So we opened the Vault door.

Instantly, a huge blast of warm and thick air hit us. We all coughed for about 10 minutes before recalling our wits, and going into the place. From the outside, our Vault was a mere cave with a shiny metal door. All of us were armed by the weapons I explained earlier as we looked about the area.

The place was full of dirt, sand, and dead trees, blown away from the explosion. Some buildings stood, but none more than a story. The devastation was breathtaking, which made it even more difficult to breath, given the arid conditions. Sure, we were wearing the gas masks and enviro-suits that were given out when the Vault was full, but it was still hard.

I spoke first, through the gas mask, “Uncanny strange Déjà Vu” Though; I didn’t really speak it, so much as sing it.

Desmond nodded, “Familiar settings, nothing new.”

Reuben surveyed the area, paying little attention to the sentimentality of it all. He, fortunately for the rest of us, was more objective minded, focusing on the current situation rather than what was happening now. “Alright, if the post is two days west of the Vault’s door, then we’re currently facing……North. I propose we search the old Quest building. It’s no more than a mile away from here; we should at least find some medical supplies for Travis, ammo, and perhaps even a new gun.”

The rest of us nodded. I served as the resident medic, only because I knew just a bit more about anatomy then the others, and I actually paid attention in Chemistry class. So I was given the job of communications and medicinal sciences. Reuben was our ‘scout’ for multiple reasons. One, he could run for the longest amount of time out of all of us. Two, he knew this area very well. The Vault was built around an area he would explore commonly. While Desmond was essentially the mediator, though it doesn’t sound like a hard job….as we have issues every so often.

So Reuben went ahead, with Desmond behind him, and me following in the rear. Walking this waste land was pretty ridiculous, since we all vaguely knew the area, but it had changed around us.

The enviro-suits we wore were tight, for the most part. This was so no contaminated materials can get contact with our skin. It was kind of like the orange suit you would wear below a space suit, only it was green. It covered everything up, except for the face, which would be covered by a gas mask.

It wasn’t so bad, I suppose. Temperature was regulated by the suits, so it wasn’t hot or cold, nor was it unbearably hard to maneuver. It was a good hour worth of walking before we reached the remains of the old Quest building. Two years prior to the explosion, this building served as a school for all of us. But now, it was no more than a broken down fort for thieves.

As soon as we entered the parking lot, some voice yelled. It was obvious that they didn’t have a gas mask, since their voice was clearly heard with a true sound. He yelled out saying something to the extent of “Get out or die!”

I couldn’t blame them. Surely he had something to hide. Since the explosion, everyone kind of toughed up, so you could tell he wasn’t kidding. We all armed ourselves and waited. Desmond looked at me and nodded. I stood up, hiding my weapon, saying “I am trained in medicinal sciences. I can render aid if you give me and my friends some supplies.

The man who had yelled earlier stood up, lowering his SMG. We all stood up as well, and I pulled out a gas mask. Reuben and Desmond walked up to him. Reuben knocked the SMG out of the man’s hand with his Katana, and pointed the 9mm at his head. “Are you alone?” he asked as Desmond retrieved the SMG. While this was happening, I searched the outside for other contacts, but didn’t find any.

The man quickly nodded. Showing that he indeed was alone through the whole compound, which was good, seeing how he shouldn’t have used many resources. Reuben then pistol whips him in the head, bringing the blade of his Katana through the man’s chest, killing him instantly. Indeed, it was brutal, but we had to survive.

I looked at the others and approached them, “Alright, I’ll search House I, if you two can get III and IV, that’d be great. It looks like II is already raided. And it appears that this man has the keys to get into the rest of the building. We shouldn’t spend more than an hour here, so we can go back to the Vault, see what we got, and try to expand.”

The others nodded and we got to work. I went straight to House I, which was a large two classroom instruction area. It seemed to be transformed into an old medical lab. Most of the chemicals were taken, but some alcohol and antibiotics still remained. I happened to have my field emergency kit on me, so I opened it up and stocked what I could.

I spent probably thirty minutes in House I, getting all the supplies and foods. I even found ammo for most of our weapons, except for Reuben’s. 9mm ammo was surprisingly hard to find, but that was because the military took them all. Reuben only got one because he found a dead soldier, and took advantage of the situation.

