RC has threatened to start making sacrifices to the blood god if these posts don't come faster. He's got a machette man, and he's just crazy enough to use it!
Goddammit, I know that writing style, I just can't place it, that constant over-writing of analogies and quick wit.
Piecewise, I'm thinking you are a brain composed of famous writers now.
Thats one way to put it.
Try to find a good place to act as a 'base camp'. Preferably a bit out of sight, but with a good 'lookout point' nearby.
Over, maybe a quarter or half mile from the entrance gates is a particularly large and tall pile of cars, a veritable mountain of chrome plated americans dreams set out to rust. At the top of the pile, securely wedged between the rear ends of two station wagons is a VW Bus. It looks fairly intact and large enough to hold all of you, if not terribly comfortably. With some further barricading and shoring up it could be a more then adequate base of operations, or a guard tower at the very least.
Well, can't say I've seen friendlier. Anyone else coming here or is that everyone?
Is there a gate? If so, get out the car after it stops and close the gate - lock it if I can. Better safe then sorry.
Already done.
Brian was silent for a moment. He didn't know this person, but... was there a connection? Should he show him the picture? Probably.
He pulled it out and presented it. "Hey... could you look at this symbol? Does it mean anything to you? It might be related to all this."
Get out the picture and show it to him.
Look at the picture.
You look at the picture. Something about the symbol
hurts, you can feel it aching behind your eyes, like someone trying to rip your eyes into your skull by pulling the nerves from the inside. And whats worse, you know, you're not sure how, but you know he got it wrong. You know his lines aren't right in a few places, not as smooth as they could be, little details missing. You feel almost compelled to complete it, to fix what he messed up and then...and then what? You feel a sudden pins and needles feeling creep through your scalp. You suddenly notice that the man is staring at you, wide eyed. You stare back.
"What are you looking a-"
"You were talking."
"What?"
"When you looked at it, you just started talking."
"What did I say?"
"I dunno, you were talking really fast. Something about descent from on high, the bleeding stars, and the god finger of the great darkness. It wasn't right, it was all jumbled up, just word salad most of the time. It might not mean anything."
"But it might."
"Yeah..."
Yes, there's another guy. Said he was going to look around for more information first, or something like that. I'll keep an eye out at the gate for him.
Sam parks his car somewhat close to the gate, gets out and, stopping the new guy from closing it, goes to the gatehouse and keeps a lookout.
The gate house is outside the gate (Poor design, that) with just a simple lever on the inside to open the door. You go stand by the lever while Rico goes scouting about for someplace to hole up. It's chilly and the red skies are growing a deeper crimson as the day drags on. You are immensely aware of the occasional thud of another dead bird falling to earth somewhere near by. It is the sort of thing that does not bode well.