Jack's Diary - Indifferent - Day 76

*Morning*

            I caught up with the group; I was almost shot by one of the patrols they had roaming the area, but that’s what you get when you arrive near dawn. They had all stopped for the night and had dug ditches to sleep in (I don’t know why they never considered climbing trees and sleeping there). Apparently, we’re heading toward some place with tree houses. There wasn’t a single smile on anyone’s face and I could have sworn I saw out of the corner of my eyes Moses giving me an angry glare. I didn’t sleep; just wasn’t tired.

            Like I wrote previously, everyone except for myself left the base before the evening came. I would have met up with the group sooner, but there were some things that needed to be taken care of. There was a lot of stuff I wanted to bring with me so I piled most of it in the red wagon I obtained after my last “shopping” trip. It must have taken me an hour yet I find it interesting that no Valors or anyone came to loot the now exposed base as soon as possible. Leaving supplies for the enemy is generous, but not a good war strategy so I did what the Russians did during World War 2, which is the Scorched Earth Policy (a dignified name for a brilliantly destructive action): whenever the Russians retreated from their bases or houses with the approach of the in coming German soldiers, they took what supplies they could and burnt the rest, preventing the Germans from using them. And with just a can of gasoline and a box of matches, I did the same to the buildings and the wall (after taking what I wanted). If I had any Russian ancestors, I’m sure they’d be proud (this is why I’m writing the day after because I didn’t have a safe room to sit in and write).

            There was a little gas left over so I thought I’d try it on a soulless. Holding my double sludge against its chest to keep it an arm’s length away, I poured the accelerant on its leg, lit it, and watched to see what it would do. It didn’t react any different than normal, even as the flames climbed up its leg and covered it. After a good 20 minutes (I counted), it collapsed. I’ve lit soulless on fire before, but I never watched one die from it.

            The soulless really didn’t bother me or I should say, I handled them just fine. Any soulless that came close got the full blunt force of my Double Sledge or for when I was holding the gas can, a knife to the throat. Even as I left with to my left and right, I couldn’t help, but look back. A place that used to be a home now will soon be nothing except heaps of charred history and more ground for the bane of humanity to trot on. Through the smoke and floating ashes, I thought I saw a woman near the entrance smiling. A second look revealed it to be a propped up corpse against the burning wall (I think).

            I came out with so much new stuff. It’s amazing what my own comrades would leave behind: a large combat knife, a rifle with one of my silencers, a revolver, a long piece of metal of some kind (think of a yard stick that is 1/5 inches thick. I plan to wear one of its sides down to make a blade), five pocket knives, and artistically carved walking stick (I think the picture on it is suppose to be a boat in an ocean storm).

            It was a pretty long walk. I frequently checked to make sure no one was following me. By the time I was there, it wasn’t long until morning so I climbed a tree and waited. It’s morning now and I’m still writing and they’re ready to move.

*Afternoon*

            We reached the tree house places. Had I not seen it for myself, I’m unsure whether or not I would have believed it. There were so many, as far as the eyes could see through the forest of maple and oak, all of them sturdy, clean, and at least 10 feet off the ground. They were the perfect protection against nearly all soulless and they would be difficult for enemies to reach without proper equipment or proficient climbing skills. Within the dark windows, there were figures moving about. There was no question as to whether a few of these were ghosts or not as they stuck their heads out along with their guns, obviously skeptical of strangers such as us.

            Mike was in the lead of the group and I was near the back so I told the guy in front of me to tell Mike I was going to examine a few of these tree houses by myself. I didn’t know if Mike planned for this to be our new base, but I wanted some more time to myself (I don’t know why though).

            I called up to two of the tree houses, but the people who answered back refused to throw down a ladder. The group was pretty far off, to the point where I could hear silence fighting its way into the space around me. To pass the time, I sharpened my newly acquired pocketknives and throw them at the truck of a tree of one of the tree houses (my aim was still as good as it always had been). I went to retrieve them when I noticed some small words, that had been lightly coated over with sap, were carved into the tree. It said, “Live in hope of a better future and a memorable past.” I didn’t get to finish reading at the time, because a young woman dropped down from the tree house, slammed my arm against the tree, making me drop my knife and then with one hand, forcefully pushed me to the ground. I had my gun draw before my backside touched the ground and had it pointed at her.

            “Don’t touch my tree!” she said.

            “What? The tree’s your property as well?” I responded

            “My grandfather planted it for me so yah, you could say that!”

            I put my gun away. She handed me my knives.

            “Not to sound too rude, but can you please go somewhere else? I’m very protective of my home,” she asked.

             I could understand her; you can never be to certain today. Strangers are even more dangerous than soulless. At least you know a soulless is dangerous, but a stranger is like the weather; even if you’re good at telling the weather, it often times doesn’t act as it should and suddenly, a tornado hits you (just an example). Before walking away, I asked what the phrase carved into the tree was. She said that her younger sister put it there. I glanced up at the tree house and didn’t see anybody moving so I’m only guessing what happened to her sister and grandfather.

*Evening*

            This place is abnormally deprived of soulless. I sat down most of the afternoon, found a good stone to use in sharpening that metal yardstick thing, and went to work. The noise didn’t attract any soulless though I did get yelled at by some of the neighbors and had to move around. During one of my relocations, I saw that on the border were soldiers (or people dressed like them), standing guard around the perimeter. Any time they saw a soulless, they’d go up and club it to death (it reminded me of police brutality). This would explain the devoidness of soulless here.

            Really, there’s not much to say for the day. Just when I thought Mike might need me, a man came up to me from my group saying, “Where the hell have you been?”

            Before I could answer, he told me the group requested my presence. He didn’t say who exactly wanted me. He’s telling me where to go right now and is waiting impatiently as I finish this last line.

- Jack’s Diary