March 8th, 2034
Two days and thirty-seven miles later and I’m back in the hills above Pyramid Lake, looking down on Interstate 5, just watching the traffic roll by.
Some things never change.
I scrounged up a pair of motorcycle batteries on the way down, so now I have my radio up and running and I’m connected to the world once more.
I fired her up last night and was able to make contact with Ross, and a host of others. Chatter is high regarding the spring picnic , and I’ve offered to keep a pair of eyes on the base and check in daily. I’ll do anything to keep the ball rolling. This attack has to happen, and it has to happen soon.