Dear Planet Earth,
It’s really hit the fan now. We escaped the small army of homeless mercenaries, but for how long is anyone’s guess.
I crashed a TV over one of their heads as he came in to deliver our breakfast. He might have died. I don’t know. I’m beyond the point of caring. Diana took out the guy behind him with a lamp. The stench of blood and piss immediately flooded our nostrils. We grabbed a set of keys off my guy and made a beeline for the Hummer in the parking lot.
“Oh, hell no!” a deep, groggy voice said behind us.
Just as we made it to the doors, Guy #2’s back up and shooting at us. I heard Diana scream, but I was too busy fumbling with the keys and trying to remember the two lessons of driver’s ed I took before I decided I could learn more from Grand Theft Auto IV. The windshield started to sprout spider webs from Guy #2’s AK-47 as I threw us in reverse at 80 miles an hour. It’s all a blur of bullets and screaming after that.
I somehow made it back on the highway. As my adrenaline levels returned to their average levels, I was able to see that Diana was indeed in the car with me.
Relief turned to guilt and fear. She was shot, twice in the shoulder. She was bleeding like crazy, gushing so much over her body that I thought she must have been hit somewhere else, too.
“Stop!” I could hear the lethal pangs in her voice. “Pull over.”
I pulled over and she guided me through how to dig out the bullets and make her a tourniquet. She screamed and sobbed and said “thank you.” She said she needed to rest. She’s been asleep for two hours now.
I don’t know what to do.