I've been alone for a week, now. Sometimes it feels like a lot longer than that. Other times I look around expecting Gage or Shasta to jump out and scare me and tell me this was all just a giant practical joke. But it's not a joke. It's not. It's just not. I figured I should record what's going on, while I've got time. Walking takes up most of the day, but I can't sleep with them out there. Screeching and shambling about in the darkness. The streets echo sound and the sound keeps me awake. I'm scared to death every day that I'm still alive. That's about the only thing I'm not afraid to admit. Maybe I'll be able to actually get something of use into this journal, or diary, or eulogy, whatever. At this point, I don't even know if anyone will ever hear this. Right now, I can't think straight enough to to give a full description. I need to find some focus, something talking to myself always gave me back home. It also made people back home think I was a little crazy, yammering to myself as I strolled down the streets. Not that home probably exists anymore. Nova Marina was big, but after what I've seen that last few days, I don't think being in a city is where anyone wants to be. Of course, I'm walking through what amounts to one long, stretched out city. A dead city, but still a city. I haven't even made it off the peninsula yet, I don't think. I saw an old sign along the road today. Welcome to the City of San Carlos I don't really know where this place is compared to where I'm headed, I just know I have to keep going. This place has been dead for years, centuries maybe. It's 182 a.r., so, yeah, almost 200 years. It's crazy to think this place used to be full of people, millions of them according to the history books I read in school. I wish I was still in school. At home, with my parents yelling at me about my bad grades. Those fights were bad, but anything would be better than this. My own personal Hell on Earth. Except even the devil called out sick. Not that I can blame him. I guess next year we'll have to change the calendar counts again. After Rising doesn't seem like a good marker anymore, since this is pretty much the Second Rising. I guess this might be the first book they find from 0 a.s.r., if they ever find me out here. Whoever they are. I'm not going to make it home. I think I've known that for a few days. No, I'm just being dramatic. I've got woodcraft and I can make shelter and start a fire. Fire, oh I wish I could light one. I tried that the first night. That's when we lost Shasta. I hope she is alright. Gage couldn't take it, her being out there alone. So now we're all alone, unless he found her. I hope he did. Being alone out here is scary. Really scary.