building where it happened Livingston Montana

Day 8 Travel Day

Not much happened this day and we were on the road again. Just the four of us, a skeleton crew if you will, all that was left of the brave band of travelers that set out, it seems like weeks ago. Now we are down to Big Lemon, Candy, the former ExcuseMeMs, our timekeeper and me.

Through various mishaps along the way we have managed to lose 28 crew members to various and sundry misfortunes. Read back through the journal if you haven’t kept up and their departures, disappearances and desertions are fully chronicled. Some of those crewmen were sadly missed and some we were glad got eaten by that bear.

We are headed for Livingston Montana and hope to be there soon. Ours supplies are low, we’re on the edge of exhaustion and tempers are a little frayed. We have had to stop several times so people could go outside and scream at the top of their lungs. Candy seemed to need this the most and when I was driving if I saw her coming down the aisle with that look in her eyes I would immediately pull over and open the emergency exit.

I have to end this as Big Lemon has signaled he does not want to drive anymore. So I am closing out this day’s entry and will try to catch up more tomorrow.

Day 9 Terror in Livingston Montana

Holy Moly, holy moly, holy moly. What a day it has been. What a day the last two days have been. To say that strange and unbelievable things have been happening would be an understatement. I don’t why these things keep happening. We must be traveling under a black moon.

After I relieved Big Lemon at the wheel yesterday he went to the back to talk to Candy, who was looking like I might have to pull over again, when there was this terrific commotion with things crashing, people yelling, thudding, inhuman sounds and a steady thumping noise that I soon realized was the sound a fist makes as it is being pounded on the top of somebody’s head.

I haven’t spoken much about our timekeeper as there wasn’t a whole lot to say about him. He kept to himself, seemed to do his job and stayed mainly in the background. His name was Woodrow Boucher, every one called him Wood, and he was a master wood-carver from Minnesota. As this was going to be a long trip we felt we needed someone to keep track of the days we traveled. If you have ever taken a long road trip you know how the days can run together and soon you don’t know if you’ve walked to work or wound your watch as my dad used to say. So we thought it prudent to bring along a timekeeper to keep a physical calendar of our journey.  His job, and it was the only thing he had to do, was to carve a notch in this stick we had provided him to keep a daily record of how long we had been on the road. One notch for each day. What his background check didn’t reveal was that he was extremely nervous around any type of sharp instrument and had in fact been asked to resign from the Minneapolis Wood-carvers Club. Consequently when it was time for him to carve his daily notch in the stick he would be overcome by an incredible anxiety attack. According to the look of the stick and the pitiful notches carved in it, it looked like we had been on the road 311 days instead of the eight or nine actually spent. The tension of the last few days apparently were too much for him and faced with having to cut one more notch in the stick he went into a gran mal seizure.

That in itself wouldn’t have been a huge problem, we carry leather restraints, but in his flailing he managed to cut off one of Candy’s braids, a source of great pride for her, and as I learned later, one of the sources of Big Lemon’s attraction to her. Big Lemon became so enraged that he…. well, the rest of this story is a little grim. Luckily there was one of those roadside clinics in the back of a semi trailer they set up to give truckers, physicals for their drivers licenses or something, and they took Wood in. I prudently drove off while they were phoning for Flight For Life out of Livingston, not wanting to give them anymore details than I had to. Big Lemon was comforting Candy in the back as we drove away.

The rest of the trip to Livingston was uneventful and quiet with Candy picking up the pieces of paneling that had been torn loose and Big Lemon using his skills in repairing nets and stitching shrouds closed to stitch up the mattress.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder, they didn’t double, they squared, like in weird².  While looking for a place off the beaten path to spend the night in case anyone wanted to ask us more questions about the day’s incident, we came across this building on the outskirts of town. Seemingly abandoned it looked like a place where we could park the Bokeh Maru, to rest, regroup and go over her for repairs if necessary. I was a little put off by its strange architecture but since this was a voyage of discovery we decided to stay and check it out.

The altercation between Wood Boucher and Big Lemon had unnerved Candy but also made her connection to Big Lemon intensify to the point where even I saw that this could only end one way. Later that evening the two of them wanting more privacy than could be found on the Bokeh Maru, left hand in hand to explore the building. The door was unlocked although when I tried it later it wasn’t anymore, and the last I ever saw of them was Candy pulling Big Lemon through the doorway.

I had turned in and was having a fitful dream about alien presences and the unspeakable things they were said to do to the folks they encountered, when later in the evening just before it was fully dark I heard a strange humming sound. It increased until it was nearly deafening. I ran out in time to see all the lights in the building flashing and then the red lights on the tower came on one by one, brilliantly lighting up the darkening sky, and then there was nothing. No lights, no sound, no Candy and Big Lemon, just me and the Bokeh Maru. Everything happened so fast that the only picture I could get was this one right after all the lights went out.

I searched frantically, calling their names, looking for any trace of them but they were gone. They are still gone as I write this. I fear for their safety. I will wait until morning and if they haven’t been returned by then I must consider them lost forever and continue on alone.