Day One Thousand Two Hundred Twelve #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Tomas called everyone to his lookout point at midday. The sounds of conflict had reignited and movement could be seen on the horizon in the direction of Babylon.

It was soon apparent that we were observing a retreat. But a retreat of which army? The coalition of the armies of the North and East? Or that of the world government?

Whichever the case, the Captain estimated that this movement was not a rout, but rather a strategic repositioning. Units were breaking off and taking up positions on the high ground to each side.

I had a moment of consternation when I realized that our position might be desirable for their purposes.

But by evening they were well short of us.

Day One Thousand One Hundred Sixteen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Strange things mark this day. (None, however, were the sign to trigger Tomas’s departure).

The sun came up and promised to lend a cheeriness by its presence. But in its rise it did not dispel the darkness overhead. There were no clouds, but something hung there as if there were.

The blackness turned to a dark purple, that then lowered onto us like a fog of a similar hue.

It raised a great consternation among the guards, one of whom scurried about distributing gas masks. Forcing us to don them also.

Tomas swept in with word that nothing was toxic or otherwise harmful in the fog. Then took us back into the megapolis to be closer to the Supreme Commander.