January 28th, 2034
I’m holed up in the underbrush next to a recreational vehicle park overlooking Highway One, otherwise known as the Pacific Coast Highway, or, as the locals called it, the PCH. The night is cold and clear and the stars are out in force. I’ve got a clear view of the two-lane road below and I’ve seen quite a few transports come rolling through in the past few hours.
I had no idea they had further interests out here. Come morning I’ll start snooping around in earnest.
In the meantime, I still have the 2-way radio. All I need is a battery and I’m connected once again. There are quite a few donor cars littering the PCH, so finding a battery that still has some juice shouldn’t prove to be too difficult.