Chapter 18:

Chapter 18

FORCES


Top 10 Ways To survive Outside

One: Trust is a word not used lightly, and never willy nilly. Be absolutely sure one would be trust worthy.

Two: Trust, What is Trust? Is it the very act of believing in somebody or is it simply an ideal. Trust is indeed a strange concept… indeed.

Three: Shoot on sight or don’t shoot on sight. Trust your instinct I guess, I don’t really know for sure.

FOUR:DON’T DIE

FIVE: LIVE ON< LIVE ON< SEE HER AGAIN… LIVE, AND SEE! LIVE, AND SEE.

I WISH I HAD A PICTURE OF HER. SHE IS TRUE BEAUTY.

(Warning the following chapter has been switched from third person narration to first person narration through the eyes of the main protagonist Mason. You have been warned.)

I have been out here for weeks now, and I can’t find my way around this damn labyrinth. I mean this is America damn it! I should know this place well but I don’t. I don’t understand any of it, and it is driving me crazy. Where am I? Have I been here before!? Let me pull out my compass and see. (Mason pulls out his obviously cracked up, and broken compass showing no signs of movement. It is just stuck on north-east.)The hell! This is telling me that I am going in the right direction, and I have been for weeks now. I can’t do this. I put my face into my hands as I drop to my knees in sorrow. Why am I so lost right now!?

“Ahhhhh!”

I scream at the top of my lungs as once again not even one creature has probably heard my scream. I mean who am I kidding? Nobody ever hears my screams. Not the ones of pain, and or the ones of anger. My screams just echo into the darkness, and even in broad daylight unheard. I just want to see somebody or something. But I guess in reality that makes me a hypocrite. Because every time I see a flock of irons in the distance, instead of working up the courage to say “Hi” I just stay & hide. I should stop being picky about the friends I make, and just make some. I walk over to a city bench, and sit down, and pull out another match.

Everyday near the end of said day, I will pull out a match. One match everyday near the end, and light it up, and stare at it during the dusk of everyday. I haven’t missed a day, and each day I have never seen another friendly person. Of course I have shot a few of the unpleasant people. They don’t even try to befriend me, and then swindle me. They just try to take. I mean how selfish that is! They could at the very least offer me the pleasantry of their company before they try to rob me blind, and get shot.

I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be different. But I am not kidding myself when I say that. I know tomorrow probably will be the same. I am just trying to stay optimistic for the future is all. I mean it doesn’t hurt to hope, even if that is starting to seem like a bogus concept. “Hope” is a word that as far as I can see is bull. Last time I checked my eyesight was perfect. I never have needed glasses.

When was the last time I have seen a somewhat coherently friendly face. That was Sylvia, and not Sylvia the love of my life but lame ass Sylvia who wouldn’t talk to me for half the car ride. When is the next time I will get to see my love, and will I ever get to see her? This was one big soul searching mess. All I found out about myself so far is that I was never any good at making, and or keeping friends, and I don’t know if I am strong enough to kill Clive or not.

I finally strike, and light the match at the peak of dawn. I watch the flame with intent as all emotions left on me burn, swell, and fade as if I put the match under them. I turn tail, and walk toward what appears to be the safest building in the area, and I pull out my magnum. The very same magnum I took from Romeo. The “Lady Killer”, quite a name, and unfortunately thanks to my panic it now lives up to the name.

Thanks to this trip, to Clive, and my murdering of July, I am turning into a real monster. Who knows what I can do to people. I mean my dreams sometimes scare myself. The scariest part is I am aware of the thoughts perfectly, and I still keep thinking them. I have dreamed of not only putting my hands around the throats of Clive, and Miles but other people I wouldn’t dare dream of harming in a million years like my own mother for how she used to treat me, and god forbid I would ever do anything to Sylvia.

There I go rambling with myself again. I aim the “Lady Killer” steady as I put my foot to the door of a random building, and pull back my foot, and thrust it forward to kick down the door. The door goes flying in front of me as I take my few steps forward to case the joint, and find little to no signs of human interference. I look around, and discover that I am in an eatery. I look down the aisle to see what appears to be a comfortable spot to lay my head, and as I walk up to it I brush away some of the dust with my hands where I would lay my head, and proceed to lay down, and get comfy.

