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Day 2,783

It's been calling out to me from the fields for weeks now, begging me in every voice it tore from my dreams.

Begging me to step outside and face it - face them - one last time. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm no coward and I'm not afraid to face the people I've killed but that thing isn't a person - I don't know what it's capable of and it seems to be very aware of what I'm capable of. I never go into a fight without knowing what my chances of winning are and this feels like it'd be the end of me.

I have to stay alive, I have to keep removing these things hiding in the husks of long dead people before they can make husks of everyone around them. I suppose it's technically not killing if they're already dead but I don't especially fancy discussing the semantics with the less-then-thrilled authorities.

Not that I can even reach out to any at the moment - whatever's out there is jamming the signals.

I'm alone with it and it's alone with me, asking me to accept death.

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