The smarties (that name for the smart zombies caught on yesterday and now everyone around here is using it) have begun to attack us consistently. They're probing us, attacking differently every time and fighting harder with each hit.
There are a lot of them. Our recon folks have reported witnessing zombies being converted by the smarties. It takes a while, and it works on very few of them, but those that catch whatever strain of the zombie disease these fuckers carry end up getting smarter. That small percentage ends up being hundreds that we have seen so far, because Frankfort has thousands of zombies at any given time.
One good thing that our scouts saw during the time they were observing: it takes an effort for the smarties to stay focused. They aren't able to restrain their natures at all times, which is great news for us. If we can stake them out and place people where we know them to gather, chances are good that we can drastically reduce their population.
The problem is, that place is at our walls right now.
Roger has been working with Patrick at our makeshift forge to turn all the metal we can find into bracing for our weak and missing sections of wall. Patrols are out constantly, in fact I am about due for an hour of patrol myself.
Jess is getting big with baby, and is feeling the frustration of not being able to go out with us. But that's the rule around here for pregnant women.
Assuming that they keep the pressure on, I expect a major attack by tomorrow morning. Our remaining scout group is supposed to check in with us in a few hours, though given how hard they are hitting the gate it's unlikely we will be able to open it to let them in.