July 7th, 2252

Last night was my first night on the yacht. I'd spent most of the day yesterday collecting food and drink to get myself prepared to sail to Boston. I'm still bothered by the idea of sailing there to see old family. But I think it's going to be easier to set down an old grudge than live out the rest of my limited number of days in a state of self pity.

It was almost impossible to get any sleep. Two types of cold just seemed unnatural. Cold from not having figured out the heating system on board, but cold from being alone. Around two, maybe three, I can't say I was watching the clock, I got up to sort out the heating. Figure that, beginning of July and I've got to turn the heat on.

Has to be from living with icicle hands.

I'm not really sure why I'm keeping this thing. Haven't written anything out by hand in a long time. Forgot how messy my own hand writing is. Probably should've worked on that before I left school. Ah well. Not like anyone's going through this, ain't going down in history or anything. Even if I did, what'd the books say?

"Crazy man leaves journal on radioactive yacht because he thinks someone might give a shit two hundred years from now."

That'd be my legacy, of course. Nothing inspirational, just some man floating around on the uranium rock after everyone left. Whatever, if this old block of scrap paper becomes important, then so be it. Far as I'm concerned right now, it's just for someone... thing, something. To talk to. A way to pass the time. Maybe I should introduce myself? No, that's stupid Shay. What the hell?

I have a better idea.

Dear Anwen,
It's been a long time since we went out for a movie. Isn't it? A little while, maybe a week? Before the war broke out I was going through cinema lists looking for one that we could go to together while your mum and Ailsa saw the doctor. The one I picked it was one of those ones you like. Companionship and stuff. I'm sorry, I kind of forget what it was about. I just remember thinking "This one. We need to go to this one."

I don't even know if you'd like that anymore. It's been a long time. I'm sorry I never took you.

I feel awful sitting here in the middle of nowhere staring up at the sky trying to find you. You, your sister, your mum, you all deserved so much better than this. I'm so sorry that I didn't make it, that I let you down like this.

And I know you'll never get this letter, but Anwen I want you to know something. Even if I just imagine you knowing it. I am so, so proud of you, my girl. I love you from the bottom of my heart, the core of the earth. You and your mum and your sister are everything to me. My entire world.

I believe in you. I never got to tell you, I regret it constantly. You can do anything, Anwen. Anything that you set your mind to, you can do incredible things. You will do incredible things. You are one of the brightest, strongest, most hardworking and determined young women to ever walk this earth. Never forget that.

Up there on Elan, don't you dare settle for anything other than the best. In all walks of life. Only a man who treats you like a goddess, only do what makes you happy, what fills you with joy. Never forget that, don't forget who you are.

Most importantly, Anwen, just remember that I love you. I love you so much that I can't put it into words. I want all of the best things for you, I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see all of the incredible things you'll accomplish. The beautiful young woman you'll grow into. The strong, stubborn older sister that you are.

I love you.
-Dad

And Ailsa,
I already miss giving you piggy back rides. I miss sitting in and playing cards and reading with you. I still remember that day you found the ace I hid up my sleeve and slapped me across the face with it. I don't think I'd ever laughed so hard in my life.

I knew right from then you were going to be a little genius. Or the day that you saved that little dackdaw when you were maybe six. Mended its wing all on your own.

It broke my heart when the doctors told us you'd have CP because of birth complications. But never once did it stop you. Until I watched you learn to walk, Ailsa, I thought I knew what determination was. You proved me wrong.

Every single obstacle that has ever been given to you, you've climbed over as if it were a giant to a baby gate. Never once have you given up on something because it was too hard.

I hope you keep that same fire, strength throughout your entire life. It's incredible. You are incredible. Your first day of school, they offered a wheelchair and an elevator for you to get up and down the stairs. But you dismissed them, grabbed your crutches and all but spat in their faces.

Because that is who you are. You are Ailsa Ackerman and nothing gets in your way. Never change, sweetheart. Because you are perfect exactly how you are.

But don't be afraid to humour your sister every so often and let her help you. Stay close to her. Take care of each other.Together, nothing can stop you two. Bad things are always better with your best friend.

Take care of each other, take care of yourselves. Hold your heads high and always remember, I'm cheering for you. I love you both.

I'll never forget you.
Love, Dad.

