April 23rd (approximate), 2099
The scratching is insistent. I hear it all the time for there is no more day and no more night. If I sleep, I sleep in fits and jerks, closing my eyes only to snap them open again. I’m afraid to sleep, afraid that if I let myself go under, they will come. It’s not a fear of dying, not really. It’s a fear of waking up alone on this ship. That is something I can’t take. I’ll go mad.
I may already be mad. I saw her again. Sarah was just walking down the corridor, toward the sealed door. She was waving to me, beckoning me to follow her. I knew it wasn’t real, Sarah doesn’t look like that anymore. She let her hair grow out, changed so much. This Sarah was the old Sarah, her hair short and dark. She was beautiful, just like I remember.
I can’t let go, even now. I won’t let her change, or grow, or be someone other than who I remember. She is nothing but a fantasy. How long has she been that way?
They’re trying to come through again. I can hear them pounding, screeching, clawing. God, make it stop! I want the silence, the awful, unending silence! Not this, not ever this.
They’re coming for us, it won’t be long now.