Field Notes: Week 7 – Sunday

They came at night…

Those things… The way they moved, the way they screeched—it was like the forest itself had birthed them, shaped them to hunt us.

I understand now. We were never going to make it back from the 5th. The forest knew. It always knew. It was waiting.

Everyone’s gone. Anton, Louis… all of them. Bullets were useless.

I’m the only one left. I can hear them—scratch, scratch, scratching at the door. It won’t hold much longer.

Still have a few grenades. Maybe I can rig this place to blow, take these freaks with me.

Stranger, if you find this, you have to get back to the Arc. Warn them about what’s coming. There’s no more time!