Certainly it isn’t the bed of a Hampton but it is a bit more comfortable than a few of my earlier seating, and sleeping arrangements I have made the past few days. No signs of cockroaches too, probably because all the food in the place had been picked out years ago. I mean for god sakes you couldn’t even tell it was a restaurant from the outside anymore. You had to go in, and see all the tables, and such.

I look out the dusty, and stained window from the inside out. You can barely see anything from the outside, and in but from the opposite it looked fine. I wonder how the people must have felt. In any restaurant really. Just to be sitting, and drinking your morning coffee, and or just having a family breakfast, or even hell if you were a waiter, and saw that your town was now being invaded by creatures much bigger, and far more deadly than you. And you have just been working some dead end job your whole life, and it was almost over.

It would have definitely been terrible. I know what I would have done if it were me. Especially if I was a kid then I would have just run to my backyard, and started a bonfire. I might have even jumped in it when one of those irons caught me. I am not a fan of suicide but I am a fan of the sensation of fire on your skin. It was one of the reasons that my dad sought medical help for me as well as tried to find me a new hobby.

Boy don’t I love my dad. I can imagine him now. He was playing checkers at the old folk’s home with another former father turned old widow. He happens to look outside, and sees death coming for him even sooner than the soon that he was expecting. I hope to god that my dad had a more peaceful end than that terror of a nightmarish image in my head.

Rest in peace dad, I am sure you aren’t being kept alive by the same technology that Miles had been preserving himself with this whole time. If you were then that is probably the moment that I would shit bricks. I am sure you are dead, and hopefully you have a grave. If you do have one, then I would certainly like to find it one day, and see you dad. Hell I might even dig you up, and bring you to Requiem with me. Although they would probably just throw you another funeral, and throw you over the side of the wall, and into the ocean to never be seen again by me or anyone else.

I love you dad. I close my eyes even tighter than they were as I start to yawn, and can feel that desperation to sleep right around the corner. I don’t really want to sleep but I know that I need to or else I won’t be able to trudge onward tomorrow doing the same old thing. Maybe tomorrow will be different. And this just isn’t optimism but I feel that something good will happen tomorrow for sure. I just know it will.

I wake to find I had fallen from where I was sleeping, and was now laying on the ground. I had my gun in my hand. For some reason I have been waking up to find my weapon in my hand despite it having been holstered before napping, or sleeping. I don’t know if it is fear or just some sort of new psychological defect I have now. But in any case it has been scaring me lately. If I am not alert enough to know that my body is arming myself then it won’t matter if I am armed if they sneak up on me.

Although who knows, my body may just take care of any enemies for me like the amazing Steiner or Jekyll, and Hyde or something of that nature. I stand up, and holster my weapon. The sun light is peaking through the broken down front door. That is another thing I should probably stop doing. Each night when I enter a new place I find it safer in the moment to bust the door down rather than thinking of the long term. I pack up my stuff, and with no goodbyes of the building itself I make my way out the door.

“Wait!”

I hear a voice behind me as I thrust around with my gun in my hand, and an immediate drop of sweat going down my head as I look back inside to see no one at all. Was I just imagining it or something? In any case there isn’t anyone here so I should get going.

“Please wait.” I heard it again but instead of wasting my time turning around this time, I will just wait for more talking.

“I don’t mean you any harm.”

I see that as my signal to look now as I turn my head to see an older gentlemen, maybe twenty or twenty-five years older than me. I throw my gun up at him, and he immediately flinches, and shivers. His shivering makes me feel a little sad but I must persist.

“Who are you!?” I yell at him while straightening my aim. The man then got on his knees, and pulled out a white handkerchief, and throws his hands up in a surrendering fashion.

“I am Logan! Now please sir put the gun away, I mean you no harm!” he tells me as he starts to cry.

“I have been here since last night, and came across this building. I figured that nobody would stick around a building that has nobody, and no door so I stopped here for the night.

I saw you, and was going to approach you but was scared to because you had that gun in your hands, and I am mighty scared of firearms so I kept my distance.” The man told me.

I couldn’t believe him. He stuck back, and rested with my body in clear blue sight! I was too careless, and now there is this guy that I don’t know what to do with.

“What do you want!?” I ask him fiercely as I edge forward with my gun still in midair pointed directly at him.

“How do I know I can trust you!?” I ask.

“Come on man! All I wanted was someone to talk to.” He tells me but I smell bullshit.

