Running, I am always running, have been since I was a kid. My mother would never tell me why we were running. All I know is that the New California Republic is hunting us and it has something to do with my father. She never told me any more than that. She would always tell me the same thing, “that the less you know about your father, the better.” I guess she figured that if I was ever captured. I wouldn’t be able to tell them anything and they will let me go.

My father was a kind man. He never raised his voice at mother or me. Whenever we were in a place with a computer he would take the time to teach me all he could about it. On my birthdays he would let me shoot what he called “a plasma pistol”, just as long as I promised to always keep it a secret from mother. “Just between us” he would tell me.

He loved to show me maps he had of the “old world” as he called it. He would tell me tails of "The United States” and grand cities that once existed. He kept them in a duffle bag along with an old uniform and his plasma pistol. When I asked him about it he would always get a sad look and say “I was once a part of something great, but the dream is dead now.”

It has been over 15 years since the Rangers caught up with us out side of Modoc. They came to the door of our home. We had been living there for over a year. The Rangers stood outside demanding our surrender but my parents refused. We grabbed what we could, and headed for the basemant. I managed to grab father’s duffle bag.

That was the last I ever saw of my father. After mother and I started down the stairs, he stayed in the hallway, closed the door and locked it behind us. The Rangers finally kicked in the front door and opened fire. Mother and I escaped through a tunnel my father and I had built into the basemant wall. As we left the tunnel mother pressed a button on a remote and our home exploded.

Since then mother and I have been running, never staying in one spot for too long. Whenever we thought we found a safe place to live, the NCR would show up. Seems like they are everywhere these days.

“You’ve been coming in here every night for the last week. Now don’t get me wrong, I like a paying customer, but you don’t say much do you? All you do is come in here every night. Sit at that same table and stare at that map, and drink to the point that I have to cut you off. May I ask what it is you are doing here?”

She was talking to a young man sitting at the corner table. He came into town with one of the caravans, she didn’t know which one. He was wearing a dirty old trench coat. Just like every night for the past week, he seemed to be fixated on the map in front of him. He wasn’t listening to her.

“You hear me?” she said as she placed the tray of drinks the young man had ordered onto the table. She placed it on the map deliberately, in order to break the young man from his trance.
The young man looked up at her, blinked a couple of times and then rubbed his bearded face and eyes with his hands.

“Three shots of whisky and a beer” she said to him. It was the third such tray of drinks he had ordered that evening. “Maybe I should cut you off.”

The young man finished rubbing his face. He looked at the young woman that ran the saloon. “But I am not drunk yet Trudy” he said as he licked his lips and reached for a shot of whisky.

“You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?”

He downed the shot of whisky and reached for another. “Yeah, you said something about cutting me off?”

“That’s it you’re cut off for the night! Trudy was angry. She didn’t sense anything bad about the man, but she didn’t like that he seemed to be drinking himself to death in her saloon. She had seen him the past couple of days sleeping behind Chet’s general store. Chet lets drunks sleep back there for a couple caps. That reminded her that she needed to talk to Chet about that.

The young man reached into his pocket and took out a handful caps along with some money of the NCR. “Just a couple more shots” he said as he placed the money on the table.

Trudy didn’t like turning down money, but she didn’t like that this young man was destroying himself in her saloon.

“No. No more for the night.” She felt bad for being mad at him. She could sense pain in his voice. Not physical pain but emotional.

“Do you need a room for the night? That old mattress behind Chet’s can’t be that comfortable and it gets so cold out at night. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

The young man downed his last shot. He slowly placed the shot glass on top of the last two. “How much?” he asked as he opened the beer and took a sip.

Before Trudy could answer him, the saloon doors swung open and three NCR troopers walked in.

“Three beers here please and keep them coming!” one of the troops called out as the three sat at the bar.

“Can we get some service here?!” another shouted in Trudy’s direction. He was slapping his hands rhythmically onto the counter.

Trudy paused for a moment. She watched the young man take along sip from his beer. She could tell that he was using the trooper’s entrance as a means to end their conversation. She turned from the young man and walked behind the bar to get the troopers their beer.

From behind the bar Trudy eyed the young man. He went back to looking at his map. His mood seemed to change. He was tense with the troopers around. “Could he be criminal? A deserter maybe?” she thought to herself.

