Hitch Hiking On The Highway To Hell

{The Post Nuclear Holocaust Adventures

Of Some Living Dead Girl}

{Day One}



Who remembers dates any more, I wonder. Well, I guess I'll just start

this by calling it day one. I got a ride this morning, some half

drunk trucker. As usual he wanted sex. I didn't mind too much though.

He was warm, almost affectionate and he didn't hurt me like the last guy did.

I don't know what made me go into that abandoned drug store in the first place.

I should have known there wouldn't be any food in there but I found this nifty

journal with the pink ribbon to keep it closed and the black pages and pink gel ink pen.

It will give me something to do on those long lonely nights out here.

The guy was in there too. He saw me before I even noticed him.

I must be slippin'.



The next thing I knew he had me on the floor, holding me down with his weight.

I mean shit, what's a girl to do. I undid my jacket and let him get a look at my

teen age breasts. I thought that would slow him down. Boy, was I mistaken.

Instead he took out a knife and went for my pants, ruined a perfectly good

pair of Tommy Hilfigers. He cut me while he was at it. I tried to tell him

I didn't mind having sex but He was too far gone on whatever it was he found

in the pharmacy to care that I was being cooperative. By the time he was done

with me I was hurting bad and bleeding in too many places. He'd bitten my shoulder

so hard that I thought he was gonna rip off a chunk of meat and start chewing.

The whole time I was thinkin' this was my last day on earth. I was gonna die

and I thought it might not be such a bad thing if it was.



He passed out. Whatever it was he'd taken must have been some rough shit

because he came down pretty hard. I layed there wishing he'd killed me,

pissed off he hadn't, and glad to be alive all at the same time. After a while

I was able to push the bastard off of me and get away but I had no clothes now,

he'd seen to that with his blade. My wife beater, my Tommy's, hell the jerk even

cut up my bra. Well, it wasn't like I had all that

much to hold up but what can I say that stupid bra was my one link to whatever

was left of my normal life. It was like getting up in the morning and brushing

your teeth, you didn't think about it much until you had no more tooth paste

and you realized you were never going to have any again. I got seriously pissed.

I started kicking him in the head the nuts the face. I stomped on him, hard,

my old style army boots the only thing he'd not taken from me besides my jacket

that was still hanging from my shoulders. It was then I realized he wasn't breathing

any more. He'd over dosed and died right on top of me. I puked right where I stood,

his face getting the worst of it. Even then I thought he might get up and hurt me

again so I ran.



Down through the store and in between the isles, afraid to go outside where someone

might see me, I ran, looking for something to cover myself with,

someplace to hide, some way to defend myself. There were few enough people left alive

out there but I wasn't taking chances any more. It was in the office that I found the

sawed off shot gun and a whole box of shells. Dad had once tried to teach me how to

shoot but I was a lousy student. He used to say I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn

door with a sawed off shot gun. Thinking of that made me laugh for just a moment, then,

I began to cry. Dad was all I'd had most of my growing up life. Mom died when I was

very young, some kind of cancer. I sat in the manager's chair as the tears ran down my

face. The last time I saw Dad was when he forced me into the cellar and I bolted the door.

Don't come out for any reason, no matter what you hear and I didn't, not for almost

three days



There was a dead man on the kitchen floor and blood leading up the stairs. I followed

quietly till I saw it went into Dad's room. There were voices in there but none of them was Dad's

I crept into my room careful not to make a sound. I knew my Father was dead and I also knew

that if whoever it was found me I would follow him. Most likely they were a bunch of the crazies

that were now a part of this, what did Dad call it?, post holocaust world. I grabbed everything

I thought I'd need which didn't include spare clothing and went out the window. I didn't want to

spend any more time in there than I had to. I spent the night in a cave near the house.

In the morning. I set the place on fire.



I can still hear their cries of surprise, anger, fear, then screams of pain as the house

burned down around them. Of course they tried to get out but you'd be surprised how much good

a well placed board will do to keep a window or a door closed and you don't even need any nails.

Dad might not have been able to teach me to shoot very well but he did teach me allot of other

things. Nobody even came to put out the fire. Well, the fire department hadn't been very reliable

lately. Most people didn't even bother to go get them any more. They just let it burn. I just stood

there watching. Dad was always a bit paranoid about security. The windows wouldn't even break.

After what seemed like hours but I'm shure it was only a few minutes the screaming stopped.

I heard one last plea, weak, and empty, or perhaps I imagined it. Then the house fell. The flames

climbed higher and higher. I turned from the flames. Good bye Daddy I said as I walked away from

my life, my home, my fathers funeral pyre. I've been out here ever since making my way the best

I can. I was twelve then. It seems a lifetime ago.




I'm tired now. I guess I should try to get some sleep but it's cold and there's nothing and

no one to keep me warm. I wish I hadn't killed that trucker. I wish I hadn't eaten my dog. I wish I had my doll.