Damn near lost my leg today. Some idiot set up a land mine who knows how many years ago and never considered that there’d be someone passing by this way, trying to mind her own business, not a threat to anyone. Luckily I was able to throw myself to the dirt when I heard the beeping so it only hurts when I try to move, instead of killing me outright.

Found what was probably his damn-fool skeleton behind a home-made bunker not far away when I was looking for post-explosion shelter. Body didn’t have anything of note except an old lockpicking guide, which should make for interesting campfire reading one of these nights. A good little shelter that should see me through the night, but what an inconvenience – now I’m going to have to hunt through the grasses, carefully measuring every step, to make sure there aren’t other mines left out here. It’s slow, painstaking, and seriously hampers my normally sunny disposition.

Sentry turrets run out of juice eventually, and guard animals die, but these stupid little presents are just content to sit and wait for someone – anyone – to stroll on by. I’m not one to glorify war, but I came from an age when missiles could (and then did) fly around the world to hit their targets. Laser rifles and tactical, shoulder-mounted nuclear devices were standard issue. What would anyone, anyone have need of land mines for? War just wasn’t fought that way anymore, and hadn’t been for a long time.

The carelessness and impersonality of it really gets to me. I’ve had to kill to survive, but it was a determined, measured, intentional act to put my finger on the trigger and squeeze. Even my dog has killed for me, trying to save me from raiders, consciously defending someone he cares about. Mines, though? It may be a person setting them up, but you’re not targeting anyone in specific when you set one and walk away. It’s callous, careless, and craven.

I’m setting up a few traps to guard this impromptu camp while I sleep the pain away, but I’m sure going to pull them down when I leave – I don’t want to forget they’re there and catch myself in them, but I also don’t want someone ten decades down the road nearly losing their damn leg because I needed a place to sleep.