“Any word on our new commander?” asked one of the troopers.

“I here he’s a real hard ass. He supposedly commanded the 56^th at the battle of Navarro. Lost one of his eyes and a hand, but he refused to be taken off the line” said another trooper sitting in between the others.

The other troops beside him couldn’t believe what their companion was telling them.

“You’re full of it. There’s no way the brass would let someone with such wounds keep fighting.”

“You [censored] he is the brass. At least he was before he got booted down for disobeying orders. He told the higher ups over the radio, to bugger off. And that he was going to see Navarro burnt to the ground.”

The other troops were silent as they hung on every word from their companion’s tail. Trudy also found herself eavesdropping in on their conversation. All though it wasn’t like the troopers were making it difficult for her to do so. They were speaking loudly.

Trudy knew that the NCR had been moving into Mojave for the past couple months. She was familiar with the names of most of the NCR leadership in the area. Her saloon had become popular with the troopers of the NCR.

Trudy didn’t know much about the NCR. All that she knew about them. Was what she could learn from the caravans, and from what she could eavesdrop from the troopers that frequented her saloon. What she could tell, was that NCR was a major player back west, and it has set its sights on the Mojave.

She learned that NCR plans to set up shop at Hoover Dam and that the mysterious Mr. House was going out of his way to make NCR feel right at home.

“He stayed on the front line, and true to his word. He ordered Navarro set on fire in an attempt to burn the bastards out,” bragged the middle trooper.

“You mean the Enclave?” said one of the troops

“Of course the Enclave, who the hell did you think I was talking about when I said Navarro? God you’re dumb.” Said the middle trooper.

“Anyways, when General Oliver got there and found most of Navarro burned. He was pissed. Busted his ass down all way down to sergeant. He’s just lucky Oliver didn’t have him shot.”

“And how do you know all this?” asked the troop on the right.

“Old Farber told me, he’s been in the army for years. That guy knows everything” said the middle trooper.

“So what’s his name then? Asked the one on the left.

“Eric Reynolds, at least I think.”

Trudy pulled herself away from the trooper’s conversation when she heard glass break. Just after the trooper mentioned the name “Eric Reynolds.” She looked over at the young man’s table. He had knocked over his empty beer bottle and shot glasses, in a hurried attempt to exit the saloon. He stumbled into chairs and tables as he made his way for the door. The troopers at the bar turned to look just in time to see the young man trip and fall through the swinging saloon doors.

Nice very nice, I can't wait to read more of this.

Good read. Too bad swear words are censored. The conversation between the troopers could've profited from some additional grit (not excessive, of course, but a bit).

This is great Styles, I can't wait to read more

I like it.

Trudy wanted to go after him, but a large group of troops walked into the saloon. They were laughing at the young man as he picked himself up from the ground. The new group were ecstatic to see the three already at the bar.

Apparently the soldiers coming into the Mojave were freshly minted troopers, and they were on leave for the first time. Trudy took their orders, trying to resist the urge to run after the young man to see if he was ok. As much as she wanted to do so, she knew she couldn’t leave her saloon.

As the evening turned to night, Trudy did her best to keep up with their drink orders. Her Saloon filling with even more troops, some looked far too young to be drinking. “What kind of army would let boys fight their battles” she thought to herself. Trudy did her best to avoid the rowdier troopers as he carried drink trays to their tables.

She thought about cutting some of them off, but had a feeling there would be a riot on her hands if she attempted to do so. She made her way toward the table the young man was sitting at. Realising she had yet to clean up the broken glass. It was then she noticed that he had left his map behind.

The map was rough and faded. Trudy was trying to exam it over the noise of the troopers, attempting to see what was so fascinating about it. She could see faded red letters at the top of the map, “AAA Guide of the American Southwest.” “I’ll give it back to him tomorrow” she told herself as she carefully rolled the map up and placed it in her apron pocket.


“Son you have to go now! You can’t stay here, it’s not safe!”

“I am not leaving you behind! I am not letting those bastards get their hands on you.”

He looked at his mother. She was on her deathbed and they both new it. He was angry. He stood next to the windowsill, peeking through the curtains as tear ran down his cheek. He watched the street knowing that the rangers would be coming soon. “Damn bastards can’t just leave us be! It’s not far. We did nothing wrong!” he shouted, his balled fist punching a hole into the wall.

