'Should I hide inside one of these things? Nah, Ill need to leave eventually, and I glow now so ill just stand out more when night falls! Ok, I need to keep moving halfway there Dustin.'

The cinderblock bricks covering the gap in between the trailer's undercarriage and the ground make for good cover and, with a bit of light-tail application, a good peephole.

The road Infront of me is right up against a small canal, which is separated from the actual river by a jetty. There are only three ways to cross the canal if you don't want to get wet and one of them is Infront of me. Problem is, it's a pipe, not a walkway. The thing is large, but only about as big as a storm drain, and I have no doubt its very slick. It's also completely exposed.

'That's out. I guess I'm swimming. Ugh.'

It made sense, I don't need to breath, and there is no way I could make it to another crossing point without being spotted. I doubt they put anything in the water anyway. The fact that it looks disgusting cuz it's filled with algae AND is probably the water used to cool nuclear fuel would deter most, besides, there isn't much of a military presence here, I think, they probably don't have all the toys.

I probably wait around five minutes trying to learn if the people I see are bound to a patrol pattern, then I realize I'm on a time limit due to the fact that I've left a radioactive trail to my position.

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck.'

I look out my peephole, and see no-one. Then I start to look around the undercarriage of the dual trailers I'm under. After a second of looking, I find what I want; a gap in the brick wall, covered up by a piece of aluminum roofing, a good exit point.

It moves aside with a small noise, not audible to the street, probably. Moving slowly out of the hole, I catch my back-panels on the lip of the opening, which feels odd, in an indescribable way and creates a soft thunk.

'. . . Uhhhhh. Stressful, so stressful.'

Crouching down a bit more this time, edging out of the hole, the day is coming to a close you see and everything is starting to get dimmer, not much time left. Fortunately, I don't need much. All I need is the 30 seconds it will take to reach the water of the canal. Cross the street, climb down a slope of rocks and gravel, enter the water parallel to the pipe, and walk till you reach the other side.

Seems simple enough, and it is simple, just need to not get spotted. Edging out of between the trailers, I look right and left before crossing the street!

' . . Not clear.'

This may take a while.

It takes five minutes.

I cross the street, and run into another problem, the rock-pile-slope-thing that leads down to the water is treacherous, the rock's range from bowling ball sized, to four-foot uneven boulders. They all feel like nails and thumbtacks to my paws.

'UUUGGhhh, . . Ah, aahhhh, oohhh oh oho ho ho, so THIS. Is what walking on the jedde would be like without shoes! MMM, FUCK!'

Despite growing up on an island, I still fear water I can't see the bottom of. THIS water, OH, deep green, with algae and other muck growing in and on it, an uncertain rocky decent to it's bottom, a most likely painful walk along it, and-

'Ugh, wet, cold, this feels so weird.'

My smooth plastic-esk body feels . . strange entering the water. Cold; yes, wet; yes, but . . not as much as I should? I feel, insulated against it somehow, like I'm in a wetsuit. The water is standing, so I move in as smoothly as I can to minimize ripples and splashes. The water, it, it does have trace amounts of radiation in it. Hardly any, but it's there. Not sure what to feel about that, just like I'm not sure what to interpret the sensations coming from my eyes as.

When my head submerges, and a few seconds later my ears, tail, and back-panel's, Everything feels. . distant. I continue to slowly walk down the rocks to the bottom of the canal, and looking up, I see such beauty. The dim evening light filtered through the dirty water refracts in a pretty way. It plays over the canal floor, illuminating it in patches, through shifting beams of light. . .

'Ahh. . This all feels so weird . . but it's beautiful. Ahhh, I feel like an astronaut!'

The slow-motion, the feeling of almost weightlessness, the exotic surroundings! I could stay here-

'Focus. Walk. Follow the pipe-pylons, put aside the deliciously exotic taste of the water till after you get somewhere safe.'

The canal looks like it's ten feet deep at its bottom, it feels relaxing to not have to worry about air, or constantly fight my body's natural buoyancy.

'This is the first true moment of peace I've had since this whole mess started.'

The thought brings me to a halt. Then I notice the cloud of silt I've been kicking up and start moving forward again to keep out of it. I don't stop thinking though.

'Hmm. I feel like. . like there should have been a larger military force at this place. Maybe a media circus? I was down there a while. I melted the lights with the amount of radiation I put out for fucks sake! But I've hardly seen anyone. This whole situation should have been slapped with the label [TERRORIST ATTACK!] There should have been a lot more to stop me. There should have been a lot more to KILL me.

Did what happen to me happen elsewhere?

'Hmm. If it did, it must have been very wide-spread. I might not be alone?'

I'm not sure what to think about that. I decide to put it out of mind for now.

Just keep putting one paw Infront of the other. The clouds of silt and other things that erupt from the bottom remind me of Emon Beach.

The thought brings some nostalgia.

'Kwajalein, Kwajalein, I miss you sometimes. Everything was so simple there. Or was is that just my youth making it seem so?'

The memories are faded and twisted in some ways, but I can still remember most of the island, I think.

This train of thought leads me to my current situation. In a VERY distant way, this situation is like me leaving Kwaj. New life, completely unlike all I was used to or had experienced. New rules, new opportunities, lost opportunities. All wrapped up in a green and gray bow, life's a bitch like that.

'Walking through and out of this shit-colored water is a metaphor for something, but I don't know what. Nor do I think I care. Alright then, world; I am Dustin Vandergram. I love food, reading, my family, and feeling excited. I am going to LIVE.