In the brief greenish light of the dying sun I saw a refraction of a three-eyed cat strangling me with grassy vines. A memory?
No, it felt more like the cat was digging into my mind, trying to find a "permit" or something. What did that cat want?
Preposterous. Green-three-eyed cats do not exist. I've never been strangled with plants. There are no trees left, no grass, no flowers.
I think my mind is rotting. There are no cats in the sun rays.
Only me, and the city of the extinct.
Only me and my imagination.
How long has it been since I last saw another human being?
I cannot recall.
I cannot recall their faces.
Why can't I remember their faces?
All I see is dust and waves of fire.
Unending waves of fire shattering their already broken and twisted bodies into dust.
My brigade fell to the unmentionable horror and since then I've wandered the radioactive desert looking for...
What was I looking for? ...Hope? Other survivors?
I was about to collapse from exhaustion, about ready to give up on it all when a paper fluttered into my mask.
The wings of butterfly that caused a stormy uproar in my soul.
A map, drawn by a child's hand?
Is this to be my god-sent, final quest in life?
I dared to dream that it would lead me to a colony of survivors.
Where will this new current take me... I knew not.