Yeah I totally am crying.
October 28th, 2077, 5 days on foot, still can't sleep. Outside it's like nothing happened, sky looks wrong, that's all. Hike back to overturned NAC guard truck near Torquerville? Mr.
Blister's heel, maybe. Looks like the USGS team was researching something here in the cave. Cleared out when bombs fell, left equipment behind, probably thought they had families to run back to.
October 29th, 2077, Char must have said this out loud a thousand times walking here, maybe writing it will feel more like you heard. You were right, I was north of Spanish Fork, took the 77 along Provo Bay to steer clear of town, would have been home in an hour, engine died, truck just stopped. So did a Chrysler in the other lane, knew right away.
First new kit, SLC, inside a minute, I was looking south, lucky man, flash behind me so bright the world looked on fire, old couple from the Chrysler start screaming they can't see. Didn't watch you die, Char, saved my eyes, counted 12 more flashes next 7 minutes, ground shook each time, 18 seconds later. But nothing hit for the half hour, took a look, globe of fire where you and Alex died.
Didn't kid myself, didn't know what to do, grabbed my pack and rifle, sawed to the old couple, sat them against a car, let them hold and comfort each other, told them I was going to get help, everything will be okay. One bullet through both heads, instant, 5 day hike back to Zion. You told me, stop running off into the wild, man belongs with his family, and you were right, you were right, you were right, you were right.
Wasn't there to hold you, my boy, died without me, never touch you or him again. Could shoot myself maybe, what I deserve, can't, maybe soon. October 31st, 2077, black rain falling outside, Geiger jumping, should let it kill me, bottling water from back of the cave all the same.
November 2nd, 2077, sounds dead outside, but I can't look, Geiger goes lethal 15 feet from the cave's mouth. Do the math, radiation goes down before water runs out, or I never leave this cave.