Chapter I

Henry Burns was still in shock even though it had been three days since he had seen the message flash across the glass of his television screen. The message was a cry for help from an aging, desperate cameraman who lived in some port town in Louisiana called Lake Charles. He chuckled inwardly, in a morbid way, as he thought to himself about how he was more surprised that a camera man was giving a news flash instead of the fact that he had not seen a single human being in two days. Then again, Henry was never given credit for being completely sane. As it was, he was already making his way there, to meet up with this camera man, Olaf Wiig.
Now, shock can come in two different forms; an unpleasant or pleasant surprise. The difference between a child unwrapping a big box and finding a puppy inside, and a child staring at a package in the mailbox with blood dripping from it and wondering just where his parents really have been.
Five days ago was the time that Henry found his puppy. He'd always hated the human race, mostly because of their sick perversions, angry mobs, and "Holier than Thou" bullshit religions, all of which he had vigorously partaken in. And now, it had seemed they were gone, with no explanation whatsoever. It truly frighten him for the first twenty four hours; the searching for friends, which didn't take very long, for he was able to count on three fingers the number of friends he claimed; looking for authority figures; trying to contact his family. After sixteen hours of nonstop, adrenaline driven, quest for contact, Henry had collapsed back into his bed and fell fast asleep. When he awoke, he seemed to be truly happy. Fear, anger, and frustration had left him. Until this Olaf had shown his face and that wining, wheezing, tear-filled cry. Henry didn't know why it upset him so much to see someone still alive, but damn it, it pissed him off. He decided not to think about it, and popped in his cd of Sputnik Monroe. It helped distract him when these thoughts came to his head. The cd had seen some serious use.
He packed his bag for a nomadic journey; nonperishable food items, a .45 pistol with plenty of ammo, two spare tires loaded in the back of his F-150, plenty of clothes, and a hose to siphon gas when he got low. He wasn't planning on returning home any time soon, if ever. He'd always wanted to see the world, anyway, so what better time then now? He shivered with a hint of ecstasy at the thought of being able to go anywhere and do anything without someone constantly watching over his shoulder. He licked his lips in anticipation and weaved in and out of the empty cars that littered the interstate, then started to make his way East on Interstate 10. To a new life. And that pudgy little bastard with that annoying whine.