Resef has been talking about going to Denver. That's about 60 miles from here! I just don't know what he's thinking. And all for a damn shotgun! Why we can't search some pawn stores or something nearby is beyond me. He keeps talking about how it was his dad's. God. I think he's delirious.
I have been thinking a lot about my failed venture out of the apartment. It's hard not to; my body is still sore all over. When I fell off of the road, I scraped my right shoulder and arm up pretty bad. I'm still picking the gravel out. The bike bruised my legs up as well. I guess I must have gripped onto the bike with my thighs as I fell. Resef managed to fix up my bike with some effort, but I'm too psyched out to even get on it. I've seen plenty of zombies and have run from my fair share, but this was the first time without him. He was always there to keep me calm. He always had a plan, always knew what to do.
How are we supposed to get all the way to Denver? Our cars will not be inconspicuous at all. Mine is especially loud. I've got a nice big hole in the muffler. I swear every G in a 20 mile radius will hear it. Bikes are the better way to go. Especially when we need to get around abandoned cars and debris, but I am still nervous about riding it, especially for 60 miles. I don't think it's smart to try to ride the five or so hours in one day. If we get too fatigued, how are we supposed to take on any Gs? And there's no way I'm letting him go that far alone. Please god let me talk him out of it.
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