It's been too long since I last wrote, mostly because I've been too busy with the present and didn't think I'd be alive too much longer so I couldn't risk wasting time with writing. I'm not dead yet, but it's clear I'm living on borrowed time. I now sometimes forget where I am momentarily, have intense migraines, and I feel a lot more tired (fortunately, these don't happen too often and very rarely during "interactions" with other people). It's terrifying, yet sobering to be at death's door. You see what's important and I'm still strong enough to do something.
Mike and the others didn't come along with me. I expected as much, but still wish they were here. I just want to make a difference before I die. I don't want to leave this world with a whimper, I want to go out fighting. Grant had the right emotions, but devoted them to the wrong thing. He gave up on doing what's right and chose to do only what gave him pleasure. I intend to succeed, even if I end up alone. I'm not angry with them. I could never be. Julie spoke to me just before I left. Even with a foggy memory, our exchange of words comes through clear.
"You sure you want to do this?" she asked, her face still beat up from Grant. I was hobbling myself.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry," she said, almost unable to look me in the eye.
"About what?" I asked.
"That guy said you only have a few months to live. No one else knows except me and Mike."
"Yah, that reminds me. I have you to thank for being alive right now. Had you not shot Grant, I'd be dead already. I owe you my life."
She smiled and said, "If that's true, can I have your sword?"
"As much as I'd like to give it to you, I need every edge that I can get now that I'll be on my own again. I've only got a short time left to accomplish my goal."
"You're goal? What's that?"
"Let's leave that as a surprise," I said turning away, "C'ya, Julie."
As I walked away, although I didn't look back, I could somehow picture the scene behind me; a group of frowning faces, some waving, some looking away. I didn't talk much during my time with them. There really wasn't much to talk about, but even leaving a home you never liked brings a subtle feeling of sorrow to a time and season that's passed. It's all just memories and words upon paper and soon, the memories will be gone.
I suppose the reason I'm writing is for good news. I've gathered about three-fourths of the supplies needed to begin Operation Inferno (it tickles me a little with excitement each time I say). Bases and groups of survivors so generously "gave" me plenty of supplies. For all the enemies I already killed off from my previous time before meeting Mike, I think I made five times the amount of enemies. I tried to "accept" these supplies as discreetly and sneakily as possibly, but I often got too greedy. Not happy with having to kill and injure so many people. In my defense though, I did give most of them fair warning (I'd recently been doubting my skill, but having detained/killed 30 people attempting sneak attacks where I slept and having taken on a base of 20 guys alone, I feel awesome). I've also gotten pretty good with the katana; I've already decapitated two soulless and one guy's arm (I warmed him) though I'm definitely not samurai level yet. I also found an ideal city to set up the operation; it's a good size, not too many soulless and almost no survivors living in it and it's only 15 miles away from where Mike is (thought I'd let him see the results). Whenever I find supplies, I bring them back here.
I've got to be honest. I can't take all the credit for everything I've written her. Twelve days ago, I was searching houses and cars for tools, wood, sprinklers, and gasoline having just visited a small base about two miles away. I came upon a little tin shack. It looked like a tool shed so I went over to it, expecting to find some lumber or oil or something. It was locked. I lightly knocked to see if anyone was living there. That's when I saw a shadow approaching from the left, slowly growing in size. In a flash, I drew my handgun with my left hand, fired right into a guy's chest, then I quickly drew my katana with my right and whipped it to my right (suspecting there to be more) and the blade cut a woman's lip, throwing her off balance and I shot her. It didn't look like there was anyone else, that is, until someone landed on top of me, having jumped from tool shed's roof. She nearly had me pinned except for my right arm, which I quickly took advantage of and blindly elbowed her twice, the second time hitting her throat. I shoved her off, stood up, and proceeded to land one powerful forward kick to her chin, sending her flying back. This knocked her unconscious. The gun fire brought more soulless than I expected, which created a problem. Usually I would stay, kill them, and continue gathering supplies, or if there really were too many, I'd shove anyone still barely alive who was too weak or too stupid to run in a car, house, or base. There was nothing near by to stuff her into and I couldn't just leave her there (in defending myself, I hadn't even looked at her in the face; in her twenties, very pretty, and just had a look of peace about her. It was one of the few times I felt guilty about defending myself). I picked her up, carrying her like the firemen do, and made the sprint to the closest building in sight, holding the katana in my free hand. When I got there, I rushed up to the second floor and barricaded the door. Eventually, I knew they'd lose interest.
