I woke up around 3:30 in the morning to hear yelling outside of the hut. I figured it was a zombie who stumbled across Greggo, buried up to his head, and was having his brains eaten. So long as I was in this hut, I was perfectly safe, so I thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. When I woke up and went outside, I found something completely different.
Paul Greggo was not eaten by a zombie. Instead, a warning for me was carved in his forehead, overwriting the torture marks I left on him. It said, "LEAVE" and had two knives sticking out of him, one in each eye socket. Trust me, whoever you are, I have no intent to stay here. What I would like to know is why you didn't kill me instead. Maybe Greggo failed to uphold some kind of thieve's code. Maybe his penalty for being humiliated was to be killed and his body to serve the purpose of warding me off. Maybe you don't believe in killing outsiders, yet your twisted sense of honor would have you kill one of your own, or maybe this is nothing more than a real estate reclamation and you want to scare me off instead of take a chance confronting me. Well whatever the case, it's your lucky day. I'm leaving, but definitely not because I'm scared of you.
I gathered up my things and left the hut roughly around eight in the morning. Once I got a good thousand feet away from the forest, I sat on the side of the road and consulted the map. There was a Universal Community Behavioral Health center roughly 13 miles from where I was, but I doubt that's where Kat would be. Just four miles north of the mental health facility was Lock Haven Hospital. If anything, that's where she would be, but that's wishing that the driver was even taking her to a hospital at all. And it would be taking me off course from continuing west on I-80. I just had to give it a shot. I really need to find Kat again.
After about four hours of walking, I made it to the mental health facility. It was completely abandoned. No vehicles in the parking lot, and no other signs of anyone being in the building for some time. All the windows were intact, so I'm guessing the residents of the building evacuated immediately after hearing the news of the outbreak. I tried the front door, and it was unlocked, so I wouldn't need to give the building its first broken window. I listened carefully for any movement as I patrolled its hallways. After feeling it was safe, I began to yell hello just in case anyone was hiding from me thinking I was a zombie. I yelled a few more times and not getting any responses, I decided to leave and head up to the hospital.
Of course, nothing's easy. As I was traveling north on HWY 220, the bridge crossing Fishing Creek was out. Because of the heavy rain the other day, the creek's water level was higher than usual, and it was flowing pretty well. I'd estimate it was least a hundred feet across, and now I'm going to give you a survival tip. Learn how to swim. This is something I never did, so I hope you do. It could have saved me a lot of time.
There was a road just west to me, Nittany Valley Drive, that went up north along the creek, so I took it, but when I wanted to cross the next bridge at Main Street after Nittany turned into South Water Street, it too was down. I decided to inspect this one, and there was burnt rubble everywhere, Someone was blowing up bridges. They were most likely doing it to prevent people from crossing the creek and further spreading infection.
I continued on South Water St. when I came across the bridge at Church St. Down. Peale Avenue, down. Hogan Boulevard, down. How the hell does one have so much explosives? At this point, I reached a golf course, so I decided to take a break and go into their country club. I found a vending machine that wasn't trashed, so I rectified that by taking a nine iron from the reception's desk and doing my best Tiger Woods impression. I opted for the oatmeal raisin granola bar and scarfed it down. I took another, at it more slowly this time to taste it, and grabbed a few more and put them in my pack. I was tempted to grab some M&Ms, but remember, whenever you have a healthier option, take it. You need your calories to count.
Armed with a new club, I went off to explore the golf course when finally. FINALLY!, my luck changes. A GOLF CART! MOBILITY! Solar powered! Oh, but how cruel a bitch Lady Luck is. Of course, there's no key in the ignition. I went back to the club house, and of course, can't find the fucking key for it! Frustration got the better of me and I let every inanimate object have it with the club. The TV got Hole 1. The brochure stand got Hole 2. The reception computer, Hole 3. Hole 4, 5 and 6 were the glass coffee tables. 7 was the potted fern handing from the wall in the corner. An old-fashioned gumball machine was Hole 8, where it rained gumballs all over the floor, and Hole 9 was nothing but whiff after whiff as I tried to drive each and every gumball 400 yards. After adding close to 30 strokes to my game, I slipped on one of the gumballs and hit my head rather hard. It's throbbing right now, so I'm hoping I don't have a concussion, but that fall is what I needed to take the fight out of me.
I'm just resting on the lounger right now, just so fucking tired of shit. Looking at the map didn't help either. There are two more bridges that are probably blown up as well before Fishing Creek feeds into a much wider Bald Eagle Creek. Bald Eagle Creek hooks up north than comes back down and goes west where there's a bridge at Eagle Valley Drive. Hogan BLVD actually turns into Eagle Valley so I'm tempted to not even bother checking the two bridges up north. So, that will be plan for tomorrow. Head down Eagle Valley and hope to God to that bridge isn't taken out as well.
Until tomorrow. That's it for now until I think of something better. Until tomorrow.
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