I talked to Jack today, and he and his folks are doing pretty well. They suffered a lot of losses during the storm of zombies a few weeks ago, but the recovery effort seems to be coming along well. He and his people have set up some backup systems for heat, should the electricity fail for whatever reason. Keep in mind that they live in a big industrial complex, not individual houses like we do. It's harder for them to keep the places they sleep warm, even though they have power.
We've sent them a lot of extra supplies since the attack. The last truck that went that way was stuffed entirely with blankets and coats. Living in Michigan, of course, I am quite sure that most of them know just what kind of cold is coming, but we had the extra, thanks to the rather intense sacking of a Burlington coat factory in Lexington.
We're still on the lookout for other groups out there to build relationships with as we have done with Jack's people. Most of those who we have come into contact with, even the ones who sent help to us up in Michigan, remain pretty wary of new people. Of getting close. I can't blame them, really.
The major work around here is being carried out with gusto. The alterations and upgrades to the defenses are coming along, though Will has threatened me with a stabbing if I blab any details about them. Quite apart from the obvious advantage that keeping it all secret gives us in a fight, I think Will is sort of obsessing about this like it's his child.
He's a pretty calm and rational guy most of the time. He doesn't usually snap at people or get sharp with them...but the last few days have been different. It's strange to see him move around this place with such intensity, checking and rechecking measurements and angles. This morning I saw him rush to a platform, measure the anchor points drilled into it, and then spend five minutes explaining why it had to be reworked because the anchors were offset by something like two degrees. He went on to the poor foreman about maximizing area of fire and all sorts of crazy details, and then he ran off to check something else.
And it doesn't stop with him simply making sure that we're building things according to his designs. Whenever he has an idea for an improvement to something, he sends Dodger out running to update the plans. Some projects he's done this to three, four times. Poor Dodger is starting to look a little haggard, and maybe a little stabby himself. If I were Will, I'd wouldn't keep too many pointy things close at hand in his office.
I won't be the one to bring it up to him, (though of course, he'll read this blog and know that the door is open if he wants to talk) but I really think that Will feels responsible for the attack last week. In one sense, he is. His helicopter crashed here, and we rescued him. It clearly isn't coincidence that his former buddies from the depot in Richmond have since come at us.
I think he blames himself in a much more specific, guilty sort of way. He feels like it's all his fault, and that he has to make it his personal goal in life to save every one of us because of that. Hey, I'm all for a gung-ho protector type willing to work eighteen hours a day to ensure the safety of myself and the people I love, but for the right reasons.
It's because of Will that they came here, while we were engaged with a vast zombie swarm, and tried to hit us. Tried to cripple us by taking our most important structures. Thing is, anyone could have been in that chopper, and it wouldn't have made any difference. Maybe he feels like if he had gone back to them they wouldn't have attacked us, perhaps thinking that he betrayed them. Well, to that I have to remind that we kept his ass locked up or under guard for a long time. He had no choice.
So he shouldn't feel guilt. I really like Will, and I want him to be as happy as possible. I like seeing him laughing with us and telling unbelievably dirty jokes. I like watching him get irritated when my wife out shoots him with a rifle.
I like more than anything that I can sit down and seriously nerd it out with him. We're both crazy for weird and trivial data, and soak that shit up like sponges.
I just think he's getting too worried and way to anal about the defenses. I agree that the work needs to be done, but he has to take the time to be a person again and not some fucking machine programmed to defend. I want to see the guy who will veer off the street to comfort someone who looks upset. The man who scrabbled in the dirt for his own food despite the pain in his damaged limbs.
So Will, when you read this, please don't misunderstand. We appreciate what you are doing for us, truly. But no one wants you to drive yourself crazy doing it. No one expects you to make something perfect and flawless. You have to relax a little, have some fun.
Come over tonight. I'm taking out the dice bag and we're gonna have us some good ol' D&D action. It'll be fun. You need that once in a while. I promise if we get attacked while you are playing, no one will blame you.
So don't blame yourself.