June 18th, 2066

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Bottles are rolling across the lower level of the ship. Actually, everything is rolling. Back and forth. Even Trent had a bit of a tumble while he struggled to go to the main deck and help Morgan. The sounds of the storm are horrifying--I don't think I've been this frightened since the bunker. Maybe I just don't remember the more recent frightening moments.

Heavy rains are striking the hull, each drop like a fist pounding on_______ [Editor's Note: there's a long, scribbled, unintelligible line at this point in the entry. Then, Darren stops describing the storm. I suspect that the rocking of the boat made it too difficult for him to continue writing legibly].

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