A New Guide

I'm honestly shocked this blog still exists.

I mean, I really, really, really expected the Order to have taken this down by now. Maybe they think no one will believe it, but I don't think so. This new guy they sent to us - Anders - he's different from all the rest they've sent us. I think the Order might be changing its game.

I'm writing this from the back of a van. We're doing about 90 down the freeway (sorry, can't tell you which one. That would probably the Others right to us). Greg is driving, of course. He always insists on driving, and Jordan always lets him. I swear, though, if the Others don't kill us, Greg will. He never actually got his licence, and I don't think it's for want of trying.

I realized that I never really got to tell you what happened to us - why we're leaving again. I got too caught up in the back story - and believe me, there's a lot of it. We've been running from the Others for nearly three years, after all. But there'll be time for all that later, I guess. Assuming we survive.

Yesterday, Jordan got a call from the Order. It always starts like that. They call us, usually totally out of the blue, and tell us we've been compromised. They send one of their members to us, and we pack all our things and hit the road.

Most of the members they send us - we call them Guides - look like they belong in a library. They're generally old, bespectacled, and almost always of some nationality other than American. We've had... eleven? Twelve? I can't remember - they all start to blur together after a while. Like I said before, a number of them have gotten killed trying to protect us.

Anders is totally different from the rest. He's still pretty young - well, he's older than us, but not by much - and he looks like he can handle himself. He's about... ah... 6'6", military haircut, pale. Lots of scars. He's British, too, but he doesn't talk much. At all, really. He hasn't told us where we're going, or how the Others found us this time. That's not normal - most of the Guides lecture us for about five hours on what we did wrong. Like it's our fault we're being chased by some kind of superpower.

We've been on the road since five in the morning. I've tried - on multiple occasions - to get Anders to tell us what's going on. I thought we were leaving because the Others had found us again, but I just realized that he never actually said that. Maybe we're leaving for a different reason this time. Maybe we're actually going to fight.

There's something about living your life on the run that just kills you inside. Every last one of us is sick of constantly jumping from place to place, never safe, never knowing if we're going to make a mistake and get all of us caught. We all want to take the fight to the Others. We've got powers, and we bloody well want to use them. Even if we died in the process, at least we wouldn't have to run anymore.

Well, Amy's kicking me, telling me to go to sleep. It has been a pretty long day, even if nothing's actually happened. And I should get some rest. You never know when you'll need it...

James
The Last of the Five