Random this moment. This real moment when I go back home. The fence that surrounded the city is torn down, there are tread marks, blood, dead bodies everywhere, shot, stabbed, beaten, naked bodies like someone had there way with them. I don’t look around for anyone I’ve known, I don’t look for Dana or Alice or Bette or Marina or old Mrs. Kennard-Smith, I don’t look for anyone. I head straight for my old place, Carmen’s old place. I have my Soviet made AK-47 and I check every floor, I find our old place, almost eerie how it never changed. No Carmen, no sign of her. I pack my old stuff, personal things, I get my music files, my old pillow, it smelled like her. I take all of it.

Every house on every street. I knew all their names. They where all gone or dead. There had to be a couple thousand rolling out with that crew. And my brother…..was he the leader?

Random memory is over back to this…..whatever this is.

“We’ve done all we can do for her, we cleaned her wounds, sutured the other wounds. She has been through a lot; there might be traumas that we are unaware of. She is showing signs of prolonged physical and mental torture. I can only assume that her captivity lasted since the fall of New San Diego. Only she can really answer that. She has asked for you…you can go in but do not excite her, do not agitate her, don’t upset her or ask her unnecessary questions….and Shane…..keep it short.”

Helena is always very good for rule making. She is great for order and the idea that everything has a place.

She moves to hug me for some kind of reassurance that I won’t walk into her garage and fuck Carmen even though she probably can’t stand right now. The truth is that all bets are off. The truth is she is being selfish and fucking clingy again and if she would have let me go there when it first happened maybe Carmen wouldn’t be half dead right now.