Another day, another swarm of zombies. We saw this one coming, thankfully, and the fight was a relatively short one. They stayed away in large numbers for the last few days, but now it looks like they are back to regular group attacks.
I was feeling almost normal when I woke up this morning, but that hazy feeling gradually fell over me again as I got up and moved about. It's not as bad as it was a few days ago, but I still hate not knowing what is causing this. It's bad enough that we are dealing with rebuilding from the beating we took last week, but now we are fighting zombies in a constant grind and I have to run to the walls and fight, then back to my office and concentrate on my work, all while feeling like I am watching someone else do it. I need to talk to Evans, as he is our only doctor, and see what he thinks. Maybe it's a side effect from something he can treat.
If its psychological, well...we'll deal with that when it comes. I tend to think it isn't, mainly because the emotional waxing and waning is too fast. Does that sound like I am grasping at straws? Maybe.
Jess has been cooking me breakfast and lunch the last few days, since she is starting to stay indoors more now that the heat is getting truly oppressive. Everyone is mothering her now that she is pregnant, and it's a slice of normality to see her putter around the house, rather than perched up on a tower sighting a dead person's head through the scope of a high-powered rifle.
Steve has been hanging out over here a bit. The attack last week shook him pretty badly, and it brought out a seething rage that has yet to go down any notches. Not that many people would be able to tell, of course, as Steve is one of the most relaxed and calm people I have ever seen, but those of us that have known him a long time can catch the signs. His eyes have this constant tension at the corners, his steps are brisk and measured. He moves around the compound like a cat prowling for a fight. Hell, this last zombie attack earlier today was proof if nothing else can be that something is wrong with him.
He walked right through one of the last breeches of the wall with an Iaito, and simply laid waste to a large section of the attacking horde. He was wearing a set of the hodgepodge armor we put together (he's not stupid, after all) and moved with brutal efficiency among them. It was beautiful to watch, since he and I share a love of marital arts and swordsmanship, but it was scary how much of a risk he was taking. Steve isn't typically a risk taker.
And you know, part of it was funny. I mean, I love him like he's my own brother, but Steve is a very proud nerd. Like, stereotypical nerd. Big glasses, sort of high voice with a precise way of speaking, truly profound knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons. The kind of guy that gets excited as hell about an obscure piece of anime.
There he was, in a Judo gi, welder's gloves and riot helmet with a chainmaille neck covering, swinging his katana in a very practiced way, slain enemies at his feet. Never would have imagined it a year ago. Sort of like seeing Albert Einstein go into a berserker kung-fu rage and destroy the nazis, you know?
Enough chatter for now. Going to see if I can pull my thoughts together a little bit and get back to work. I am feeling slightly more normal at the moment.
I smell some coffee brewing.