We all gathered back in the main area, showing off are different spoils. However, between all the ammo, food, and nostalgia that we discovered, we did not find any medicinal supplies.

Date: May 18th, 2013
Through My Words

The typewriter was destroyed a couple days after we visited Quest for the first time. So, using a computer’s keyboard, a water line to power the keyboard, and what remains of the typewriter, we can once again type.

The winter was extremely easy to survive, since we haven’t moved from the Vault, and Texas was rather warm anyway. However, the summer is already starting to rear its head upon us. Before the Cataclysm, it was unbearably hot outside, and now that the ozone is even thinner, and air conditioning is all of a cross breeze every so often, our outside life would have to be limited.

But, since I’ve nothing to do for the next couple days, I suppose I’ll recall the events that should be mentioned. I don’t really remember the dates that we did these events, so bear with me. Hell the only reason we know the date so far is from the daily broadcasts that have been instated.

So at the turn of the year, or at least what I think was the turn of the year, we all visited The Yard. The Yard is a huge graveyard around this area of people that are worth mentioning other than family, such as friends. Of course their bodies aren’t buried, since the explosion pretty much destroyed them.

So anyway, Reuben and Desmond went to pay their respects to their girlfriends who did not survive. I followed them, in case someone was to jump out while they were mourning, which has happened before. Usually though, people are kind enough to not start anything there.

I did not mourn. Emotion and sorrow were lost about a week after the explosion, when we decided that crying and whining would not change anything. And plus, I didn’t really have anyone to mourn over, save for family, but everyone lost those. Call me cold, or sick, but I did not care much.

Oh! Another thing that I should mention; the Vault has its own ‘hangar’. I say hangar carefully, as it’s simply a large sleeping room for special refugees. We went down to the aerial museum that isn’t far from the Vault and stole an old propeller plane from the late 50’s. We’ve named it the CR-4P Junker, since that’s really what it was. We all managed to fix up the frame, but we still need a gas tank, an engine, and a propeller. Otherwise, it’s in damn good condition.

Which reminds me….according to the radio; there are government run hangars about the country that allow us access to different planes. So in a little bit, we should be able to upgrade the plane to be bigger, since only one person can fit, with some cargo.

The President decided to send the surviving members of the House of Representatives back to their respective states. Each state is now its own country for all intents and purposes. He doesn’t necessarily do much other than give words of comfort and occasional news from Washington DC.

So today’s agenda, since the Nuclear Winter is over, was to go back to the aerial museum, stea---err, borrow what we can, and see what progress can be made on the Junker. We managed to get a propeller, and a gas tank. We found the engine that can fit, but it needs some parts, and we can’t really lift it without another person’s help, so we’ll leave it for now.

After a few hours of work, oil, and arguing over where stuff goes, we got the propeller on, and the gas tank installed. We’ve decided to take the Junker out to the museum, and install the engine there, since there’s cranes and stuff we can use. I’ll write back tomorrow, after we’ve fixed and installed the engine. By that point, the Junker should be ready to fly.

Date: May 19th, 2013
Fatal Tragedy

Alone at night, I feel so strange. I need to find, all the answers to my dreams. When I sleep at night, I hear the cries; what does this mean? I cannot tell you. Perhaps the echo of all those who died resonate inside our vault. Radio says that some places are indeed haunted, and should be strayed from. Which leaves us two options: One, we can go dispel the spirits, or leave the Vault.

I shut the door and traveled to another home. I met an older man he seemed to be alone. I felt that I could trust him; he talked to me that day. “Lad did you a girl was murdered here? This fatal tragedy was talked about for years….”

He kept going, telling me about this. The Government said that such stories could calm the spirits, and frankly, I couldn’t argue otherwise. On the way I found this small laptop. For some reason, the nuclear waste overcharged the battery, so I’ve got about two weeks to use it, or at least, utilize what I can.

I left his house and went back to the Vault, telling the same story. No one really believed it, but it apparently helped. So we decided to go back to the museum with the Junker. We had to tug it by tying a rope to one end, and pulling all the way. After an hour of pulling this plane, we met a mechanic who said he’d install it, for a price.

