Lost Journal 1

(*Gasping, heavy breathing*)

This is it. I'm...dying, I don't have any illusions. Leg's broken, and there's about two feet of intestine sticking out of this gaping wound in my stomach, and I can't shove it back in. I-I can't feel it anymore, it's completely numb now, that's a blessing at least. Cold, too. Managed to kill the fuckers attacking me, but damage was already done.

To whoever finds this: My name is Cal S-S-Stevens. Grew up in an underground shelter, born just after the world went to hell. Mom was a nurse, dad was a soldier, uncle was a professor. Learned plenty while growing up. Family died in the shelter, little things like heart problems in my uncle, dad got an infection. Came out a few years ago, armed and ready. Thirty-five years old now, and I am about to die because my “team” turned their backs on me.

Dad taught me how to fight, how to shoot, how to throw a grenade. Beyond that, didn't get much from him. Mom, at least, taught me a bunch of other things to survive, like dressing a wound and cooking. So, when I came out I thought I could take care of myself. After about six months on my own, I found a mercenary team. Decent bunch of guys, I thought. Took a little work to get them to let me join, but was safer that sticking out on my own. In retrospect...I probably should've just said fuck it, stayed in the shelter by myself.

See, I knew how to fight. C-Could take down someone coming at me with a knife, could shoot and hit what I aimed at. But I had no idea what was out there now, how to find work, where anything was. I joined the team thinking they'd help me with that, or I'd learn it on my own by watching. Instead, they just used me as an extra gun, told me where we were going but not how we got the job, told me to shoot the thing without telling me what it was. At the time, I thought it was just them saving me the additional work and headache, like they were taking care of me.

Earlier today, we came into this place, like a bunch of tunnels under some old buildings. I don't know why, I was just told to keep alert. Wasn't even told what to watch for. I just marched in the middle of the group, weapon out... And then something came out of the door to my right, like crashed through the door itself, slammed into me and we went through the opposite d-d-door together. Short flight of stairs, I think that's where I broke my leg. Lost my flashlight, just enough light to see the thing's silhouette and another one coming at me. Too dark, too fast. Big wound across my stomach, and I screamed at that one. Bunch of others, smaller, felt the blood flowing even before I killed them.

That was...I dunno, about an hour ago, maybe more. I haven't seen the team since. I even have a radio on me, they could've called. For two years, we fought together. They joked about me being the new guy, fresh meat. But I didn't realize that I was that disposable, like they were happy for the extra worker, the extra gun, when I was there, but couldn't be bothered with anything more. If you're listening to this, spread the word about them. They abandoned someone that was supposed to be one of them, as soon as my limited use was done.