There is no way this guy only wants to talk, and befriend me! Trust me I know! All the recent human contact I have had were people who wanted me dead, and why would now be different? Although he didn’t attempt to hurt me, or even steal anything while I was asleep so maybe he is trustworthy. I don’t know about this guy… maybe, just maybe. I start to lower my gun while he still sits there with his hands up. The man named Logan gave off a sigh, and I could tell he is relieved that I lowered the gun.

“Thank you, thank you so much sir.”

He told me that with gratefulness showing front and center. But even if this man isn’t dangerous how do I know he won’t be a liability? Before getting any ideas of hanging with dude I should see how he will be useful to me. He looked at me with such hopefulness. It was kind of uncomfortable at first.

“How would you be useful to me if I brought you along?”

What am I saying?! This is what was wrong with me. This guy has the potential to actually be my friend, and I am giving him the ultimate shakedown! I don’t really care about that! I just wanted somebody to talk to this whole time.

“Well I don’t have many skills but I can definitely stay out of the way!” Logan tells me probably hoping that I just wouldn’t mind the company. And if that is his angle then he is right. I don’t really care about skills. Maybe I should just see what he is sporting. If he has a gun then I may not be too inclined to trust him.

“What do you have in that satchel there?” I ask him while pointing at his bag.

“You mean my bag?!” he says.

What is he stupid? Of course I mean his bag. I will just give him a nod as to avoid saying something wrong. Logan then started pulling out, and showing all of his survival gear, and he didn’t have a gun for as far I could tell, though he did say he had a fear of firearms so that may explain it but that doesn’t mean he is trustworthy. He had a knife though I would have been suspicious if he had nothing to defend himself with so he gets a pass there. Now he pulls out something I am interested in. he shows me a shiny new compass, and I know that if for anything I need him for that, if I could say I even need him. But now I know for sure.

This whole time I have been playing stupid, I knew all along that my compass was stuck on north-east. “Alright Logan.” The moment I said that Logan’s face lit up at me. He could tell I was about to say he could come with me.

“I am going to Requiem. I need your compass to get there. And even if you are with me they will still let me back in.” I extend my hand outward toward him in hopes that he will agree. The excitement on his face can’t be matched. He thrusts his hand out towards mine as if he was shocked that I mentioned Requiem.

“You mean you are taking me to Requiem!? Seriously? You are allowed in?” he asked with excitement.

I was somewhat surprised. To be completely honest I had never thought I would have seen a grown man this day in age, and on the outside no less to be filled with childlike excitement.

“Um, yes.” I relayed to him.

He seems happy enough, and he doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. But I still am not too sure. I want a friend out here, and he has a compass, which I also need. Hopefully he really is a friend.

“Well the morning has already got the jump on us. We have to get going soon.” I tell him before we set out.

We begin walking in the true north-east. The first couple hours or so wasn’t anything. There wasn’t a hint of socializing, and or even eye contact. There was only our lonely repetitive steps. It is pretty weird. This man could have run off with my stuff but he didn’t. So he claims to be lonely but he hasn’t talked to me one bit so far, and it seems off. No to mention the fact that he doesn’t have anyone with him.

“It has been kind of quiet between us. You don’t have anything to say?” Now Logan is talking to me.

“What would you suggest we talk about Logan?” I turn to face him after saying that.

“Do you really even want to talk, or do you want something else entirely?” I ask him.

“What do you mean?” he tells me only pissing me off further.

“Well first off you said you wanted to approach me, and were giving off the sense that you were lonely. But while with me for the past couple of hours you haven’t really attempted in talking to me, and when you did speak on occasion you haven’t acted socially awkward so what’s the real deal here?”

What am I saying here? Do I want to push him away!? I know painfully obviously that I am the one who’s lonely. I should attempt to talk to him, and not the other way around. I need to fix this thing. I need to apologize.

“I… I’m sorry! I just haven’t talked to anyone in a while.” He doesn’t seem angry but this still needed to be done.

“I guess I will start talking.” I tell him, and he seems to be content with that, and that gives me a shudder of relief.

“Where were you traveling to Logan?” I ask as he puts his hand on his chin.

“To be honest with you I had no real direction while I was traveling. I merely searched for food, and other people. You were alone so at the very least I felt I could run away if you were no good.” He says. It almost makes me feel bad for treating him the way I did… almost. It was still necessary, and I shouldn’t beat myself up over it. I needed to suspect his true motives.