“They know who we are son. You know they will never let us be” she said in a weak voice. “I am sorry son.”

“Why are they after us mother? And please don’t say ‘its best I don’t know’ he asked as he knelt down by his mother’s bed.

She looked at him. He had tears running down his face; he was clearly trying to hold them back. “What did we do that makes them hunt us like this? Please tell me.”

She was hesitant to tell him, and he knew that even now, on her deathbed she wouldn’t tell him. Even now she tries to protect him from what he does not understand. “Leave son, please just leave now. They will be here soon.”

“Tell me about Father. Please tell me” he said finally breaking down, no longer able to hold back his sorrow. “I am not going until you tell me.” It was an empty threat; he had no intent to leave his mother alone to be captured.

“Under the bed in the next room, there is a box. It belonged to your father” she said in a moment of weakness. “Take it and go, they will be here soon!”

He got up to head into the next room. It became very bright, so bright it hurt his eyes. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light. He found himself lying on a thin mattress, his head pounding.


“You’re alive. That’s a good start” a familiar voice. He lowered his arm to see who it was that was talking to him. The sun so bright he could hardly open his eyes. He could just make out the silhouette of a woman standing over him before he covered his eyes with his arm.

Trudy was standing over the young man with a glass of water. He was having trouble focusing on her. “Killer hangover eh? I knew I should have cut you off sooner” she half joked as she handed him the glass of water. He took the water and gave a nod of thanks, his eyes still trying to focus in the bright sun.

“I am sorry I didn’t get around to getting you that room for the night, but you took off so suddenly that I didn’t get the chance.” The young man drank the water as fast as he could; clearly trying to remove the cotton mouth feeling that comes with a night of hard drinking. “Don’t worry about it” is all he said.

“Oh that reminds me” Trudy said as she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out his map. “You left this on the table last night. I thought you would want it back.” Trudy held it out for him to take. He looked up at Trudy with a half-smile and took the map from her hand. “Thanks.”

“Look. I know it’s none of my business but what are you doing here? Do you work with one of the caravans?” A lot of caravans have been coming into Goodsprings over the last several months. Almost half were caravans loaded with goods headed for Mr. House’s welcome mat for the NCR. The other half were heading for Boulder and the Dam.

It had become clear to the locals that the NCR was intending to stay. Trudy couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or not. Business was great with all these troopers. Lots of work to go around, but the people of the NCR have an air of arrogance about them. Walking around as if they owned everything. “I work when I can” he replied, handing her back the empty glass. “Are you working now?”

“Are you open? I could really use a drink” he said ignoring Trudy’s question. “I am not going to give you booze this early in the day. But I will cook you something up” she responded in a strict tone. He sat there for a moment, thinking about it. His stomach answered for him with a growl.


Trudy watched him wolf down his food. It was clear to her that he hadn’t eaten for a long time. “What’s your name? Trudy realised that she hadn’t asked him that in all this time. He stopped eating; he looked as if he needed to think before he responded. “How can you not know your own name?” she thought to herself.” “Timothy” he said. It seemed as if he wasn’t sure. Trudy had a good feeling he was lying; which only made her even more suspicious about him. “So Timothy. Where are you from?” Trudy was tired of the silent treatment he was giving her.”

Again he stopped eating. This time he looked annoyed at all her questions. “What’s with all the questions? He asked. “I am just trying to get to know you. After all if you are going to be staying around here I thought it would be prudent to learn more about you” she said as she poured him some more water.

“Well don’t worry about that because I won’t be here for much longer” he said as he pushed the plate toward her, to show he was done. “Where are you going?” Trudy asked without realising that her game of twenty questions wasn’t fun for Timothy. He looked around the saloon to see who else was around, but there was no one else. Troopers only come here to drink not to eat Trudy’s cooking. “Look I don’t care if you are a deserter” Trudy told him in a sympathetic tone. “There are a lot of people here, I doubt they would be able find you. I can help you find some work.”

Timothy’s mood darkened, he looked deeply offended. “I am not a deserter and I don’t work of the NCR” he said with hate in his voice. “But you are wrong Trudy.” “Wrong about what?” “Wrong about them not being able to find me. Sooner or later they will find me. They always do.”

So what happens next?

