Chapter 1: Follow The Crowd
As the sun broke over the horizon, the streets of a half frozen city bustled with honks from cars and loud shouts for people, all traveling down south to avoid being trapped in the frozen wasteland. People in cars, on bikes, and even people on foot started traveling south. It all began two days ago when the government said that they were not gonna supply people when the ice came. So people decided it’s better to travel south with the warmth then faced all the criminals and thugs and ice. So everyone packed up their meager belongings and started traveling down. But let’s say that the trip was not exactly going to be comfortable…
“But why don’t they call it the ‘big chill’? Or the ‘nippy era’?” asked a guy in a passenger seat of a car. “I’m just saying, why do they call it an ‘ice age’?” His friend who was driving the car, obviously annoyed by the constant barrage of questions, looked over at him and gave him a death glare. “Because… Of all THE ICE!!!!” he shouted. “You’ve been asking questions for three hours now, and I want to listen to my music. So be QUIET!!” He went back to driving and the friend in the passenger seat looked out the window of the car. “Well things just got a little chillier.” He muttered.
Over in a tar pit on the side of the road, four kids who were coated in tar, pretended to be zombies coming out of the ground and were moaning loudly. Onlookers tried to ignore them, but some had to laugh at their game. A short, fat, bald man walked over to the kids climbing out of the pit. “Come on kids, let’s go!” he shouted. “The traffic’s moving!” “But, Dad-” said the bald guy’s son, who was cut off by slipping and falling into the tar. “No buts!” said the bald guy. “You can play ‘Zombies’ later.” “Oh, okay.” said the son, climbing out of the tar. “Come on guys.” He and his friends climbed out of the tar pit and went to their families.
On the sidewalks, two female bike couriers, one with short black hair and the other with long brown hair, were slowly pedaling along their way. “So, where’s Donald?” asked the girl with short black hair. “Uh, he said something about an evolutionary breakthrough.” replied the girl with long brown hair. “Really?” asked the other. The two girls heard shouting and stopped to look over at a half completed bridge. A dude wearing makeshift wings, probably Donald, jumped off the bridge. “Look, I’m flying!” he shouted, right before he hit the ground with a loud crash. The girls looked at each other. “Some breakthrough.” said the girl with black hair. The other girl shrugged and they continued pedaling.
Their pedaling was cut short however, as they stopped with other people to gasp and shout at what was coming their way. A large and monstrous pickup truck was driving in a straight line along the road as people drove around it to avoid crashing into it. People cursed and shouted and whispered about it as it drove along. The pickup truck was painted black, had the words “MAMMOTH” crudely painted on the side in sliver, and had a sliver painting of a mammoth on the door. The driver was driving along with a stern look upon his face. Suddenly, he turned and the cars collided into each other and caused a major traffic jam. The short, fat, bald guy from earlier got out from his car. “Hey!” he shouted at the driver of the pickup truck, which was continuing along. “Do the world a favor! Move your issues off the road!”
The pickup truck stopped, the doors opened, and out stepped a huge man. He was a giant, and probably the last of his kind. He was 7 feet tall, had rugged brown hair, brown eyes, white skin, and wore a dark red sweatshirt over a white dress shirt, brown slacks, and dark grey boots that almost looked like a mammoth’s foot. He walked over to the short guy, and leaned down until they were eye level. “If I was your height, I wouldn’t be drawing attention to myself pal!” growled the giant.
The short guy backed up. “Hey, give me a break.” He spoke nervously. “We’ve- We’ve been driving all day.” The giant looked over at the short guy’s minivan. His wife, who was about as short as him, and his son were in the back, looking nervous. The giant softened up. “Go ahead then, follow the crowd.” He walked back to his pickup and got in it. “It’ll be quieter when you’re gone!” he shouted before rolling up his window and continuing on his way. The short man got back into his van. “If he wants to freeze to death, I’ll let him.” They continued driving and joined the swarm of people traveling.
The giant kept driving until him a loud “KA-PUT!” sound. He stopped the pickup truck near a small cliff that lead to a forested area. He got out and pulled up the hood of his truck, and was met with a puff of smoke. He coughed. “Not again!” he went to the back and pulled out a toolbox and went about fixing the pickup truck.
A mile away, snoring away on an empty bench, was a kid. He was a grubby looking kid matted dark brown hair and very bad teeth. He wore a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off that was covered in mold and sweat, green cargo pants, and no shoes, but his feet were wrapped in bandages. He was sleeping peacefully when he heard a loud “HONK!” from a car. He opened his green eyes and jolted upwards, almost falling off the bench. “I’m up! I’m up!” he shouted. “Rise and shine everyone!” he looked around. “Zack?” he called out. No Zack. “Marshall?” No Marshall. “Birdie?” No Birdie. “Uncle Fungus?” and even Uncle Fungus was missing.
“Where is everybody? Come on guys, we can’t play hide and seek! We’ll miss the Mi…” his voice trailed off. “gration.” He said quietly. “They left without me. They do this every year!” he talked to himself. “Why?” he said, sounding like he was gonna cry. “Doesn’t anybody love me?” A pompous snobbish lady wearing a red dress and black sunhat was walking along with her poodle. “Isn’t there anybody that cares about a kid named ‘Sid’?” the kid sang. The snob went “hmmph!” held her nose up in the air, and continued walking, apparently not liking beggars.
Sid sighed loudly. “Alright, I’ll just go myself.” He said, brushing himself off. He took a step forward and heard a squish, and felt something warm and gushy on the bottom of his foot. He looked down, not a pretty sight… he stepped in dog feces, and fresh too. “Oh!” Sid groaned. “Sick!” he looked at the snobbish lady and her poodle, who was the culprit. “Hey Wide-Hips, curb it next time!” he shouted at the snob. “Ah! Jeez! Oh, Yuck! Oh!” He groaned as he scraped his foot on the ground, trying to wipe the poop off.