A Real Mess

Since the Union sent me here to restart the oil well, my life has become a mess. No, I can't even call this a life now. An adventure, a story, a slow death, sure, but not life! I encountered something terrifying here. When I first arrived, I had nowhere to stay, so I found a van to sleep in. When I opened the van doors, though, a Deviant jumped out at me! I'd walked all the way here from Blackfell, but I was still quick enough to pull out my pistol and... sorry, I need to catch my breath, then I'll continue writing. Okay. Naturally, I quickly took out the pistol and aimed for the center of its deformed body. I took it down with one shot. Obviously I didn't want to sleep next to a dead Deviant, so I dragged it out and dumped it further away. What's messed up, though, is I got blue streaks on my arms! Well, I guess no one expects to live to 70 or 80 anymore. We all need to accept death, and we all know it could come from anywhere now. I don't know how long it will take, but I stopped working on the oil wells—I don't want to pollute them. If someone sees this, please contact the Union and ask them to send someone else to continue my work.