Motorcycles woke me up. A gang on Harley Davidsons was creeping through the cars. They were looking through all of the cars on the highway for supplies too. I couldn’t tell if they were dangerous or not, they were on alert and had their guns out. I decided to avoid them.



I hid in the standing shower in the bathroom. I was as quiet as I could be, but one of them must have heard me, or seen the RV moving as I got into my hiding spot… and he found me…



I quickly begged him not to kill me, and I offered all the food I had in my bag. He just looked at me, gave a small smile, and helped me up. His name was Charles, and he introduced me to his gang. They were on their way north as well and offered to give me a lift to the FEMA camp.



We all used the RV as a campsite tonight. It seemed like the best way to stay safe for the moment. Charles asked me all the questions an adult would ask a 17 year old in a situation like this. I told him the truth about Dad, Mom, and the house. He told me that they saw smoke about 30 miles back, but they didn’t check it out. I kept wondering if I unintentionally burned down my hometown in my escape. Part of me hoped I did, and that I took a whole bunch of those assholes down at the same time.