It has been a couple of days since the last time I wrote in this journal. It took me a while to convince the guards to give me this pen and piece of paper.
So somehow Gabe got me into the safe zone and had a doctor named Stacy Woo fix me up for the most part. When this other guy named Doc comes in of the safe zone. It has been transferred to his facility. I don't remember much what happened as I was going in and out of consciousness. But all's I know is one day I was in the docs recovery room, if you could call it that. Truth be told, I did know what to call it.
The next day I'm behind a chain-link fence that says keep out infected. I don't feel infected but then again, I've never been infected. I have a slight fever, but the gunshot wounds seem to be healing nicely. But the guards keep me fed and they've kept me up to date Gabe has gone off somewhere don't know exactly where. Supposedly it someplace where they can find the cure. I have about five days left before the guards finally put me down. For all I know this could be my last entry in my journal. I sure hope this will not be my last entry, though I don't know what else to say. All I can do is just wait here for Gabe to come back and hope he has a cure. I don't have any family left, or I'm pretty sure I don't have any family left. It's been five years and if they're still alive than I have no idea where they would be. At least I could count myself lucky that it's not snowing, it is still pretty cold though.
To Gabe,
If I dying here before you get back or if you can't find a cure. I want you to take my stuff and be wary of everyone you meet. Try not to be too trusting, but you should always have someone to watch your back. I appreciate everything you've done for me. I consider you a true friend and I want you to give this journal to the next good man that you know enough to trust and have him continue to write in this journal. Tell him it will help calm his nerves. God knows it worked for me.
A good friend,
Trebor Junior
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