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[WIP] Survivor's Journal

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A series of journal entries from one man's perspective during a cataclysmic event. Enjoy! (be wary, it is a work in progress).


Samuel Hearst’s Journal
Entry 1 – April 13th, 2014

I never thought I’d actually write in this, but here I am… I couldn’t sleep all night, and I needed to take my mind off things. My watch says 5:07 A.M. That leaves me two hours before we all have to leave… It’s strange, I always wanted to get out of the city and now I have to, and the only place I want to be is right here in my dump of an apartment. Speaking of which, the water went out again. Doesn’t really matter now though, does it? Hang on. Noise outside.

-Few minutes later.
The convenience store opposite my apartment was just robbed… windows were bashed open and what must’ve been a dozen guys cleaned it all out. This place has really gone to hell. But it’s home. Or at least for two more hours it is. Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my place so clean. I’m all packed up. This journal’s the only thing left to pack. I think I’m going to go to sleep, no sense in waiting up for two hours.

-Twenty minutes later.
Can’t sleep. Wish I could call someone, my phones dead… It was a good run though, lasted me two solid years. One drop too many, I guess. Landline’s been shut down. Electricity’s out now too. All I got is this crappy flashlight, hardly even lights up this journal, much less the rest of the room. 5:35 now. Damn, I wish time went faster. I hate waiting. Oh! Knock on door.

A while later.
The knock turned out to be my neighbor, an old man that lived alone. Friendly guy. Used to have a wife, apparently she passed away a few years back. I guess the guy was as lonely as I was, invited me over for a lukewarm beer and a game of cards. The poor man was rather worried, you could just tell by the tone in his voice, not to mention the six empty beers on the counter. Didn’t know old people could drink like that. Makes sense though. The guy’s been living here for the past fifteen years. This is gonna be one hell of a change for him. Oh, how rude of me, I forgot to put his name down. Richard. A good name, don’t hear it a lot anymore, just ‘Mike’ and ‘Joe’ and little one-syllable names. I’m one to talk, I suppose. Everyone calls me Sam. I mean, Samuel just sounds too formal. We talked for a while, but when it was about 6:40 I had to head back, get ready to leave. Which is what I should be doing now, not writing a god damn diary…

-Later, at the docks.
This is absurd, really. I was literally right behind the last person to get on the ferry. Tried to step on but all I got was a shove and an icy cold “sorry, boat’s full.” Jackass. Oh never mind that, he was just doing his job. Got to admit, writing in this thing really helps you see the bigger picture. Next ferry’s in five minutes, we’re all sitting around now. The people around me are fanatic. A new group just arrived, a bunch of twenty-somethings. Probably college kids. As annoying as they were, I couldn’t help but envy them. Sure I was only 30, pretty young, all things considered, but it wasn’t the same. Saying you’re 29 and 30 is like night and day to most people. I guess me too. Ah! Boat’s coming.

Samuel Hearst’s Journal
Entry 2 – April 13th, 2014

This isn’t good. Not good at all. I don’t even know why I’m writing still, but it seems to help me calm down. Back last night, at the boats, there was a disaster. We were all getting on; I was one of the first. Those college kids, however, were unable to get on. The boat was already at max capacity; ten college kids jumping onto the back didn’t help things. When the idiots jumped on, the captain didn’t noticed. We didn’t get far until we started to sink. No one drowned, thank God. The problem is, the police didn’t have time to save us. We were in a rush as it was, and they couldn’t risk a rescue mission. A second ferry carried on. The thing was, the dock we were on was situated over shallows of solid rock. When they made it I guess they decided that instead of digging out the rock they just made it so any boat leaving had to continue down shore about a quarter mile until heading across the river. There’s a government project for ya. Ha! River, if it could even be called that. The thing was huge. It was just like a very, very long lake. Well, to sum it up there are sixty or so of us with a long walk back to the ferry, and a couple hundred thousand people in between. Here’s hoping we’re not abandoned.

An hour later.
SHIT! Those bastards left us. They just left us here. Almost four thousand of us, at least that’s what I hear. So this is what I was paying taxes for? There are no more police, or any of their other asshole associates, left here. They all crossed and I can’t even see them anymore on the other side. They’ve completely abandoned us. I’d like to think they’re coming back. But I’m not an idiot. They’re not coming back. This is perfect. Stranded with four-thousand people and a “rapidly-spreading and highly lethal virus,” as the mayor said. Would’ve been nice if he told us just exactly what this virus does. Hold on. Just heard a scream in the crowd.

 
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