Time to break camp. The numbers are not in my favor. Dead Germans splattered about the castle. It creates a stink truth be told. My number could be coming up. What's the difference? Lynched or werewolf? Either way your dead. Here I sit in a tower with a breach in the wall. Rear can watch his own tower and stuff the Amerikanerin in the dungeon for all I care. It is every man for themselves. I will take the tunnel to the ruins of the lighthouse. I will be protected by the minefields. I will have the water to my back. It is good a place as any to protect one's self.
*collects as many weapons and ammo as he can carry. Stops by the kitchen for more provisions. Heads to the tunnel with a final destination of the lighthouse ruins*
Rear can have them all under one roof. Seems this is what he wants anyway.
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“You're painfully alive in a drugged and dying culture.”
― Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road
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