<i><p>You reload your magnum and toss it&nbsp;into your holster. Up&nbsp;ahead the hotel stands before you, two stories tall. The front door of&nbsp;the hotel is&nbsp;wide open, and a&nbsp;canteen lies on&nbsp;the steps leading up&nbsp;to&nbsp;the entrance. The first things you notice as&nbsp;you enter the building are the dark red stains decorating the walls. You spot the stairs leading up&nbsp;to&nbsp;the second floor, and slowly make your way to&nbsp;the top. The wood groans and warps under your weight. </p>
<p>You come to&nbsp;a&nbsp;hall at&nbsp;the top of&nbsp;the stairs. You see a&nbsp;wide open door leading to&nbsp;one of&nbsp;the bedrooms halfway down the hall. You unholster your pistol and slowly make your way to&nbsp;the opening. </p>
<p>The room looks completely empty, except for the four corpses littering the floor. These people look badly ripped up,&nbsp;very messy. You holster your weapon and search the room, finding nothing. Something near one of&nbsp;the corpses catches your eye. You see the edge of&nbsp;a&nbsp;book sticking out from under it.&nbsp;Flipping the corpse over reveals a&nbsp;pen and a&nbsp;notebook. You pick up&nbsp;the notebook and flip through some of&nbsp;the pages.</p>
<p>It&nbsp;looks like a&nbsp;journal.</p></i>
<p class="copyr"><b>******************</b></p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 2nd, 2013</b></p>
<p>She said she'd&nbsp;be&nbsp;back in&nbsp;two days.	It's&nbsp;been three weeks.</p>
<p>This shouldn't&nbsp;be&nbsp;happening, it&nbsp;was supposed to&nbsp;be&nbsp;easy.<br />
Tomorrow I&nbsp;leave.</p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 3rd, 2013</b></p>
<p>The pub was as&nbsp;I&nbsp;expected. Filled with drunks roaring with laughter over the near-deaths of&nbsp;their friends. The bartender had no&nbsp;legs.</p>
<p>Said he&nbsp;knew where she was headed, and left me&nbsp;with a&nbsp;name. I&nbsp;bought a&nbsp;heap of&nbsp;<nobr>so-called</nobr> top of&nbsp;the line equipment. It&nbsp;sickens me.&nbsp;Over priced suits and detectors, that I&nbsp;don't&nbsp;even know work. If&nbsp;the rumors are true, I&nbsp;should be&nbsp;careful. Her brother said something about a&nbsp;poisonous residue on&nbsp;the walls. Green fungus that would eat you alive from the <nobr>inside-out</nobr>, animals that would eat you up&nbsp;faster than a&nbsp;TV&nbsp;dinner.</p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 4th, 2013</b></p>
<p>The bartender's&nbsp;contact turned out to&nbsp;be&nbsp;another stalker. I&nbsp;hung around the pub for a&nbsp;few hours and then he&nbsp;showed up.&nbsp;He&nbsp;didn't&nbsp;talk very much, but he&nbsp;said he&nbsp;saw her talking in&nbsp;the pub about going to&nbsp;an&nbsp;abandoned wood-cabin in&nbsp;the northeast side of&nbsp;the zone. </p>
<p>I&nbsp;wasn't&nbsp;very happy about venturing that far into that wasteland, but there's&nbsp;nothing left for me&nbsp;outside of&nbsp;it&nbsp;anymore. Not without her. I&nbsp;agreed to&nbsp;let him lead the way.</p>
<p>She said two days.</p>
<p>Why did I&nbsp;let her go?</p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 5th, 2013</b></p>
<p>Fuck. Just woke up,&nbsp;alone. The stalkers split with all the goddamn equipment I&nbsp;bought from that fat legless bastard. What the hell do&nbsp;I&nbsp;do&nbsp;now? Con artists leading me&nbsp;around in&nbsp;circles, pointless. All I've&nbsp;got with me&nbsp;now is&nbsp;a&nbsp;pocket flashlight and this journal. Right now I&nbsp;wish that I&nbsp;had brought along her Russian pistol. I've&nbsp;never liked guns, but right now I'd&nbsp;sure like to&nbsp;use one. </p>
