The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

Hello!

Er, this isn’t Faith – it’s Matt. She was sitting there looking miserable, all uplit in blue, and said that I might as well write something because she had no idea what to say any more. If someone’s going to waste battery power, it might as well be me.

Can’t say that I have more of a clue about what to write here, but, well. Here we are.

 

Okay, I just read over what she wrote about what happened with Ben. I knew she was beating herself up about it, but wow. All I remember is him shouting and coming at me, smacking me in the face (I think I have a loose tooth) and other places. I think Thorpe hit a wall at some point – he has the most spectacular black eye. And then the gun went off and I was checking myself for holes, just in case. Had no idea she could shoot straight. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?

She was right about one thing, though – he did exactly the right thing to make her shoot him. In another time and another place, that’d be called ‘suicide by cop’. Selfish bastard.

 

Just realised that Faith is probably going to read this. Better keep it clean, then.

So, where are we, I hear you say? Well, Thorpe has the map – or Dale or someone – so I’m not exactly sure. We took a skew to the right today in search of fuel, and I think we’re a couple of days out from the Centre we’re heading for. What that means in geographical terms… like I said, I don’t have the map. We’re over here. That help?

I have Terry and Tia travelling in the car with me, and oh god, you can tell they’re siblings. They bicker all the time. It would be annoying if they weren’t so funny. Terry still thinks his sister is made of glass and Tia’s eyes will pop right out of her head if she rolls them much more. We did, however, manage to get all the way through Bohemian Rhapsody twice, headbanging and all. We had to pause halfway through the second round because Tia thought she’d popped a vein.

Up front, Thorpe is leading the charge. Well, not so much a charge as a controlled slither across slick roads between the lumps of abandoned vehicles. It’s like a long, skinny game of pinball, except you lose points if you hit something. He’s got Dale and Dan Wu with him. I bet Dan is feeling like a third wheel. Not that he would ever say.

Good ol’ Faithy is behind us in the campervan. Dillon is supposed to be lying up in the back, but he keeps insisting on wedging himself in the cab. I think he’s trying to bully Faith out of her moping by sheer concentration of presence. Good luck to him – it might just work. Never know, right?

I’ve tried to talk to Faith a couple of times, but it’s hard to know what to say to her. I feel like what happened was my fault. I got in his way, I let him know that we knew. I couldn’t let him get to her. Failed at that, too. And I think she blames me. I don’t blame her for that – if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have shot him. Oh, shit, there I go again.

 

Wow. Y’know, I always wondered how Faith did this, tapping away every day. Turns out that once you start, the babble just keeps coming. Better stop now before I get carried away, give you back to the mistress our faithful blogger. It’s been fun!

~Matt

Tags: Matt