This Old Man... He Played One...

I'm writing this in some shanty town shack construction. It belongs to this old guy who wouldn't give me his name and I'm fairly certain he might be the same guy that Maricel and Ethan had...

...speaking of... Maricel is still at my house. I ventured out to see if there were anymore of those people who attacked us but I couldn't find a trace. Their leader was amongst the dead I had seen before those paper towel people sucked him up. I wanted to keep looking around but Maricel won't speak to me. She just sits in my bedroom rocking back and forth. I didn't want to leave her but if one group of those bastards found us it's only a matter of time before another group does. We're going to have to keep moving.

So I ventured out by myself. Leaving her food and water just in case. She didn't seem to react to me leaving. My little squirrel friend is still kicking. I'm glad Ethan moved him into the bedroom away from the living room. Kept him safe during that fight. Guess that makes two lives Ethan saved.

I locked the door behind me. Hopefully it's enough to keep anything out. I also made sure to double the barricade at the back door. I didn't hear any giggling on the other side so whatever was there probably moved on.

I'm starting to think the "door" that leads to a way out of this mess isn't in the parking garage. At first I thought the garage went on forever but there is an upper and lower limit. Or at least I think there is. The darkness at the "extremes" I guess you could call it are so dark not even my flashlight can cut through it.

Yeah, I'm not about to walk into that.

So, while I was coming back down from exploring the upper levels of the garage I ran into this old guy who apparently had been following me for a little bit. He seemed friendly enough and was eager to talk to me. Though to be frank, I almost blew him away because he talks cryptic. Almost like those mimics so I was on edge for a while. But at least the weird stuff he says actually is coherent. It definitely has meaning, what that meaning is...can't really be sure. But it's not just random words.

"Been watchin' you," he said. "Been watchin' you for a while now. Do you know where you are yet?"

I told him no and he started laughing.

"You will," he said, simply.

I asked him if he knew and he said yes. But when I asked him to tell me he just ignored me and invited me to his place. Ensuring me it was "safe".

As we sat down in his "little piece of limbo" he called it. Tucked into a cage that contained a firehose. He started humming a tune and sparked up a cigarette. He offered me one but I wasn't interested.

I tried to fill the silence by asking him questions. He didn't really answer them.

I asked him about the mimics. What are they?

"You'll find out, I reckon. Soon, very soon."

What about those paper towel people I've seen?

"Keep things clean don't they?"

What was that ghost thing we saw in the grocery store?

"You'll learn to love them."

See what I mean? I can't tell if he answers like this because he's senile or if he's just being a troll or something but none of it helps. I made one more attempt and asked him about the "door".

"You'll find it...When you're meant to. If you're meant to."

When I asked him what that meant. He chuckled and walked out of his shack, held his arms up horizontally and then just sank through the floor.

Poof. Gone. I looked for him a bit and he was nowhere to be found. Then when I got back to the shack, there he was.

I asked him where he went, how he did that. He didn't answer, just laughed every time I asked.

Stupid me finally realized I might not actually be talking to a human being. So, my hands gripping my shotgun. I asked him point blank what he was.

He looked at me and smiled. It wasn't creepy. It was...warm. I felt comforted. This hobo looking drifter type with a beard that covered half of his face just locked his thumbs together and flapped his hands.

When he stopped and went back to smoking his cigarette, I asked him what that meant. He smiled again and said: "Exactly what you think it means."

I don't know what it means. If I did, I wouldn't be asking so many questions...would I?

I was just about to leave the shack and head back to my home when the old man signaled for me to stay put.

"Nope," he said. "You don't want to go out now."

When I asked why, he pressed a finger to his lips to shush me.

Outside the shack I soon heard what sounded like... How to describe it...?

You know those monkeys or whatever they are that make that "Whoop" noise? Something like that.

He whispered to me: "You can't look at them. Not yet. You're eyes aren't ready. They'll go away. When they do. You can go."

The whooping noises seem to get closer and further away. Above us and below us. I can't tell if there is a whole bunch of them or if it's just one creature moving all over the place really fast. It's probably the former but who knows anymore in this place.

So here I sit with the old man whose cigarette I've noticed never seems to burn down. He's been smoking the same one for...maybe a couple of hours now? Every once in a while he looks at me, fondly then goes back to staring off into space.

He doesn't seem harmless. But one can never be too careful. My guns haven't left my side.

I wonder how Maricel is doing...