If we gave him enough meat, medicine, and alcohol, he’d install the engine. We really didn’t have what he wanted, so I told him that if he could get the necessary parts, we’d give him half that, and install it ourselves. He agreed and got the parts, and the trade went rather well.

As he left, I noticed something about him. Then I realized that he took the keys to the vault! That bastard! I chased after him, explaining to the others what happened. But the mechanic pulled out a gun and pointed it at me.

It was at this point, I sort of felt bad for all of those that fell under my scope. To stare down the barrel of a weapon, was like staring at Death’s scythe, waiting to swing a powerful horizontal swing to take your soul away. Though then again, it was refreshing to know that it was almost over.

A bright flash enveloped my vision, followed immediately by two very loud noises. Something hit me somewhere, but I wasn’t exactly sure what or where. I recall looking down, seeing red, and then black.

Date: June 2nd, 2013
Beyond This Life

In truth, I felt I’d never write this ever. I prayed night and day that this wouldn’t ever go onto the record, but life goes on. We sent a letter to the Presidium of Texas asking for medical assistance. A few days later, while he was unconscious, but alive, an ambulance arrived. They took him, and we’re awaiting results.

Today would be his 20th birthday, however, instead of celebrating it like we planned; we’d be waiting for the hospital report to come in. And, like a sick and twisted miracle, it did indeed come back.

He’s not dead, but he’s not alive. It’s a coincidence, I say. I wonder what he’s dreaming about in the coma that he’s been put in since that bullet wound. About halfway through May, Travis was shot in the chest with a handgun, and then he passed out.

Reuben and I aren’t really sure what to do. We would’ve probably had the Junker flying by now. But, instead of doing nothing all day, we changed the name of the Junker to T-Bird, since it was green, and Travis found it. The Government fixed it for us, due to our loss.

As it turned out, Travis was the only mildly professional medic for the next 18 miles of our area, he also was the only one in Texas with the Mosin-Nagant, and so he’s particularly valuable to the state to keep alive. Above that, our team of three has proved to be one of the most successful survival zones.

As recognition, the government did indeed fix the T-Bird, if we promised to send supplies to other zones that needed it. Reuben said that he’d fly the plane, and I’d drop the cargo using handmade parachutes, so it all worked out for the most part, despite losing Travis.

Flying the T-bird is like flying a series of birds attached by rope pulling a crate. Its controls are extremely uncoordinated, and the commands don’t actually happen until a full few seconds later. So turning midair was pretty scary. Before he was sent to the Hospital, Travis wrote up some instructions up on the T-Bird, like basic controls and accesses. This, combined with the proper flight manual allowed us to fly at least across Texas.

One other thing was in question, fuel. We contacted the Presidium, and they said that they will send us a map of all the certified fueling stations. If we bring supplies like enviro-suits, food, and some ammo, we’ll get fuel for free. Anything else will be traded for something else, pending on value.

Other than that, we really had things set. I’ll admit that things without Travis are extremely difficult. Desmond seemed to take it hardest, and he’s sort of dealing with it right now. I mean, sure he’s a great guy, but crying about it won’t get us anywhere.

So we’ll do all we can to revitalize the state, and hopefully the nation. Hopefully Travis will turn out alright, since medicine in Texas is scarce. I’ll write back in a few, Desmond needs help starting the T-Bird.

Date: June 2nd, 2013
Through Her Eyes

My name is Jessica Blackwing. I am a nurse down in the Texan Presidium, one of the top medicinal areas in the country. I’ve seen cases that make me sick, make me want to hate everything about Russia, but this…..this recent case has really touched me.

A week or so ago we got a letter from the Vault survivors that one of their own has been shot pretty badly. Normally we don’t accept bullet victims, since they usually won’t survive anyway. But the Vault is the hope of Texas. Weather the three know it, but there are signs across the state telling of their successes, and since, less accidents are happening, so we pulled him in.

The wound was worse than we thought. Due to the recent Nuclear Winter, the bullet that he had been shot with was hot with radiation, and Travis, the victim, got poisoned. Fortunately, he was bleeding a lot, so most of the irradiated blood didn’t get to his heart. So he’ll live, but since so much blood was lost, he can’t awake from the sleep he will soon enter.

