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     Days Of Future Past (AU Future Journal), Forgot I'd actually written this
    Kenji Fujinawa
     Posted: Nov 11 2014, 06:18 PM
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    Asian Sherlock
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    Machete
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    24-May 14
    88 posts
    played by Soren
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    Post-Apocalypse Year Six


    After so long I never would have thought that the dead would turn out to be the least of our worries…

    If I started off by explaining all that has happened since I last wrote in this Journal than it would take up this entire book and most likely a good portion of another equally sized notebook. A simple brief explanation of whatever first fills my mind will have to suffice and I’ll add more details later on if I see fit. The challenges we’ve faced as a group are not unlike what one would expect from any other group. We’ve seen more losses, dealt with unspeakable horrors and in the aftermath of the unthinkable we’ve persevered. The enemies from our darkest nightmare reemerged as our strongest ally. Together we’ve built a network of communities allied together all throughout our little fraction of territory built under The Society’s rule. I don’t want to try and explain the amount of horror and unintentional self-inflicted trauma that we’ve endured because I fear that once I start I will not be able to stop. I’m going to choose a topic at random and try to narrate the details and collect my thoughts in the hope that it will provide solace and maybe entertainment to the individual who comes across this Journal in the time of my passing. Maybe Norman is right in his belief of establishing a written detail of History so a future generation can look back on our hardships and learn from our mistakes.

    I doubt it..but with each passing day the possibility of reestablishing Society under this tyrannical but awfully fair man’s rule is becoming more and more likely. I am now going to begin to explain the biggest trouble weighing down my mind which keeps me from functioning at full capacity.

    We’re at war. A war against other living beings, all vying for a chance at power and territory risking our lives to hold strength in the shattered remnants of what we’ve claimed as ours. As I sit here in this dimly lit storage unit trying to write my thoughts on paper, my eyes land on Robin. Her slim and weathered figure lays delicately on the bed to my side. In the five years since the dead started to rise I have never came across a more optimistic and caring individual like her. She serves as my beacon in the darkness, the light that draws me in and burns passionately like a fire that fuels me forward. One day I wish to move the residents of this town into The Society’s Kingdom. But doing so would declare a sign of submission to Norman’s rule and therefore make me acknowledge our gift of life from him. That would shatter the hearts of my followers and break the spirits of those under my leadership. I can’t afford to do that. Nunez remains neutral but there is a possibility for my refuge being targeted by those who wish nothing more than to torture, slave and endure chaos onto all that is holy in this godforsaken land.

    We need to be ready for that. Swallowing my self-pride would only destroy the fragrance of false humanity that we are so desperately trying to maintain. Holding our fortress here will inspire the many allies loyal to me to stand together.

    In a world burning with despair and hopelessness, breaking this spirit is as good as killing them.

    My thoughts wander to the skirmish we fought last month when our multi-settlement coalition of survivors saw fit to strike an advancement of Chaos followers who tried establishing a base just twenty miles from our Outpost in Gainesville. It didn’t even occur to me just before the assault that our combined Army of Militia-Palace-Kershaw-Jericho-Nunez forces were striking an ally of our enemies who had done nothing to us personally except be loyal to the our mutual enemy. I feel that in situations like this, the moral choices need to be left at the door. When we reigned hellfire on that group of nomadic horror enthusiasts there was not a single look of regret or sympathy to be shared among those under my leadership.

    We lose four of our own in the assault. One of them was a guy from my group. I didn’t know him that well aside from the talk we shared when he joined but I feel like his death wasn’t needed. His name was Roger, before the Apocalypse he’d been a computer analyst for some weather tracking system in a small-town News Station in Kansas. Today people from all walks of life stand together side by side weapon in hand against their enemies. I remember the confident look on his face after the speech I’d given. We went over the plans several times before the actual assault, and when we launched the attack one of the snipers perched over the ridge took a clear shot at him when I gave the order to advance. Our Snipers took care of any resisting forces very quickly so I find it absurd yet not unlikely how this surprise assault suffered any casualties at all. When Roger’s head popped with a sudden spray of pink blood and brain matter it hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d never see him again. How could it affect me? Death was so common at this point that it didn’t even stop the others in their tracks from advancing. I remember stepping over his body and leading a team to take out any retreating stragglers on the outside once we’d taken care of most of the resistance. Everything happened so fast and ended in an instant that by the time we were done burning the bodies and doing headcounts we’d realized we lost four of our own. The shock that we lost anybody was what surprised us, not the fact that four of our friends were killed in action.

    Though..all in all. Four wasn’t bad compared to the sixty-two insurgents we had to snuff the life out of. I hate calling them Insurgents, but one of the Military guys mentioned it and the term stuck. I guess it’s better than referencing them by their name, not that it matters to us.

    When Norman gives the order to strike somebody if they come into our territory, we have to follow it because the alternative pits us against an enemy far stronger than anything we’d be capable of dealing with. This agreement for peace Norman has with our people isn’t liked by any of us. But, it keeps us alive.

    We either have to go kill for Norman, or Norman and his Society kill us.

    With this option, we’re at least safe from the undead and have a slight semblance of peace and freedom to move throughout our shared territory without fear of raiders or undead alike.

    This life is horrible. But the belief that we’re working towards something better is enough to keep us going...though sometimes I’m questioning if there’s any point in it. I wouldn’t end it on my own because of the endless list of others I’d inadvertently take down with me.

    I still don’t understand why they see me as a leader to follow. But if I’m the one they see leading them into this glorious new world, then there’s no harm in at least trying. Somebody has to milk the cows and bring home dinner, right? I guess some things never change.

    My mind is trailing off big time and as a result my writings are becoming scattered and often lose topic. I blame attention deficit disorder and general truth that nothing seems to pass my mind clearly anymore. But I suppose sleep helps...now that the Insomnia is gone the only thing burdening me is the fact that I still don’t know if I’ll wake up in the morning.

    Tomorrow we’re discussing heading out to Alejandro’s massive traders settlement. There’s a few things we need to pick up like some parts for the emergency generator. I don’t fancy burrowing in the cold when a fuse busts in the gennie come mid-november otherwise this place might start snowing on the inside.

    Whatever. I’m gonna hit the pillow and hope that I get the chance to live through tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.

    Kenji





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