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Cobb 7 years, 10 months ago.
CobbsaidLife was good for Cobb and his family before the outbreak. He was an assistant minister at a new thought church in the gentle rolling hills of the the plains states. Although he was open to many forms of spirituality, he was drawn to Eastern Mysticism, Zen and the like. He also did a significant amount of Low-Power FM radio broadcasts, Partly for the church, That shifted to the Red Cross when the outbreak began. He had a diverse background, as a paratrooper, a pilot, a degree in communications. During the outbreak, he flew staff and supplies to various points. He didn't really grasp the scope of things at this point. That would change. As the infection spread, people were being attacked in his own town. A lot of screams. A lot of gunfire. He didn't stop to have a discussion with his wife, but simply said "we're leaving. Now". Packing up what supplies he could, he tucked his two daughters in the back, and probably getting one of the last full tanks of gas available in town, he headed out. West. Through Denver. That worried him a bit - if it was bad here, Denver could be a wreck. Actually, Denver seemed to have their act together, and after a brief exam at a checkpoint, they were let through. It was a bit slow, the traffic patterns followed a zig zag rambling scene of barricades, the outposts heavily armed. It was back on the open road that the world changed. A Jeep with three heavily armed men cut them off, yelling at them to get out of the car. His wife let out a small cry. His own gun was in the trunk, a lot of good it'd do now. They all got out, with Cobb saying easy, easy. Whatever you want, just go easy. The lead bandit rose up "Well, hell, that is exactly what we want," he paused "everything you got, motherfucker." Cobb started feeling sick. The other two were breaking windows, pulling his wife and two children out, forcing them to their knees. "We're just gonna have some fun and be on our way," the lead thug said. His family looked desperately at him, but with a gun pointed at his head, there was little he could do. The frustration mounted. "Please... don't" he said. "Please don't what? Break them in? Cobb was forced to watch as his family endured all kinds of hell. One of his girls broke loose and started to run. She was shot in the back. Their twisted molestations satisfied, the other two watched the scene unfold with a crazy, drug fueled satisfaction. Cobb looked at the open back door, a snow broom was all there was. His anger, fear and frustration added to a hefty dose of adrenaline. While the lead thug was distracted, he yanked the broom with all he had, breaking off the stick, leaving a sharp end on it. The lead thug had just turned around, his pistol low and unaimed, when with all his force, Cobb skewered the man, who dropped his handgun, and pushing the man about like a marionette. A wild shot grazed his thigh. Cobb fell, dragging the thug on top of him. He felt the pain but was blind with rage and adrenaline. Cobb reached over and picked up the handgun. Rounds were ricocheting around him. He shot from beneath the dead man's arms, scoring incapacitating but non-fatal wounds. He walked up to the man who shot his wife, saw the desperation on his face, and pulled the trigger. He kept pulling the trigger till only the 'clack, clack, clack" of the empty pistol caught his attention. The other thug was desperately trying to reach his revolver. Cobb kicked it away. Cobb was blind with rage and insane with grief. He didn't care. He pulled out a folding knife and retrieved a towel from the car. He didn't say a word. He held the man down by his throat and cut first the left ear off, then the right. The thug screamed in agony. "You'll live" was all he said to the man. Ripping the towel, he tied a makeshift tourniquet to the man's right arm, then proceeded to cut through the cartilage of the man's elbow. This action was repeated on his other limbs, though by this time the thug had passed out. He was still alive though, and Cobb propped him up against a road sign. Only then did Cobb start to shake, powerful convulsions from the pent up adrenaline and fear. He took a moment to look at his wife and children. Motionless. So alive just an hour ago. He carefully moved them onto a nearby hillside, and slowly, compassionately, buried them, covering the mounds with rocks. It was too much for him. He didn't cry, he didn't say a prayer. He was just numb. He sat there as the sun rolled over him. As it reached the edge of sunset, he suddenly rose, and started walking. He took no weapon, no spare clothes. He just walked, until he collapsed at an abandoned farmhouse. He stayed for a time, using his folding blade to create a sharply pointed walking stick. He was blind with grief, rage, questions. He prayed, somewhat one sided, "Your move, motherfucker" before he sat again thoughtless. He left his small camp and moved toward the sunset. Always toward the sunset. He bagged some game for dinner. He also bagged more than a few raiders. They begged for their lives, but it always ended with a thrust and sudden death. Whatever Cobb was before, he was mostly gone by now. From time to time he'd spy a child, trying to hunt. Sometimes a woman. Sometimes a disabled old man. He gave what he could, but had no news from the East for them. The only thing East was a horror, the helpless looks from The eyes of his family. He was constantly shaking that memory. Finally, it was gone, and all he could remember was a bit of play in their backyard. He continued on, unsettled. A man in the road crossed his path, and there was a brief standoff. He told Cobb of a refuge, a place called Arklay. If it was such a refuge, why was he out here wandering the road, he asked the man. The man looked uncertain, then said "Banished," he began, "stealing food from the wrong people." Cobb wondered if there was such a thing as stealing food from the right people. The wanderer gave him instructions to reach Arklay, wobbling on his feet. Cobb shared an apple with him. He was probably a goner, but he wasn't going to end his life for him. The road would do that. Cobb moved off, following the instructions till he got to the tunnel. He could see bits and pieces on the other side. They had it rough. Something tugged at him, something he couldn't quite remember. He felt splintered. He felt a brief moment of turning back, but stopped. He wasn't sure how he'd be accepted in this place, any social skills some six months out of date. His track record of bodies was more current. Fuck it, the thought forced it's way forward. "I have killed and worse", he thought. "I'm not a killer". He kept repeating that to himself. Tightening the straps on his pack, he moved forward through the tunnel and past the blockade on the other side. Cobb's main strengths: His devotion to spirituality and humanistic potential - he wasn't just an agent, he didn't just trust people,he was a believer. Cobb's main weakness: Alcohol and drugs. He rapidly devolved under the influence. He became a dangerous sociopath. He also struggled mentally over the loss of his family..
it's a crazy, dangerous world out there. It also holds beauty beyond compare... don't dream it, live it, if you dare... |
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