Initially reluctant but later flourishing love story through situation calling for escaping together? Or?

Keep writing, you.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to keep on running from your problems?” Trudy said as Timothy made is why for the exit. “What the hell kind of life is that?”

Timothy stopped just as he got to the saloon door. “Why the hell do you give a crap about me anyways?” He was angry, but he wasn’t angry at her. The two just stood there facing one another for a moment, in acquired silence.

“Because I just want to help you, don’t ask me why. There’s just something about you.” Trudy said, somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t want to see you destroy yourself; and at the rate you’re going you won’t last too long.” She paused looking right into hazel blue his eyes. “But I have a feeling that’s what you’re going for isn’t it?”

“Just stay here awhile. Let me get you that room ok? She was trying to be sympathetic without coming off as bagging. “Just hang around here for a while, and who knows. Maybe we can straighten things out” trying to be upbeat with her words. Timothy stood by the exit, weighing the options in his mind.

“Look, I don’t care if you’re in trouble. If anyone comes around looking for you, I’ll play dumb” She said with a smile, trying to sway him to stay. “If I ratted every time a lawman came snooping around, I would lose half my customers. You can trust me.”

“What do I have to lose? If anyone has gotten to her, she would have sold me out by now” Timothy thought to himself as he looked Trudy over. He was trying to determine if she was up to something, but he couldn’t sense any malice from the young woman.

“What do you have to lose?” Trudy said as if she read his mind. “I trust you and I don’t even know your real name. ‘Timothy’, she said his name in an obvious sarcastic tone.
“The name is Thomas. Thomas Sawyer.”

Trudy smiled as she extended her right hand out to him “Nice to meet you Thomas.”


Francis made his way towards the main terminal building of McCarran, navigating his way through a maze of tents waiting to be set up. In his hands he carried a bundle of intelligence reports all concerning the Mojave. This was his first field assignment since he was attached to the Office of Army Intelligence and he was determined to make a good impression with is new commander. He took it upon himself to learn everything he could about him.

As he walked, he read his commander’s file for the umpteenth time. Going over what he saw as the important parts. “Eric Reynolds: Joined the armed forces in 2237 at age 14, became a Ranger in 2242 at 19, Served with distinction as a member of President Tandi’s body guard from 2243 to 2247, and Appointed Commander of the 56^th Ranger group in 2248.”Francis thought it odd that substantial parts of Eric’s record concerning the final years as President Tadia’s body guard and his time as commander of the 56^th was blacked out. He often thought about looking into it, but talked himself out of it. Knowing if he was caught trying to look at classified information without authorisation, would see the end of his military service if not his life.

Francis wondered if he would finally see some action. After all he was finally out from behind a desk and out on frontier. He always wanted to be a Ranger since he was little, but the powers that be decided he would be better suited to intelligence work. This meant he would spend his military service in an office somewhere. With is time in the army running out. He managed to pull some strings with the few connections he had made in his first six years, and got himself transferred to the frontier for his second tour.

He would most likely still spend the next six years behind a desk he thought, but at least the chance was there for him to go out in the field. Francis always respected Rangers. Though his new commander was no longer officially a Ranger because of injuries sustained in battle. What battle Francis didn’t know, due to the blacked out sections of Eric’s file. But Francis knew that once you became Ranger, you’re always a Ranger. No matter what the files say. The thought of finally going out into the field under the command of a Ranger made Francis smile.

As he neared the entrance of McCarran’s terminal building he overheard a trooper say “Patrolling the Mojave almost makes you wish for a nuclear winter” which was followed by the laughter of others. “I really hope people stop saying that. It got old weeks ago” he said to himself as he pushed open the terminal door.

The terminal building had been made into the offices of various departments. Francis wished the Rangers would set up an office here as well, but they were getting their own headquarters. Inside was still busy but it was more organised, then what was going on outside. “When are they getting those stupid slot machines out of here?” he asked himself as he made his way to Eric’s Office.

“Good morning sir” Francis said as he walked into the office. “I have gathered all the latest intelligence reports related to the Mojave Sir” he placed them on the desk in front of him and quickly stood at attention. Francis was awed at the sight of his new commander. Eric stood a full head taller than Francis, making him easily over six feet tall.

