Hope On The Rocks/Issue 38

This is Issue 38 of Hope On The Rocks, entitled "No White Light".

This issue is Odin-centric.

318, No White Light
The first time I saw Miles, he was a scared boy who could barely kill a zombie. He has really grown. He is one of Rogersville’s scavengers now. I am proud, I really am. Chad too. From being in charge of a group of nine to over hundred people. That is really impressive. Proud of him too. Actually, I am proud of everyone I live with. I like them all, and I would never want to be seperated from them. “Could ya stop smoking in the car?” I ask Gord, who is driving with me towards the construction site, where we are making a windmill with Ridley, Texas, William and Juan. I like William. He was the one to show us Rogersville, and I can never thank him enough. “I smoke where I want to.” Gord mutters, as I turn the corner. “You sure do.” I say, and park the car in an old garage, a few hundred meters from the construction site. “You couldn’t park a little closer, Oldham?” Gord mutters, and put out the cigarette on the car seat. He then gets out and open the back, realizing that he has to help with the box. “Gord.” I say. I talked with Juan a while ago, about how Gord was before the outbreak. “Juan says that you were a really nice person before all this.” I grab one end of the box, and Gord the other. “As in, I’m not nice now? Wow, what a friend.” Gord says in a passive-aggresive tone. “Not like that.” I say. “He misses you.” “We see each other every day.” Gord says. “Y’know, Oldham, keep out of my buisness. I’ll talk to Juan when I find the time.” I nod, and as we get closer to the construction site, Texas and Juan walk towards us to help us with the box. “Juan, you talked to Odin?” Gord asks, silently, in a surprisingly calm tone. “I... yea.” Juan says, worried looking at me. “Okay, shitface, tell me why you didn’t talk to me first?” Gord barks. Under his breath, Juan begins to talk: “I’m sorry, Gord. It’s just that you haven’t been...” And then the conversation is abrupt interrupted by a gunshot. We drop the box and get down. It’s probably just Ridley and William talking out some zombies, but just to be safe. “No...” Gord says. “No, no, no.” I turn around to see Juan’s lifeless body laying with a gunshot through the forehead. “I’m sorry.” Gord sobs. “Sorry.” “You better be.” A man says. I look up and sees a hostile-looking man, smiling creepy.

The man’s name is Mark, he has a friend, Lonnie, with him. Right now, Lonnie, a quiet obidient man in his 30’s, are giving us all handcuffs, so we wont run after them when they steal the windmill. “Sorry abour your friend.” The hostile man, Mark, says with a grin to a sobbing Gord. “But I needed to get the message through.” “Screw you.” Gord sobs. “Be nice.” Mark says, his smile fading. “All good, boss.” Lonnie yells from where Ridley and William are handcuffed; to an old streetlamp. Gord, Texas and I are all handcuffed to another streetlamp closer to the garage. “Let’s go then.” Mark says, turning around. “Odin.” Texas whispers. I feel something moving near my hands. “I think I can get ya up.” And he can. After a few seconds, I am free. I see Mark driving their truck towards our half-finished windmill, while Lonnie begins to push the windmill toward Mark. We made the windmill of aluminium, so it should be possible for two men to move it, though it’d take an hour or so. I had good time to figure out what to do. “So something.” Texas whispers. “What?” I whisper back. “Kill them. Juan had a gun.” I am not good with guns. I’ve hunted before and such, but I’m far better with melee weapons. And then there’s the fact that I’ve never killed anyone, though it seems like the only way right now. I look back. Mark and Lonnie are distracted. The rest of this goes extremely fast. I manage to get Juan’s gun, and old revoler. I fire a short towards Lonnie, but misses. I pull the cock, and fire another, this time I hit him in the shoulder. I pull the cock again, and aim at Mark, who is aiming a rifle at me. The shot hits me in the neck. I fall over, still alive, but just barely. I can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything. The only thing I can see is the shade of Mark, pointing a gun at me. I can’t kill him. I just don’t have the strenghts. I want to, but I can’t. Though, I now see Texas behind Mark. He knock out the man, takes his gun and shoots him. I can’t hear what they are saying, but it was something about mercy, because right now, Texas is pointing a gun at me. And that is the last thing I see in this life.