Slowly, his body will create fresh blood, blood that has certain immunity to this kind of poison, not a huge one, but something. Until then however, he’ll be alive through his subconscious, which is strong enough to keep his mind active. However, this hasn’t happened yet. So, as I’m writing on my laptop, I’ll be recording what’s said between the two of us, hopefully I can get some sort of message to send out to the state, maybe the country.

I walked into his room, feeling as cold as outside. He lay in the hospital cot, covered by a bandage all over his chest. This was a sterile area, so there weren’t any outside things that could affect this. He nodded in my direction, noting my entrance. It was scary, to see his gaze, looking behind those emerald eyes to know what all he’s seen.

“Good morning Travis. My name is Jessica, and I’ll be taking care of you…” I started, figuring that he couldn’t speak.

He nodded again, and surprised me by responding. Weakly, and in a raspy voice, “The others…..Desmond, Reuben….”

“They’re fine, at best, they miss you. If this goes smoothly, I can get you out in some weeks, if that’s fine.” I replied. Knowing that he didn’t have much of a choice, but he nodded and lay back.

Then he started to say something, “I was told there's a miracle for each day that I try. I was told there's a new love that's born for each one that has died…As a child; I thought I could live without pain, without sorrow. As a man I've found it's all caught up with me….I'm asleep yet I'm so afraid…” And at that, he left me. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed. I felt horrified, but the message I was to send out was clear. His words were very well spoken, and I had a job to complete.

After doing some numbers, I realized that he wouldn’t be able to come back immediately, his brain would have caught up with so much trauma that he’d kill himself. So I slipped a deep sedative, and prayed that the dream he would have is good.

I left the Hospital to go back home, since I really couldn’t think of much else. The Presidium allowed its medical staff to go home at any point, as long as they’ve put in at least 8 hours per day, this was so no one could be short staffed, or over worked.

Date: June 2nd
Home
I forgot the year. It’s strange that I’m starting to forget everything…..Like…as if I was retarded or something. Some lady came in and said some things, and I have no idea how I responded.

I do know, that I’m slowly fading, like falling into infinity. I wondered if death was like this, if this was the end. Dying in a Hospital? Hah, that’s dumb. I’d rather die like a Viking, in battle or something, but I suppose that’s not my choice.

My hands are moving, on something. Some sort of device, it has keys, so I assume a computer. Do they want me to write something? I assume that I am, based on the fact that I’m still going. Weird that I’ve written so much, like a journal to be later compiled into some sort of story.

Perhaps it’s for the better that this happened. As far as I’m concerned, Armageddon happened some time ago, and people need hope. I’d love to write some sort of speech…but I appear to be writing exactly what I’m thinking, with perfect wording and grammar.

Well, either way, if it keeps me alive I’m up to writing. So I suppose I should continue, as if I had a choice in the matter. Somehow, I’m drawn to think about before the explosion. Life not more than two years ago, I would have just graduated from Quest yesterday, as today is my birthday, I saw it on a calendar on the way here.

Graduation was fun, got to wear my brother’s cap and gown, walk down the same stage as Desmond and Reuben. Reuben went first, then me, then Desmond, due to last names. I sort of remember others that were there. Nicole, Desmond’s old date, and Reuben’s date Amber. But they’re all gone now.

As it turns out, it seems that I too am fading. My fingers are starting to slip….and I’m starting to become ever so tired….finally, finally I can lay my eyes for more than 3 hours…It feels good to close my eyes, knowing that I can open them feeling good, and refreshed……

Date: --,--, ----
The Dance of Eternity

Subconscious strange sensation, unconscious relaxation….a dream so pleasant, I cannot explain. But it is no dream, no…because I’m dead? It is a nightmare, a pleasant nightmare, yes. Every time I close my eyes, there’s another vivid surprise. Another whole life waiting, chapters unfinished…fade.

Closer now, slowly coming into view….I’ve arrived….blinding sunshine beaming through. Similar to the white light that I know so well, the light that overwhelmed me so long ago.

There’s a house I’m drawn to, familiar settings nothing new. Yes, there’s a pathway leading there, with a haunting chill in the air. I see the room at the top of the stairs, all the time I’m drawn up there. Where there’s a girl in the mirror. Her face is getting clearer.

