I figured, in the event that I die or something happens to me, it might be beneficial to start keeping a journal. I’m surprised I haven’t written sooner, but I’ve had so much go on these past few months. Lab experiments have been exhilarating, and keeping me busy for the most part. However, I shall keep this journal far away from my scientific studies. That doesn’t mean I won’t talk about work, just not all the scientific and classified stuff. Have to keep in mind that this journal could reach the wrong people, after all…

Anyways, for some time now, since my arrival to the Island, I’ve been working for Deimos. It’s a research facility, here on Arklay Island, looking to find a cure for the recent infection that has caused the dead to walk among the living. Though we haven’t made much progress in that quite yet, I feel very welcomed here. Strangely enough, I feel safe as well. Whether I’m helping Topaz peel potatoes, being taught how to fire a gun from Huntress, or working in the lab with my fellow doctors and scientists, this place feels like home. I truly believe if I stay here that I will flourish into a new person, and that I can do some good in this world. I even met a woman by the name of Neema who wants to help me overcome my stutter. I’ve been learning so much, and I can only continue to expand my knowledge from here on out.

Through all of these new experiences, that have allowed me to grow as a person in this new lifestyle, I still can’t help but wonder about Elaine at times. It’s sad. Sometimes, I find myself wandering the streets; hoping with every last fiber of my being that I’ll see her gorgeous smile, I wander for hours. I know she’s not here. Elaine is likely still in Vancouver somewhere, or maybe just traveling around the state of Washington. As I sit here and write, I hope she hasn’t turned into one of those creatures, but as time passes, the thread of hope I have continues to fade. It felt like an eternity just waiting for her to come home when I was in Vancouver. I felt terrible after yelling at her… Things got so bad. There was no other choice given to me other then leaving the home she had wanted to continue living in.

This is getting a bit heavy… I should probably end this entry before I start making myself sad again.

~Peter Perkins