“Well sir I already know where you are going but there is one thing you haven’t told me yet that may be nice to know. Your name. And you’re…?” That’s right my name. I frantically tell him.

“I’m Mason. I guess that was forgetful of me.” I cannot believe I forgot to tell him my name.

“I see a lot of folks Mason, and until now it seems every last single person was out to kill me. And the funniest part was that they’ve just met me when they wanted to do so.” He told me, and boy couldn’t I relate.

I don’t remember how many people I have killed now. I know how many groups of people but not the exact number. Seven groups of people. I kid you not that in a few weeks there were as many people who wanted me dead as there were dragonballs. It has been a fearful ride until now. I guess he isn’t that bad. Now I can focus on getting home, and likely I don’t have to worry about getting home. Wait a second… home? Is Requiem my home now? There is something terribly wrong here! Do I even have a home? I look over at Logan walking beside me.

“Logan. Do you have a place that you consider a home?” I ask him. But after staring at me for a few seconds he bursts out laughing.

“A home!?” he says as he continues to laugh. What’s so damn funny is what I want to know? He shouldn’t be laughing at me like this! A home is something to be taken very seriously.

“What is it!?” I yell as he continues to laugh. His laughing is making me want to put my hands around his neck, and squeeze. I shouldn’t be thinking things like that but I can’t help it.

“Ah, a home. I haven’t had a home since the day I was born.” The moment he said that then the terrible reality hit me. Of course, that is why he has been on the run his entire life, and has nobody with him. It is because he was on the outside most of his life now.

“Sure I traveled through this apocalypse with my parents when I was about fifteen or so when it first started but soon after it started I lost both my parents, and I have been switching from group of people to group of people ever since.” Once he told me that it soon struck me that people out here have it far worse than me.

Yeah, I am sick of being betrayed by people I start to respect, and care about, and I guess I have the short end of the stick in that regard but when you think about it then I have had a thirty yearlong peaceful sleep for the entire apocalypse about with the irons, and haven’t had to deal with them. A sixty-seven long sleep in general. I came into the picture after humanity has already settled in to this new world. I am from the old world. An artifact that belongs in a museum. I shouldn’t be a part of this world. But I am very well built, and very well preserved.

That’s why you have assholes out here who kill, and steal. It is because they don’t know any better. They are like a cross between children, and animals most people out here. Two selfish, and needy creatures. They form packs, and once they have that then they take to killing other defenseless people, and avoiding the military. The only reason I can suspect Logan of being alright is now ironically the fact that he was alone, since I also was alone. And the fact he once knew an earth before the irons.

All these twenty year old punks I have shot till now have all done so because for lack of a better term they didn’t know any better. Oh no! And will you look at that, the moment I start talking about twenty year old punks here are a few of them now, and they look dangerous. Not only do they look the part, I am willing to bet they are dangerous on account of the weapons they are sporting.

They have guns, and odds are they know how to use them. I look over to Logan. He told me he is afraid of firearms. If that is true then I probably shouldn’t include him in this fight. I am just so lucky that I spotted them before they spotted me. I can tell you now that if they had spotted me then they most definitely would have fired at me without hesitation. I point out toward the group of armed young men, and alert Logan.

“They have guns so you may want to hide. Besides if you can’t fight then you are better off out of the way.” I told him as I sent him into a building to hide.

I pull out my rifle, and unsnap the snap to my sidearm. I duck myself behind some rubble next to an alleyway. I set the rifle down next to me, and I pull from my back pack without even looking the binoculars that the Zex armory supplied me. I look through the lens, and hope that they aren’t staking out the city, and searching for supplies. If they are just passing through then I may not have to kill them but if they come near me then I may have no choice but to take the first few shots.

I rub my hand up against my forehead as the stress settles in, and I start getting the urge to shoot right away, and end the possibility for good. I mean I have the upper hand in so many ways at the moment if I were to attack first. I have the element of surprise, and long distance firepower as they sport what I can only see to be shotguns, and pistols. Every way I look at it, it would be in my best interest to shoot now! But I know that that is wrong, and I shouldn’t do so. The only reason I haven’t started shooting.

