Westward Winds Chapter 1 part 1



'I had a real name once, back before the "Rapture," before the world became a hellish wasteland. "The Rapture," that's what the man on the television called it. Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. A name, one's as good as any I suppose, but, if it came down to it, most likely I'd go by Blondie. Not my personal favorite but it's what Walt calls me so it's damn good enough. I've known Walt since the very beginning, since before the days of P.R. (Pre-Rapture) to ten years into A.H. (After Hell). I've never been terribly close to anyone but Walt and I keep each other company breathing well enough and that's all that matters to me. It's not just the two of us though. There are two others traveling along for the ride. The first guy we found was holed up in a church tower of an otherwise deserted town. It was one of those mid-sized towns that were the first to get ghosted back when this all started. He survived by locking himself up in that tower with a high-powered rifle, thirty gallons of water, a camping stove, and about two pallets of ramen noodles. Of course, by the time we got there all the ramen was gone along with the water and the bullets. It was a damn good thing he was out of bullets because the crazy bastard had been shooting anything that moved at that point, and Walt and I would have done him a hell of good at that point with bullets through our brains. He never told us his real name, it was one of those things that people like he and I had shed in the beginning. He told us to call him Hawk-eye and we obliged him. The next guy we met up with also had tossed aside his name, but, unlike Hawk-eye and I, he had another reason then just the changing times for tossing aside his name. The name he took up matched his fiery red hair and skill perfectly. Aries is what he asked us to call him and the way we found him, sitting in a dark room covered head to toe in various knives fit the mold quite perfectly. Aries and Hawk-eye both tend to call me Angel Eyes but the others we meet still call me Blondie. I'm the gunslinger of the group, Walt is the quarter master, Hawk-eye is the marksman, and Aries... Well, he sticks to close combat. We've gone by many names, none of our own choosing, until people finally settling on calling us "The Four." Now that I think about it, the name makes us sound like some sort of band of heroes. Don't get me wrong, we are anything but heroes, we just look out for ourselves and do what we can along the way. Still, it makes me laugh. Every town we went to since then seemed to recognize us from our reputation alone, but still, as time went by, the towns grew smaller and smaller, some disappearing. We suppose the others turned to becoming nomads in order to survive while others just seemed to disappear without a trace, leaving just piles of wet clothing and piles of jewelery. Now, of course, you'll probably expect me to explain what I mean by "disappear without a trace." I'll start with this. The reporters found the same pile of wet clothing in the towns when this all began, hence their calling it the "Rapture." Entire towns would become empty over night except for those damned piles of clothing. It wasn't really until the first big city was hit by "The Rapture" that we actually found out about the hounds. Those damned dogs we now call "hell hounds." Big black fur-less balls of muscle with four strong legs and a gaping toothed filled hole of a mouth. There were other rumors as well but by now we've cast them off as nothing. Well, thats all I have time to write about now. I have to get some rest before my shift on salvaging tomorrow. We need supplies and I need my wits about me when I head into the ghost ville.'

   Blondie shuts a worn leather journal and tosses it calmly into his pack by the small fire they had built. A small chuckle issues from a tall thin rugged looking man across the flames. He had long shaggy brown hair and a scraggly looking beard.
"So, Blondie, you finally started that damned journal that, eh? You've only been talking about starting it for the past five years. I mean look at that book you've been lugging around. It's more worn than an old man's face," the man says with a broad grin. "Well I started the damn thing Walt, so maybe you can cut the shit and stop teasing me," Blondie replies, smirking as he lights up a cigarette on the bonfire. "Come now, Blondie. It just wouldn't be me if I didn't," Walt paused mid-sentence to take a drag off his own crumpled cigarette, "if I didn't give ya a little shit. I mean its the fucking RAPTURE and you still can't relax, Blondie." Blondie pulls back his long black duster to reveal two criss-crossing gun belts holding two .45 magnum revolvers. "Walt... You relax out here when you're dead and no other time." Walt nods back to him solemnly, letting the smoke from his cigarette slide out from between his lips in a long sigh. It was time for the two to switch the watch so Blondie makes himself comfortable against his pack and drifts into a light sleep. No dreams come to him that night, leaving him in a state of darkness for what seems to him like a matter of minutes before he wakes with the rising sun. He looks solemnly over at Aries, nodding quietly before grabbing his gear. He tosses a box of bullets and a bottle of water into the one man cart before slipping on a pair of black leather gloves and heading out. He nods one more time to Aries before he walks of towards the town. His black fedora blocks most of the sun from his face as it starts to rise above him in the town, chasing away most the shadows around him. It chases away most of the shadows but a few of them linger, becoming more defined. Blondie stops in his tracks, the hairs on his neck stand on the back of his neck as a cold grip coils around his stomach. His hands move quickly and dexterously to his revolvers, the shadows around him starting to rouse. One of the hounds leaps from the shadows and falls quickly to the ground with a crack like thunder. One round fired, he thinks to himself in the back of his mind. He fires off four more shots, the cart still looped over his waist. three of the other shadows drop to the ground, their movement forever ceased. The fifth of the beasts limps out of the shadow with the sound of nails on glass issuing from its throat. With no expression on his face he walks over to the beast, leaving the cart behind him. He coolly shoves the barrel in its mouth and pulls the trigger, its blood splattering warmly over his body. "Six shots, five kills," Blondie mutters coldly to himself. He gathers up the cart and moves into the town, gathering what he can.

(END OF PART ONE)
((Leave me some comments and tell me what you think of my revisions. The next part will come soon if you're patient and if not then too bad! XD))