Dear Diary
After leaving Tom at the building site I did a circuit of the town (without much luck, I may add) and then travelled south a little way past the train station (military grade helmet ftw) over the hill to a deer stand and a crashed chopper. Found a few bits and piece but nothing majorly exciting and it was getting dark so I decided to head back north to where we parted company.
Nearly back at the town I saw a guy along the train tracks to my left and thought that as I was heading to a safe place to log out I'd just keep on running... Turned round to look behind me and there were at least 2 of them on the road looking in my direction... I ran but the heard a massive crack and was thrown sideways by the impact.
I'd been shot.
My leg was in agony but I had to get away... I ducked through some buildings and wove my way into town. It was almost pitch black at this point. There were a number of close shaves where I could hear the bullets bouncing off the walls but then silence. I ran (hobbled) a little further then hid inside a shed.
Nothing.
Nobody burst through the door.
Nobody finished the job.
I checked myself over ready with my sewing kit and bandages but it turned out that it was a very close shave indeed. My leg, well that was just a sprained ankle. I'd been shot in the chest... The chest!! Thank god for press vests eh?
Until next time
Rick O'Shea
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