If We Survive

Chapter 38

Yes, the jacket is new. 

Should've been round about five hundred dollers, but for me it was free. The perks of being the only survivor. 

The little town is called Fallon, a tiny tourist destination with a few shops and a hotel. I'm beggining to worry a bit, though. This place is like a ghost town- it's like one morning everyone up and left, without a trace. 

But it's nice to get a break, for a change. There's a little food around here that's still good- mostly canned and those ikey little pudding cups that shouldn't have ever survived the apacolypse. It makes me wonder how much longer we can live off this stuff- it'll be farms like Ernist's that wehave to find, a place with fresh food. 

The weirdest thing, through, is the fact that we can meander into wherever we wanted, taking as we please. 

I guess that sounds dumb, and it is. You have to get that I've never stolen anything in my life. From any working establishment, as least. Ok, I have, but just walking in and being able to say, "Hey, I would look good in this jacket." and taking it out without a stop at the cash register. 

That was the other odd thing; no one seems to have been through here before, not since the zap. 

We've been by two service stations since then, and they've both been raided, and picked clean. Actually, that's an understatement- everything is gone, even the most illogical things. Like lottery tickets- they're not even useful fuel, and it's not like there's going to be any lotteries soon. 

This sorta makes me think that this issue is a lot bgger than I thought it is. I mean, I've been joking about the whole end-of-the-world thing, but I never actually thought that this was it until now. Since I saw so many people that I knew, I thought it was a relitively small problem- people changed, but not that many. But it's clear here that there aren't a lot of people like Anna and I.  We're a dying race. 

Maybe a lot more people died at the zap, though. I reason with myself. Like Joe and so many others- what if they just dropped? And there aren't that many creepers for us to deal with. Yeah, universe, that would be great. 

Anna sits down on the bed next to mine, frowing at her own hands. We're staying in the room on the upper floor of a sovineir shop- I thought staying would just be alltogether too weird. I can't place exactly why, but it's just not a great idea. 

Anna had new clothes, too, and her own obnoxiously pink backpack, which I attempted to convice her that it'll eventually get us killed, but she won't hear it. 

Her short hair is ties into two identical whale spouts, which (although she'd beat me bloody if I told her) looks posotively adoreable. I remeber when I was her age (I'm actually not even sure what that is, considering most of our upheld conversations have consisted of me shouting at her, although they have gotten senile lately.) I was nothing like her. I don't think I've worn a dress since I was seven, save eighth grade graduation, in which I wore a bright orange dress with a matching spandex toga on top. I was nearly decapitated by my own mother. 

"What's there to eat?" She asks, sitting up suddenly.

"Soup, soup, and soup," I reply monotinusly, strectching out my own arms. This jacket is really comfortable.

"That's not much of a selection." She says, standing up and walking twords the door. I swear to God she's an undergrown teenager lacking a since of humor. How Ernist ever deal with her remains a mystery to me.  

"Anna-" I shout, as she opens the door, giving me a prolonged, rather bratty look before slamming it behind her. "Goddamnit." I mutter, grabbing the gun and going after her. 

Once I thunder down the stairs and running out into the street, I don't see heads nor tails of the kid. I know she couldn't have gone far, but still. 

It's that moment that my nose chooses to start spewing blood. "Banna!" I shout, shoving my hand up into my face, my hand is soon soaked in blood. On the bright side, nothing gets onto my new clothes. 

I really don't mind the nosebleeds. They're tame compared to what happens next. I see it- or rather feel it, like a pulse going out all around me. Everything in the grond from gopher holes to basements. This has gone so far byond dreams and premonotations. 

But I now do know that we're literally living on top of an abandoned Uranium mine. Good to know, even if I have liteally no idea how that helps at all. 

'"Anna!" I shout again, going into the nearest store. Where the hell did that kind go? "This isn't funny anymore." I say, heading back out into the street. It's getting dark outside, and I don't want her out here. 

I try a different approach. Really, I have no idea how the thought comes to me, but it's there. 

If I can see everything below me, then why can I single out Anna? Honestly, there's never been a time in which I've even wanted to try something like this, but why have psychic powers if you can't use them? 

I close my eyes, like in the movies, but I have no idea what even to think. So I just see the layout of the town- the main street, the park... Like in some sort of blue print. It's funny how easy it is to tap into, like it's been sitting on the surface of my brain since this whole bloody affair began, just waiting  for me to dip into it.

Almost instantly, I can see Anna's retreating back through a shop, thirty feet away from here. And you know what? I'm not even exausted. I'm like turning into God, or something. Like in most cases, people have awesome powers, but to even them out, they have terrible weaknesses. I know naught the word. 

Well, expet for, like the nose bleeds and the headaches and the shitty nightmares and the fact that I'm now stuck. 

Stuck, like stuck staring at Anna's back like a creeper. 

"Wake up." I say, closing my eyes. I try pinching myself, slapping myself, and slamming my head into a nearbye wall.

Out of last resort, "There's no place like friggin' home." I mutter, and I'm zapped back to my sorry state on the street. 

That really isn't cool, okay? Do the universe and all who happen to be listening know this? Because  it isn't. 

"Anna." I shout into the store, weaving my way into the back, where I find her sitting on a wooden crate, eating raw pasta. 

"That's not good for your teeth, you know." I say, jump scaring her. I would be lying if I said that wasn't incredibly satisfying. 

"Who are you, my dentist?" She replies, tossing me several bags of the stuff at me.