It’s been five days since the incident… or was it five years, no one knows anymore.
Every day seems to fly by, yet linger on forever. I barely even remember my own name now… Steve, was it? It doesn’t even matter to us anymore. I, like the rest, have heard rumors of safehouses underground but everyone knows they’re fake. There is no “safe” anymore; safety is just a count of how many more days you have left. I can’t trust anyone anymore, not even myself, turn your back for a second and there’s a sword at your throat. I’m running out of supplies now, all I have left is a wooden sword, four apples, some bandages, a backpack to carry them in, and a leather chestplate. I was a builder, there is no use for a builder anymore. I’ve been heading north, I hear there is diamond, full armor sets of it, even weapons. I don’t know if I should trust Them though, the government did start all of this.

I’ve been walking for ten days now, I found some friends along the way but most of them didn’t last very long. The ones who did might not last much longer; the same can be said for me. We have found some old chests with basic armor and food rations. One even had a stone sword, it would be hard to carry, but worth it. After another day of travel, we came across an old hut with a bow and 12 arrows in it. The bow was still in working condition and the pressure on the string was powerful, we gave it to the best trained in our group. It would prove a great help for finding food. All food is eaten raw, except on rare occasion for celebrations, we don’t care about catching disease; the world is a disease at this point.

Sometimes I remember things of the days before. I had a family once, a lifetime ago; a wife, son, a daughter and I had hope. My name was Steve. There was love and beauty, hopes and dreams. We had a place in the village and a house on the bay. After the meltdown we escaped to the bay. We thought we could make it. But we were not immune to the horror that was to unfold.
It’s been fifteen days since the incident… or was it? I don’t know anymore. We move in search for food and survival is our goal. There was no past.
I’m forgetting who I am, what I am, why I’m running. I don’t know the people I’m with, I’ve known them for years but I don’t know who they are. I don’t remember peace, survival, anything, only carnage; battle, death all around me. I can always see the giant, towering walls of the Haven but they aren’t there. I know it’s there, it has to be, They see me and I need to find Them. I don’t want to keep running, I can’t keep running. I could just be one of those things, it would be so easy. There is no reason to run; there is only the end.