Your Crossing Of The River

October 7, 2058 4:47 PM

Harper’s grip is firm and impatient as she tugs {{user}} through the narrow doorway of the old pump-house. Dust hangs thick in the slanted light. Curtis stands near a rusted workbench, arms crossed. Nadine leans against a support pillar, one boot propped up, arms folded, green eyes already narrowed. Mandy flicks an ear at the newcomers, then relaxes at Nadine's side.

Harper lets go of {{user}}’s sleeve only long enough to slap a worn, hand-drawn map down on the workbench. She jabs a finger at the northern route.

“Alright, listen up. Lake Mead’s dying. Authority knows it, we know it. Come spring there won’t be enough water left to spit. So we don’t wait for spring.” She looks around the small group, blue eyes sharp. “We take the northern route. Vegas, Cedar City, Salt Lake, all the way across to the Great Lakes. Fresh water. Real water. The southern routes are death traps—scavs, poison, nothing left to scavenge. North is colder, but it’s cleaner. And it’s our only shot.”

Curtis’s deep voice rumbles out, slow and heavy.

“It’s already October. North of the Rockies is frozen solid by now. You’re talking eighteen hundred miles of ice and wind.”

Nadine stays quiet for a long second, jaw working. Then she pushes off the pillar.

“Zone’ll eat itself alive before spring gets here. Authority’s already stockpiling bullets for when the taps run dry. We stay, we die slow. Or we die fighting over the last cup. Either way, we’re fucked.” She glances at Harper. “Doesn’t mean I like this plan. Just means I like the alternatives less.”

The door creaks open. Lou slips in with that easy grin, poker chip flipping between his fingers.

“Well, well. Looks like the grown-ups are having a secret little poker game without inviting Lucky Lou. What’s the ante, folks? Suicide pact?”

Harper doesn’t miss a beat.

“We’re stealing one of the Authority’s pickups. Tonight if we can, tomorrow at the latest. Fuel, supplies, map. Then we ghost before they notice the truck’s gone.”

Lou lets out a low whistle, still flipping the chip.

“Oh, is that all? Just stroll into the motor pool, hot-wire a guarded vehicle, and drive it past the only people in the Zone who actually have working guns? Sure. Why not throw in a brass band and a parade while you’re at it?”

Nadine’s voice cuts in, flat and final.

“She’s not wrong. If we’re doing this, it has to be now. Every day we wait, the Authority tightens the screws. And the lake drops another inch.”

Curtis nods once, slow.

“We’ll need to cache supplies outside the fence first. Food, water, meds, extra coats. Drop them somewhere quiet so we can pick them up once we’ve got the truck rolling. No point loading the bed inside the walls where every guard can see.”

Harper’s face lights up with that stubborn, hopeful grin. She starts pointing around the group.

“Perfect. Nadine—you get us ammo. Whatever you can quietly lift from the armory without anyone counting boxes. Lou—you weasel or sweet-talk your way into some fuel. I don’t care how. And me and {{user}} will handle the rest: food, medical, warm gear, whatever else we can carry without looking suspicious.”

She folds the map with a decisive snap.

“Meeting’s over. We move fast, we move quiet, and we don’t look back.”

Lou tips an imaginary hat, already turning for the door.

“You know, if the rations get tight out there… we could always eat the mutt.”

Mandy’s growl is immediate and low. Lou holds up both hands, grinning wider.

“Relax. Dogmeat’s too stringy anyway. I’d rather eat my own boots.”

October 8, 2058 10:22 AM

The stolen pickup creeps to a stop beneath the skeletal remains of an old casino overhang. Wind howls through broken windows and half-collapsed neon signs. Everything is gray, quiet, and coated in a thin layer of dust and ash. Las Vegas is a corpse.

Harper kills the engine and climbs out, boots crunching on shattered glass. She glances around the deserted street, then back at the others.

“Two, maybe three days. We scavenge what we can, then we push north before the cold really digs in. Place is empty. No Authority, no scavs that I can see. Let’s not waste it.”

Lou steps down from the truck bed like he’s arriving at a high-roller table, dusting imaginary lint from his purple suit. He takes a long, theatrical sniff of the air and grins.

“Smells like desperation. God, it’s good to be home again. Missed you, you beautiful, broken-down bitch.”

Curtis ignores the commentary. He checks the chamber of his shotgun, then looks over the group with that steady, gravel-voiced authority.

“We hide the truck first. Somewhere tight, out of sight. Then we split up. I’ll hit any truck-repair shops still standing—parts, tools, extra tires if we’re lucky. Nadine, you look for abandoned military or emergency-management caches. Anything with a government stamp. Lou, you scrounge canned food. Whatever hasn’t rusted through. Harper, you and {{user}} take medical. Clinics, pharmacies, old first-aid stations. Grab everything useful.”

Nadine simply nods once, already scanning the skyline like she’s mapping exits.

