29.05.202X - 30.05.202X - "My mind's a fucking mess."

 

knox blackout contaminated by toxins purge body of toxins 

I hear weird things sometimes. 

Think weird thoughts. 

Want to hurt myself. 

Want to hurt people around me.
When I take my pills it goes away, but never for long.

What the fuck am I going to do when I run out? Already gave half my oxy stash to Mishka. 

 

It's midnight, by the way. Cloudy skies, lots of wind. Did the rounds along the wall, could have sworn I heard someone scraping and whispering, trying to get in.

Nothing. 

Dead silent. 

Helo's still hovering somewhere northeast of here.

What the fuck are they up to? If I had the range I'd shoot them out of the fucking sky and drag the pilot out of the wreckage and pull out his fingernails until he starts talking.

 This shit has me uneasy. 

 

Mishka's sleeping tight, and so is Harris. 

Rufus is in his tent, snoring like a god damn chainsaw. Despite that, I can't really feel angry about him. Whenever I think about him I always remember this one quote I heard a long time ago.

"There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."

-Hunter S. Thompson

 

 

I feel a bit antsy. 

I know I shouldn't go far, but I'm itching to do something. 

Take my mind off this shit. Figure out that fucking helo.

Maybe I'll do an extended patrol north.

We shared map markers among the team for Muldraugh and other nearby towns. 

Should be easier to communicate where we are now, in case we get lost.

Going to move to point MOTEL, then head back along the main road via VIKERNES and BOOKSTORE, see if anything is going on.

 

-S 

 

03:50 29/05/202X 10°C

LRRP complete, point MOTEL clear, hotwired an old beater hatchback south of point Central and continued patrol. 

9 dead rotters and one accidental discharge. 

Drove back, no sign of anyone.

Helo seems to have pulled out, storm might not be too good for the pilot.

 

 

Mishka wants to go explore.

I'm kind of content sitting here, rain pouring, radio hissing, but nobody goes alone.

Except me, I guess.

Don't want to risk anyone dying again because I figured I'd do something stupid as fuck.

Harris is up as well, Mishka keeps complaining about muscle pain.

Good.

Want to take at least Harris up north to cut up some more wrecks.
Well, we'll see how it goes.

Fingers crossed.

05:00 30/05/202X 11°C 

 

Everything went well. Swimmingly, in fact. 

Harris managed to clear out a bunch of the wrecks, and he seems quite handy with a propane torch now. 

I had him weld up some crates for scrap storage next to the car part trailer. 

Me and Mishka kept the rotters off him, and we're now one Defender richer. Seemed to be in good shape. 

 

Also, we got the propane truck out of the tangle and into the base, and now we'll have enough to survive for at least a few more months. 

 Harris had to go on guard duty after that, so me and Mishka started on the palisade around the storage lot. 

 

She's not exactly a master carpenter yet, but she's doing her best. The weather was definitely not in our favor, though. Raining cats and dogs. 

Mishka had to go inside because of the hypothermia risk.

I finished the southern palisade while she dried herself off. 

After we both heard an explosion to the northeast, we decided to drop everything and investigate. 

We found jack diddly squat, ended up taking the old fire department truck all around town and the environs trying to hunt down the helo, to no avail. 

We cleared out some rotters off the roads, but the piece of shit decided to fail us when we started going offroad. 

At least the rain wasn't too bad, and we got to forage a bit. 

 

Berries, mushrooms, wild onions and leeks, what have you.

Eventually got to chatting with her, as well. 

Nothing particularly deep, just cuisine-related stuff. 

I'd kill for a poke bowl right now, but she seemed disgusted at the idea of raw fish. 

 

At least both of us can agree on our love for mushrooms, no matter how unfamiliar they are, and Mishka showed me a couple nifty tricks for finding berries. 

Talked about a beer-like soft drink called "Kvas" (?) that she loved. As it stands, we have all the ingredients for it. 

Bread, berries and honey, fermenting in a jar. 

Also prepared some more wild yeast and some more berry wine for Rufus. 

 

I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Mishka's not a bad person. 

It's just me, again. 

 

Losing Pansy shook me, losing Izzy... 

 

I don't know when I'll be able to recover from that. 

 

If I'll be able to. 

 

So to have a complete stranger waltz in, steal her room and bed, wield her rifle... 

It just doesn't sit right with me.

But times are tough.

If not her, then maybe me or Harris would have ended up using that FAL. 

I can't keep antagonizing her for these kinds of selfish reasons. 

 

Anyway, after the car broke down, we pretty much just trekked through the forest and shrubs, picking up food here and there, chatting a bit. 

Eventually got to the ranger station near Blackberry(?) and hotwired a sports car after some cursory looting. 

 

That was a real joy to drive. 

 

Afterwards we unpacked our haul as best we could, prepared as much berry wine, pickles and "kvas" as we could, and now I'm in bed, writing, listening to that fucking helo circling around. 

 

What the fuck are they up to? 

Are they behind the fog?

Is it nerve gas? 

 

I have half a mind to call up the others and tell them to load the M60, but... I feel like the pilot's avoiding us. 

Staying at a safe distance. No matter how much I drive around, no matter where I go, the helo's just out of reach. 

Are they observing us?  

 

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY UP TO??!! 

 

 

It's driving me insane. 

Can't sleep for the constant rotor noises. 

When I do finally sleep, it's nightmares and soaked sheets. 

 

I wish they would just leave. 

I really fucking wish they would just piss off to whatever cushy Air Force base they're stationed in and leave us alone. 

Wouldn't have to listen to that shit anymore. 

 

Oxys are taking over now, feeling kinda floaty. 

Mishka's alright in my book, but I don't know when I'll open up to her, if I ever decide to. 

My mind's a fucking mess. 

Even if I were to open up I'm not sure I could adequately express my feelings. 

Guess I'm just "tired". 

As always. 

Since childhood. 

Tired, tired, tired. 

Too tired to smile, too tired to talk, too tired to feel. 

 

Fuck. 

I need help. And I can't ask anyone for help because if I lose them then I'll just fall deeper into that same exact fucking hole. 

Then again, nobody ever said the apocalypse would be comfortable. 

And at least me and Mishka got to share a bit of food and a hot cup of relaxing drink. 

Maybe things will start looking up soon. Not keeping my fingers crossed, but the others helping out with the base is already a big plus in my books.

 

-Sayori

 

 

PS. If I ever get out of here, and the world somehow returns to normal, and I happen to go on a blind date, and my date says he's a professional helicopter pilot, then I'm slitting his throat with the fucking silverware.