The Journey Of A Certain Named Max.

Pre-words; The title and names are preliminary.
I have worked on this novel for 2 days (5000) words.
There is probably alot of mispellings, and grammatic issues.
I'm sad to say. English is not my mother-tounge, did my best.

The Journey Of A Certain Guy Max.

_________________________Chapter I_________________________

A Glimpse Of Reality

Everything is ruins and rocky mountains. A world once full of life is now wasteland, deserted with no hope. Having hope these times is dangerous and will just make you more disoriented. The world we once knew does not exist anymore; it's forgotten, just flowed into sand, more a tale than reality; we lack everything. I remember the mushroom clouds. It was so fascinating, but still so terrifying. Then the radiation rain came. It went so fast, people ran around in fear and didn't realize that they should have taken shelter. Many died, but a few survived. A lot of people became psychotic and unstable. I had to flee; I couldn't watch it anymore. People started arguing over water and food and ended up killing each other. I realized I was on my own and I had to take care of myself and learn. I was like a human in a new terrain developing and adapting. It's a dangerous world now.

This is year 2098. It was just five years ago since the planet was put into waste and those alive left to live in misery. If you thought the world was sick before, there are plenty of sickos around now but they are running around. No laws hold them back. People are starting groups as an attempt to restore something led by dictatorship. They spread fear in an attempt to get people to obey, but those who don't obey pay with their lives. Small villages are slaughtered. There is no law. There are resistance groups, but they are too busy protecting themselves. I am always armed and ready. I am live in agony. Every step I take can be my last one; humans who suffered radiation are now mutated creatures, killing frequently, turned into something else; they've lost their souls. Human scavengers live in small groups, hiding and waiting and then attacking when you least expect it. They club you down with spiky rocks or anything they can find, only to eat your guts to survive. That people even started cannibalize others to survive is unthinkable for me I would put a bullet in my temple if I even would consider doing it.

But this is reality; many have gone mad because of it. It’s absurd how far it’s gone. But they are not the biggest threat. These damn mutes, I don’t even dare to call them humans. They are just skin and bones. They starve but don’t seem to die. A way to describe them is to. Imagine a human being disconnected from reality and just following their instincts. In fact the only things they do is eat, sleep and fuck. They are not active during days. Your only chances of spotting one is at night. They are not very fund of daylight. They hide in caves, facilities or empty houses. They are vicious and extremly deadly. They can be found in solitary or in larger groups. There sense of smell isn’t very good. They must spot you to start attacking. I came across a rumor. According to the rumor, there is another side effect of the russian MG-radiation. It’s very rare but a few humans that been exposed to the radiation havn’t really turned. They started to look like the mutes and everything. But they haven’t gone mad. It’s said that they can still reason and talk as a human, well even use a weapon. They are even accepted by the other mutes since they look like them. Any human would still fear them because of there looks. I hope I meet one someday. It’s just a rumor though might aswell be bullocks.

Before the major electricity was cut. Due to the bombings. The government stated in an emergency broadcast. That they have estimate up to threehundredmillion fatilities only in the U.S. And only that somewhere around twelvemillions survivors; still alive. I don’t know more but I really have to find out.

Meanwhile in this catastropic world. I am wandering around; trying to find a glimpse of the good life. I scrap up everything nessecary on my journey to survive. By that I mean food, tin cans and bottles of water. Generally speaking all things that can keep me away from dying by starvation. I have a map but it’s not helping much. Everything is so different, some citys are today bomb craters. Everywhere I walk I see scrapyards and blown up old military vechieles from the war. Vandalized houses and plundered
stores. Even corpses lying here and there. In the beginning I was always struck with horror when I saw a dead body. It’s still very terrible. But I am gradually getting jaded. I daydream alot; sometimes I feel like I make my own reality. Just to flee this one. I am closing in on a town called Ducove. It should be here somewhere, I think. I have to stop now journal. I also have to save some of my pen for more entries. A sandstrom is blowing up and I have to find shelter before it gets here. Farawell.

/ Max Reed.