Day One Thousand One Hundred Nineteen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Tomas was dispatched to the north this morning to pinpoint the whereabouts of the army of the world government – especially those units operating in the vicinity of Babylon.

The Supreme Commander wants to knock out the artillery that has been compounding his problems. And perchance head off any further instances of the purple fog.

Consequently, Elijah and I have been restricted to our building. All for our safety of course, but I have more a sense that it insures the return of Tomas.

Strange, for I thought that the Supreme Commander was more confident in the loyalty of Tomas than of ours.

Perhaps it makes little difference for at base we are all hostages.

And we look for our deliverance.

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.