Hello readers and reviewers!

Here's the beginning of the great road trip to Hollywood~~~ Enjoy!

When we got out of the traffic-jammed city and onto the highway, Jon sat silently in his car seat, eyes wide, looking at the window to his side.

"Is everything ok?" I asked, "You look a little green." I wasn't sure if something happened to his wound. He was healing surprisingly fast, and I hope it wasn't some kind of a draw-back and that his stitches didn't open.

Jon took a big breath. He held his door handle firmly in his right hand, and the seat belt with the other, like it was choking him. "I just… it's too fast." He gulped. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I gave him a side glance, looking at my speedometer. It was only fifty-five miles per hour, we didn't even get to the parts where you can go for sixty-five miles per hour or even more. Well, the fastest a horse can run is about thirty miles per hour, and I guess it's very different riding a horse than a car. I doubt Jon experienced anything faster than that.. "Hold on." I said and exited to a near picnicking area. I opened the windows, which made Jon stare at them with owe. "Are those your buttons again?" He asked as he breathed deeply, in and out.

"Yep." I said. I looked at the back of the small car, where a big horse wagon was connected. I hope Ghost is fine in there. "Buttons do almost everything these days."

"I think… maybe that's how fast a dragon must fly." Jon said after a pause.

"Maybe. I don't know… but I think a plane or a jet could be faster than a dragon, much like a car is faster than a horse." I said and gave him some water to drink.

"A plane?"

"Airplane," I said. "It's a machine… a very big machine, that is used for transportation through the sky."

"So people here figured out how to fly?" Jon asked and drank from the bottle. He asked me yesterday what was that weird glass-like material. Now he knows it's called plastic and can't stop stating things are made of plastic when he recognizes it. I think it amazes him, like the screens, buttons and how we use so many numbers.

"Yes," I said. "Fly high and fast. You saw the helicopters that chased us in New York, didn't you?"

Jon looked like he tried to remember. "I couldn't look at the sky, I was busy looking forward. I didn't know that awful noise came from flying machines."

I laughed. "Flying machine. Sums it up pretty well." I looked at the time. We have to keep on driving, at least until we get to the border between Pennsylvania and Ohio. We were only driving for twenty minutes on the highway.

"Alright, we have to go." I said. Jon nodded and tried to conceal his tortured expression. I took a small paper bag from between our seats. "If you need to throw up, do it in there." I advised him.

Jon gulped again and took the bag. "It's not just the speed," Jon said. "I can see the speed in which we are moving in, but I can't feel it so well. It makes me…"

"Dizzy?" I asked, "Yes. I know what you mean. It happens to me when I ride at the back of the car. Or if I read a book while riding the bus."

"Bus?"

"A very big and long car for about five dozen people."

"Oh."

"I probably just got used to doing it. We ride cars from… well, birth. At least in that part of the world." I wondered, "I guess that if you start later in your life it's harder to get used to it." I kept the windows half open this time while driving on the highway. It seemed to help Jon. He even opened his window more a little bit.

A big bikers group passed us. Some of them wore helmets, some of them didn't bother themselves with safety. They were noisy and shiny, and I missed the days when I had my own motorcycle. It was short, but it was fun.

"Are those different kinds of means of transportation?" Jon asked, "It doesn't seem very safe."

"No, it's not the safest way to travel. But believe me, it is fun." I said. I saw he was less green now. "You're quick, you drive between the heavy cars and you feel the air hit you… It's one of the things that make you feel free." I had a smile on my face, "But yes, it's dangerous. I was a good biker though."

"I was thrown from a back of a speeding horse once," Jon said. "I cannot imagine being thrown off one of those things while moving at that speed."

"Good thing it never happened to me." I said and turned on the music. 'Born to be Wild' was playing in perfect timing.

"Yes, it is a good thing." Jon agreed and turned to look at his window.

"Alright, Jonny-Boy, time for your second question." I said. We were sitting on a bench close to the woods, so Ghost went out to hunt and do his direwolf business. I had a salad for lunch. Jon had a meat sandwich of some sorts.

I texted Karen to make sure everything's fine with her and Marylin. I knew she wasn't a big cats fan, but she agreed to babysit her while I'm gone.

