[CW, Strong Language]
#Jimmy's Pre-Owned Cars! [STORY, P1]
thin palm
7/9/93
I've been hearing all sorts of crazy news about some stuff going on down in West Point, and I think I might try to go down and see what's happening. Radio says the military's blocked it all off but I think that's bullshit.
Gonna leave a note that I'm out.
7/12/93
Shit.
Things are looking bad. Everyone's camped outside the border like a bunch of jobless bums, these were working people for Christ's sake! Government's fumbled the ball again like they always do for things like this.
I tried to get in contact with the owner of Dixie's down by Muldraugh, but no use. Phones are dead and they have been for days down there. Think I'm gonna keep a close eye on the news, tell the night crew to keep the radio on.
7/14/93
I'm writing in here a lot more than usual, huh? Think I might need a breath of fresh air, but the fucking GOVERNMENT has put a curfew outside.
Scratch that, the border just got breached. We're locking up and staying here.
7/15/93
Holy shit. It's like they said, Bill got the fever. He didn't even go down there, not even since the whole thing started.
It's fucking airborne.
Sending him home. Not having him rip the night crew's necks out.
7/17/93
It's fucking anarchy out there. The TV's pretty much gone dead, the damn thing and the news on the radio keeps blabbing on the same shit about staying indoors and away from infected.
I'm taking a look for myself. Leaving a note that I'm out.
I got a look for myself. It's fucked.
7/18/93
They're outside. I can hear them, they're there. I've started seeing them walk by, the fuckin creeps. We're locking up for good, try to establish a plan and take a head count, assign some roles.
Maybe we can just ride this whole thing out.
7/19/93
Clark, Randy, Tom, and Daniel.
Bill's probably dead. Haven't gotten a call from him, even though he said he would.
I'm having Daniel and Randy on guard duty.
Clark and Tom are going to go out and see if they can snatch us any extra supplies, since the food in the breakroom finally ran out.
Bill made some damn good sandwiches.
7/20/93
I just got a GENIUS fucking idea. What if we ran our dealership, business as usual, but we take our name extra seriously? There's plenty of cars out there on the street just waiting for a good buyer, and who knows what the currency is right now.
My bet is that it's ammo, you can NEVER have too much ammo.
7/23/93
You will NEVER FUCKING GUESS WHO I MET.
That's right, the owner of the dealership in Dixie! His name's Anthony. Of course I knew that, didn't I? Anyways, he's ready to deal with this real nice large truck that I'm thinking about keeping for myself.
Thing looks like it rolled off the factory line built for war.
I can't trust the others. I'm keeping this my little secret for now, but the guns are going to be for if they decide to take a chance when I turn my back.
7/
I'm gonna kill the bastards. Gonna kill them all, they want my truck. I BOUGHT that thing dammit! It's mine! They'll never have it.
They'll never have what they cant take, because what they can't take is what they can't have, what they have I can't take, so they try to take what they can't, and I have what they can't take. They'll never have what they cant take, because what they can't take is what they can't have, what they have I can't take, so they try to take what they can't, and I have what they can't take.
it goes until the end, which reads:
CHECKMATE, BITCH!
On the ground in the dealership is a note laid on the ground, slightly crumpled up. On its folded front side it reads,
Checkmate, bitch.
Unfolded, it reads,
If you managed to survive, we took your truck, headass.
Hope to see your rotting face on the streets, you scoundrel.
weak sleet
Good story