November 1st, 2033
As hard as it was to leave, I knew I had to. I’ll be back in a couple of days and if someone else stumbles onto the cabin while I’m away, well, more power to them. I certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone for that. We all live in the moment now. Nothing lasts forever. I think that’s understood by all.
I lit out after dark and after a few hours I spotted the rock cropping I’d used as a marker the last time I blew through the area. Interstate 5 lay on the opposite side of a slight rise a mile to the west, and less than six hours after leaving the cabin I was already nestled in the scrub overlooking the northbound slope of the interstate.
The air base sat below at the bottom of the grade.
Transports rolled past as they had before, but not in the same numbers. Whereas they used to roll past at a rate of one every fifteen minutes, now it’s more like one per hour.
Why the change?