Why is this an announcement? o.o
more to the point, why does this appear to be stickied?
I didn't mess with any of these settings, nor am I sure that I could have.
ANYWAY: I finally got around to writing (homework, chores, scrapping metal, ext got me backed up) and finishing this new draft of this piece, so have a read.
/start/
An expert from the diary of a mister Johnas Reed, undated, found in a truck stop motel in Nebraska.
I'm withering, like the rest. Everyone else in this place is dead. Even the doctor, so blowed out from the mandrus that even the dogs wouldn't eat him.
The Plague. That was the start of all our troubles, I suppose. Maybe it was just symbolic of human stupidity and ignorance. I mean, how could a high security base, filled with highly trained scientists and military personnel not stop such a disease from escaping its borders?
Simple. Because they waited too late to act. By the time they saw the threat for what it really was, it was already out in the open, in the air. Within hours it was county wide, then state wide within days. Weeks later it was all over the west coast. Within a few Months, the world.
What the doctors could piece together (before they either died of it or of other causes) was that it was some kind of highly contagious strain of the flu. Thats where they first got the name, the Superflu.
After a few tests, the few that were left saw strands of other diseases mixed in to give it its contagiousness. Thats where we got the second name, Captain Tripps, relating it to the Military.
The fingers were pointed, this way and that, as would be expected. But before war could break out, everyone that would have pressed the buttons was either too sick to move, too dead to do so, or caught in the wave of panic and rage those whom hadn't yet caught it were riding on.
By the fourth month, I was indoors, of course, me and the blasted doc. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
By the fourth month, the streets were in their peak of chaos. This, I can only assume, was because in the earlier days, there had still been a semblance of law and order. Now, with the police and military distracted with quarantines to hold, deserting, or falling ill, rampant murder, rape, and pillaging became the norm, with mob rule the order of the day.
But, as with anything involving the above, it burned out (un)surprisingly fast. Within two months, the mass of would-be killers were either killed themselves, or, more likely, dead of the SuperFlu.
As I stated before, it was me and the doc during those last two months, held up in this damned motel. I can't remember who got sick first, me or him. I do know that he told me alot of things that I knew I should write down before I was too weak to lift a pen.
He had said there were... scientists. They had taken many, many people, people whom had either caught tripps and survived, or caught tripps and didn't die. Yes, there
is a difference. Those who caught tripps and survived came back healthy as a horse. They were studied and found to be... immune, I guess.
The ones who caught tripps and didn't die, however, were another story entirely.
The description the doc gave me was disgusting, to say the least. Take a standard human, say, six feet tall, weighing roughly two hundred pounds. Now shave off one hundred and fifty pounds, cut at least a foot of height, make him loose all of his hair, cover him with rashes, open, pussing sores, digging scrape marks, pimples, boils, smell like shit, and there you have a tripps 'survivor'.
Ironically, they are carriers, but not of Tripps. They carry other diseases, old diseases. Pneumonia, The Spanish Flu, Malaria, all sorts of stuff that was cured ages ago. The scientists studying them often died of these diseases rather than any others, dead in their sanctuaries, and their captives died with them.
Why have I even bothered writing this? To be honest, I'm not sure. Maybe its the dreams...
Mother Abagail, with her sweet smile, and her old age. One hundred and Six years old, she said. She told me, go to Oklahoma, there is where all of the good in the world shall gather again. There there will be light, and peace.
I can't explain why I think this is true. Wishfull thinking, maybe? She seemed so sweet, so sincere, almost too good to be true. But she couldn't have been, could she? No. She was...
She was an angel.
I don't know how I know this, but I do. I wish I could go...
Flagg.
The mans name was Flagg. He was a devil, I could see it in his eyes. He drives the pests of the world before him, the rats and the bugs, and the other critters. He was dark, the darkest thing I've ever seen so clearly.
He is walking to Vegas.
I don't know how I know, but I do. He's gathering all thats dark in the world and going to Vegas. Why? I don't know. I don't want to know. I want to stay away.
Closing Statements? I have one. If anyone finds this, you may have better knowledge than I do. Add to it, as you figure out more. I'm sure you'll outlast me anyway. I can't have too much more time, I can feel this disease crippling my writing hands, weakening me, dragging me down to its murky, dark depths.
Vegas is bad. Oklahoma is good. One contains a great evil, and the other a wonderful good. Was that rhyme intentional? I don't know.
There are angels and demons out there, I suppose. They aren't metaphorical, they're real, waging war as I write. Using the good and evil left in the world to make their stand. I wish I could be there...
But alas, I'm finished. I suppose I can try and sleep, knowing my work is done. I hope I end easily. I hope
The written word ends there, followed by a stroke from the e to the bottom of the page.
/End/
Tell me what you think, what I should add, I'll get some rules up after I get your opinions.