Monday, November 22, 2010

Date Unknown

I don't know what time it is either, they took my watch. But for some inexplicable reason, they gave me my journal and a pen. Perhaps they want to read my thoughts when they come for me later.

I don't know where I am. It's a cell of sorts... Maybe 10 by 10... There's a cot, a toilet, a sink, and not much else. I do know there is a camera in the vent, and probably a microphone. 

I woke up in this cell. The last thing I remember was the Humvee approaching, then nothing. I guess I let my guard down, my desire to interact with another human being overwhelmed my survival instinct. And now I find myself a prisoner... I don't know what they're doing to me. Someone comes through the door, dressed in a military uniform, but with insignia which I don't recognize. They knock me out with an injection, not saying a word. Then I wake up, back in this cell. I don't know how much time passes. There are no windows. Can't even feel the walls warm up in the afternoon sun, could be underground for all I know. 

They do feed me, rather well in fact. But they mix up the meals (or so I think) in an effort to confuse me. I'll get a steak dinner, followed by a sandwich, then pancakes and sausage. Or any combination in between. Some days I get "lunch" three times. Or two breakfasts and a dinner. Or it could be that they've knocked me out again and that's just how I remember it...

I have not been beaten. "Studied" is more like it. When I wake in my cell, I usually have multiple needle marks on my arms and legs. But they do not speak to me, nor I to them. It's the same uniformed man who enters my cell each time; I've seen no one else. I've seen no where else... As far as I can tell, it's been three weeks that I've been here. I really don't know for sure, time has no meaning when you can't see the sun.

As best as I can figure, they want to know how I survived the disease. Maybe they think they can make a cure. Or maybe they want to prevent it. I have no way to know, but given the secrecy around here, I'd say it's the latter. I don't know anything beyond that, except for how I intended to finish my last entry, which was "so I'll put this aside for now." 

The sentence I didn't get to finish before the dart struck my arm. It came from behind me. The Humvee was a distraction. Damn my trusting nature... Hopefully this is not my last entry, and hopefully I find out what's going on. If not, I hope this journal winds up in somebody's hands, somebody who will pass on my story to someone else who survived. Who is free...


  1. Ha, I couldn't leave y'all dangling like that! The saga continues...

  2. Man Mayberry,

    I did not expect that!

    Now I have to go and change gears. Through me some bones man!



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  4. That was great and I didn't see it coming at all. And now I am all jacked up till the next step in the story.

  5. Ugh! Oh no! I was hoping for a "warm and fuzzy" meeting. Guess that goes to show after the collapse the "warm and fuzzies" will be few and far between. :(

    Man, this story could go a million different directions. I hope it's not his last journal entry!

  6. Pete, gotta love a good twist!

    Ditch, it can go anywhere. I don't think it'll be his last...

  7. I hope we don't have to wait to long to see what's next.

  8. You're definitely twisted.

    Not even the Brunette?

  9. Twist hell more like a somersault. We come in peace.