Fridiary – Organ Tale – Part III

Burroughs, Kerouac, McCarthy, Ballard and Hunter have just left Memphis, and now they’re on the road again. Going places that they’ve never been. Seeing things they may never see again… Like pockets of civility and people who haven’t been turned into zombies.

They need to get from Washington DC to Safe Haven on the west coast, but all they have is a wood-paneled wagon, carpool dragons and hundreds of miles of road ahead of them.

[The Organ Trail began life as a free, zombie-apocalypse parody of the 1970s eudcational game The Oregon Trail, but the Director’s Cut is an expanded, commercial release that sees Organ Trail leave its parody roots partially behind. I initially thought this would be a done-in-one, but this particular adventure is more sprawling than the simple graphics might lead you to believe.]

196 miles to the prison.

McCarthy gets the measles. Are the measles even still a thing? The rest of the group has no idea how a grown-arse man like McCarthy can get the measles, but Cormac writes a chapter about the small spots on his skin, and even Hunter has to praise the quality of the prose.

A fog rolls in and Burroughs slows down. Hunter and Ballard tell him to speed up instead and face whatever’s coming head-on, but he must have found some H in Memphis because he refuses to acknowledge their raving death wishes.

Ballard, hell-bent on death one way or another, sets fire to some fuel on the backseat. Burroughs doesn’t even flinch.

Burroughs goes on the nod and as Ballard is the only one awake, he just watches the whole thing unfold. The group crashes into a parked car and Ballard grins stupidly as blood runs down his face. Thankfully the fog had kept them going slowly and the wagon barely gets scratched.

The sky clears up and the prison comes into view. Just as they near it they see another explosion in the distance.

Burroughs goes out to scavenge and the others do some repairs to the wagon. They have got plenty of scrap, so they go to town. It’s still a little scratched up, but considering everything it’s been through, it’s damn near pristine. Burroughs finds more food than he can carry.

Burroughs learns some psychic technique that allows his gun to throw the bullets 50% faster. Everyone in the group is too fucking exhausted to question the logic and they just let him be.

There are some bandits outside that are planning to take over the prison, so Burroughs takes the job to clear them out. It pays tire… No one can remember what that was worth before. It’s not a difficult fight, but Burroughs uses more ammo than he should have.

Burroughs gets wounded scavenging some more, and the group decides to leave the prison. It might be safe, but it’s not the kind of place any of the men ever wanted to find themselves in.

330 miles to the hospital. It’s lucky they repaired the wagon fully, as it’s the longest leg of the journey yet by over a hundred miles, and Burroughs is starting to sweat and clutch at his stomach.

They lose some petrol to a leaking can and everyone spends a couple of hours high on fumes. They lose an hour trying to drive around some broken down cars on the highway, but at least they find some roadkill to eat.

Kerouac drops some money and it disappears into the blackhole that lives between the seat cushions, and the rest of the group’s money flies out the window when Burroughs hits a big pot hole. Doesn’t anyone believe in wallets anymore? Or even just pockets?

The first thing Burroughs does when the group arrives is look for a job. Someone dropped something precious outside and are offering forty two dollars if he can grab it. He doesn’t hesitate even though the zombie weatherman says it’s Suicide out there. He only shoots one zombie, all the rest he dances around like Fred A-fucking-staire.

They rest up, repair the wagon and Burroughs goes out to scavenge.

There’s not much else at the hospital, so they gather their things and roll out.

318 miles to Dallas.

It starts pouring down with rain, so Burroughs slows down to be safe. McCarthy’s immune system must be weak after his bout with the measles because he comes down with what Kerouac can only guess is typhoid… Isn’t that another disease lost to the mists of time? Apparently not.

The sky clears up and Hunter gets out to fill up the gas tank. He realises one of the gas cans is full of water. He wants to turn the wagon around and find the low-life cocksucker who screwed them, and Kerouac’s arm gets broken in the fight to subdue Hunter.

Kerouac wants to stop and bandage his arm, but there are too many zombies around. Even without meaning to stop, they get stuck inamongst a herd and have to fight their way out.

The group gets dehydrated and another sandstorm rolls in. It clears just in time for the group to get a good look at the giant cock in the centre of Dallas. That’s not what Debbie did, is it?

They patch up Kerouac’s arm, and some rest sees McCarthy recover from his bout of typhoid. There’s an auto-shop selling some Nev-R-Break tires, so they sell some food to afford them, knowing full-well they’ll get more back from being able to trade their spare tires now and an the future.

Burroughs earns thirty four dollars fighting off a horde and invests that money in desperately-needed ammo.

Another horde is incoming, so Burroughs fends them off too, earning another twenty four dollars. He could be a rich man with those shooting skills of his, but the group needs too many supplies if they’re to have any chance of making it to the west coast.

Kerouac finds some methamphetamine and spends the whole night wheeling and dealing, from nine pm to nine am. He makes a lot of good trades, but the one thing there doesn’t seem to be much of is ammo.

They load up their fuel, food and what little ammo they’ve got and head out of the city. They sneak through a small horde and get out on the open road.

600 miles to the stripclub. Stripclub? Who can think about T&A at a time like this?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s