A young man face plants in the dirt. For many people, this was a sudden and surprising end to a tale… But for him, this was merely a beginning of something new. As a chapter ends, a new one begins.
Entry 7 | By Pierre Duboit | Date: 6/2/2001 (2 weeks after entry?) | Warehouse
Dear Diary (and whoever may be reading this)
I've recently found out that there are people in this shit hole, I went at least two weeks straight without seeing anyone and holy shit is it nice to see someone else for once. I've gotten to know them a tiny bit, shared some stuff about myself as well. He's told me that his name is Feurg, his accent honestly just cracks me up. It honestly feels a lot more like home with actual people in here, it's like my grip on reality just came back at full force, maybe This place isn't that horrible. The sounds have stopped, but you can never be too sure. I decided it'd be nice to start some chat with him, He's the only guy here so I don't see why I wouldn't. If his name didn't make it obvious, his family is from Norway. It'd be pretty neat to go there some day, I've heard it's pretty. Kansas is well. Not extremely pretty I guess. He's told me that apparently Norway has flying fish? Like, ones that actually fly? I'm kinda skeptical but it sounds cool as hell.
Entry 8 | By Pierre Duboit | Date:6/5/2001 | Warehouse
Dear Diary (and Feurg I know you're reading this)
Well you know that thing about flying fish? That was a lie. He cackled like a dumbass for a good hour. Well at least I know Norwegian fish don't fly… Anyways Feurg and I have been walking for days. Both the buzzing lights and the puddles and shit are annoying but either way, I'm alive, and I guess that's what matters. Currently we're trying our best to ration our food and flavored water but that only can take us so far. I've decided it's probably for the best that he gets 2 bottles and I get 1, he's been practically dragging me along for the last day or two, so I'd say he's earned it. I most likely would not be writing this if we found some nice stuff in that crate. There were a few cans of food, some playing cards, a pistol, and one 22lr bullet (At least that's what the back of the cartridge said) although these are probably luxuries in a place like this, I get the feeling this won't do much. Feurg's been a bit more stressed lately, he said that we won't ever get out. I feel that's a pretty bold claim though he seems really dreadful about it. I'm gonna go try and take his mind off of it with some card games.
Entry 9 | By Pierre Duboit | Date:6/8/2001 | Warehouse
Dear Diary
I've finally got proof that Feurg is right, no wonder he isn't taking it well. Who's gonna get grandpa his meds, or help uncle with the farm? This entry's going to be shorter than the last few, I need some time to take this in it seriously makes no sense I just don't get it anymore.
Entry 10 | By Pierre Duboit | Date:6/11/2001 | Piped Warehouse
Dear Diary
We've made it somewhere else! Feurg called it the boiler room, but it looks more like a sewer… warehouse, thingy to me. I just hope he doesn't get the wrong idea from that. "We've made it somewhere else!" Those words usually are some kind of good news, but I'm afraid this case is an exception. It's humid as fuck in here, the rooms reek of tar, and the light is dim as hell. I've been hearing a lot of noises lately as well, footsteps that aren't ours, growling from seemingly nowhere, you know the works. It's like some shit out of a horror movie, but at least it's only noise. In better news Feurg has been acting a bit well… less distraught after I talked to him about the situation, I'm glad we've both been able to take in the situation relatively quickly, god knows others wouldn't do the same. I guess even if I'm bad at a lot of things, at least I'm a good talker. I feel writing these this often is gonna empty out my pen's ink, so I'll only write these if something important comes up from this point on. This is only for myself after all, if I don't need to write, why should I?
Entry 11 | By Pierre Duboit | Date:6/15/2001 | Piped Warehouse
Dear Diary
The noises have been getting louder, and I just want them to stop, but that's far from being the worst news. We ran into a dead body, and yeah sure I've seen bloodstains, and other nasty shit, but. This is honestly just revolting. Feurg told me It's only been here for a week or less according to his "assumption", but personally I trust it he used to work at the morgue before he ended up here apparently… disturbing, but I guess you've got to make a living somehow. He called me a Farm boy after I said I worked at my Uncle's farm. I get the feeling he says that for shits and giggles, but I've got no clue. Anyways the damn body looks almost like it could just get up on its own. I'll try and keep this updated for the sake of keeping track.
