It had been probably 6 months since he began this trek and maybe 2 years since the sky had lowered and daytime had left. Tonight (what used to be 'day' was always night) was especially dark and bitter. He walked along what could have been the grassiest of fields but was now nothing but scorched earth, black and ruined and indistinguishable from any other place he had been. He wore his mask which was now as ragged as his old, smelly rags that hung off his malnourished body. His once trimmed hair was long and unruly and he he had grown a beard which seemed to all but enforce the state that all affairs had fallen into, but in his bright green eyes there remained what was either hope or madness.
Day 673 or 520: no sleep again last night. strong winds and no chance of shelter means that continuing walking was inevitable. food has been completely gone for 3 weeks, had this been before the sky fell i believe i would be dead, but after so long in these conditions i believe my body and mind are much harder and i am only beginning to feel the strain. whiskey is about to run out, finished maybe my whole final flask today and am quite drunk. if those from where i came saw they would be 'disappointed,' but i continue as if i were sober. why not be drunk in such awful times, such an awful place.
losing hope in search for hospital 12. my earliest memory after the sky falling is the survivors talking of 12, how 12 was salviation, how one day there would be a complete march to 12. but they began to bear their unbearable surroundings and it became clear no march would ever be made and they would die in the rut that they had created. so i marched alone for 12. my compass told me i headed north which means i was actually travelling south. geomorphological acceleration, or reversal, i try to say it allowed but my words are just slurred and my voice unfamiliar as it is the first time i've spoke in weeks.
Day 674 or 521: joy of joys! easier conditions and a depot of well preserved food today. i was not myself but still walking when i stumbled over a black box. it was well hidden and i struggled to see it even in front of my face. i opened the box and it was a bounty of canned goods. i was so tired eating that i cannot even fathom what it could have been, i just ate and ate without even considering the dangers of re-feeding myself so suddenly. after an unknown period of time the food was gone, so i continued to walk for a distance till i felt comfortably tired and collapsed into a much needed sound sleep.
Day 675 or 522: another mind blowing day, as if my mind wasn't blew enough already! after one of my longest walks in weeks i saw a dent on the horizon, a little black mark piercing the sky which was instead of black the deepest shade of blue. my hopes i held out for this were soon confirmed when i saw an old, completely ruined road sign in which all that could be made out was "12." i was there! my anticipation was only overcame with fatigue, after writing this i will surely fall asleep and tomorrow make for the salvation which has been keeping me running on empty for so long. my ruined body will finally rest after achieving what my stubborn mind had insisted upon for so long.
The next day he approached the hospital. The building was dilapidated but in much better shape than most other things since the sky fell. All was quiet for him as he approached the outside to discover the door was locked. He contemplated waiting here, but the wind which was gathering force encouraged him to shoulder the door in and enter, it was a wonder he had any power in his body left to do this. The fabled hospital was apparently empty, chairs, beds and gurneys sprawled across the old halls. Up and up he thought, what awaits him must be on the top floor. He climbed the staircase 7 times, or 8 times, he couldn't keep track of anything anymore except the desire he had to reach the top. The top floor had only one long corridor that led to a room at the end, the door slightly ajar. Who awaited him here? He walked down, all of a sudden aware of his skinny arms with sunken skin that was covered in dirt moving at his sides. He watched his hands open the door back even further. He entered the room. He observed.
There was only two chairs in this large room. One was a large recliner in which sat a dead, bearded man. His eyes were wide open, gigantic and red. Even though he was clearly dead for some time, his hands seemed to grip onto the arm rests of the chair, and his horrible stare was directed at the other seat in the room, direclty opposite him and only a few feet away. This would have been such a horrifying thing to observe if the disappointment of the scene hadn't drove the observer completely insane. He walked over and took the seat opposite the bearded man, sat back and looked into his eyes. Sometime later he died of fatigue or heartbreak.
And what a shame, no one will remember his name.
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