So, just the day before, I killed a man, and I had brushed it off quickly. This bothered me, even more than the young adult who's body rested in the dirt, blood pouring out of his skull. It didn't matter I'd done it- it was self defense. It was more that I did it. I killed a guy, when I could have simply ran. I had no reason to turn back and knock him off his truck, and knock his brains out against the field. I'd also not cared enough to even acknowledge his importance, and completely ignored the fact I'd killed a human being.
It wasn't my own conscious that reminded me that I couldn't do anything about it,and she was sounding far less than sincere in doing so. But, I knew that I was right. Who was- what? I shook it off, knowing it didn't matter. It was completely possible there wouldn't be anyone left alive on this planet, and I needed to help save it. But I don't want to kill anyone else. The fact that I was so insensitive to the guy who I'd killed was still permeating through my brain, and it could easily do so until the day I die. And I tried to avoid reminding myself that could be damn soon.
I shuddered involuntarily. It shouldn't take long to get to Chicago from where I was, which was somewhere near Omaha. Then I realized a flaw in my oh-so perfect plan. Where in Chicago was I going to meet the other 'Bolts? It wasn't a small city, and I knew right of the top of my head that it had well over three million people. So, how the hell was I going to rendezvous with someone that I wasn't sure I knew- hell, I'm sure I don't know him, but hay I'm sure I do.
Of course, I head to deal with that. The thing was, I was becoming less and less sure of who that was. If it was Spitfire or me. And it's only been a day and a half! What's it gonna be like in ten or fifty or a hundred! What about a whole year? Did I even know who I was? I reminded myself that yes, I did. I was still the unfortunate bastard who woke up at four in the morning on a Saturday that I'd rather have spent hanging with my one of my friends or playing video games.
Damn it, did this body come with ADHD or something? I didn't really want an answer to that, but another thought hit me. I'd always let my mind wander in the past, but never this much. The fact was, I was clearly changing, and not like the changes an average Call of Duty player is going to have in six years. I mean, there's almost no possibility this could end and I'd still be me, kind of changes. But, I had no choice but to try to finish this and hope for the best.
I still had a task, and even though it was tedious, I didn't know if letting my mind wander was such a good idea. Don't get me wrong- it felt amazing to fly under my own power- if not a bit tiring- but, overall, it was probably one of the coolest things I've ever done. But is it worth it? The question hit me like a high-powered rifle round. I knew what my subconscious was implying, and it was very plainly obvious why it threw me off- I didn't want to die.
It was getting pretty dark by the time I got to Illinois, maybe ten or eleven that night. Rather than trek onward towards, Chicago, I decided I should try to get some rest on a cloud. So I found a cloud that suited my needs, and rested myself on it. Tired from my day of non-stop flying, I nodded off almost immediately after laying down.
My dreams offered no refuge from the the weirdness that my life has become. So, there she, or I or whatever, was. In a endless white void that made no sense whatsoever. She gave me a look that made me feel like I'd missed something. I wasn't sure what- but I knew that's what it meant.
"I guess this is how it's going to be then." I said to her, surprisingly lucidly.
She nodded, little to my surprise. "I have to ask you this; what do you intend to do once we get to Chicago?" I barely noticed the we, but as loose as it was, I still caught it. I simply chose to ignore it, however.
"I have no idea," I replied honestly, "Regroup, I guess?"
She nodded, seemingly understanding. "And then what? Do you even have a plan?"
I grinned a smug smile, "I never have a plan."