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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

PROPHESY: Hiding in the Shadows

It was dark, but fortunately for us, the moon was full, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Lucky considering where we live, one of the wettest places in what is left of the U.S. There must have been twenty of us in the building, but we didn't lie to ourselves:  this was no protection. No roof, no doors, not even glass in the windows. If the Taken found us, we'd be as good as Taken ourselves. They were everywhere, and the tension was just on the verge of pouring into the dark woods.

It finally broke when a lady and a little girl broke through the bushes. Apparently, they had found a way down to the beach, a drainage that was partially overgrown, despite it's recent installation. Such is life in the Alaskan rainforest.

We all took off, single file, quietly as we could, though for my own part, I was certain that everyone could heat my fearful heart beating out of my head. Once we got to the beach, the mission was clear: follow it south to the depot, and hope to God there was a van or a bus or something we could cram into. We needed to get away from the outbreak.

The Taken, or specifically, whatever caused them to be so, were vicious. The disease, whether it was vital or bacterial, nobody knew, spread quickly. The result was a being devoid of individuality, a being who could seemingly wordlessly "think their thoughts" into the mind of all the others. I know, it sounds crazy, but once one knows where you are, they all know. And then they all come looking for you. They want to take you.

We got to the depot, and hints of first light was staying to peek over the mountain. Morris, a guy I met in a bar and hadn't seen for years, challenged us. Apparently, they tried to take him, too.

Gently, I assured him we were on his side, still free, and he, in turn, told me he had a surprise for me. He led us to a small garage way up on a gravel hill. A both stained to slide the giant door open. A cloud of must flooded my nose, but the sight if one of my oldest and dearest friends almost erased any fear of death.

Morris had come through. He had found and rescued the BattleWagon.