Thread: El Cajon, California

Name Joseph Anderson, Joe Location Santee, CA - Highway 8 West, just outside of El Cajon Attire Gray MARINES tee shirt, olive cargo pants, utility belt equipped with handgun holster and magazine pouches, tan hiking boots, camo military-issue pack Weapons Standard Glock 19, Mossberg 500 with shortened buttstock and tactical barrel with sling, foldable black knife with 4 serrated blade. DateTime August 5th, 2025 - 113 AM Tagging Open Do it... The words seemed to resound to Joe in his dream. His vision was blurry around the edges, but the center was clear and focused as he gazed at his brother's bloody face. They looked like one another, although Zack's features were a bit darker. Their striking blue eyes were the most common characteristic. Do it, damnit.. his brother repeated, voice weak. Joe could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, stinging and burning, causing him to blink which only made them spill down his grimy cheeks. He clutched his brother's hand, trying to keep his own from shaking as he held down the urge to sob. I.. I can't.. Joe responded, his voice cracking as sorrow clutched at his chest. It was the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. Joe had moved back in with his brother after separating from the Marine Corps the previous year. They had a close relationship, their bond forged early on in their life by witnessing the abuse of their alcoholic father towards their mother. They had promised to always look out for one another. When the world had gone to shit, Joe and Zack were determined to see it through. But now, he'd failed. He'd failed his big brother. He felt helpless as he watched his brother slowly slip away, the color fading from Zack's skin as his head slumped sideways and his eyes closed. Joe shook visibly, his broad shoulders shuddering as he clutched his brother's hand tightly - shaking it as if it would bring him back. ..No.. he whispered, feeling breathless as tears now streamed heavily down his cheeks. Zack, no.. he repeated, quickly losing his composure. A sound escaped his throat that no man should ever emit, one of such deep pain, and he leaned forward on his knees to press his forehead into the chest of his brother's bloodied shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears continued to roll down his face, making streaks in the dirt on his skin, and his shoulders shook as sobs wracked his body. How could this have happened? Why couldn't he have kept his brother safe? He was supposed to be the strong one. He'd promised. Gradually, his sobbing grew more quiet, his body trembling gently as he slowly lifted his head to peer at his brother's lifeless face. His vision was blurry from the tears, and he scrubbed a dirty hand over his eyes to clear them as he gently shook his head. He didn't want to keep going. He couldn't find the motivation to continue living in this world anymore. He didn't want to be alone. Sniffing noisily, he squeezed his brother's cold hand once again before he allowed his weight to shift so that he turned on his heel and collapsed back onto the wall beside Zack's corpse. He sat there quietly, feeling numb, before the slightly rustle drew his attention. As he turned his head - he found Zack staring back at him, eyes open, but the blue coloration now replaced with a milky white. Zack's lips parted, but instead of words, a throaty rasp came out. Joe jerked awake with a gasp, his eyes snapping open as he sat upright and found himself in the same place he'd settled in to sleep that evening. Coming to his senses, he felt a tinge of emotional pain as he suppressed the memory of his final moments with his brother and what he'd had to do once Zack turned. He took a shuddering breath and raised a hand, wiping the sweat from his brow before he slowly allowed his shoulders to lower themselves again, pressing against the door of the car. Jesus - that same fucking nightmare again.