It was only now that I could feel light vibrations. Shit! I am not stupid, I know when, an iron is trying to stalk its prey, and sneak up on them but that isn’t going to happen to me! I just might have to get these men killed after all. I dart forward, and shoot in their general direction but at nobody in particular to get their attention. “Shot fired!” one screamed as others gave orders to organize, and started moving in on my direction. And right behind me was an iron making its way down a building behind me as I jet for the building nearest me in the hopes the creature, and the men will go at each other.

Only then did I think of where Logan might have ran off to in that moment. If we had stuck it out, and hung together then we might have been able to avoid them altogether if we just kept moving. Now I don’t know where he is, and this beast is on the berserker trail behind me, and murderous thieves in my front. The punks spot me down the street, and start shooting. I jump in a building to my left as the iron then focuses his attention on the men shooting.

“An iron!” they yelled as the shooting intensified.

At least they didn’t see Logan since he wasn’t with me. That is one of those few pluses that I can be sure of. Whoever wins, man or monster it almost doesn’t matter. They both know that I am here, and my only hope is that after the fighting then the winner will either forget or not want to bother. Though if there are any of either side still left standing then I may have to kill them in order to safely find Logan.

There I go. I am already worrying about Logan despite the fact that I have only known him for a few short hours, and only know his name, a phobia, and a rough estimate of his age. The odds are he isn’t worrying about me the same way I am worrying about him right now. It is ironic that I was treating him like he was guilty until proven innocent, and at the same time being protective of him. Of course that is just most governments in a nutshell now that I think about it more.

Damn it! There is still shooting, and I have no idea what the hell is going on. I crawl myself to the back of the building, and I can hear them still shooting down the road. I peered the back door open to discover three dead people lying on the streets surrounded by blood, and bullet shells. The creature must have gotten into the middle of them because there was even signs of a bit of friendly fire.

I look down the street, and before you get to the fighting there are about six more bodies on the way. In the fighting I see down the street that the iron will be picking up, and gripping two people at a time while knocking others out of the way. It has been so long since I have seen an iron sink its jaw into another human being, and it is scaring the death out of me. I even felt fear for the people I dragged into this.

And I should. I can’t go on like this. I have to help them out whatever the cost. I pull my rifle forward, and grab the creature in my iron sights as I start pumping off several rounds with each bullet bearing even a semblance of effect. Ineffective as hell is the only way to describe my attack. I am telling myself that I shouldn’t do it but I can’t help it. I have to confront the iron that is attacking them now.

I dart out of the building, and into the beast’s direction as I pull my weapon forward once again, and start shooting off the entire clip of rounds that I am using in order to at least distract the beast but to no affect. The remaining three people left running off in three different directions. That must be a last minute defense of their groups in case things get too hairy in the hopes that a couple of them will survive.

I know that those people won’t forgive me merely because I became a decoy but I will worry about that later. I start running toward the beast while I begin to reload my rifle. It slowly turns my way as I finish reloading. The moment I make eye contact with it then I know that it has been roughed up by those punks. I start to breathe slowly as it starts to return my charge with a faster, and deadlier charge.

This thing isn’t going to pull any punches. So I need to do the exact same thing. I will kill this iron… I will kill Clive! I duck then slide under it. I save all my ammo for this moment. The creature’s hands near its underbelly start to reach for me as I start pumping every round into the beast as the blood starts splashing from every bullet that enters its belly, and into my face no less. You could tell that it was done for. It wasn’t going to fight anymore.

I step up, and turn around to see the fallen monster behind me. It reminds me of when I had first arrived on the outside to start this journey, and the iron in the boulder. I eject the now empty magazine from my gun. I throw the rifle back around shoulder, and take out the “Lady Killer”. I walk my way around to the front of the beast, and watch as it snivels in place.

“Sorry buddy but you attacked me first.” I said gasping.

I point the “Lady Killer” into its face as I then pull the trigger multiple times till the blood splatters from its face, and into mine. The blood wreaked. I started to wipe the blood from my eyes. “Uh!” I am then attacked from behind as one of those guys started choking me. I can only assume his gun is empty considering he hadn’t shot me. I am starting to feel my consciousness fade away until I hear running from behind.

The guy who was attacking me got tackled by Logan, and all I do is sit for a second to ketch some air. Logan is struggling with the ruthless bandit-like man, and I decide to then ram the man, and hold him down. “Oh shit!” Logan is now stabbing the man to death. The brutally extracted blood flies into my face, and starts mixing with the irons blood, and I then just drop the man there. Logan it seems can tell that I am put off by his brutal display.

