Archive: Day 17, PM

More than two weeks, no sign of other people. Until today. Seven were outside the Old Navy. In my exuberance, I nearly leapt from my vantage to greet some fellow survivors, but suspicion stayed my exuberance. Why were they simply waiting outside the Old Navy? While my mind worked over that question, the answer came, when a gang of Cars, led by an Escalade with a broken headlight, arrived. Three of the group handed over the remaining four to the gang--they were trading. The nature of their arrangement, how it was negotiated, why the Cars would accept these poor slaves, I could not say. I can say those people have been changed too much by our circumstance. They've survived nothing.