*On the front of a tattered journal sat a barely hanging-on post-it note. “Jet’s” it read. The letters were scribbled carelessly as if written in a rush.*
Page 1: Personal Information
DOB: 29 July 1990
Phone Number: 817-368-8590
Address: 4553 Cedar Path Dr.
Dallas, TX 75211
Page 2: Table of Contents
Page 3: 29 July 2008
My sister got me this journal for my birthday. Said writing things down will help me out. What do I even write about Fuck it
Page 4: 18 August 2008
Nothing has really happened. I haven’t written much. Start senior year tomorrow, fuck school, but at least I see my buyers more often. More money for me.
Page 5: 25 August 2008
Name Money Owed Result
J.P. $120 P
C.M. $360 Dealt with
F.W. $60 P
$30 $60 $120
J.S. $150 P
A.S. $30 P
*the rest of the page is torn away*
Page 11: 02 January 2009
Happy fucking New Years. She left me, that bitch. I knew she was cheating since the beginning, but fuck it, best lay I ever had.
Page 12: 12 February 2009
Growing up in this neighborhood was rough. Cedar Path Drive, the hell hole of Dallas. Gunshots most nights. I had to be aggressive to survive, show one sign of weakness and your whole world was taken advantage of. My dad died when I was eleven, so I had to take care of younger sister, Clementine. My mom was a drug addict, which is one of the reasons I got into drugs myself. I saw how it consumed people’s lives and knew I could profit from that. Selling weed was easy, but did not have enough profit or the thrill that blow did. I soon became the dealer for the street, the neighborhood, and now the whole school. Why am I writing this down? Screw it, I’m surprised I lived this long already. People call me *name blacked out with sharpie*, but my real name is Jet. I got this name when *three lines are blacked out with sharpie*.
Page 13: 22 April 2009
*this page is messily written*
Do NOT trust anyone. They will always know. Betrayal. Never forgive them.
Page 14: 23 April 2009
Page 15: 12 September 2009
What? I just woke up in a hospital yesterday. All these tubes are hooked up to me. My backpack lies next to me with this journal, a change of clothes, and some snacks in it. Oreos, my favorite. Whoever put this together knew me well. I just found this note on the back of the notebook. *post-it note with the following writing in cursive: “I know I fucked you over last December. I’m sorry, I still care about you”* No, it can’t be.
Page 16: 13 September 2009
Handcuffs tie me to the hospital bed. Police have started investigating me. They’re saying something about a “plea deal” if I give up names, numbers, whatever they want. I’m not a snitch.
Page 17: 20 September 2009
Run, that’s all I can do now. I betrayed everyone I loved. Everyone wants me dead. Where do I go?
Page 18: 11 November 2009
I made it to Tennessee. Still alive somehow and living on the road. I pretended to be a soldier to get a free meal at IHOP. Happy Veteran’s Day. Hey, a free meal is a free mail. Don’t judge.
Page 19: 14 November 2009
Ever since I got that free meal, I thought about joining the military. Fuck it, let’s go.
Page 20: 11 December 2009
Off to Fort Benning tomorrow. Me, in the military. Who would have thought.
Page 21: 12 June 2011
Afghanistan, here I come.
Page 22: 25 July 2011
Williams, Williams, Williams, Williams, Williams, Williams. How could I? I was supposed to be the gunner today. I should have died.
Page 23: 1 June 2011
It’s been one week and I can’t get it out of my mind. When I sleep, I hear over and over the sound of his lifeless body land inside the HMMWV after the bullet went through his face. The thump of his weight against the metal floor. I was supposed to man the 240 today, but Private Williams insisted. He had been off patrols for a couple days and wanted to “make up the time.” I should be dead, not him.
Page 24: 29 July 2017
0600 - I haven’t picked up this notebook since my last entry. I’ve slowly started recovering, but maybe it’s just me learning to block his name from my thoughts.
Today I’m headed back to Germany from a military training exercise in South Korea. I’m with 1st Squadron, 2nd Cavalry Regiment now. Got to go, the plane is boarding now.
0800 - Finally all on the plane, AC-130s are a bitch to ride in, super cramped.
1300 - Apparently we’re making an emergency landing in Novigrad. The guy on the row next to me had a seizure and he needs urgent medical care. I’ve never been here, but I’ve seen news headlines about recent conflict here. Supposedly we’re landing at a UN controlled air base.
1800 - We landed four hours ago. They took the one guy away on a stretcher, but the rest of us haven’t heard a word.
2200 - Silence, we haven’t gotten anything.
2330 - Someone convinced the pilot to lower the ramp. We don’t see anything outside. No lights, no people. Nothing. Also, Happy Birthday to myself. Almost forgot
Page 25: 30 July 2017
0100 - We all got off the plane. The air base is empty. No one is here. What the fuck
0130 - No lights will turn on. All 32 of us that were on the plane are in a room trying to figure out what to do...Make that 30 (the injured guy and a friend that went with him)
0230 - I’m part of a scouting party of 6 guys going to walk around the air base and see if we see anything.
0400 - Where are our friends? The 24 other people are gone
0600 - Jet (myself), Robert, Wilson, Cherelle, Thomas, and Dajuan are the only ones left. I do not know where everyone else went. We decided we need some sleep.
1600 - I just woke up. I was that tired?
Everyone else is gone.
What is going on?
I'M ALL ALONE
Page 26: 31 July 2017
I cannot find traces of anyone else. They all disappeared in less than 24 hours. I found a backpack and scavenged together some supplies:
Can of Beans:
5 4 3 2
Bottle of Water:
4 3 2 1
2 rolls 1
Chem Lights: 4 green
9V Batteries: 6
Frying Pan: 1
Page 27: 15 August 2017
I’ve followed the coastline to an area where I’ve seen more people. I’ve had to fight off some… “people…?” I don’t know what to call them. I’m staying away from everyone for now.
Page 28: 15 May 2019
I’ve lived on my own for almost two years. I can’t live this way anymore. I have to talk to someone. Can’t die alone. Today’s the day I finally reach out. There’s this girl in all black I’ve seen around a few times. Seems nice. She’s a girl after all, so she’s got to be one of the nicer ones out there.
Page 29: 17 May 2019
Groups (as told by Kaz)
Toy Makers -
Dead Batteries - don't get on their bad side
Kamenici - torture people
Cowboy Mafie - some weird fucks
UN - Version 3.0, actually not pussies this time
The Renaissance - Fae and Kaz, seem nice, abnormally nice
The Watch - good guys who turned on their own people. DO NOT TRUST
The Family - bat shit crazy
The Asylum - crazy Cheshire smiles
The Sentinels - good intentions but turned into a shit storm. Might not be around anymore
The House - all retards beside a select few. Most tolerable assholes you've ever met. Not THAT bad
The Order -
The Skin Collectors - Watch out for them. Hazmat suits
The Killers - a group of cannibals, at three of Fae's fingers....WTF
Overall, all the groups seem REALLY nice