Later, when she woke up, upon recognizing me, she backed up into a corner, pulled out a knife along and picked up a chair with the other hand. I won't go into the long details, but I'll give you the summary. I eventually talked her down to putting her weapons away, explaining myself and why I was at that tool shed. The people I killed were her friends so she held resentment toward me. I told her about my plan and although she thought it was crazy and only something a moron would do, she chose to help (I think this was because she hoped to kill me or I'd die in the process). Her name is Katy. The first few days were pretty rough with her getting a hold of a gun or something and trying to kill me. I always got the upper hand and stopped her. It reached the point where I went back on my desire not to have hurt her in the first place. Had she did this a few more times, I'd have killed her until on one attempt, she broke down and starting sobbing on my shoulder. Afraid the noise would draw soulless, I tried to calm her. She was angry with me, but she was also alone for the first time in a long time and I was the only person left. I'm sure she could have left and found others, but it's human nature to stick with the familiar, especially when you're scared. I knew the feeling. I told her about my imminent death, thinking at the time it would make her happy. It just made her cry more. From then on, we grew closer and so far, she hasn't tried to kill me again. At night, we talk about our pasts and the stuff we like. There are times where she'll stop for a few moment before quietly continuing the conversation, probably remembering I'm the guy who killed her friends. I taught her survival, combat, weapon, scavenging, and hunting skills. She really didn't have much to teach me, but she did take care of me when the problems resulting from the drugs began becoming worse. Funny. Just when things seem so good in my life is when it's coming to an end. Fate is strange. You'd think with all this time we're spending talking and training that the operation would be moving slower, but it's moving just as fast.
One more good thing. Now that I have a traveling companion, I have someone to fulfill my wishes after death. I've given her instructions on what to do with my body. I'm leaving everything in her hands, including the plans for Operation Inferno. I told her I hope she'll continue it after I'm gone because one go isn't going to be enough.
She fell asleep an hour ago. I feel the urge to do many things. To get up and kiss her on the forehead, to radio Mike and let him know I'm alright, but it's not the right time yet. I think I'll go to bed. Hopefully, I'll live to see tomorrow.
- Jack's Diary
Mike and the others didn't come along with me. I expected as much, but still wish they were here. I just want to make a difference before I die. I don't want to leave this world with a whimper, I want to go out fighting. Grant had the right emotions, but devoted them to the wrong thing. He gave up on doing what's right and chose to do only what gave him pleasure. I intend to succeed, even if I end up alone. I'm not angry with them. I could never be. Julie spoke to me just before I left. Even with a foggy memory, our exchange of words comes through clear.
"You sure you want to do this?" she asked, her face still beat up from Grant. I was hobbling myself.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry," she said, almost unable to look me in the eye.
"About what?" I asked.
"That guy said you only have a few months to live. No one else knows except me and Mike."
"Yah, that reminds me. I have you to thank for being alive right now. Had you not shot Grant, I'd be dead already. I owe you my life."
She smiled and said, "If that's true, can I have your sword?"
"As much as I'd like to give it to you, I need every edge that I can get now that I'll be on my own again. I've only got a short time left to accomplish my goal."
"You're goal? What's that?"
"Let's leave that as a surprise," I said turning away, "C'ya, Julie."
As I walked away, although I didn't look back, I could somehow picture the scene behind me; a group of frowning faces, some waving, some looking away. I didn't talk much during my time with them. There really wasn't much to talk about, but even leaving a home you never liked brings a subtle feeling of sorrow to a time and season that's passed. It's all just memories and words upon paper and soon, the memories will be gone.
