April 26th, 2034
I emerged from the safety of root cellar after sunset and slipped back into the hills above Lake Casitas a full hour before morning broke over the eastern foothills. As risky as it was to leave my bunker so soon after the attack, I didn’t have much of a choice. Once I ran low on water and my calf muscles began to cramp, the decision was made for me. I can’t afford to let myself dehydrate any further. I’m already pushing my body to the brink, and if my legs were to cramp up and seize when I’m running from troopers, well, I would be a dead man, straight up.
And, dead men can’t destroy battleships.
Captain Ahab needs his great white whale.