March 13th, 2029
Please tell me it's not you on the news.
Kevin, please respond. Please tell me you're alive.
They're saying over sixty soldiers were killed in Russia from a fire, and that two were dead on the scene of an explosion twelve miles away, along with a dozen others throughout the wilderness. No photos released. I recognized two names. Elijah J. Vishou and Kevin M. Cooper.
That's not you.
I fucking refuse to believe that's you. It's spelled wrong, can't be you. I've been staying with Claire and Alex the last four days. Alex got in a fight in school, someone said his uncle was dead and he just had to accept it.
I think Claire might sucker punch the next person who says they're sorry for her loss.
You're not lost. You're alive. You're just not where you're supposed to be.
We haven't even gotten to really know each other yet.
You haven't asked me about my brother and sister. I haven't asked you about what you wanted to do when you grew up, before you were in the military. I suddenly have a thousand more things I want to talk to you about, and I can't, because you're lost, and not answering my letters.
I'd send a thousand if I thought it would get you to write me back, just to tell me to leave you alone. Please be alive so you can tell me to fuck off.
Please respond. Don't be dead, Kevin. I'm praying you're not dead.
Yours, Toby
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Starts with a Match
Terror"Most people in the units, especially here on the front lines where they're sick and bored of all this shit-they call them gluts. Gluttons. Ravenous, insatiable. Zombies. Can't be a zombie if they're still alive. Which they are. They're just starvi...
