the war he calls it
second story this time third person and less confusing
journal entry 210:
_ my grandfather would be proud of me. I protected all i could of my family and made it to safety. I owe him my life his stories he told and told again helped me survive. To think long after he is dead he is still teaching me things. but were safe for now I think i'll put this journal on the shelf to collect dust. Our story is preserved in this journal. I hope others will get to read it that way they know that there two old farts are the reason there alive and well._
A story, maybe not important to you at the time, could end up saving your life. My grandfather always told me that before he would go on and on about "the war" as he called it. I never could grasp at how evading mines or digging a trench would save my life in the future. I was dumb not to listen to him. To take his advice and store it away for safe keeping. He knew I was only a child and I didn't listen but as time went on he retold the stories and some stuck in my mind due to his repetition. It was April of 2077 that my story began the story I would get to tell.
It was Wednesday morning when The government toppled as the stock market crashed. the other nations followed in Americas footsteps a few hours after. To use the word chaos would be an understatement. Looting, shoot outs, explosion, people setting fire to buildings just cause and people killing people. The true face of our races shown and no one to lead us. Sheep without a shepherded have no choice but to roam and eat the farmer's crops.
But I wouldn't be so easily tempted to join those sheep. me ,my husband and our adopted pup had left the city. We were lucky to get out when we did. I remember looking back and seeing the missile hit. The mushroom cloud and chunks of building flying up into the sky like they had no weight. It was a spectacle but a sad one, it meant civilization was no more and me and my family had to survive in a environment very similar to that of "the war". I knew then what my grandfather meant, I understood.
I bet if he was still alive then I would have went to him and asked him several questions as I took notes with a pen a paper in my hand. It is amazing how after something disappears you need it more than ever. But the stories he told, that I remembered, came in handy on the long journey that we took.
journal entry 1:
_ I saw our house burn to the ground. Our lawn trashed, our windows broken. Why? These people why are they doing these things? I thought we were better than this. I told Ethan we had to get a move on. We had to get far away from the city when we saw the things on the news. He didn't listen. he growled "the government will bounce back like they always do". Oh how wrong he was and he knows it now. When they came we were... well unprepared. They threw Ethan out of the house I ran back to Aaron and snuck him out the window. I dragged Ethan into our car and we took off not looking back..._
We drove straight on a deserted highway as fast as we could. I can remember looking at the speedometer and it reading 120 miles per hour I slowed down after that. We were a good three miles away before the light flashed behind us. My son looked back and I know he remembers seeing that mushroom cloud . after the light it was only a few seconds before the shock wave hit our car. It began to fish tail I recall gripping the steering wheel and stepping on the gas before the tall suv flipped and rolled a few times. I hit my head on the roof once, twice and then I was out.
When I woke up I could smell gas and could feel the glass shard in my side as I moved around trying to find my husband and my son they were awake but dazed.
My husband saw me move and undone him self. "air!" he screamed "air you okay".
I grunted as I felt the pain suddenly hit my senses. "I ... what happened?" .
"the blast flipped our car over" he looks in the directions we came from "we need to move the high way isn't the best place to be" . He undone my seat belt and draged me out of the car.
My attention to detail at this point isn't all that great considering I had a 2 inch piece of glass in my side and was losing blood. I think ,before I lost to much blood and passed out, We found a small camp site off the road had a few tents still around torn and old we thought they were abandoned so my husband set up shop.
When I woke I could barely move, my body was rittled with weakness and pain. I called out for my husband "Ethan" it was not a yell or a whisper more like a groan but he herd it. He rushed in happy and worried all at the same time.
He hit fast with the questions "are you feeling okay air?... do you hurt? .... Were".
"im fine ethan ... weres our boy?" I wait for a response
"he is out side" he said. I should have sensed it ,his whole attitude and tone of voice gave it away when I think back to that moment, but my pain and weakness is what kept me from sensing it. "ill get him" he stepped out side of the tent I then heard him crying. I knew then and only then what happened.
Journal entry 2
My son, my boy, my world, is now dead and gone I don't know what to do now how to act, what to say, how to pray. It's all gone to me.
I think back to that day every now and then, if we would have left earlier, if I would have kept control of the car, if , if , if and if but whats done is done and nothing can be done about it now.