So, I found this journal a few days ago in surprisingly good condition, and only now in the relative comfort of my newest bug-out have I had a moment to gather the courage to unwind its bindings, pry open its cover and reveal its relatively crisp pages. If you're reading this, know you're not alone out here. It can be a harrowing place, this brave new world.
Anyhow, after escaping the confines of the inner-city, I made my way to the outskirts. The absolute silence I was greeted by, broken only by the rasping cry of my Motorcycle's exhaust-pipes, was a welcoming I was both relieved and disheartened by. The absolute stillness gives me a sense of safety; a master of miles of expanse to hide in, to rest and gather my thoughts, of hope that there are safe places left - but, with that comes a dark realization. Even outside of the cities, there's no one left. With too much time to myself, I begin to wonder if I was the only one spared.
I passed an old airport on my way here - God, how I remember those places... But dared not pass beyond its fencing, nor did any of the old housing offer me a place to stay; it's far too reminiscent of a once-upon-a-time, and far too predictable. Almost when I thought I was back into the middle of nowhere, I came across an abandoned supermarket. Windows glow with an electric lamplight I've not seen outside of the motorcycle for a long time; this place still has power!
The office area of the market is barely touched, although time has left behind the scent of old paper and stale air; a taint that seems to haunt every inch of this place.
Even the CCTV circuit still works!
I think I'll hide out here for a few days... The shelves still contain tinned food; the freezers, although swamped with frost, still hum noisily to themselves, their insides chill to the touch. So, until further notice, I'll bunk here for a few days...
