almost at the edge of the town when he fell and only about one hundred yards from Frank the Tank: One street away, god damn it. I was so close. I’ll need to bring night goggles with me from now on.
Before leaving he looks back at Mark. He isn’t moving. Just sitting there with his jaw hanging loose and drool dripping from his lower lip: What the hell? You died from a scratch on your arm? I knew you were a pussy but that’s ridiculous! He kneels down and looks back into Mark’s sleeping area. It seems that he won’t be needing any of his equipment now, most of it is junk anyway.
He has one last look under the sleeping bag and finds a small blue notebook. He laughs to himself: Dear Diary, today I died from a fucking