Monday, November 1, 2010

The Bitter Cold

We're doing another election today, and that's all the detail I'm going into. It will turn out however it turns out, and I will let you all know the results.

It's been bitter cold for the last few days. Our Halloween gathering was truly fun, but I think the general consensus is that staying at home for anything but work or special occasions. Rachel kept her word and spun stories for us all night, capturing child and adult alike for almost two hours. We managed to find some candy for the kids, though at this point it's all pretty stale and I don't think they will be clamoring so hard for it come valentine's day...

We haven't seen a zombie in more than a day. The cold is doing it's job, but some of the scouts have pointed out that the best time for us to take out large groups of them is now, when they are immobile from the cold and helpless. It won't be very dangerous, and we won't have to use firearms to kill them. I have to admit, though, that the idea of going around bashing in the heads of helpless zombies is really macabre and gruesome to me. I'm used to killing them when it's me or them, when my blood is hot.

Just the thought of their eyes following the arc of my arm while I swing away with a hatchet gives me the willies. I've spent so long fighting them that sometimes it's hard to remember that they were people once, and that the deep down part of their brains that still function contain basic fears and needs.

Maybe I'll sit this one out.

Will isn't going out with the scouts, which is unusual for him. We've officially made him our defense coordinator, which is a separate position much like my own, but whose findings carry heavy weight in council and leadership meetings. As a part of his job, Will typically goes out with a fast scout run every morning to keep an eye on any subtle changes in the area surrounding the compound. He's sending out his assistant, an older marine veteran whose real name I don't know, but everyone calls Dodger.

Ok, so let me digress a minute here. Dodger is important because of the job he fulfills, and I think a few words are in order.

He's this forty something guy, never been married and never had kids. He used to live alone in Mercer county, just outside of Harrodsburg. We didn't even know he'd been a Marine until a few days ago, he didn't think his experience was very useful since he'd only been in the service for four years just after he graduated high school.

When The Fall hit, he was at a bar. He spent most of his nights there, not drinking, but watching people. Dodger observed the interactions of those around him and used that for inspiration--he was a writer of all things. When the panic and violence began, people all over his town were going apeshit. Someone set fire to an apartment complex across the street from the bar he was in. He went into the flaming building, and there found three children, and he led them to safety.

He spent a few hours trying to locate their parents to no avail. When it became clear that something huge was going on, he moved them to a safer area, Frankfort. To here.

He's an interesting guy. As to how he got his nickname, he says that while he was in the corps, he "spent a lot of time getting shot at, and no time getting shot."

At any rate, Will has left him in charge of the morning run outside. Will himself is holed up in his office, working at tornado speeds on an ambitious and frankly pretty scary set of upgrades to our defenses. He swears that if he can get it done, we'll be nearly impossible to take over by force. Which would leave our destruction as the only other option.

That's strangely encouraging.

We're pretty sure that the soldiers from Richmond have access to the blog, so from here out I won't be discussing specifics of our defenses. We bloodied their nose as much as they did ours a few days back, but none of us are under the illusion that in a one-on-one we could stand half a chance. So we prepare and hope, and thank whatever prickly force that guides the world that it has spared us more pain for another day.

Problem is, we seem to get hurt all the more for all the days of peace when the time comes around.

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