September 27th, 2033
I’ve been moping around the past couple of days. I haven’t even left camp. Just sitting around feeling numb. The encounter of the other night hangs heavy. It’s a hard memory to process and I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out why, other than the obvious, it has hit me so hard.
I think I have an answer.
This is the start of the second die-off.
Winter’s coming, – not so much here in Southern California, but in the north, the mid-west, Europe, Canada…. How many of us will make it through to spring?
Is that part of the Threak’s plan? Wait us out. No need to hunt down the rest of us, just let nature take its course.
No food. No shelter. No hope.
Is that what’s going on here?