In her eyes, I sense a story never told. Behind the disguise, there’s something tearing at her soul. I hear her voice saying something, as if calling out to me. Her voice is like that of a banshee, but it’s softer, and comforting to hear.

She says that she’s searching for something, a feeling that’s deep inside. Searching for, the ‘one that nobody knows’. Trying to break free, I just can’t help myself, I’m feeling like I’m going out of my head….though I think I’ve already gone that far.

Now it’s black. I’m seeing vague visions of my earlier life, and then flashing to what it is now. My school, my friends, myself, and even all the things I’ve ever done or said. What this ‘girl’ and these visions have to do with me, I’m uncertain of, though I’m sure I can figure it out.

Different, new visions consisting of things that I swear I recognize. Vivid details showing distorted images of things I…can relate to. What they are, I cannot detail but I know I have seen them before. The images form into one, to show a heart, surrounded by thorns. Somehow, I relate to this, but I don’t know why, yet.

Date: July 4th, 2013
One Last Time

Desmond went to the Yard to pay respects to Nicole after I came back to do the same for Amber. It easily hurt more this time than any other time, since Travis wasn’t here. It’s odd that the one person who didn’t have a significant other makes an impact on those who do.

I guess it’s a matter of perspective. Travis, at times is like the older brother, watching over the rest of us, and giving mostly neutral opinions so we can form a decision as a team. And at other times, he’s like a loner, doing his own agenda by himself.

The two of us feel really bad to allow this to happen. We took it for granted that he was around solving his own problems. Since, in a time like this, your problems are your responsibility, and we all ran about with this mindset. The only thing that is different is that Travis helped us, without receiving aid for his own things.

These actions led us to become almost dependent upon him, asking small things that add up. And certainly, he did them all accordingly, but I guess it all caught up with him in the end. I can’t blame anyone but myself, and Desmond feels the same.

We got word from the hospital that despite his coma-like condition, he’s physically stable, and that they can get him back here around Christmas time. This is great because the T-Bird broke down a few weeks ago, and we can’t deliver supplies to those who need it, nor retrieve any of our own…So we need someone to help fix it, someone who won’t shoot us.

It broke because we neglected the factor of oil. I had forgotten about the whole thing after a few weeks of flying and repairing, since most of what we worried about was keeping it together, and filling it up with gas. Oil is very expensive, and hard to come by, so I guess we ignored it.

Another factor that led to the breakdown was pirates. You think I’m kidding, but since gas was found in certain areas, more people have taken our example and taken to the skies. For the most part, we’d have allies to support us, as we were the original flight founders, but there were some who needed things that we had. So they’d board our plane, take some cargo, and leave.

The government has started to request gas from overseas again; they’re trading gas and oil for food and weapons. It seems Europe and Asia was quick to respond and agree; perhaps they have it worse than we do. According to Underground Radio, the local radio station down the road, Russia’s a huge empire now, using the arctic wastelands and nuclear fallout to their advantage. Apparently, radiated snow gives off some sort of power module that could indeed give some charge.

On a more secret note, the government has promised us that they’ll send Travis with a prototype craft, some sort of huge revolutionary aircraft that will not only protect us, but have more cargo, more room for a diverse crew, and enough space to live in. This would be easily the best thing that could happen, but it won’t happen until Christmas.

Oh well, I guess I’ll have to wait until then, as it seems that while Christmas is approaching, time and supplies are passing as quickly as the days do. The next month, is going to be difficult.

Date: December 15th, 2013
The Spirit Carries On

Reuben ran away from the Vault to go down to visit Travis. We got in a nasty argument a few days ago and he couldn’t take it any more. We were at our throats with guns, until the futility of shooting dawned on both of us, and he simply walked out.

I’ve grown to hate this place, this haven that was once our home. It’s empty, the water supply is freezing, and food has to be scouted out. Our ammo supplies are thin, and the scarcity of meat is increasing. However, one good thing is that some plants have adapted to the nuclear waste, while still being clean, mostly. This has led us to a minor immunity to the nuclear fallout.

The echo of my steps and the reverberating sounds of my voice have led my emotion to a very depressed state. I can’t feel anything anymore; all I can do is sit and seemingly waste away. However, I must press on. If I just sit around and do nothing, no one is helped, and no one would have something to look forward to.

