I've been on the road now for, I forget how long. Days blend together, as do the seasons.
I came from the remains of Miami following a story, a lead, little more than a rumor. I have been tagging along with a small band of outlaw bikers. These guys barely made it out of the Prospect stage before the shit hit the fan. They tolerate my presence, just barely. If it wasn't for the incident back in Tallahassee... I don't think they'd keep me around. After what went down there… well… let's say we now have a more mutual understanding of one another.
Bound to one another by a blood oath, these three Dreadnoks; Hadjo, Brutus, Rascal, and the "old lady" Runway, make their way West in hopes of locating their leaders, Zandar, Zarana, and most importantly Zartan. That fits my designs perfectly. I've been looking for him. I've interviewed hundreds of people over the years who, even before the shit, spoke of the man as if he were a demigod. Even now, with the dead walking the Earth, people still speak his name in hushed voices while looking over their shoulders, more scared of him then the beasts lying in wait to devour their flesh.
Zandar and Zarana the insane lieutenants of their older brother Zartan. None of them are actually, Dreadnoks themselves, but somehow, they have come to command the loyalty of these hardened criminals, and degenerates, to a degree that, even these newly initiated cretins feel absolute devotion to them. So much so that they have travelled hundreds of miles among highly infested territory, stealing and pillaging from anyone who got in their way. They have also sent a great many of the walking dead to their permanent grave, along with more than their share of bleeders, a term they coined to describe the still living. The walking dead, as you undoubtably know, don't bleed. They ooze dark puss, a coagulated brew of body fluids. Being 'Noks, these men and their woman shoot first and never ask questions. So when the tell tale crimson of the living fills the air rather than the black sludge of the dead, well, they commence to enjoy the spoils. It turns my stomach even thinking about it.
This brings me to my current location. Somewhere between the Badlands and Death Valley. Now known as No Man's Land. How appropriate actually. Once the bread basket of America now a dead zone. If the dead don't get you the nuclear fallout, rampant disease, unpredictable weather, roving packs of feral animals, everything from dogs gone mad to escaped big cats, LAMOEs, mutants, or freaks might.
Along the way, I've been able to gather snippets of information, I used the last of my DDDs just last week, and now I'm down to bullets. DDDs really do get the best intel (note to self get more DDDs). From what I've gathered it's not only the 'Noks looking for Zartan, it's everyone. You see even facing the end of the world the rumor mill still turns. Only now it's no longer relegated to the office water cooler. Now it's anywhere the living come together. The rumors started almost immediately; government conspiracies, extra-terrestrial involvement, the Illuminati, and most recently, the quest for a cure. Not a vaccine mind you, a full-blown cure. At least, that's what the rumors say. They also talk about who has it. About who controls it and why. The rumors point to one man knowing the truth, if it exists. I'm here traveling with the only group that might be able to find the man in question. If they can find the siblings, find Zandar and Zarana, if they can be found, then maybe we can find Zartan.