“I thought you were afraid of confrontation?” I sort of ask, and tell him.

“I am just afraid of firearms. That doesn’t mean I won’t kill someone if I have to.” He told me while wiping the blood off his knife. I don’t know if I should resent him or not. I mean he did just saved me but it seemed unnecessary to kill in such a brutal manner.

“Well are we going to get a move on or are we just going to stand here?” Logan asked. I stood here a second before answering.

“We will move.” I told him as he smiled.

“First thing is first.” He said as he started looting the corpses of the dead men. I frankly am shocked. “What are you doing!?” I ask him angrily.

“What the hell does it look like!? I am looting them.” He tells me, and I am not feeling it.

“Isn’t it a little disrespectful to loot them now!? I mean I just got them killed!” I tried to explain to him.

“You got them killed, I didn’t have anything to do with that.” He told me as he continued to loot the body.

“Listen to me! We don’t need what they have! I won’t lie, I have desperately looted bodies but without the desperation then we shouldn’t, especially under these circumstances!” I tell him desperately.

He throws a small tantrum then throws all the loot down toward the poor dead fellow’s body. I look at him with content, and relief. It didn’t sit well with me to defile the dead, especially since I feel I was to blame for their deaths. Though Logan then explained to me that the iron would probably have taken their lives regardless, and tried to comfort me over the two others who got away. Though he was probably only saying that to get me to loosen up on the looting, I still appreciate what he just told me.

We start walking off into the direction of Requiem. I am no longer sure if I should bring somebody like Logan into Requiem. He isn’t necessarily a bad person from what I have seen but I don’t think he is going to mesh well with the rest of the people of Requiem. After we started to move then something interesting happened. He started to tell me why he had a fear of guns as an apology for his earlier behavior.

“You see I have a very bad upbringing because of guns. After the irons appeared it only took my father a year, and a half to completely lose his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot me but he killed my mother while she was sleeping, and then he offed himself.” He explained the scene afterwards in such grim detail to me that I almost felt like telling him to stop but I was too intrigued.

“My father even left a suicide note. Do you want to take a look at it? I still have it.” He said, and it was a weird gesture but I felt as though I couldn’t refuse. I wanted to see that man’s excuse for what he did as the scientist I am… or at least was.

“But before I show you the letter Mason, I want to know this. What do you think this letter will contain?” he asked me, and honestly I had no idea because I wouldn’t usually even try to get into the shoes of somebody who could kill family, and then themselves.

“Well the letter had to be addressed to you considering he didn’t kill you, am I right?”

Logan smiled, and nodded then asked me to be more specific in what I thought the letter would have been about, and my head spun. I was thinking several different things including a goodbye letter, and or an apology letter, or maybe even something simple like a message of how Logan should try to survive on his own in the outside world.

“Well I am going to guess that it was an apology.”

Logan then started laughing. “Yeah I wish it was something as simple or touching as that. I wished it had been some sort of letter that I could appreciate or even something as important as a goodbye but it had nothing to do with that at all! I mean this man is such a douche bag for leaving me this letter!” Logan says as he starts to cry a little. It has be twenty to thirty or so years, and Logan was still bent up about it.

Logan pulls the letter from his satchel, and hands it to me. It still has the ripped envelope, and everything. I can see clearly that the envelope used was from sort of utility bill. I pulled the letter from the envelope as I began to unfold the letter. I finally have the letter in front of me, and what the fuck!

“What the fuck is this!?”


The Eulogy of Edmund Drover

Edmund was a loving, and caring father to his son, and was a good husband as well. He worked the factory work most of his life but finally started becoming more successful as, an online singer with guitar company sponsors, and self-published country music.

Through his childhood he was a spry young fella. He loved playing outdoors, and toe tapping to country music, and that is also how he met his future wife to be, which would help create his son Logan later on.

Edmund did a fine job taking care of his wife, and son, and would have done anything for them no matter what it was. In fact he sacrificed very much already for them, which made his future success that much sweeter by the time his son was thirteen years of age, and growing up fast.

Edmund was a fearless leader of his family in the end but by the time his time had come the pain was too great to go on in this apocalypse, and he took himself, and his wife’s life, but was unable to hurt his son so he left him ashamedly.

In the end Edmund was still that protective father that would do anything for his boy, and will be remembered.

-Son take the gun, and ammo, and live on

-Edmund Drover

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