“At ease O’Brian” Eric said with a deep voice. He looked over Francis with his deep blue eye and then turned his attention to the files that he had placed on his desk. “Take a seat O’Brian and tell me of the most pressing matters first.” Francis sat down on the metal folding chair facing Eric’s desk at the same time Eric sat in his large leather chair facing Francis.

“Well Sir, the most pressing matter would be reports from our scouts that have crossed the Colorado River. They have engaged in several unprovoked skirmishes, with organised tribals calling themselves Caesar’s Legion.

“Casualties?” Eric asked as he reached for the file with his gloved right hand. Picking it up using his forefinger and middle finger, the two remain fingers of his mangled hand.

“Ten dead, eighteen severely wounded and another thirty walking wounded Sir. It seems these tribals are very proficient with melee weapons Sir. All scouting parties are reporting contacts with them. We have managed to kill many of them; estimates are as high as one hundred Sir. Even so Sir, it doesn’t seem to be deterring them.”

Eric leaned back in his chair. He was reading the report as Francis talked. “I’ll see it to that Ranger groups are sent to deal with this so called ‘Caesar’s Legion.’ They should be able to handle this matter, in a few weeks” he said as he closed the file and placed it in front of him.

“Now that that is dealt with, I have with me a list of classified names” Eric said as he took a file from a desk drawer and handed it to Francis. “If these people are here in the Mojave, I want you to find them and detain them.” “Me Sir?” Francis was surprised. “Yes O’Brian, unless you have a problem with that?” “Oh no Sir, there is no problem at all” He could hardly contain how happy he was, trying his best not to jump out of his seat. “May I ask what it is they have done, to warrant being detained Sir?’

Eric furrowed his brow, locking his deep blue eye with Francis’ eyes. “That’s classified.”


It has been over a week since Trudy convinced Thomas to stay. She let him stay in her spare bedroom. Trudy enjoyed having his company. Some days Thomas would come to work with her at the Saloon. He worked in the storage room and also helped to serve drinks. Other days he would be gone for the entire day, only returning late into the night. The first time that he left before Trudy could wake him, she thought he had left for good. But then she noticed that his duffle bag was at the end of the bed. She learned he had kept it in a hole he’d made under that mattress behind Chet’s.
Trudy thought about opening Thomas’ duffle bag. “Maybe it’s some trust test” she told herself as she decided that it would be wrong to go through his belonging. She also thought it best not to ask him where he would go to. From her own personal experience, Trudy knew when someone ways drying out. Thomas was opening up slowly to Trudy. He wouldn’t go into personal detail about himself but he would talk to her about the NCR.

“Vault Eight. That’s where the Vault Dweller came from right? Trudy asked with a big smile. “No wait don’t tell me” she paused while trying to answer her own question. Thomas sat across the counter from Trudy. He was telling Trudy of his time at Vault City. “He came from Vault Thirteen, right?” “Well so the story goes,” he said with a big smile. Trudy was very happy with herself for remembering that. They had closed up the saloon half an hour ago, and they were enjoying the end of the work day. They continued to talk as they made their way to Trudy’s house.

“So where in NCR are you from?” Trudy asked as they walked into her home. She felt that after all this time; she had proven that she was trust worthy enough to learn some personal information about Thomas. He didn’t seem to mind this question. “I was born in Shady Sands.” “That’s the Capital right?” “You’re right again” he said with a smile.

“Do you have any family?” Trudy felt she might be getting a little too bold with that one. This question made him pause for a bit. The two made their way into the hallway. They were standing each with their back toward their bedroom. “I had parents” he said with sadness in his voice. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t be so nosy” Without thinking she reached out and hugged him. He put his arms around her, hugging her tight to his body as if he hadn’t touched another person in years. The two kissed in their embraces, and slowly backed into Trudy’s room.

That was a good chapter. I laughed at the Nuclear Winter thing. Good job putting that in there.

I liked the last chapter a lot, I have to say the ending of the chapter was a bit of a surprise and written very well, a nice turning point for Timothy/Thomas. (edit: if that is his real name )

I laughed at the nuclear winter part too, nice way to add a little comedy into the story.

Trudy snuggled up to Thomas, her arm across his chest. She could feel his heart race as she watched him sleep. He looked as if he was having a bad dream. She thought about waking him, but he woke up startled before she could decide. Sitting up Thomas looked around the room in a panic, not sure of where he was. “It’s ok Thomas, you’re with me, Trudy” she said as she sat up next to him.

