Field Journal No. 07

Two hours of driving to get out here, and nothing but religious drivel to listen to on the way. "Will" this, "Will" that. It's like a broken record sometimes.
We showed up to our new "home", and its this grimy old holding facility that used to process criminal admissions to the asylum out here. Cozy, right?
Seems like a different company had bought the building intending to repurpose it as a kind of waystation for their trucks, but they're long since gone.
The thing is... I don't think they left willingly. The truck trailers outside reek... and I know that smell.
Category:Cultic