Day 91: 31 Oct 2010
Made it to the Port of New Orleans late tonight. Cassie found us a 1999 Buick Riviera in near-mint condition. Some senior citizens were looking to part with it for a mere $2,500. The thing is a whale, but it runs like new, so I can't complain.
When I stopped the Buick Land-Beast at the dock, it wasn't hard to find Travis' Escalade. Didn't even need Eric's fancy netbook. The black sport-utility was sitting, neatly parked, facing the Mississippi River. No one was inside.
Cassie broke in with little effort. No evidence of a long road trip in the car -- no food wrappers, soda bottles, maps, nothing. Of course, he didn't need any of that. He didn't need to eat or drink like normal people.
On the passenger seat, we found this:
Apart from the five pages of journal entries, this was the only other page with marking on it.
It's a message, one meant for me -- my slug, actually. The large symbol is the lituus -- the Astrologer's Staff. It's ancient. Older than your historians think, in fact. From the slug's time. More interesting than that are the symbols surrounding the staff. They're from an early human language.
The one at the top left is Body of Water -- the father of our slugs, the Water God. Top right is Earth, bottom left is the Rising Sun (for the God of The Skies). Bottom right -- that one means war. Plain and simple.
But then there's this. Two tiny symbols, drawn away from the staff, but almost more important.
The one on the left means white man, human. The one on the right means snake -- enemy.
It wouldn't make sense to you, of course. But to my slug, it's clear as day. It's a manifesto. A blueprint of things to come.
And humans are in a lot of trouble now. Travis and his slug believe as the slugs' father did -- that humans were parasites on this earth. Kept to a small population, they're merely annoying. Left to grow to your current -- I mean our current -- levels, they're an infestation.
It's something all the ancient gods would agree on. So Travis and his slug have decided to bring them back, one at a time.
I didn't have time to explain any of this to Cassie. The insect sharing her body -- child of the God of The Skies -- would explain it to her in time. I had to act. To try and stop this.
Just before midnight, as Cassie was searching the rest of Travis' SUV, I walked into the cold waters. I sank as low as I could. Then I headed out for the Gulf of Mexico.