July 13th, 2033
This has been the hardest day yet.
On the road outside of Oxnard, I saw thousands of men, women and children being led south, – single file down the middle of the PCH by a few dozen Threak troopers. Each person was shackled by the wrist, and in turn, shackled to the individual in front of them. Each tragic figure wore the look of the damned.
Slowly, the procession made its way past me. Tears welled in my eyes and rolled down my face.
I have never felt so helpless before.