Jon took a big bite from his sandwich and looked forward to the wood. He nodded his head, signing me to continue.

"When you played Skyrim, you said something… Maybe I'm taking it too seriously, but it was kind of suspicious."

"What?" Jon asked and took another bite.

"You said the resurrection thing in the game makes it less challenging… and then you said you should know about that. What did you mean?"

Jon was quiet, not because he was chewing. He actually paused and didn't take another bite. He then turned to look at me, his eyes full of thought. "You're not the kind of person to be scared of too many things, are you?"

"What is it?" I asked, not liking the whole seriousness in his voice.

"Well, it's not so scary. Maybe it's just... peculiar. I didn't even told Daenerys… I didn't have the right time." He looked back at the woods. "Well, I guess she has her suspicions. She saw my scars more than once."

"The scars that are on your chest?" I asked. He nodded.

"Aye," He said with sadness in his eyes. "I was stabbed in my heart."

"I know," I said, "I saw them too." I remembered the first morning when he stole my dragon bathrobe.

"Maybe hear they can fix you, but where I come from… especially with the numbers and conditions we had in the Night's Watch… and they left me to bleed out in the snow, anyways."

"Who did?" I asked, intrigued. How the hell can you do that to someone? That's an awful death!

And then he told me about the Wall and the wildlings, some missing parts of his story-how he took an oath, how he broke it for a wildling woman he fell for, how he fought her and she died in his arms. He told me how he was chosen to be the Lord Commander and decided the wildlings should be their allies because worse was coming for all of them. The Walkers. Jon didn't expand about the whole Walkers thing, but I didn't care back then, I was too mad about those traitors who stabbed him unarmed and alone, to die in the snow.

"And then somehow the Red Priestess brought me back to life. I was dead. I was dead for almost two days. I-I don't remember anything. There was nothing… but I came back."

He looked, at the moment, like he didn't want to come back. He wanted to rest. Because as long as He is alive, he can't let go of feeling like he is responsible for his people. For everyone's safety. He needed death to rest.

"Maybe that's why you're here," I said, "To get that rest that was taken from you too fast."

Jon closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"It could be," He said, tiredly, "But I'm starting to feel like it's taking too long. I'm done with that break, I need to go and-"

"Lead your people into oblivion, I get it." I said and took a bite from my salad, "And to oblivion we go."

We camped in a forest, about twenty miles into Ohio. I got tired from the driving and it was getting dark. Ghost was happy to hang around out of his tiny box. He hunted, I think, because he disappeared into the woods and came back two hours later.

I thought Jon how to set up his tent. It was the type that you just need to open and it pops into shape. Jon was startled and jumped backwards as the tent popped. He reached for his hip-where he had his sword in a full medieval gear, probably-and calmed down fast enough to not look completely stupid. I guess it opened faster than he imagined.

"It's made out of plastic as well," He noted. "A very light material. The fabric is very thin."

I opened my tent and he jumped again, this time much less dramatic. "Yes, it is, but it's water proof and will keep the mosquitoes away."

Jon sat up a fire pretty quick without any matches or fuel, and I reminded myself that even though he's a thousand steps behind me when it come to technology. he's the one who'll survive stranded in a forest or something. I sat next to the fire and looked at its dancing colors, Jon sat opposite to me and looked at the flames as well.

"The Red Priestess who brought me back to life worshiped the Lord of Light. She used to look at the flames and claim he speaks to her, show her things that are about to happen through the fire." Jon told me. He took a stick from the ground and poked at the burning branches, adjusting them the way he wanted them to be. "I don't know why he chose to bring me back. Now people say I have a role, some even claim I'm a god myself. I don't understand it."

The red and orange light that danced on his face made him look full of life and drained at the same time. "Well, didn't you say you are the king? Your role is to protect you people, isn't it?" I asked and stared at the fire. No image was shown in the flame, so I am probably not a Red Priestess. Oh, well.

Jon sighed, "I never chose to be a king, neither I wanted to be the Lord Commander. I accepted the people's choice because I knew they look up to me and were willing to follow. I felt… well, if the most of them can be united under one person to defeat the enemy, it will be worth taking the responsibility upon myself."

