I wanted my family to know how much they meant to me.
Dear Family,
I am not sure if this is the end of the Village’s road for me. I am not feeling well, not at all, and the Sneaker Wave is killing so many of us. I don’t even think that I have a fifty/fifty chance of making it, but that is alright. I think I have done what I needed to do to keep my family safe. I will be alright going if I know that all of you will carry on. And that is what I ask of you; please carry on.
This is going to sound funny after the end of the world, but I think that I am the luckiest person, ever. That’s because I have all of you. The Balous-Patton Clan is amazing. I was lucky to be a part of it.
Mark: Thank you for being my rock.
Mom: Thank you for being my cornerstone.
Briana and Amanda: Thank you for being my warriors, each in your own way.
Jake: Thank you for taking care of our family once I am gone. I know you will.
Bailey: Thank you for letting me know what it felt like to be a mother.
If it is possible, I will be watching over you. I love you all for eternity.
November 24
My name is Briana Patton, and I am the niece of Laura Balous. Yesterday, my aunt came down with the Sneaker Wave virus. She is really sick, and we don’t know if she’s going to make it. She is my second loved one in the last week to get sick. My boyfriend came down with it last week, and the doctors say he is fighting.
I am not one for writing in a journal or a diary. Last year, in college, I was asked to write one in a class, and it drove me crazy trying to keep up with it.
College— I wish that I could have finished. Now, I never will. The best I can hope for, any of us can hope for, is to make it until tomorrow.
I am not sure what I am supposed to write about. Aunt Laurie got sick so fast that I only had time to promise that I would write. I didn’t even have a chance to ask her what she has been writing about all of this time. Knowing Aunt Laurie, she is making a record of every event that has happened since the Last War.
My family and I don’t talk much about how we made it from Phoenix, Arizona, to Monterey, California after the war. That’s because the shit that went down was not anything we want to share. But maybe we should. Maybe this will be a record for the future, or maybe it won’t get any further than tomorrow. Either way, it doesn’t hurt, and I made a promise.
I am sure my aunt covered how it all began, so I will skip ahead to what happened to us, like she asked me to do on the way to the Hotel.
Everyone who remains, in every city across America, has their own story to tell about the days when the strikes first hit. This one is mine.
I was called up by my National Guard unit on July 8, three days after the first attack on the East Coast. I was deployed in the city of Phoenix, not too far from the apartment I shared with Adam.
There were hundreds of soldiers roaming the streets, without a strategy for how we could keep peace and order. We were supposed to work in conjunction with local and state authorities to keep the violence and looting under control. All of the planning in the world wouldn’t have done it, but I stayed on the streets until the day we were hit.
I don’t remember every date, but I remember July 13. We had been following the Last War’s progress on television, in the newspapers, online, and on the radio. On that day, the streets of Phoenix were dead even before the first bomb dropped. Everyone must have thought that staying inside was their best option, but I made it because I was on the streets and not in my apartment.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let me first explain what happened in the streets.
My battle buddies during the days leading up to the bombs were Richard Collins and Erica Long. Collins and Long were great for the first three days. We walked the streets, and people listened to us at first. We captured the looters and handed them over the Phoenix Police Department. We thought that we were
Dear Family,
I am not sure if this is the end of the Village’s road for me. I am not feeling well, not at all, and the Sneaker Wave is killing so many of us. I don’t even think that I have a fifty/fifty chance of making it, but that is alright. I think I have done what I needed to do to keep my family safe. I will be alright going if I know that all of you will carry on. And that is what I ask of you; please carry on.
This is going to sound funny after the end of the world, but I think that I am the luckiest person, ever. That’s because I have all of you. The Balous-Patton Clan is amazing. I was lucky to be a part of it.
Mark: Thank you for being my rock.
Mom: Thank you for being my cornerstone.
Briana and Amanda: Thank you for being my warriors, each in your own way.
Jake: Thank you for taking care of our family once I am gone. I know you will.
Bailey: Thank you for letting me know what it felt like to be a mother.
If it is possible, I will be watching over you. I love you all for eternity.
November 24
My name is Briana Patton, and I am the niece of Laura Balous. Yesterday, my aunt came down with the Sneaker Wave virus. She is really sick, and we don’t know if she’s going to make it. She is my second loved one in the last week to get sick. My boyfriend came down with it last week, and the doctors say he is fighting.
I am not one for writing in a journal or a diary. Last year, in college, I was asked to write one in a class, and it drove me crazy trying to keep up with it.
College— I wish that I could have finished. Now, I never will. The best I can hope for, any of us can hope for, is to make it until tomorrow.
I am not sure what I am supposed to write about. Aunt Laurie got sick so fast that I only had time to promise that I would write. I didn’t even have a chance to ask her what she has been writing about all of this time. Knowing Aunt Laurie, she is making a record of every event that has happened since the Last War.
My family and I don’t talk much about how we made it from Phoenix, Arizona, to Monterey, California after the war. That’s because the shit that went down was not anything we want to share. But maybe we should. Maybe this will be a record for the future, or maybe it won’t get any further than tomorrow. Either way, it doesn’t hurt, and I made a promise.
I am sure my aunt covered how it all began, so I will skip ahead to what happened to us, like she asked me to do on the way to the Hotel.
Everyone who remains, in every city across America, has their own story to tell about the days when the strikes first hit. This one is mine.
I was called up by my National Guard unit on July 8, three days after the first attack on the East Coast. I was deployed in the city of Phoenix, not too far from the apartment I shared with Adam.
There were hundreds of soldiers roaming the streets, without a strategy for how we could keep peace and order. We were supposed to work in conjunction with local and state authorities to keep the violence and looting under control. All of the planning in the world wouldn’t have done it, but I stayed on the streets until the day we were hit.
I don’t remember every date, but I remember July 13. We had been following the Last War’s progress on television, in the newspapers, online, and on the radio. On that day, the streets of Phoenix were dead even before the first bomb dropped. Everyone must have thought that staying inside was their best option, but I made it because I was on the streets and not in my apartment.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let me first explain what happened in the streets.
My battle buddies during the days leading up to the bombs were Richard Collins and Erica Long. Collins and Long were great for the first three days. We walked the streets, and people listened to us at first. We captured the looters and handed them over the Phoenix Police Department. We thought that we were
Similar Books