And Lara,

Tell Croft he's a piece of shit. I mean that's not to neglect you, 'cause you're great too. Dear... I'm fucking this up aren't I? I wish I had you here to tell me to shut the hell up and go to sleep, so I could turn over, wake up, and realize this was all a nightmare. But it's not, isn't that right. Course, that's the part where you stand up on the very tips of your toes and stretch as high as you can and smack me on the head and tell me to get my head out of the clouds. Not to say it is, 'cause at least if my head were in the clouds it wouldn't be light years away from my family. 

Croft better know he'll get his ass kicked to the grave twelve times if he doesn't look after you. That's to say, don't fall down to his womanizing ways. I know how he gets, and I know about that fling, Lara. Don't think I don't. I know you think I don't, but I do, not that it really matters now. As long as I don't have to face the wrath of the fighting song, I'll take it. Bet if anyone else was alive I'd look like a nutter. Just bust out laughing at nothing because I'm all alone.

Actually, that is kinda funny. It's like a bad apocalypse movie. The kind where some Guy who can't act gets his whole family killed and he never meets another guy ever again because he's stupid and doesn't leave the states. I wonder if American moviemakers were ever aware that there was such a thing as life outside the USofA. Probably not. Can't expect too much from anyone.

Not that I'm trying to be a prick that's just the facts. Reading those old stories or watching the old movies. No one leaves their home state or anything like that. Just decide they're the last person alive. You know, actually now that I think about it, if I was in a situation like that I think I'd take the opportunity to travel. Wouldn't cost butt all. Steal what you need and set yourself afloat.

Maybe if everyone I can think of in the States has taken off or died that's what I'll do. If everything has taken off and I'm next to the only person left I'll just float around until I die of radiation or exposure. Good enough plan I guess.

Not like I'll find "anyone else." Not like I want to. Had everything I ever wanted and walking dead man or not, I'm not going to try and replace it...

Jesus I'm a sap. I'm closing this thing before I start writing a  soap opera. God's sakes save me.
__________

July 11, 2252

Three full days of unending ocean, four full days completely alone. Got nervous last night and spent half the night searching the ship for someone, something in the belly of the yacht. She's called the Pegasus. It's a fucking stupid name, so I've changed it to Someone Stop the Nimrod Who Named the Vessel. Which I guess is a mouthful. But that really doesn't matter 'cause I'm the only person in a thousand mile radius who even speaks.

I haven't shaved since the bunker. Probably look like a stereotypical Russian pastor or something. Also, radioactive seagulls sink. Somehow this boggles my mind. Somewhere in my limited education (that wound up being a complete waste of time anyway) I thought bodies didn't sink in the ocean.

Maybe I'm drunk.

Nah, I just wish who am I kidding. God's sakes it's lonely. Kind of regretting every time I ever asked to be alone in my entire life.

Actually, I wonder how many solitary hours that would accumulate into. Enough to muster the rest of my life I bet. Assuming that the rest of my life is like a complete three days. Nothing would surprise me anymore.

On things that wouldn't surprise me though;

When Damian first went off to uni it was kinda weird. Not just 'cause my seven-year younger brother actually graduated and was going to university, but because of what he decided to study. Lars and I had just gotten married around then, and he hadn't been out of his group home in three months.

Not that he was a total... Okay who am I kidding he was a mess as a kid. God awful drinking problem, prescription drugs. Notorious for getting neurotic or paranoid and taking off without a sign for weeks, once two months. Hell of a temper, none of us knew he was schizophrenic until he was sixteen. Six years of booze, snorting Tylenol and running off is a long time.

Eventually our old lady went bonkers and stuffed him in a home. Not a clue what they did to him since right around that time period I was comatose from that bomb attack. Either way, he came out not bad. Finished high school, went to university. Got a Doctoral degree in criminology, was a prof at City (Uni of London). Anyway, not important.

Point is, nothing would surprise me because of him. Skeptical shitshow becomes skeptical university professor who is right about everything. Wonder if he ever thought this was going to happen. He used to say I'd be a lonely old bastard if I didn't make any friends.

Should've taken him much more literally.

But I didn't and now I'm sitting on a yacht telling things I already know to a stack of papers. I think that's the most pathetic sounding endgame I've ever heard. People have been KIA and made headlines or murdered or killed doing some stupid trick on a hover board. And what do I get?

"CRAZY OLD MAN SPENDS THE REST OF HIS LIFE ON A YACHT WRITING BAD SITCOM SCRIPTS."
-The Elan Telegraph

Oh yes, I can see it now. What a legacy. Maybe I'll be the next Geoffrey Chaucer. An epic tale depicting the last pathetic morsels of life on earth after a bunch of assholes blew it up. The Yacht Extravaganza.

Has a nice ring.