He looked confused but he calmed at the sound of her voice. The memory of the where he was and who he was with was returning. “What’s the matter Thomas?” She was concerned. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Nothings the matter, I am ok” he said with a smile. He was clearly lying and Trudy was tired of it. “You want to know what it is I am going here don’t you.” Thomas asked, as if he read her mind. “Yes Thomas, I want to know.”

“The less you know” his mother’s words coming back to him. “How could it hurt to tell her?” A horrible felling came over him as he thought how it could very well hurt her. “So you still can’t trust me can you?” “I can show you” he said as he saw how much he was upsetting Trudy by hiding the truth.

Thomas got out of bed and headed to the other room, picking up is pants as he did so. Trudy grabbed his shirt and put it on. She was about to follow Thomas into the next room when he returned. In his hands he had his duffle bag.

“This is why I am here” Thomas placed an old map on the end of the bed and pointed to a circle drawn with a pen. “It’s a pre-war military bunker, a couple days do north of here.” Trudy noticed many such circles on the map, most crossed out. “You have been to all of these places? She asked looking up at Thomas. “Are all of them pre-war bunkers?” “Most of them are, and yeah I have been all of crossed out ones.”

“Why?” She asked as she once again looked over the map. It wasn’t the same map he left behind in her bar. This one was a lot more detailed. “UNITED STATES MILITARY” written in faded letters at the top. “I am looking for friends of my parents.” Pausing to look at Trudy, “If I could just find some of the other, I can find out why the NCR killed my parents.”

“Are these friends of your parents also running from the NCR?” She realised that it was a dumb question and asked another before Thomas answered. “How do you know they will be there?” “I don’t” he said shrugging his shoulders. “All I know is that they might be at one of them.” “And how do you know that? Trudy asked looking back at Thomas.

Thomas reached into his duffle bag, taking out an old cigar box. Inside was a collection of papers but there was something that shocked Trudy. She saw a pistol, but it wasn’t like any she had ever seen before. It was green and looked as if lights were built into it. It wasn’t that he had a firearm that shocked her. It would have been more of a shock to learn that he didn’t have one. Thomas noticed her look of shock “It belonged to my father.” “I haven’t seen anything like it before. What caliber is it?”

He picked it up, inspecting to see if it was loaded before handing it to Trudy. A habit his father instilled in him. “It doesn’t shoot bullets” he said as Trudy took it from him. It felt lighter than any handgun Trudy had ever handled before. It felt like a toy. She handed it back to Thomas. “It takes these” in his hand was a small silver cylinder.

Placing the pistol beside him, he took out a small book from the cigar box. “My parents used to spend a lot of time with the others, but they split up a long time ago. They never told me why that was. My Dad never even wrote why in is journal. But he did write about the bunkers.” He looked at Trudy to see if she understood any of what he was saying. “Before they split up, they agreed on a code. So they could tell who else was in the area.” Thomas was careful that Trudy couldn’t see all of the code that was written down. She was the first person he had opened up to, but he made sure that he didn’t give too much away.

“It took me a long time, but I figured out the code. They agreed on meeting places across the western United States. They leave markings behind to say who was there and where they are going next.” “So you haven’t been able to find any of the others yet? Trudy asked. Thomas got a sad look “I am always too late, and the trail has gone cold for the most part. The farther east I go, the fewer codes I come across. The last I came across sent me here into the Mojave.”

“Why haven’t you gone there yet?” “I have been gathering supplies and looking to see if there were any markings around here.” Trudy looked into the Cigar box and saw the edge of an old photo. Without thinking she took it out of the box. “Are they your parents?” she asked looking at a photo of a man and woman standing beside one another. The man had his arm around the woman; they were dressed in the same uniform as the troopers of the NCR. Thomas smiled “Yes, they are my parents” he said with a mix of pride and sadness. “He looks just like you Thomas.”

Nice work Styles. Your characters seem to have a nicely developed history to them (even if we don't know exactly what that history is), and are relateable. I particularly enjoy the pace of this story. If I had one complain (in terms of grammer and readability) it would be that there aren't new paragraphs when a new person starts talking. But it's a small complaint and I look forward to learning what happens next.