Ryan Postma
Journal Entry 2/23/96
11:18 am
Lockport, Illinois

The warehouse is completely deserted and appears to be over seventy years old. It's perfect. The mess up at the school garage is hours behind me and I'm trying to put it out of my head. Out of hand. Too many more mistakes like that and we might as well just go back home and enroll in a business school. The bus will hold Jhasen's quickly decaying body conveniently, as well as supplying moving beds and some laptop computers Bates brought. Cellular modems. Get it.

With the gargantuan aid of Rob and Chris the bus has been completely stripped inside and out. Cliff returned from his errand as sneakily as he'd left and went back out for paint and something to keep the body cool in. Leave it to Cliff, he'll get the job done.

I sent Nate and Sally out for some communications gear. With the way this convoy is forming up we're going to need to stay in touch. I feel like we have to get moving, but these preparations are important. Pasteur said that chance favors the prepared mind. I wonder if Jhasen was prepared.

Cliff's back.

"There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create..."

--T.S. Eliot

-dem bones-
--Letters from a Savior; Offer for a few--


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