Zap & Troy: The Legendary Journeys

The Final Holocaust,

Part 1: The Country Road

I have never kept a dairy before. To be honest, I never had anything worth writing down except my Star Trek: The Next Generation fan fiction. The typical day of a Canadian teenage boy isn't very exciting. Of course, that was before Rowsdower came into my life. While most would look at my middle-aged friend and see a hopeless drifter, I saw only a knight in shining denim.

Since we met, we've escaped the clutches of a bloodthirsty cult, learned the truth behind my father's death, and discovered the lost city of Ziox...and that was just over the weekend. My name is Troy McGreggor and, as I was soon to find out, this was only the beginning of my adventures with Zap Rowsdower.

After getting kicked out of the ancient city, Rowsdower and I hopped into his truck and hit the road. As we drove down the lonely, country highway, the shortgrass prairies of Alberta seemed to stretch out beyond forever. The faded grassland holding the bleakness of a thousand harsh winters and maybe one pleasant spring. It was chilly and stale in the cab of the battered truck but Rowsdower's leather jacket kept me warm.

"Rowsdower," I said breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us, "where are we going?"

"Liquor store."

"And after that?"

"I already told you, kid, I'm takin' you home."

"Oh." I sighed, turning my gaze to the filthy floorboard which was littered with empty beer cans, Potato Ole containers, and what appeared to be a dead Woodchuck.

While I was looking forward to seeing Aunt Betty and changing into a fresh sweater, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Rowsdower and I had been through so much, I couldn't go back to the ordinary life of an average teenager. Everything waiting for me at school now seemed so mundane; even the bullies on the Girls Basketball team seemed like nothing compared to the jackbooted thugs who pursued me half-way across Canada.

It was nearly sundown when we pulled into the Texaco station just outside of Eagle Hat. While it wasn't the most decrepit filling station in all of Canada, it was far from gleaming and had already seen a lot of years as a country general store.

"I'm going in for a six-pack," Rowsdower said thumbing through his wallet for cash, "you want anything?"

"Buy me anything in there with Larry Csonka on it, I'll PAY for it."

I guess Rowsdower wasn't as familiar with U.S. Football as I was because he just glared at me before finally saying, "I'll see what they have."

Stepping out of the truck, Rowsdower nodded at the attendant, "Fill her up."

"Nuh-uh," the gas attendant said shaking his head, "I don't think so."

"What?" exclaimed Rowsdower, "Why not?"

"You still owe me a dollar eighty-four from the last time."

Rowsdower sighed, placed his hands on his hips and looked towards the sky before saying, "I didn't mean to leave without paying, it was a life-and-death kind of situation!"

"Yeah, right, I'm sure it's all a very exciting story"

"It is!" I chimed in excitingly from the cab, "There were a bunch of guys with machetes chasing us and I had a treasure map and then we hid in this old, prospector guy's shack and then I got to use a rifle to shoot a bad man in the butt!"

The attendant crossed his arms and turned to Rowsdower, "Who do you guys think you are to come to my station, steal my gas, and then lie about it to my face?" He turned to go back inside the store, adding with a dismissive wave, "I haven't the time to listen to you hosers!"

"Now hold on just a second there!" Rowsdower said trying to reason with the man.

"Take off!"

Fortunately, Rowsdower had just enough gas and beer to make it to the next filling station.