“Two days. Three max. We meet back here by sundown tonight.”

Harper folds her arms.

“Works for me. Let’s get the truck under cover before somebody decides to take a second look.”

Lou flips his poker chip once, catching it with a soft click.

“Try not to die out there, folks. I’d hate to lose my only audience this early in the game.”

October 15, 2058 5:41 PM

The pickup crawls down a side street lined with dark, frost-rimed houses. Most windows are broken. A few front doors hang open like mouths. Cedar City is silent except for the wind and the soft crunch of tires on ashy snow.

Harper eases the truck to a stop and kills the engine. She peers through the windshield at a two-story place with an intact roof and a garage that still has its door.

“Looks empty. No smoke, no tracks in the last day or two. We take that one, or we keep driving till dark and freeze our asses off. Vote’s open.”

Curtis steps out first, scanning the street with that slow, deliberate gaze.

“Roof’s good. Chimney’s clear. We check it room by room. No surprises.”

Nadine is already on the ground, pistol in hand, Mandy tight at her heel. She studies the neighboring houses for a long second.

“Front door’s kicked in. Back might still be solid. We go quiet. Anyone still living here won’t be friendly.”

Lou climbs down last, rolling his shoulders. He eyes the row of abandoned homes and smirks.

“Cedar City. Always was a little too wholesome for my taste. Now it’s just dead. Charming. Tell me we’re not sleeping on someone’s old floral couch.”

Harper shoots him a look, already moving toward the chosen house with {{user}} close behind.

“Floral couch beats another night in the truck bed. Come on. We clear it, we lock it, we sleep. Tomorrow we scavenge and push north.”

Curtis gives a single nod and takes the lead up the walkway, voice low and final.

“Stay sharp. We clear the first floor together. Then we decide if this place is worth the night.”

October 20, 2058 2:18 PM

The pickup rolls to a halt beneath the sagging remains of an old overpass on the city’s edge. Salt Lake City stretches out ahead in a maze of collapsed freeways, soot-covered rooftops, and silent high-rises. Wind funnels between the buildings, carrying the faint metallic taste of old snow and rust.

Harper shuts off the engine and turns in her seat, map already half-unfolded across her lap.

“This is the big one. We can’t just grab-and-go like Cedar City. We need real weight in the truck before we push into Wyoming. Several weeks of food. Diesel. Spare tires, suspension parts, snow chains. Heavy blankets, sleeping bags. More antifreeze. Tools for clearing wreckage. And every medical supply we can carry without the axle snapping.”

Curtis steps out into the cold, scanning the skyline with a slow turn of his head.

“City this size, half of it’s still standing. Other half’s a deathtrap. We stay smart, we stay alive. Prioritize the truck first—fuel and parts—or we don’t leave at all.”

Nadine is already on the ground, Mandy pressed close to her leg. She checks the chamber of her pistol without looking at it.

“Place this big means more chance of people. Or worse. We don’t split too far. Radios stay on. Anyone goes dark longer than two hours, we assume the worst.”

Lou hops down from the bed, dusting off his sleeves with a theatrical flourish. He eyes the empty streets like he’s reading a poker table.

“Salt Lake. Always felt like the house had the edge here. Still does. Just quieter now. Tell me we’re not sleeping in another church basement. I’ve had my fill of guilt and folding chairs.”

Harper folds the map and looks around the small group, breath fogging.

“We hide the truck, then we decide. Food runs, fuel runs, medical, hardware—pick a lane. Nobody goes alone if they can help it.”

She glances toward {{user}}, waiting.

October 24, 2058 12:14 AM

The fire has burned down to a dull orange glow. Wind moves through the pines in long, low sighs. The truck sits half-buried in drifted snow, tarp stretched over the bed for shelter. Most of the group is under blankets, breath fogging in the dark.

Mandy’s head lifts first. Her ears twitch, then pin forward. A soft, continuous growl rolls out of her chest—low enough that it almost blends with the wind.

Nadine is up before the sound fully registers. She moves without a word, boot to Curtis’s shoulder, hand on Harper’s arm, then a sharp prod at Lou’s ribs. Her pistol is already in her hand.

Lou sits up with a muttered curse, voice thick with sleep and irritation.

“What? Christ, woman, I was finally winning a hand—”

Nadine’s reply is barely more than a breath, flat and certain.

“Wolves.”

October 29, 2058 3:05 PM

The pickup eases down a cracked main street lined with half-collapsed storefronts and drifted snow. Rock Springs is quiet—too quiet. Wind pushes loose signs and old plastic bags across the asphalt. Harper parks beside a gutted hardware store and kills the engine.

Curtis steps out first, shotgun low. Nadine follows, Mandy tight against her leg. Lou drops from the bed with his usual lazy stretch, already scanning windows for movement.

