Book 4 - Spring

XXI - Rolling Words

The rest of the ride passes in a blur. Gunfire bleeds into the shadows and sunlight peaks in through the trees. Right now, his face is warm with sunlight.

Pain muffles most of Russia's thoughts, even through the fights with things hanging off the windows. He sits up slowly, his back wedged into the corner between the booth and the cold metal wall. He stares blankly around the bus.

"How much longer?" Florida whines, his head visibly bouncing above the top of the booth.

"I dunno, a few more hours?" Virginia calls from one of the booths near the front.

"Nah, we're pretty close," Dixie corrects, his voice strangely strained.

"Okay," Florida calls back with an audible pout.

'Breath in, breath out.'

"Wait, did you say that Verge was working a forge? Since when was there a forge at the zombie house?"

"The old gazebo was re-worked."

"The gazebo? Like, the wooden one? The one that we haven't played in for years?"

"Yeah, that don't sound like a good idea, even to me."

"The welding stuff was moved."

"...tell me more."

"Ari is with Verge and Claws to make sure that nothin' burns. Wis and Miz are helpin' make wooden handles and stuff from some of the old furniture."

"Verge?" Finland's voice interrupts the chatter.

"Verge is Vermont and Claws in Maine. And Wis is Wisconsin and Miz is Missouri!"

"That's cool."

"We get weapons?!"

"I want a sword!"

"What kinds of stuff are they makin'?"

"Well, we don't got much metal-"

"Yeah we do!"

"...where?"

"Oh, the broken cars and stuff, ya know? There's plenty of scraps."

"Wait wait wait, hold up," Ohio chides, "Where the fuck did they get an anvil?"

"Yeah... there was a whole bunch of random shit in the old sheds."

'...shed?'

"The dust on that thing nearly lit it on fire."

"It did light itself on fire."

"Why does Dixie have forging tools?"

"I dunno."

"Claws gave him a whole bunch of stuff when she revamped her own place."

"Does Claws still have Scales?"

"What? The little light blue lobster?"

"It is not little! That thing could take off your head!"

"I think so? She wouldn't have left it to die."

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

Russia's ears are swept by the chatter flowing through his mind. His legs burn. The words blend, and the sun shines throw, casting shadows of talking kids.

When they arrive, they walk inside surrounded by gunfire. Russia concentrates on walking inside, and everything around him fades out of view.