Day '?' Well I've completely lost track of time now. Dave came by earlier, both him and Frank are fairing better than me, coping better than me. I can now move around a bit more, but I'm still off balance, wobbling towards my right. If I don't have the 'infection', I might get used to it. Were it not for the rest of our little team, I'd be dead by now. Our little team - the three musketeers. I manage a smile at the thought of the name. We're still on the ferry, just off the prison island, and have a chat about what to do next. We all still agree that Black Ridge prison island should be our next port of call. It's also agreed that we should be cautious in our approach, the priority will be supplies and defence. We're trying to pass the time until we land with a game of cards, and talking about what our lives were like 'before'. I'm having a hard time concentrating on the game though, I still try to use my left hand, not to mention being rather wrecked on pain killers. But we have a plan (perhaps not the best one, but a plan none the less). And we have a goal. Sorry if I repeat this, but I have had a lot of painkillers (apparently). Goals are good! Better than trying to keep my journal for my sanity. Something to do every day I can, the journal, that is. But now our little team need to be focused on the challenges ahead. The island, and what we might find there. Or not find there ... We've rather pined our hopes on it. I haven't spoken to Dave of Frank about this, but I'm worried. Worried that I'm more of a burden than asset to the team, worried about what might happen to me. I keep the pistol (just loaded with one round) with me always now. If things just get worse, I hope I'll have the courage and mental capacity left to me able to 'use' that one shot.