Morning in Malton

You Search and Find Nothing

I know that I am missing time, but I know not how much. As I struggle to remember, I am aware that I must also keep moving. Having a goal and staying in motion is the best way to keep your mind off the grim reality. Too many have succumbed to lethargy, despair, and surrender on which the things outside thrive over fear. Their abandon lead to their ruin.

My head is still fuzzy and my instincts are affected.  I have been losing small time since the long time that I have already lost. Minutes perhaps, possibly days, but nothing as large as the big black before this last week. There is fresh blood on my hands and I am unsure from whom or what it bled. I am also missing items. I have less ammo, my first aid kits are gone and so is the can of fuel I had. Was I generous or ruthless in these lost moments? Did I give things away, or were they taken? I am almost amused that I am more frustrated by these questions than the other-worldly awfulness of our collective situation. I need to stop blaming myself for things beyond my control. I  need to recoup these material losses, even if the mental ones will have to wait.

Supplies are far more scarce than I remember. Everywhere has been ransacked. It seems that the end is more near than ever. Yesterday I rummaged through a police department and found one shotgun shell. Just one. I spent the rest of yesterday and all day today scavenging another factory finding nothing but pipes, crowbars, and fire axes which I discard as useless. I need a generator and fuel to get the hospital and nearby NT buildings back in action. A once sanity saving activity veers quickly in the other direction, but what else can you do? All day, you search and find nothing.