I'm not sure what to make of this place, but... I think I'm going to be okay, here.
It's better than Madagascar, for sure. Instead of a base constructed built from rubble, this Crutch facility is an entire town. There's a concrete wall surrounding it, the area is considerably organized, and it's heavily patrolled. There must be at least three thousand people here--most of them soldiers. My view of Crutch has shifted dramatically--they're not just a small, scattered rebellion. This alliance is massive; the Madagascar base just gave off a bad impression.
Seeing this military base has made me wonder about Sanctum. If that's where they're sending refugees and imperfects--all of them--it must be enormous. There could be hundreds of thousands of people there, for all I know. Maybe Heather is wrong; maybe Sara made it to Sanctum, but the two of them just haven't found one another in the vast sea of people.
Although, if Sara were there, then she would have been the one who received my letter, right? Ugh. I hope she's okay. She has to be. And if she isn't... I still need to know. I need to see it with my own eyes.
I can't steal a plane or a boat. We're a long way from water (and I'm not very confident in my boat-driving abilities) and I am certainly incapable of flying a plane. Helicopters are out, too--I'm positive that flying one of those is not as easy as my past pilots have made it look.
The sleeping quarters at this base are vast improvements on the quarters in Madagascar. We're each given a room in an old hotel. There are four people to a room, each with their own bunk (two bunk beds in each room). This means I only have to share a bathroom with three other people, rather than an entire army. There are also actual toilets instead of latrines. By comparison to Madagascar, this is luxury.
I'm enjoying this while it lasts. Starting tomorrow, I'll be back to patrolling and training. Since I decided to come here instead of heading for Sanctum, I'm expected to continue assisting Crutch. That means training, going on missions, helping out around the base, and doing anything else that they ask.
I'm trying to work out a way to get to Australia, but almost everyone seems to have abandoned any notion of ever going there. Anyone who's still there is dead, afflicted, or on the verge of becoming one of those things--at least, that's the general consensus. But Sara is still alive. I know it. I feel it.
YOU ARE READING
The Imperfect's Journal: 2
General FictionMemory loss, chronic pain, tremors. These three characteristics of Darren Stratt's illness raise the difficulty of Darren's exodus from the United States, a country that has decided he is "subhuman" and "imperfect", just like anyone else the governm...
