Day 204: Got back from a little fishing to walk in during an aurora event. The phone was ringing. This was quite chilling. I answered the phone and said, "Hello?" But no body answered. There was only this silent crackling pop that echoed in time with the surging overhead lights. I hung up, only to have it ring again. I picked it up and stated, half as a joke, "Quonset Garage. Manager speaking. May I help you?" I stumbled over the manager part. You might wonder why.

Because as I stood there, listing to the warbles and clicks of a distant solar event playing tricks with the dying technological remnants of a dead world, I couldn't remember my name. For the life of me I haven't said my name in so long, I can't remember it. I think it started with a 'B'. Unfortunately I lost my wallet a long time ago. Left it in a nameless building when I was running from cabin to cabin, trying to find shelter after the crash.

There was a crash, right? I don't... entirely remember it. I think there was a crash. A plane crash. But... I don't remember waking up next to any wreckage. Come to think of it, why was I wearing normal clothing out in the middle of a frozen wasteland? Couldn't I think of something better to wear then a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of running shoes? What the hell was I doing here in the first place? G'dam this is some serious bullshit.

What made it impossible to even think about the answers to these questions, was that even when I took the phone off the hook, it kept on ringing. It just... kept ringing. I wanted to rip it off the wall. Destroy it completely. Scatter the pieces into the sea. But I stopped. The only outside contact I've had has been my hallucinations and those hallucinations focus on that damn phone.

So I just laid there, staring at the phone, listening to it ring, until the aurora event ended, and the lights abruptly went out. In the dark, listening to the rattling roof and the whistling wind, I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't.

Because I could still hear that damn phone ring.

Day 206: Been up for two days straight. Can't sleep. Clowns will eat me.

Heh. Old joke.

but seriously. I have not slept in two days. Can't. Can't take it. I know D. Wolf is waiting for me to fall asleep. he's waiting. I did another inventory check. In the past six hours I'm missing another can opener. Why does D. Wolf want a can opener? Frankly, can't take it anymore. I have made my choice. I'm going to fire D. Wolf.

As in, I will cut him up and set him on fire. But I will also see him terminated.

As in, killed, But also given a pink slip.

Day 207? 208?

I chopped up the bags of meat that comprised D. Wolf's body and ate him. I think I tossed his skull into the sea. I lost it for a bit there. It's this gas station. It's driving me insane. And I'm running low on bullets.

Day 208: I made it up to the trailer by the tracks. I saw on the wall map that there was a hunting lodge past the old trapper place. yes, a trip like that is dangerous, but I'm going absolutely insane staying in the gas station. Besides, I used up too many bullets getting out of there. Now I have what's in my gun. Once I run out of those bullets, it's on to the bow I made. But I like the gun. I've gotten good at it.

I'm going to hold out here until the dawn. The Aurora broke while I was trying to get out. God damn glowing wolves. Can you believe that shit? The further I get from the coast the better.

Day 211: made it to the Dam. Forgot how much crap I piled up here. A bit of nostalgia welled up as I saw an old pair of deerskin boots I abandoned here was still in serviceable condition. My ski boots are heavier, but they protect my ankles from those wolf bites. I broke down into tears. I think I cried for a full hour. I started to wail and beg the boots for forgiveness. I was so sorry I abandoned them.

I tried to put them on, but they had been abandoned for a reason. The seam ripped. I was so horrified I ran out into the yard and threw myself to the ground in penance for my crimes. It was only the howl of the nearby wolf who circles the fence that returned me to my senses. If it had not, I suspect the frostbite would have set in and I'd have a few less toes.

I went inside and fumbled in the dark to the fire barrel inside and started burning the coal I had found. I stared at the boots through out the night, wondering what I should do. My knees were pulled up to my chin and all I could do was silently weep. When the sun rose, I grabbed a bunch of old papers I stuck in a briefcase and poked holes through them then sewed them into a crude book. I bound it in leather and wrote "BIBLE" on the cover and then went out back. There was a nice tree that was near the back of the dam near the river. I dug a hole and buried the boots. Then I stood with the bible and performed final rites. It was a very moving ceremony. Then one of the wolves who lingers around at the foot of the damn creeped up on me.

When the wolf rushed me, I pulled my hunting knife out of the bible and stabbed it in the face. It ran off after giving me a good bite on the hand. The pain felt good. I followed it and waited for it to die. I climbed up on the rocks and looked down on it, telling it how it was unworthy of being a coat. It was not as nobel as the deer. He was not worthy of my legs! The legs are far more holy then he could ever know! It stopped rushing about and collapsed from blood loss.

I jumped down from my rock as a second wolf approached, but he smelled my two coats of wolf skins I wear layered against the cold. He fled.

I cut the meat from the wolf's bones, but left his hide to rot.

Upon going back inside, I made it back to the fire barrel and then, only then, did I put my ski boots back on. My feet made a full recovery. I know now my boots forgave me. Now the past is the past. I shall move on to the hunting lodge. And the devil's spawn... those cursed wolves... they will know the vengeance of the deer.