Aila sat on the top floor of the hospital, a cup of coffee in one hand, a pen in the other, and her Journal in her lap. She reached up to give her reading glasses a push up, took a sip of the warm coffee as her foot kicked lightly, pen touching the first page,

May 13th, 2017.

“I have never written in a journal before, not even before this one. I never felt I knew what to write about, but today I do. My journey from Rhode Island has been a long and hard one, but on February 25th, I made it to Arklay. I wasn’t sure what I was traveling West for, until I arrived here. After my parents and my lover passed away only a bit after the beginning of the Outbreak, when there were still few Infected, we burnt down our house and our barn on our farm. Me and my two brothers took off for California. My younger brother died before we even reached Ohio during a run into a Stop And Shop. By the time we reached. In Kansas, my Oldest brother and I were in what seemed to be a ghost town. There was a hoard gathered by the gates of the ally. While he was in the gas station, and I was poking around across the street in an old floral store for some scissors, the gate gave way and the street was flooded. We had to flee in different directions. After a day of running to get the Infected off my trail, I doubled back to the town, and camped out for a week, but he never came back, and I had to move on. In Colorado, I met a young woman who said she was leaving a place called Arklay, heading East to find her family. From then on, Colorado to California, I left signs for my brother every where I could, in stores, on telephone poles, on the road…

‘Follow the arrows and find me again, be you lost or a memory

-Your loving sister, A.’

When I ran out of ink, I wrote in mud. When it was too dry for mud, I wrote in my own blood. When I ran out of paper, I wrote in some chalk I found at a corner store. When I ran out of that, I drew arrows with limbs of the infected.

But now I have new friends  a new family. I am engaged. My Fiance leaves me on the island of Arklay, and for long periods of time, he flees to the main land. I never know what he does over there. But the others, they are my brothers and my sisters. But even now, nearly 3 months into my new like in Arklay, I still think about my brother, and where he is. For now I will just have to continue to rise, so I can see over the trees and the buildings for any boats that may carry him back to me.”