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Chapter Two ✶ Going, Going, Gone
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Day 52 of being completely, horribly alone:
In all honesty, I'm not too sure what day it is. It could be February, for all I know. But I think it's past my birthday, so I guess happy birthday to me! 12 years of kicking ass ─ half a year of kicking undead ass.
Mission Find Dad has been unsuccessful so far. What ever happened to "it's a small world"??? I did find fresh tyre tracks in the dirt a week ago though, and that's all I need to keep going.
I made it to Georgia, apparently! Passed a big old welcome sign on the road. Dad told me that the doctors travel from state to state, so I just hope that they decided to keep going south. It would really suck if I managed to get even farther away from him. But I'm trying not to think about that too much, or . . . what happened at all, actually.
Anyways, Georgia seems like an exciting place. So far, I've raided a McDonald's and got a sick stash of cookies (triple chocolate by the way, your favourite), I've hit around ten dead-heads with a car, and I've even escaped a group of coked-up cannibals. So, basically, I miss Virginia.
Oh yeah! I learned how to drive a car! I kinda imagined Dad would be the one to teach me that when I'm older, but I guess beggars can't be choosers when it comes to the apocalypse. Maybe he can teach me how to drive safely when I see him again. For now, I'll stick to 90mph.
I really miss him. I miss you. But I think that I'm heading in the right direction. I just have this . . . feeling.
Speak soon Mom, Love, your Wyatt.
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Wyatt snapped the journal closed, raking through his brain for ideas on what to do next. It had been a week and a half since he had first set foot in Georgia, and it was safe to say that he was steadily losing faith. This place felt impossible to navigate ─ a real hot-spot for biters like he'd never seen before ─ and the closer he got to the city, every street seemed to look the exact same as the last. His heart felt heavier than lead.
Some fresh air would be nice, he supposed.
As it turned out, he was actually getting pretty good at the whole 'solo mission' thing. He had been camped out on the Georgian highway for almost a week now, biding his time and relishing the peace until he felt prepared enough to move on. Things were still up in the air about where he'd travel to next ─ those doctors could be anywhere in the country by now, if they even existed (not that they were needed anymore) ─ but he had found a handy map on the dashboard of an empty car, so he had been spending his downtime perfecting a route. He had already hiked through North Carolina, although South Carolina was far kinder on his little legs and asthmatic lungs, thank you very much, and now he had landed himself just on the outskirts of Atlanta. Maybe he didn't know where the hell he was going, but neither did his father, and he liked to imagine they shared the same sense of intuition.
