[center][h3]March 15, 2018 - Acton, Massachusetts.[/h3][/center]
[center]31 Degrees.  Rain and Snow mixed.[/center]
[center][IMG]http://i65.tinypic.com/2zdvqkx.png[/IMG][/center]

[right][color=green]Subject exhibits predictable post-traumatic stress symptoms, including irritability, restlessness, and guilt.  The subject is prone to reoccurring vivid flashbacks with clear and definitive fragmentation boundaries.  Fragmentation suspected to be a result of prolonged psychotropic subjugation.  Tell me, Isaac, are you able to discern the monsters from the madmen?[/color][/right]

A sensation akin to jagged glass tearing through his cranium gave way to echoes of shouts, gunfire, and squealing tires.  Isaac felt his physical form floating, trying to establish a semblance of homoeostasis.  Against a backdrop resembling the explosive drumming of a Fourth of July finale, a heated exchange between the echoes began to take form.

"Not cool!  NOT cool!" Nosering screamed the Jeep drifted on icy roads, dodging parked cars and opened doors.

Skullface squeezed some rounds into the icy void behind the vehicle.  "Just keep ahead of them, Stan, and keep your eyes on the road."

"Oh sure, I'll keep my eyes on the damn road.  Hey look, ice!  And snow!  And dead bodies!  And shitty cars parked in the middle of the fucking road!  I love this goddamn road!"

Skullface grumbled as the headlights of a cargo truck came into view again.  Isaac pulled him down just as a stream of bullets soared overhead.  The crack of weapon fire followed close behind.

"We need to get off this road and into cover!  Find a trail!"  Shouted Skullface. 

"[color=goldenrod]No![/color]" Isaac shouted back, uncharacteristically.  His scruffy face, the lower-half covered in frozen blood, glared darkly.  He repeated again, lower and more threateningly.  "[color=goldenrod]No...[/color]"

Skullface fired back at the truck, shooting out one of its lights.  "They WILL catch up to us.  We have to go around these damn cars, but they can just push right through."

"[color=goldenrod]I'll take my chances![/color]" Isaac's ghostly voice shouted back.

Skullface grabbed him by the coat and pulled his face close enough for Isaac to feel the heat from his breath.  "You have no idea what you're talking about.  What Tim and his company will do if they catch us.  We need to get to Boston."

Isaac's hand grabbed Skullface's wrist, attempting to prey his hand off of his jacket.  He failed.  "[color=goldenrod]Whatever they're capable of,[/color]" Isaac replied with an icy gaze, "[color=goldenrod]Is nothing compared to what's out there.  Look at me and listen to me right now.  If we go into the woods, we will die. [i]Don't[/i] do it.[/color]"

Skullface stared long and hard as Isaac, long enough for the truck to gain ground again and for a bullet to ricochet off of the metal frame of the Jeep.  "Stan!"  Skullface shouted, "Off-road.  Now." He shoved Isaac back, and scoffed, "watch our six."

"Here we go!"  Nosering shouted as he turned hard on the icy road and peeled toward an opening into the woods.  Only, he hadn't expected the sudden drop in elevation.  The vehicle careened downhill, out-of-control, with the sides and front of the vehicle scraping against trees and low-hanging branches.  Isaac gripped the frame hard and braced himself with his legs, but the final drop was steep and the vehicle landed semi-vertically at the bottom of the hill.  The impact threw Isaac out from the back of the vehicle.

[right][color=green]Of the two, the monsters and the madmen, which do you fear most?[/color][/right]

At once, the echoes of the shouts and the terror that Isaac had felt gave way and the sharp grating pain in his skull took the form of a bleeding cut from his forehead down to the edge of his right eye.  The floating sensation gave way to consciousness.  His fingers, swollen and cold, began to move, digit-by-digit.  He tested his legs: sore, but functional.  Isaac drew in deep breaths.  No lung obstructions, no broken ribs.  Finally, he opened his eyes, fully expecting to find himself lying on the cold ground covered in frozen mud.  Instead, he found himself propped up against the Jeep with his form covered in patchy flurries of snow.

A shiver rolled through Isaac's body as his damp clothes clung parasitically to his form, stealing his metabolic heat.  But without the covering, Isaac would be exposed to the elements.  He decided to endure the discomfort and rise, with support from the Jeep's door.

From the other side of the vehicle, Isaac could hear digging.  Skullface was striking the ground with his knife, trying to free the Jeep from the hold of the icy ground.  He had made some progress, which left Isaac wondering how long he had been unconscious.

Isaac drew out his knife and knelt beside him, hacking weakly at the ground.  Skullface simply waved his hand.  "Don't bother."  So Isaac stood over him, watching.  Beyond them and the Jeep, which was still stick semi-vertically on the hill, was an expanse of thick, leafless trees and a fog of snow.  Isaac leaned against the vehicle for support and shivered, crossing his arms tightly against his chest.

"You probably think you were right," Skullface said. "Should've stayed on the road.  Now we're stuck here and we're going to die from the cold."

Isaac scoffed, "[color=goldenrod]It won't be the cold that kills us.[/color]"

"Well, I'd have made the same choice again, if I had to."  Skullface replied, defiantly.

Isaac let it drop.  "[color=goldenrod]What's in Boston?[/color]" he asked.

Skullface, accepting the conversation change, went back to digging.  "The Eastern Front is bigger than you think.  Our base at Ft. Devens is for securing the supply routes to Boston and all the way down to Baltimore.  I'm sure Morgan told you something about this."

"[color=goldenrod]I never bothered to ask,[/color]" Isaac replied.

Skullface paused for a moment, then kept digging.  "The short of it is, when the military orders broke down and this country stopped being a country, some of the ex-military grouped up with a bunch of local gangs and made its own network.  Not owned by the government.  Not owned by the military.  Just a bunch of ex-cops, ex-military, ex-gangbangers keeping ourselves alive and away from those death camps."

Skullface looked up at Isaac, "You came from one of those camps. You know what they were like."

Isaac did not feel inclined to talk about it.  He simply nodded his pain-ridden head very gently.

"Boston is one of the main hubs of the Eastern Front.  Morgan had some connections up there.  I need to get there before Tim gets there.  With Morgan gone, someone needs to take over Fort Devens.  We can't lose that supply line."

Isaac gave a grunt of disapproval.  But before he could reply, his eye caught the silhouette of a person making their way toward them.  He searched for his rifle, but only found his sidearm.  Hastily, he scoured around the Jeep and found the weapon resting right where he was seated.  Without hesitation, he drew up the weapon and stared down the scope at the ghostly pale figure of Sticks.  He waved his arms to show he was not hostile.

"It's just me!  Don't shoot!"  He called out.  "Where's Stan?"

Skullface took a break from digging and stood, slowly.  "I thought you both went out to go take a piss."  He replied.

"We did, but..."  Sticks replied.  "He said he heard something this way.  I thought he was coming back to check up on you guys."

Isaac lowered the weapon, but made his way over to Sticks, speaking sternly.  "[color=goldenrod][i]What[/i] did he hear?[/color]" he replied.

"I dunno.  Crying?  I think he said he heard someone crying."  Sticks replied.  "Why?"

Isaac felt his heart stop.  He swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath.  "[color=goldenrod]Which direction did he walk?[/color]

Sticks motioned to where he was.  "We were down that way a bit.  I saw him walking that way."  He moved his hand from North to Southwest of their position.

"What's going on?"  Skullface said, sternly.

Isaac glared back at Skullface as he readied his weapon.  "[color=goldenrod]You're about to find out what's going to kill us.[/color]"

[right][color=goldenrod]The monsters.  Always, the monsters.[/color][/right]