Been about two weeks now, and I'm about used up. Rachel's trail seems to be going in circles, but damned if I can seem to catch up to her. I'll say this much; the girl knows more creative ways to kill these fucks that I would have ever given her credit for. She's left some of these guys in a condition that makes me cringe. But I can tell she's running low on ammo. The bodies are getting fewer and further between. She's picking her kills, trying to conserve what she has left.

I've been "interrogating" these slugs as I've gone along, and from the description they've all been giving me, it's got to be her. It usually goes something along the lines of, "mega-hot bitch, long black hair, great tits, mean bitch with a gun", etc. etc., usually accompanied by a line of drool down their chin and a probing hand in their pants. I've killed a lot of these fuckers just on general principle, but at least I know I'm still on the right track. Starting to wonder if it's worth it, though. It's obvious she doesn’t want to be found just yet, and if I don't find her soon, there won't be enough of her left to scrape up with a squeegee. Gonna have to move quick now if I want to get to her before someone has her for breakfast.

----------------------------------------------

I'm exhausted, I'm dirty, and I'm just about the happiest motherfucker on the planet. I found Rachel last night, sleeping under some boxes in an alley. I almost beamed with pride when she nearly blew my fucking damn fool head off. It took her a few seconds to recognize me (stopping for grooming hasn't been a priority in the past few weeks), and I stood still as a deer in headlights while she kept that cannon leveled at me. She looked at me real hard until it clicked in her mind as to who I was. To be honest, I wouldn't have blamed her if she pulled the trigger anyway after what had happened, but her eyes softened, and the gun lowered.

This was two days ago. We spent the rest of that night in that alley just being glad we were both still alive. The next day (yesterday), we moved out to try and find some more substantial shelter. Chemos' Zone ain't real good for getting directions anywhere. Got to find someone willing to take a dick out of there mouth, or their tongue out of an orifice long enough to find out what the fuck you're saying.

We walked around, getting absolutely fucking nowhere, for about three hours in the early morning before I decided to get us some transportation out of there. The only car I could find that wasn't burned out or covered in jizz had some occupants I'd have to deal with. That's OK. I have a way with people.

There were three of them. I approached the first gentleman, and tried to explain to him that my need of the car was greater than his. Unfortunately, he was busy fucking some chick in the ass, and I don't think he got the full essence of what I was saying. I thought about asking the chick, but her face was wedged between some guy's ass-cheeks, and the smell alone was enough to kill that thought. Instead, I just charmed the car out from under them.

The good part is, none of the guts got on the thing. Three dead pervs and a few hours later, we're cruising out of the entry port to Fucksville. I turned on the radio (which was pretty much the same quality as the TV was now -- pretty fucking pathetic) to catch a little pseudo news. The local newsman had been up on charges for the rape and torture of a young woman, just before everything went tits up. Now, he grunted and strained through the news to the chorus of his flesh being peeled from him. Gotta hand it to Satan's boys…the quality of stereo improved ten-fucking-fold when they found out what effect the sound of tearing flesh had on the average dumb-fuck stuck in rush hour.

Anyway, we're gonna find someplace to shack up for the night. I'll pick up again later.

Oh, and happy fucking Independence Day.

-------------------------------------------------

I'm getting pretty fucking sick of this place.

Two nights ago, we found a piece of shit place to stay. Place used to be a Motel 6.

It was dirty and dank, but it was off the main road, and a good ways off from the local cemetery, which meant lower possibility of Risen. For once, I was nice and actually offered to pay the guy to let us stay there. He smiled, looked at Rachel, and said he'd take a blow job instead. I smiled and gave the fucker one from my shotgun. No fucking manners these days.

We picked a room at random from the ones that looked empty. Just like the outside, the inside should have been condemned. But, the door was sturdy, and the locks were still good, so it would be somewhat secure. I sat down on the bed and tried to figure out where we were. Ever since everything went to shit, directions and geographical locations didn't mean much. Things were where the Fallen Angels and Big Daddy Satan said they were. This was mainly to discourage defectors to the Other Side. Yeah, like those sanctimonious pricks would've taken any of us.

Anyway, while I was engrossed in the fucked up excuse for a map, Rachel was engrossed in my pants. I can only assume this from the fact that she goddamn near tore them off. I looked up and almost didn't recognize her. I'd thought she'd lost it, but turns out that she knew exactly what she was doing. Seems that the Zones were dead set against any one actually making "love", but they didn't seem to have a problem with a good old fashioned fucking. I should know. We put that one to the test. We fucked for the rest of the night, and part of the morning. I must've wasted about six generations worth. Felt a hell of a lot better afterwards, though.

We cleaned up as much as possible. The water in the bathroom was running, but was colder than a motherfucker. I was drying off/warming up when I saw it -- a scratch on her left thigh, about four inches long. The bruise had spread a little, making it stand out more. I hadn't noticed it before. I hoped it wasn't what I thought it was.

Later on, we rested, looking out of the hole in the roof at the not-quite night sky. There was a bunch of sparks way up in the stars -- meant that there was a scrap going on up in orbit again.

I asked her if she had run into any Risen while she was running. She hesitated a second and said yes.

All at once, I knew all too fucking well what that scratch was. It wasn't going to heal. It was just going to get worse. The worst part was she knew it. I could feel her start to cry next to me.

I did the only thing I could think of. I held her. But I knew what she was going to have to do, or what I was.

I couldn't fucking believe this. After all we'd been through, to get fucked by the universe AGAIN just when we made it to something resembling home base. Then again, I guess there is no home base anymore. No point in praying to God for mercy. About like trying to get maintenance out of an absentee land lord. Good fucking luck.

Rachel knew what she had to do to keep from turning into a vessel for one of Hell's least wanted. Nice fucking catch 22. To keep from becoming one of the Damned, you had to commit one of the worst sins on the books, which made you one of the Damned when you died anyway. She didn't know what to do, and wasn't sure she could do the job herself.

I kisser her softly on her head, told her to close her eyes, and made the choice for her.

I'd pray to Christ for forgiveness, but the bastard just isn't listening anymore.

I cut off her head this morning. Then, I burned down the whole shit hole to make sure. At least I can hope that she's resting now.

One more murder to the list.