Well, I guess this will be my first time using a journal. I was kind of hoping I would use it at a better time, but I’m feeling kind of lonely with this whole dead wasteland survival issue. You may be asking yourself “Why in the world Is he in a wasteland?” The reason I’m in this wasteland is because I was traveling with my assigned group to go get food or should I say “dog food” when we were attacked by raiders. My group managed to get back to our “home base” or small town with a makeshift wall around it.

The ‘home base” was set up right after the “disease.” It’s pretty much the only safe place in eastern North America at the moment. I’m honestly not sure if I should be documenting this but who knows? This might be a hit in another 90 years when somebody walking through a huge forest finds a dead guy with a perfectly good notebook next to him.
I have plenty of food because the town makes sure to send plenty of packaged food with us. It tastes like straight up dirt, but believe me, its food. It’s meant to last, not to taste good. Now onto my real problem: water.  How cliché, the problem is always water. I don’t have much water because While I was climbing into the truck, our designated driver hit the gas pedal and some food packages slid off of the truck, but the water is always inside of the trucks because of some dumb rule the “home base’s council” came up with.
At the moment, I’m sitting somewhere in between New Hampshire and Maine. I find it so convenient that I failed all of my courses that involved nature, and here I am sitting on my butt in the middle of the forest. I may be somewhat dumb when it comes to nature, but I’m not stupid enough to see the trail that leads back to “sketchy wall town” or “home base.”
While I was preparing my food and water for the long hike back, the raiders came back. I hid under a pile of rubble of what I’m guessing was a small, sad house before the Disease. Luckily the raiders didn’t steal anything from me because all of my stuff was in my backpack with me.
So I started walking back to the town about two hours ago, and this already sucks. I didn’t want to document the start because I wanted to save time. I know walking isn’t the most exciting thing by itself, but with nobody around and limited supplies, it’s creepy, boring, and a bit worrying. I think I might take a break from the journal to try and make this walk faster and save supplies.
It’s been about two days since I last updated the journal. But in the past two days, I’ve made amazing progress, and I’ve got plenty of food, but in these past two days I had my third confrontation with the raiders and they took my water bottle, My ONLY water bottle. Luckily there was barely any water left in it. I am quite dehydrated, but on this walk back, I saw so many overgrown, abandoned houses. The disease truly was and still is a terrible thing. But on the bright side, I can now see “Sketchy Wall Town.”
Sadly, it will take me at least a day and a half to get there. If you haven’t figured it out yet, the Raiders are the bad guys. They were formed by the people who were denied to enter the refugee camps after the disease had destroyed their towns and cities. They’re basically really angry and if you try and leave them, they will execute you. They’re a pretty big problem.
Since I’m on this incredibly exciting and eventful walk, I might as well explain the disease too. First off, this angry disease of ours is not at all natural. It is a biological disease created by the United States as a defensive weapon. But while they were transporting it in 2054, the truck transporting it crashed, and it was released into the air which caused massive amounts of havoc and death.
The disease basically causes your immune system to shut down, and then it proceeds to release toxins into the blood stream, which kill lots of cells in the body, and give you itchy welts. Although it is not very common anymore, you can still be infected by bad air and water, as well as direct contact with the disease. I’m kind of worried because I recently walked through a restricted area because of its air quality.
It’s been about a day and a half, and I’m almost at the gate. I hope that they will let me back in. I can’t stay out here in this wasteland if I’m tired as a walked dog and extremely dehydrated.
As I’m approaching the gate I see two guards start moving towards me with guns and suits filled with pure air. They keep moving towards me with their guns pointed right at me.
“Who are you?” one of them asks.
“James Persain, refugee 8152.”I reply.
“He’s that guy, that guy who got left at sector 4” One of them whispers.
The other guard says “So what should we do?”
The guard replies with “Protocol 17”
“Do we really have to?” The other one says.
“Just give me a chance, please.” I plead.
Well, it looks like I’m finally home. I’m with my family and my friends and at last I can eat real food and sleep in a soft bed. While I was on that hike it made me realize how much I really missed this place. Even though it’s great to be back, I’m so worried about the test coming back positive. I really hope the test doesn’t come back positive. If it does, Protocol 15 will be used for the first time in years, and I’ll have to run away like a scared cat.
I see the two guards that I had met earlier today walking towards my house. As they walk up the steps, one says:
“I’m sorry sir”
I am a wild animal trying to escape from them, but they still drag me by the arms while I struggle. They bring me outside of the camp, hold me down, and stick a syringe filled with some lethal chemical into my left arm. Then I fell asl-