I thought it was a big self-sacrifice. People might think it's so cool to be chosen as a king or a ruler, to boss people around. But if you really care… There's too much responsibility, and you're the one to blame if something's gone wrong. People who does not agree with you can do horrible things, like they did to Jon. Only because they did not agree with his leadership… I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that. I learned it's better to look after yourself sometimes.

"Dude, that's crazy." I had to lighten up the mood. I mean, Jon's mood was hard to lighten, so I'll at least take care of mine.

"You think that's crazy? You didn't hear about the White Walkers yet." Jon said with a sigh and bit into his burrito as if it was a turkey's leg.

I quirked an eyebrow and opened my burrito, "Yeah, I wanted to know what the hell you were talking about, but it doesn't count in the must-answer questions, right?"

Jon nodded."It's fine, I don't mind talking about them." He swallowed his bite and leaned to the fire, looking deeper into the flames. "That huge wall I told you about,"

"The eight-hundred feet high wall made of ice?"

"Aye, that wall. The Wall." Jon took another bite, "That's really good." He commented while he chowed.

"So many people thought it was built to keep the wildlings out. But the stories tell something different. People grew to believe these are just stories wet nurses made up, but they were wrong. They were too cynically clever to believe in the Children of the Forest or direwolfs or the return of dragons, so they were too clever to believe that the Wall was built to keep the wights and the Walkers away." Jon took a sip of some tea. "How do I even start to explain it? Should I start with their swords that are made of ice and break all steel and metal but Valeryan steel? How they bring the cold and the frost to wherever they go?"

I listened silently. It does sounds like a tale to scare children at night, to make them dress warm in the winter. But Jon's scared expression was too real.

"The worst part is the wights. The Walkers have the ability to raise from the dead. A corpse that is still warm or a long decaying skeleton. A dead polar bear, horse, dragon… they'll take them all. And they're vicious and loyal and do whatever they are commanded. The wight do not have their own minds and opinions. They don't die by decapitation, even if you will half them or shoot them in the skull with your gun, it will not help. And as we lose… if you don't burn the bodies, they'll come back pale with blue bright eyes. That army only grows, hundred thousand at least as much as I know." He breathed out, "They die only by fire or dragonglass weapons. And we already lost one dragon to the Night King, so we know they can even kill dragons."

I stared at him silently. Like he needs more problems. An almost undefeatable enemy that only gets stronger with the unavoidable death? Is he sure he wants to go back to all of that?

"Ice zombies." I said and bit into my burrito, "You've got an ice zombie problem."

"Whatever you want to call them." Jon said and ate in silence.

I was thinking how I can help. It is clear that thousands are going to die, and the ice-zombies' army is just going to grow.

I don't know about dragonglass, but he said fire can kill the minions.

"Flame throwers." I suddenly said.

"Excuse me?" Jon asked.

"You need flame throwers! You know, those things that… throw… flames…? Well, you don't know, but that's what you need! I'm sure it will help."

He was quiet for a moment, "Where can we get them? How many do you think you can get?"

"Well, it's a problem to buy too many. And how many you'll be able to carry with you? They're pretty big… even though there are also the small ones I use for cakes." I didn't have much appetite after hearing about the zombies. I was worried about Jon. "Also, buying a lot of those can rise some government suspicion. Maybe we can get seven of the big ones, ten of the small ones. And how will you get the gas to work them? They'll ran out of it…"

Jon finished his burrito. "They need some kind of fuel, you say? Well, maybe some of the alchemists can figure it out… Maybe Gendry will learn how to build more." He looked a bit hopeful, "I know it might not be a lot of help, but I'll take any help I can. And if the help's name is 'flame-throwers', I'm definitely going to take iy."

I gave him a small smile and took out my phone. Here's a nice mission for Dakota.

A/N:

Imma gonna kill some ice zombies with a FLAME THROWERRRR

Muhahaha! That's all they need. A bunch of arsons in Westeros would probably be of good help. Waid, aren't the Red priests and priestesses arsons?

Aaaaanyway, let me know what you think, we're getting closer to the end...

Hoped you enjoyed 8)

~A Girl Had May Names~