We continue our trek to Port St. Lucie, the nearest big city, in hopes of finding some kind of transportation, preferably a car with low milage and good gas. The two of us are also hoping that there would be someone alive there who would be nice enough to give us some food and water, we're running low on both of those things. But then knowing Port St. Lucie, someone is bound to jack our stuff at gun-point rather than kindly lend a helping hand. Oh well. Anyway, we're starting to leave the not-so-marshy plains of the Everglades and head into some of the urban areas. If we can manage to go get on the right track, Interstate 95, we should be able to find it easily.
"Let's be sure to stay on the paths and roads that aren't touched by the radiation," Ike tells me.
"Yeah," I huff, "you would wanna take the pussy way."
"Look, we're lucky enough that we didn't get radiation poisoning back in the Everglades, we don't wanna test our luck anymore."
I scratch my head and a clump of hair flakes off. "So what's your point?"
He doesn't say anything, he only shakes his head at me and continues to walk on. I think he's thinking about the same thing I'm thinking, why is there a trail of blonde hair leading to us? It's almost weird seeing the trail, my guess is that some poor, unlucky sap got a case of radiation poisoning or some zombie is starting to go bald.
A few hours later, we finally reach I-95 and follow it going north. The long stretch of road is littered with burned down cars, crashed cars and trucks, blood-stained cars, a few destroyed S.W.A.T. vehicles, and for some reason, a dead cow.
We see an armored food rations truck and try to break the lock leading to the inside of the haul. And fail miserably.
"Okay," I say getting aggrivated after smashing a rock on the lock. "This is bullshit!" I get an idea. "Wait, I think I know what to do."
"Oh God, what?" my brother responds facepalming.
"You know how a t-rex's skull is harder than steel?"
He looks like he knows where this is going. "That doesn't mean YOUR skull is harder than steel, you dumbass!"
"What? All I was saying is that if we were to smash something that's harder than steel on it, then maybe we can get into the haul!"
"You know, that might just be crazy enough to work. OR we could just-"
I don't let him finish, I duck my head down, back up a few feet, charge at the truck, and crack my head on it. Then, nothing.
I wake up, I'm thinking, a few hours later because it's well into the afternoon now. My head is pulsing and throbbing with pain and I can taste blood still running down my face. I lift my head which was laying on a package of dry food rations while my brother, gripping his shotgun tightly, sits next to me on lookout.
I wince. "Ah... what happened...?"
He shakes his head at me and says, "Oh, you're awake. Well, you did just what I thought you'd do, you literally used your head to find a way into the truck," he points to the openned doors.
"So... I actually got the truck open?"
"No, but you did manage to dent the thing, surprisingly. But before you bashed your skull open, once again, literally, I was going to say that we could just unhook the bar keeping the doors closed off." he points over to two rather large backpacks. "Oh, and I managed to get these backpacks from the truck and stock them with food and water that'll last us a week each, so we should be good for a while."
"Ugh... my head hurts..."
He facepalms again and answers, "Of course it does. Anyway, if you feel like you can walk, can you give me a hand with the Army and S.W.A.T. cars to see what kinds of ammo and guns we can get?"