Entry 12 | By Pierre Duboit | Date: 6/19/2001 | Generator Rooms
Dear Diary
We've made it somewhere new! This is getting really damn repetitive, really fast. It looks to be some sort of electrical station. Feurg and I (Mainly just me) are still skeptical if we're making any kind of progress to some sorta destination. He says that where he's from, even the most miniscule things have meaning. He says "The stars are on our side". I asked him what he meant and he simply just, pointed at the lights and went "It's the closest we've got here right? Might as well call them that". He's odd, but something about it kind of makes him a bit endearing. It sounds like some cultist shit, but maybe he's just the creative type, I'm just hoping it's not some kind of act. The book we read says there's over 100 separate areas documented. Let me repeat, more than 100. Good news, though, we found a meat cleaver. It's stained in something. It's not blood, that's for sure, but hey, It's a knife, I'm not complaining. We also found a can of food, and the noises here are way quieter. I think this might actually be a good place to stay. It seems safe enough, although it's a bit damp. I'll keep moving though, just in case, it's a bit dark here after all. whether it's safe or not, I don't really wanna be here. To be fair I'm probably not alone, I just hope we can manage with what we have.
Entry 13 | By Pierre Duboit | Date: 6/20/2001 | Generator Rooms
Dear Diary
I just checked my backpack, and its half empty. Feurg said it was because I was a "Fat Fuck". Of course. I weighed only 120 something pounds last I checked. This normally wouldn't be a problem until I considered "wait a minute this was full literally last night". I checked in with Feurg and he said that it was already that way and that I should just eat less, so I checked his too… and it was a bit emptier than last time, so at least I know I can trust him. He offered to share some of his food tonight, which gives me some sorta comfort at least, though I still can't get the thought that something is wrong out of my head. Maybe I'm just going crazy? Fuck if I know. I just hope we can keep going. Sometimes the bodies disappear after we look away from them, maybe something is eating them and I honestly don't like that one bit.
Entry 14 | By Pierre Duboit | Date: 6/23/2001 | Generator Rooms
Dear Diary
We've had one too many close encounters today and I'm sick and tired of it. Yesterday we ran into something, I don't know what it was, it just didn't make sense. The arms were just way too long. It's teeth were like daggers. I might be making this out worse than this actually is but maybe this isn't going to just be a one time thing. The noises were always around us. Maybe they just were waiting for a chance to strike? I don't know. Absolutely 0 of what's happening here makes sense and It's fucking getting to me. If there's one of these things in here, there has to be more. It bit my fucking thigh really hard, but I managed to land a shot on it. Feurg helped patch me up a tiny bit. The man's honestly a life saver I've got no clue what I'd do without him. He's great company and all. We could sit here all day and get ourselves killed but we need to get moving, and fast. Feurg says I'm being too pessimistic and that I should try and lighten up. I'm not buying it, sorry. FYI TO ME: Things to do
Keep an open ear
If you/rather, I see something, run.
Make sure to keep Feurg with me at all Times
If you, or rather, I hear a sound that isn't from Feurg or I, we run
Reassure myself
Entry 15 | By Pierre Duboit | Date: 6/27/2001 | Another Office
I don't know anymore I seriously don't get it, it's too much fucking take in. I'm sorry future me but if you seriously expect me to fucking write this correctly I'm going to fucking bash your skull in holy shit. He's dead ok he's dead. We were running right and then this thing screams and starts bolting after us, so we run of course right that's the normal thing to do, and then more came over and then more and more and one grabbed his leg and it fucking ate him. I think it did. I can still hear the screams and the cracking and the snapping I hate it I hate it I hate it. I could've grabbed him only one had his leg and I just ran. The knife was right there and I ran. He was all I had and now he's gone and I don't know what to do. I didn't do good enough.
Entry 16 | By Pierre Duboit | Date: 6/29/2001 | Another Office
Dear Diary and Feurg
Hey, I just wanted to write this here as a Memo for myself. Shit's been tough but being prepared pays off. I couldn't find the body, or even the Generator Rooms at all for that matter. Maybe it's for the best anyways, I'm never going in there again. I managed to muster the courage to try and find the elevator door but it was flat out gone. I considered tapping on the wall where it was to see if it was just built into the wall, but I backed out last second. I don't wanna fall through the wall. Either way , I made a grave for Feurg. I don't know where you are now but if you can somehow read this just know that you didn't deserve what happened back there. If whoever's up there asks who killed you. Answer honestly, It was me. I hope you can find peace with yourself up there. I don't really know what you'd want me to do, but for both our sakes, I'll assume you want me to keep on moving. You didn't give up after you heard this place was our new home so neither should I, right? Maybe I should just, sit here for a while. I'll get going soon anyways. I just hope I don't meet the same fate as you friend.
Memos: Always check your back
Never stop moving
Don't trust the voices
Remember, Your name is Pierre Duboit , and everything is going to be ok.