I really hope I die on this blasted hunk of metal. Even if I did find a bunch of people around Boston, who's to say they're not going to be a group of insufferable pricks? Or worse, troglodytes.

No, Shay they are NOT going to be troglodytes. There are no more troglodytes. As good as everyone is dead except you. Realistically, if you rediscover life one of several things will happen.

1: they will kill you and raid whatever is left of your food stores.

2: they will capture you and read your diary to you before killing you.

3: they will kill you and use your intestines to attract attention from Elan.

4: they will kill you.

5: they will ask you to say a bunch of things because you "have a British accent" and then kill you.

6: they will attempt to assimilate you into their pack.

7: the old people will ask you if you were the controversial lieutenant from 27 years ago. And then they will kill you.

8: they will question how you got to be so socially impaired when your family has only been in a rocket ship for six days.

So, in summary; they will kill me. Or, I guess they could hoist me up over their heads and sacrifice me to George Washington or Abe Lincoln. Definitely the most preferable solution. But you never know, eh?

I'm kind of wondering what the inside of those crafts are like. Are they just big and hollow and one room? That seems like a fast one the government would pull. But, you'd think some high ass councilman would bitch. Maybe there's casinos and buffets. Like a cruise spaceship.

Now I feel like I'm missing out.

If the people who mattered weren't on that flying hunk of metal I'd hope it was just a big, empty, steel saucer. But that isn't the case, and I'm the one floating around on a hunk of metal.

Screw Chaucer. I'll be Poe the second. Quoth the Shay.

This little journal diary thing;this is actually existent proof of why I have one friend. Well, one friend besides my wife. And had instead of have.

"Just go Lara! I'll catch up."

How many times did I tell her that? Probably more times than I told her I loved her. What a charmer, Ackerman. Real romantic.

Fucking idiot.

I don't know why I have this stupid thing. It's just pissing me off.
__________

July 12, 2252

Apparently this stupid thing is better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Not that anyone will ever actually find this hunk of crap, but I'd just like to say (maybe to future Shay) that I apologize for being a sulk.

Pity party won't get me shit.

Realized I've got something else to think on. What's going to keep Callum from killing me or throwing me to some starving kid for his last supper? Probably not a whole hell of a lot. I'd do the same if I wasn't already treating the man as my last-ditch attempt at having a reasonably less lonely last few days to death. Far as I know he's got a wife, I think she brought him overseas. Don't remember. Been a long time.

And that falling out was rough. Dane must've been fourteen at the time, I was twenty-one. That'd have made Callum about twenty-six. Little brother being little brother he'd run himself into trouble. Don't remember what but I know he stole something- some pain killer from his girlfriend's mum. High on that he'd lipped off to hell knows who. Came home beat like all hell. Black eye, fat lip. Spitting blood, bruised ribs, cut up pretty back and limping. Told mum he'd taken a spill off his bike.

Like we were all complete idiots who'd just fallen off the turnip truck yesterday.

Mum nodded, blew him off completely. Muttered something about Dane reminding her of our old man. I'm the first to admit, I blew it way up. Lost it on her. Single mum for three years and was struggling to keep a roof over our heads and I just chewed her a new ass. Asked her how she could say something like that to her son, accuse him of being anything like pap. Course it's my fault he took off in the first place- pap this time I mean- but I blamed it on other people for a long time.

I've completely accepted that I'm just genuinely hard to be around.

Callum got good and pissed at me, the two of us are screaming at the tops of our lungs. I'm bigger and I'm shoving him around with my chest and my shoulders. A not-unusual fist flies, nearly knocks out a few teeth. Then another. Eventually I'm laying on the floor face up with the wind knocked out of me. Callum storms up the stairs to find Dane. Soon as I get my breath I'm after him.

Keep fighting. He spits on me, I bite his arm when it misses my face. Then I can taste blood and I let go and shove him down a flight of stairs and leave him at the bottom to go for a beer.

Six weeks later he moves to Boston. We spoke once since and I wound up in the water of the harbour.

Until a few days ago I hadn't realized Damian had kept tabs on him after all this time. Kind of a strange feeling. Can't say I'm proud of the fact that I've held a grudge for almost thirty years.

I wonder if Callum kept in touch with pap. They were both in Boston when Lara and I were getting married, but I doubted a sleeze like our father would stick anywhere long. Turned out though that the only one of us three who was actually his son is Dane. Who knows who my father or Callum's is? Callum looked like our mother. But the three of us brothers side by side looked nothing alike the last time we were all stuck in a room together.