Day One Thousand One Hundred Forty Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We stayed another day in the village at the edge of the wasteland. But this time it was not Elijah’s call. Both Tomas and myself sensed the urge to remain – for some crucial reason.

While roaming about the town Reuben discovered a cache of food in tins half buried under a trash heap. Wild animals had uncovered them and made off with that which they found interesting.

But that ultimately was not the reason behind what held us here. That became clear before the sun set.

A group of a half dozen men came out of the west under Tomas’s watchful gaze. With a cry Tomas sprinted out to meet them.

They were all that remained of Elijah’s two bands.

Day One Thousand One Hundred Forty Six #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Just as Elijah had forced us on day and night, so now that we have reached the village at the edge of the wasteland, he has forced us into a prolonged rest.

The village is still deserted, yet strangely, any vestige of the sentry camps at either end have all been removed.

We had our pick of accommodations in the inn off the square. Reuben took the first watch and the one after that. To me the heaviness of desolation hangs over the place. Reuben felt this keenly too, a fact he confessed to me when I relieved him. And the reason he took the two shifts. I think he dreads the thought of closing his eyes in this place.