<p>They even stole my&nbsp;picture of&nbsp;her. Looking at&nbsp;a&nbsp;picture of&nbsp;her now wouldn't&nbsp;be&nbsp;a&nbsp;good idea anyway. Too depressing. <br />
Maybe it's&nbsp;a&nbsp;good thing that I&nbsp;don't&nbsp;have the gun.</p>
<p>So&nbsp;they didn't&nbsp;really see her at&nbsp;all. Maybe she didn't&nbsp;even make it&nbsp;this far into the zone. What kind of&nbsp;husband lets his wife get into this business anyway? I&nbsp;should have expected this to&nbsp;happen, she's&nbsp;been coming here too much. At&nbsp;first it&nbsp;was just once or&nbsp;twice a&nbsp;year, and now it's&nbsp;come to&nbsp;her coming to&nbsp;this place every month. Did we&nbsp;need the money this much?</p>
<p>Should I&nbsp;continue the search or&nbsp;get out of&nbsp;here while I&nbsp;still have my&nbsp;life? No&nbsp;real indications of&nbsp;where she went, no&nbsp;equipment against the radiation, slim chance at&nbsp;all that she's&nbsp;still alive. I&nbsp;have to&nbsp;search. I&nbsp;have to&nbsp;find her; I&nbsp;have to&nbsp;find something. </p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 6th, 2013</b></p>
<p>Nothing. No&nbsp;sign of&nbsp;her. </p>
<p>I&nbsp;walked around endlessly for hours; the only thing I&nbsp;found of&nbsp;any interest was a&nbsp;broken down jeep a&nbsp;few yards behind my&nbsp;current location. The engine was shot to&nbsp;hell and the tires were ripped up,&nbsp;not sure by&nbsp;what. </p>
<p>I&nbsp;searched the car and found it&nbsp;empty. There was one strange thing, though. The roof and the backseat were covered with green &#171;fungus&#187;. I&nbsp;tried to&nbsp;stay away from it. </p>
<p>She said this place was beautiful, but I&nbsp;don't&nbsp;see it.</p>
<p>I'll&nbsp;rest here and tomorrow I'll&nbsp;continue the search.</p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 7th 2013</b></p>
<p>That was the worst night of&nbsp;sleep in&nbsp;my&nbsp;life. I&nbsp;kept waking up&nbsp;hearing howls and other sounds you'd&nbsp;only hear in&nbsp;cheap horror movies. </p>
<p>Then when morning finally arrived I&nbsp;spotted another group of&nbsp;stalkers. They were friendly people. Even though I&nbsp;didn't&nbsp;trust them at&nbsp;first, they fixed me&nbsp;up&nbsp;with some food and gave me&nbsp;a&nbsp;canteen filled with water. I&nbsp;told them about my&nbsp;wife and they said three weeks ago, there were rumors of&nbsp;a&nbsp;suitcase containing blueprints to&nbsp;the Chernobyl nuclear plant in&nbsp;it.&nbsp;It&nbsp;was said to&nbsp;be&nbsp;in&nbsp;an&nbsp;abandoned hotel about 5&nbsp;kilometers east of&nbsp;here&#133; the suitcase left behind by&nbsp;some scientist. They said no&nbsp;one found anything, but it&nbsp;can't&nbsp;hurt to&nbsp;try.</p>
<p>Could she of&nbsp;gone after it?</p>
<p class="copyr"><b>September 8th 2013</b></p>
<p>We're&nbsp;in&nbsp;the hotel, but there's&nbsp;nothing here. We&nbsp;decided to&nbsp;set up&nbsp;camp here for to</p>
<p class="copyr"><b>******************</b></p>
<i><p>The writing is&nbsp;cut off abruptly.</p>
<p>Just as&nbsp;you're&nbsp;about to&nbsp;set down the journal, one of&nbsp;the corpses stands up.&nbsp;You swiftly pull your magnum out of&nbsp;the holster. The zombified corpse grabs you by&nbsp;the shoulders and shoves you back into a&nbsp;dresser as&nbsp;it&nbsp;screams in&nbsp;agony. </p>
<p>Something clunky tumbles off the top of&nbsp;the dresser and knocks the corpse off balance and to&nbsp;the floor. </p>
<p> A&nbsp;suitcase. </p>
<p>You quickly pull two rounds off into the zombies face. The now headless corpse stands up.&nbsp;You grab the suitcase and run to&nbsp;the door, shooting another two shots blindly behind you. You quickly glance back and see the other three corpses slowly standing up.&nbsp;You run.</p></i>