Okay, so things are good now. The Dogmother stopped chasing me after about seven hours. Seven. Fucking. Hours -_-. Words cannot describe how fucking tied I am. Well, at least I met new people. That's good.
There's about four people in total. A girl, brunette, blue eyes, about 5'7, and se... er... proportionate... A kid barely older than 16, with a scraggly five o'clock shadow. His hair is a kind of dirty blonde and he reminds me of the hipster type. An old guy, about 55 at yonugest. Thick grey beard, a scar running from his right eye to the left cheek. And finally there was a guy who was about 30, with slicked back black hair and piercing green eyes. They had a large wagon filled with supplies that they were forced to keep in motion at all times by having two people pull the cart. They all had bulging muscles which was, I guess, because of this. There were always two people in the wagon catching up on sleep. Sometimes there's one person in the wagon and another person out scavenging supplies wherever they can find it. The old bearded man and the man with black hair were the ones pulling the wagon when I came up to them.
They couldn't really STOP the wagon, so I came along with them.
The black haried man introduced himself as Richard. His friend in the beard is Damien.
I feel like that name is familiar. I just can't pin it now.
I walked and talked with them, while also taking a third rope, tying it to a beam on the wagon and pulling the wagon with them. It was hard going. I asked them how they could keep this wagon going for so long.
Richard said that they just kept going in shifts, and they didn't stop the wagon for more than five minutes so the Flesh wouldn't take over.
"Wait. What if you had to fight?"
"Well, we still can't stop for more than five minutes at a time. Usually people in the wagon can pull out some of the guns in there. We got everything from AK-47s to RPGs to Colt 45s to... "
"Hey, can I put some of my guns in there, too?"
"You joining up?"
"Does it look like I have a choice?"
He thought about it for a while. He was about to say something when Damien said, "I know that look, Rich'. This ain't gonna be another Michael incident. If he didn't ask to put his shit in the back, then I'd be worried."
"Who was Miachel?"
"Barbarian leader. A very smart one at that. Tried to kill us from the inside. Anyways... yeah, I'll let you on. But you're gonna have to pull your own weight."
So I put my things in the back and got in the back wagon. Damien decided to stay up while Richard and I got in the back. Another guy in the wagon got out and began pulling. A girl, who had black hair and a cowboy hat on, was busy dozing off. She had a pistol in her hand.
I'm busy typing on this laptop right now. I'm trying not to let Richard or the girl, whose name is Kimberly btw, see me typing in this. Well, I have a long day's work ahead of me. We have a lot of dogfruit and non-dog foods as well as weapons, ammunition, water, a filter, sets of clothing, and about 15 journals. Each has a name on it. All except four had the word DECEASED written under them. Oh boy.
Well, I better post this and turn this thing off for now.
G'night.
ROGER, MEMBER OF THE CARAVAN
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