We headed too fast to regard anything without security. The little girl cried, held by the white arms of a woman unfamiliar to her, in the cause of her fathers utter passing. My father and a few men consulted under the operation of the bus. Some road, without thought given to its end, we headed by. From the town, migrations of commoners under exodus of their place, a constance of death existed here and there, about the wooded bounds. Rows of nearly a mile long, on both ridges of our road, rested horrific sceneries of the dead, pale in all their days under the sun, lifeless. Withered were their garments, exposed to the road. Children and men and the women, all but the crows were dead. I saw it, as a strange deformity in my experience of the age, horrifide by the clutter of corpses, but had no feeling for them, for how unhumanly terrible had the plague consumed them.
Within a mile of going, the woods were cleared out of bodies decaying. Not a vehicle or person was in sight for periods, when we encountered a savge fire, in the sweeping of the forest. A pine was dropped under flames, seizing us. It blocked the road, somewhat, and we were caught in a surprise, now that the flames were releasing the smoke. ''Go around, we'll get caught in it here.'', a man told my father in the driving. We came slowly around the burning log and bush, and we saw the magnificant glares in the sky. Like auroras in the dark, the sky was alive with them, all glorious in beautifull streaks of bright colors: solar yellow, orange and somehow red. ''That is the sun reaching the earth, without stopping every hour now.'', said Mr. Garcia, facing the outside. Like strokes of brush, the sky overhead was painted with autumn hues. We decided to flee the place, in the case that the flares might harm us also.
For only minutes, when the afternoon was crisper, we escaped the extensive road, to a division of two. One going left, east, had a sign in view: Fisher Crown, and the other, west, had a board: Alexander Shore, which led to a sandy lake adjacent to the seashore. ''I'm not familiar with these roads.'', my father mentioned. ''I have a map.'', assereted Mrs. Mary's sister. ''Good, a map, but we must avoid the authorities.'', Mr. Garcia said. We heard him, and discussed where to head after now. A rumble passed above us, from a militant craft going westward. They must be everywhere. ''Imagine what might have done those men to those people.'', said my mother. A decision was made, and my father drove us quickly into the road to Fisher Crown. No devastation was here, nor were there signs of death or fight.
The grass here was much more visibly brighter and the pines were peacefull in their rustling of the breeze. Storks flew overhead, and we spotted a dear, alive, passing us in the high walls of the forest. No one was near, not yet until we sighted a layer of civilization, structures and edifaces, about the green earth over the road ahead. Suddenly, with each of our own seeing eyes, and I, an iron fence, coiled in metal wire rose from the elevation. More of these were presented to us furthering into the place. Metal fences, menacing with their cutting coils and shredding spines, ran from the blocking of the road to the woods, keeping a structured space of area within the confines. These stretched out unto the farthest extremities of the land where the place sat. ''Turn back! Turn back! The place is imprisoned, go!'', cried the men. Before my father could look behind, guns were pulled, drawn against us with an aim. Quickly we were pulled out and seized away by those uncanny troopsmen stricking us into horrifide faces.
Great uniformed structures sat below, down the road from the barracade of fences and artillery, surrounding the greatness of the town. They were, as it scared me, units of a vast camp, established, as it was labeled on boards, by federals and keeping live people within the fences. War tanks dotted the linear border of the outside places of the town, where unified gunmen stood in the vigilance of the confinement. Out into sea, swam and observed war ships and fridgets of the military army. Everywhere, seemingly, a sense of fear stood there, with guns and an intention to kill.