I suppose the reason I'm writing is for good news. I've gathered about three-fourths of the supplies needed to begin Operation Inferno (it tickles me a little with excitement each time I say). Bases and groups of survivors so generously "gave" me plenty of supplies. For all the enemies I already killed off from my previous time before meeting Mike, I think I made five times the amount of enemies. I tried to "accept" these supplies as discreetly and sneakily as possibly, but I often got too greedy. Not happy with having to kill and injure so many people. In my defense though, I did give most of them fair warning (I'd recently been doubting my skill, but having detained/killed 30 people attempting sneak attacks where I slept and having taken on a base of 20 guys alone, I feel awesome). I've also gotten pretty good with the katana; I've already decapitated two soulless and one guy's arm (I warmed him) though I'm definitely not samurai level yet. I also found an ideal city to set up the operation; it's a good size, not too many soulless and almost no survivors living in it and it's only 15 miles away from where Mike is (thought I'd let him see the results). Whenever I find supplies, I bring them back here.
I've got to be honest. I can't take all the credit for everything I've written her. Twelve days ago, I was searching houses and cars for tools, wood, sprinklers, and gasoline having just visited a small base about two miles away. I came upon a little tin shack. It looked like a tool shed so I went over to it, expecting to find some lumber or oil or something. It was locked. I lightly knocked to see if anyone was living there. That's when I saw a shadow approaching from the left, slowly growing in size. In a flash, I drew my handgun with my left hand, fired right into a guy's chest, then I quickly drew my katana with my right and whipped it to my right (suspecting there to be more) and the blade cut a woman's lip, throwing her off balance and I shot her. It didn't look like there was anyone else, that is, until someone landed on top of me, having jumped from tool shed's roof. She nearly had me pinned except for my right arm, which I quickly took advantage of and blindly elbowed her twice, the second time hitting her throat. I shoved her off, stood up, and proceeded to land one powerful forward kick to her chin, sending her flying back. This knocked her unconscious. The gun fire brought more soulless than I expected, which created a problem. Usually I would stay, kill them, and continue gathering supplies, or if there really were too many, I'd shove anyone still barely alive who was too weak or too stupid to run in a car, house, or base. There was nothing near by to stuff her into and I couldn't just leave her there (in defending myself, I hadn't even looked at her in the face; in her twenties, very pretty, and just had a look of peace about her. It was one of the few times I felt guilty about defending myself). I picked her up, carrying her like the firemen do, and made the sprint to the closest building in sight, holding the katana in my free hand. When I got there, I rushed up to the second floor and barricaded the door. Eventually, I knew they'd lose interest.
Later, when she woke up, upon recognizing me, she backed up into a corner, pulled out a knife along and picked up a chair with the other hand. I won't go into the long details, but I'll give you the summary. I eventually talked her down to putting her weapons away, explaining myself and why I was at that tool shed. The people I killed were her friends so she held resentment toward me. I told her about my plan and although she thought it was crazy and only something a moron would do, she chose to help (I think this was because she hoped to kill me or I'd die in the process). Her name is Katy. The first few days were pretty rough with her getting a hold of a gun or something and trying to kill me. I always got the upper hand and stopped her. It reached the point where I went back on my desire not to have hurt her in the first place. Had she did this a few more times, I'd have killed her until on one attempt, she broke down and starting sobbing on my shoulder. Afraid the noise would draw soulless, I tried to calm her. She was angry with me, but she was also alone for the first time in a long time and I was the only person left. I'm sure she could have left and found others, but it's human nature to stick with the familiar, especially when you're scared. I knew the feeling. I told her about my imminent death, thinking at the time it would make her happy. It just made her cry more. From then on, we grew closer and so far, she hasn't tried to kill me again. At night, we talk about our pasts and the stuff we like. There are times where she'll stop for a few moment before quietly continuing the conversation, probably remembering I'm the guy who killed her friends. I taught her survival, combat, weapon, scavenging, and hunting skills. She really didn't have much to teach me, but she did take care of me when the problems resulting from the drugs began becoming worse. Funny. Just when things seem so good in my life is when it's coming to an end. Fate is strange. You'd think with all this time we're spending talking and training that the operation would be moving slower, but it's moving just as fast.
One more good thing. Now that I have a traveling companion, I have someone to fulfill my wishes after death. I've given her instructions on what to do with my body. I'm leaving everything in her hands, including the plans for Operation Inferno. I told her I hope she'll continue it after I'm gone because one go isn't going to be enough.
She fell asleep an hour ago. I feel the urge to do many things. To get up and kiss her on the forehead, to radio Mike and let him know I'm alright, but it's not the right time yet. I think I'll go to bed. Hopefully, I'll live to see tomorrow.
- Jack's Diary
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