Exclusion Zone 15

 Hangout - Part 1 “Mishka...” Sayori said, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, Mish...” She was dressed quite atypically for the situation – a simple and summery white knee-length dress, paired with her old, faded red Converse and dark socks covering her shins. The look, if you could call it that, was largely ruined by the patchwork of scar tissue spread across her body, occasionally covered by a fresh – albeit rain-soaked – bandage. The dress itself was sodden, as was the girl wearing it – the ongoing thunderstorm and constant rain had done her little favor, and even the creamy white of the dress was more of a dull gray tone. Quite exposed, one might think, and Sayori thought so too, but... this was supposed to be a “ hang out ”.  With Mishka.  Not a night spent reloading magazines for tomorrow's use, not a night spent cooking and pickling and weeding and welding, a proper hangout. She'd still elected to keep her little black thigh bag – the one containing her medicat

 Autopilot Sayori sat at her table, bolt assembly in hand, furiously shaking it back and forth, occasionally wiping the solvent-carbon-soot mixture on the tissue in her other hand. She'd just finished logging the evening's events in her journal. Too many thoughts. Too many of the negative kind, anyway, and judging by the last few days' events, her mindset wasn't about to improve any time soon. Losing the Humvee she'd grown to love so much, having to leave their loot behind, Izzy's old FAL, the argument with Mishka... She sighed and got up, placed the bolt assembly on the table – she'd assemble the rifle later – and rummaged through the mess that was her medicine drawer until she found a 20mg Prozac tablet. Swallowing pills without water had pretty much become second nature to her, but she took a swig anyway. The day had been – as she'd put it – a “ fucking scorcher ”, and staving off dehydration was a fairly important aspect of survival

  11:40 16/06/202X 25°C – FORT MULDRAUGH Got back home just an hour ago. Christ, what a fucking mess that was. Had been pretty much carrying Mish the most of the way after we lost the Hummer and had to retreat. Movement was slow, at best, and I was pretty banged up as well. Stitches, bandages, hemostate, the works. Lost my new rifle and my journal when running through the forest, doubt I'll ever see them again. We thought we'd take it easy once we got clear of the rotters. Mish picked some mushrooms and berries, I managed to catch a couple fish that I filleted right then and there, we just got a proper campfire started when the fucking fog rolled in. Saved what we could of the food, put it in ziplocs. Still don't know if it was safe to eat, but we scarfed it down, cold, after the fog disappeared. Just sat there the rest of the time, watching the fire grow and burn brighter, like a beacon in the greenish fucking pea soup we lived in. I think we both slept, too