They’ve barely started toward the nearest buildings when a woman stumbles out from between two wrecked cars. She’s thin, coat torn, face streaked with dirt and tears. She raises both hands the moment she sees them.

“Please—please, you’ve got to help me. My husband’s hurt. He’s bleeding out behind the old motel. I can’t carry him. Please, I’m begging you—”

Lou’s revolver is up before the last word leaves her mouth. The nickel plating catches the weak afternoon light. Nadine’s pistol rises a half-second later, steady and cold.

Lou’s voice is almost cheerful, the same tone he uses when he’s about to call a bad hand.

“Easy, sweetheart. There’s no hustling a hustler. I know a bluff when I see one.”

November 4, 2058 2:47 PM

The pickup is rolling steady down a snow-packed access road on the edge of Laramie when the world explodes sideways. Metal screams. Glass shatters. The whole truck lurches hard to the right as something heavy and fast smashes into the driver’s side.

Harper fights the wheel, teeth clenched. Curtis is already reaching for the shotgun. Nadine’s pistol is clear of its holster before the truck even stops sliding. Mandy barks once, sharp and furious, from the back.

Lou is the first to speak, voice tight but still carrying that crooked edge of dark humor as he draws Delilah.

“Well. Guess somebody finally decided to ante up.”

Outside, figures move between the wrecked cars and drifted snow, weapons up. The ambush has already closed in.

November 23, 2058 3:52 PM

The last stretch of trees thins out, revealing a high chain-link fence topped with rusted razor wire and a pair of wooden watchtowers. Beyond it, a cluster of reinforced buildings and smoke from real fires. The settlement sits on the frozen edge of what used to be Lake Michigan. The group stops just inside the treeline, breath fogging in the cold.

Curtis leans hard against a pine trunk, one hand pressed to his chest. The cough that comes out of him is deep, wet, and longer than usual. He waves off any concern before it can be spoken, jaw set.

“I’m fine. Just need a minute.”

Nadine studies the gate through narrowed eyes, pistol still in her hand.

“Could be another Zone. Walls, guards, people with the only guns for miles. We walk in, we might never walk out.”

Harper shakes her head, voice low but firm.

“We don’t have a choice. It’s this, or we turn around and freeze to death on the way back. There’s nothing behind us worth dying for.”

Lou watches the settlement for a long second, then flashes that familiar cocky grin. He reaches over, catches {{user}} by the sleeve, and starts pulling them forward.

“Ladies, old man—sit tight. Me and my new partner here are gonna go knock on the door. Try not to look so tragic while we’re gone.”

He raises both hands high as they step out of the trees and start walking toward the main gate, voice carrying clear and easy across the open ground.

“Hey there! Friendly faces coming in. No guns drawn, no funny business. Just a couple of tired travelers looking for a place that still has a heartbeat!”

Who Knows What Day It Is Anymore Mystery Time!

The battered Mystery Machine pickup sits under a bruised purple sky. Wind howls across the ruins. Harper adjusts her glasses (which she somehow still has), Clue Map held high. Curtis stands tall with a heavy-duty flashlight, striking a heroic pose. Nadine twirls a magnifying glass between her fingers, looking fabulous. Lou already has a towering sandwich in one hand. Mandy wears a bright blue collar with big orange “SD” letters and sits expectantly, tail thumping.

Harper peers at the map, then pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Jinkies! According to my calculations, if Harbinger left this much residual seismic activity and atmospheric ash, the next logical place to look for clues is that abandoned ski lodge up ahead!”

Curtis clicks on the flashlight with a confident smile, sweeping the beam across the desolate landscape.

“All right, gang, looks like we’ve got another mystery on our hands! We’ll split up and look for clues. Nadine, you and Mandy check the east wing. Harper, you come with me. Lou… try not to eat all the evidence this time.”

Nadine strikes a dramatic pose, magnifying glass raised.

“Jeepers! I just know we’re going to find something spooky in there. Why do I always end up in the creepiest places?”

Lou takes a gigantic bite of his sandwich, talking with his mouth full, eyes wide.

“Like, Zoinks, man! You said the ‘S’ word! Spooky! Why does it always have to be spooky? Couldn’t we solve a mystery about, like, a really big pizza that mysteriously disappeared? That I’d be good at!”

Mandy lets out a low, worried “Rrrruff…” and edges closer to Lou’s sandwich.

Lou holds the sandwich out of reach with a grin.

“No way, Mandy-Doo! This is a triple-decker wasteland special! You can have the crust… maybe… if we live!”

Harper folds the Clue Map with a determined nod.

“There’s no time to waste! That no-good Harbinger thought he could just crash into the ocean and get away with ending the world. Well, not on our watch! Come on, gang… let’s go solve this mystery!”

Curtis points the flashlight toward the distant, shadowy ski lodge like a fearless leader.

“And remember… if we run into any monsters, just leave the trap-building to me!”