"I haven't written in a while. My arm healed up somewhat, at least I thought it did. But James has gotten worse only a day after my last entry. Their fever spiked really high and we weren't sure which medications we could give them. It got to the point where they began hallucinating. For some reason I started feeling guilt. Maybe because I have taken anti-infammatory pills for my arm and the stash became scarse. Maybe because I felt like I needed to know what to do. I'm not sure what urged me to slip across the wall and run. My hike lasted a good while, because the sun began setting when I was forced to stop. I wasn't really aware of my surroundings so I slipped and sprained my ankle. Only when I was in the grass I noticed my arm was in pain and I was burning up as well. I started accepting the fact that I'd perish before I'd be found by our people, when I noticed what looked like a spear pointed directly at the lense in my mask. I was found, but not by anyone from the commune. It was that lurker that made it impossible for me to sleep. Before I could say anything that bastard knocked me out with a hard object. A metal bottle maybe? I woke up hours later in the lurker's hideout. I fully expected to have missing kidneys and valuables, but to my surprise, they were all there. I was patched up, actually. Fresh bandages on my arm, my head and a wet rag across my forehead to calm the fever down. I didn't really believe salvation had arrived yet, since I could have just been taken as a hostage. Dear this is going to be a long entry. The sun started rising when my captor showed up, hands filled with canned food and water bottles. For a good while I believed my fever made me hallucinate just like James. I must have started seeing ghosts, because I was looking at Gordon. We all believed he died a year ago. However we were either facing a zombie invasion or he managed to survive. The following hours were extremely awkward. Neither one of us spoke much. We simply shared the pathetic meal of canned beans warmed up over the coal stove and shared very simple explanations of how we've been. I had a lot of shame in me. The things I've done since the blast, I'm not proud of still haunt me. Even now when we're both in the commune once more. Gordon wasn't percise in recounting his story either. All I learned is that he got blinded by the blast, clawed at his face until he could somewhat see and scream, was found and treated by Victor and once he and Kevin died in winter, he began hiking around, just trying to survive. I couldn't help but mention the hoofprints we found and I was told he found a horse. The mare was very much alive and healthy somehow, so she's been helping him get his stuff around with a carriage. Once I got better, she was the one to get us to the commune. I was in the car, forbidden to even move my leg. During our way back I've gotten the feeling things were at least somewhat like before. The conversations became less forced, we even joked a little. I was mortified when Gordon showed me his prosthetic legs, but after he joked they make good projectile weapons, I felt a little bit better. Two fingers on his left hand were missing too, but he snapped at me when I asked. I noticed he was taking swigs from a bottle that reeked of alcohol as well. I was disappointed for a while, but then understood, returning to addiction is something anyone would do in such a situation. And I couldn't really scold him for bad attitude either. I wasn't as nice myself. People were quite shocked when we returned, obviously. Quite suspicious too. But when Gordon helped them find medication for James, they grew to trust him. Even if it was just a little. They don't trust me much anymore either, after running away like that. We're both outcasts. Maybe we'll get closer on those grounds. The distance he's keeping me at is killing me."
