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A dusty old Journal had been dropped in town, curiously you flick to the last page to find the owner.

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Day… Fuck, I don’t even remember anymore. Who cares. Everyone’s fucking dead anyway.

I’m just glad I have you, Journal. Days are bleeding into weeks, weeks into months and months into years… It’s been two, what, Three since the BEBOV hit? Frankly I don’t know how I’m surviving anymore. I’ve walked my way from Washington, through Oregon and it’s the same thing; Buildings burning or destroyed, cars overturned, people turning against people, dead coming to ravage the remains. I’m tired of it, I want to plant my roots somewhere but every time I do, I’m forced out. The Infected may be dumb, I’ve never seen one work a door or climb a ladder but their sheer numbers overwhelmed every bit of resistance I thought I could muster. My bones ache for a warm fire, a soft bed and the touch of a woman but I know these things aren’t a reality anymore. It’s me, the road and a hunting rifle slung over my back.

Oh, just to update you Journal… I… lost Blue yesterday. She was bitten trying to squeeze her way through an overturned Wal-Mart we came across. I thought it was empty, I should have fucking checked and lead the way. I’ve heard humans scream year after year but nothing broke my heart than hearing my poor Blue whine and scream. She was a good dog, the best dog that I’ll ever meet. I fucking miss her so much. (Tears stained the page, Malakai’s handwriting became illegible the more he spoke about Blue.) She bled out in my arms last night, I’ve not slept a wink since. I didn’t want to risk her turning, I’ve never heard or seen a Zombie animal personally, but I couldn’t risk her shattering all those fond memories we shared. As soon as she passed, I destroyed her brain with my bat.


(More tears spattered the page, the next handwriting seemed more composed, like Malakai had taken some time to pull himself back together.)

But that’s life I guess. Don’t get attached to anyone or anything.  It’ll send you insane losing person after person. I’ve heard of a legend, an island off the coast of California. I hope it’s true, if there is fortification there along with a community I’ll do my work, buy a house from whatever scumbag is racketing survivors and life my life until I finally die. Lord knows I can’t kill myself, I’ve tried.


I hope Arklay Island holds a brighter future…
Til’ next time Journal, thank you for being there for me.


((If you’d like to claim that you’ve found this Journal and return it to Malakai please feel free to I’m always up for RP interactions. My inworld name is Slevin.Draconia, just drop me an IM and we can set up a scene. I ask that you leave me an IM so I can let others know that it has been found or update this, thank you!))