I’m still a part of the Vault, and thus, I’m still a symbol of hope to the rest of the country. So I’ll get up, and start to repair the water system. I just hope Rueben will turnout OK. He’s a survivor, and he knows what to do and where to go.


I’m glad that I kept my phone. The Russian power system totally works. To charge my phone, I seriously just put the battery in the snow for a minute, and put it back in. So this is being typed in a very long series of text messages.

Based on the map that the Presidium provided, I’m about three fourths of the way to the hospital. That’s about another day’s walking for me. Or, if I can alternate sprinting and walking, I can half that time. Due to the weather, I think I can hold stamina.

I decided that I indeed can make it by the alternation method. So I’ll spend one half hour sprinting, and the other walking. Since I was the scout for everyone down at the Vault, I’ve developed a better build since the Cataclysm. Thus, making it to the Hospital within 12 hours seems reasonable.


I finally got the water system fixed. Above that, I’ve hooked up the T-birds former heating sink to it as well, so now we have hot AND cold water. However, there’s no one here to really share it with. Oh well. The next plan of action would be to get the radio fixed. It had broken during the transition from fall to winter from us keeping it on all the time.

I got a letter from the hospital saying that Travis is in a stable condition, and that he’ll wake up within the next day or so. This is relieving news, because then Reuben can come back, hopefully with Travis. Well, I’m off to make some food based on what we have left.

Date: December 20th, 2013
Finally Free

Friday evening, blood still on my hands…as I wake up, the first thing I notice, is that I can breathe a whole lot better than I did before. I’m told that this is the first year anniversary of the explosion. Reuben’s at my side, I think. It looks like him, at least. He says some words, but I can’t really hear him. It’s not that I’m deaf, just….unable to make out the words that he says.

The nurse seems to notice, and holds up images. The first one is of the vault; it looks alright, so I guess it’s still standing. The next image she shows is the T-bird, broken down. Lame, because I found that plane, but oh well. She then shows another sort of aircraft. It’s a zeppelin from the late WWII era, called the Barracuda. The picture was a side shot, so its details on the front or back were difficult to ascertain.

From what I gathered though, it looks sort of like a boat, only with propellers and such. When I saw it, the first thought I had, was that it’s a floating theater. And of course, from theater, instantly came the only band I can still listen to: “Dream Theater.”

Apparently, those words were the only thing I said for that moment of silence. ‘Dream Theater’ was quickly adopted as the ship’s name, since apparently it was sitting outside. I was to be flown back to the vault in this ship, along with a huge amount of cargo. I had no issue with this, except that I was curious to my health. When my senses finally came to me, I said, “How….what is the issue? I feel so…..strange.”

The nurse quickly chimed in, saying, “You just awoke from a long dream, please make sure that you can move around. I have good news, and I have bad news….”

Reuben looked to the nurse, “What’s the good news?”

“Well, the Barracuda class Zeppelin has quite a gas tank, able to make it from here to even Asia, if you so chose. It also boasts a very large cargo space. I recommend taking a lot of gas tanks, food, and everything from the Vault. If you play your cards right, you could indeed live inside of the Dream Theater forever.”

I nodded, “What’s the bad news?”

“We’ve received a message from Canada, that a strange attack had taken place, and that this very attack is coming our way. You all need to move quickly, as others are taking shelter and arms against it. We have little hope here anyway.”

I heard a distant sound outside the Vault. Upon opening the door, I saw a sight I had never imagined. A massive blimp extended a ladder towards me. I know that Reuben said to pack everything in a letter, and I had. So now I had to load boxes into this blimp.

I saw Travis again, but he was busy helping to pack. We’d share what would happen on the way to our next destination, London. I say London, because I found a newspaper from last year saying that the Royal Family had been killed. However, there was not a bomb attack.

Through this, I have reasoning that Nicole is still alive, and we’re going to find her. This feeling is inside me, I’ve found my love, and I’m finally free. I couldn't believe it, I'd be able to reunite with my own love, and my two best friends...nay, brothers are with me. Travis seems to be looking out the window saying something......I'll go check it out.

“Uncanny Strange Déjà Vu, but I don't mind....I just hope to find the Truth......”