You remember when I met Mason, I said he was scary? Yeah, he still is.
He vanished on us yesterday just after I posted. It's not like we normally would have missed one person if they decided to take a stroll around the compound, but Mason didn't show up for the class he was supposed to be teaching--he's running small groups of people through advanced self defense and survival in their free time. When we sent some people out looking for him after it became clear he wasn't going to show up, one of my trainees informed me that he'd been talking to Mason about the Richmond soldiers and the base they came from.
In Mason's room, a note was found. It explained that he was concerned about the base in Richmond, that there might be soldiers left there that might come after us again. I asked Will about that, but he told me what we've been fairly sure of for a while--there aren't any of them left there. That's not to say we haven't been concerned that others might go to the depot there and try to stock up for an assault against us, but Will is sure that no more than a few of his former brethren could still be alive.
Mason came back this morning, and he told us the whole story.
There was a small group of men camped out in the abandoned base, and Mason watched them for almost two hours as they picked there way across it. He watched as they tried to access the secure bunkers where some of the more dangerous stuff is locked up--chemical warheads and the like. He saw them round up the last of the ammo for the standard issue weapons. We knew there wasn't much of that left given how little the soldiers brought with them when they came here.
A dozen men, and Mason avoided being seen by all of them. One person he made sure saw him was the woman they held captive.
It's a sad truth that when those survivors who've gone bad become marauders, women are usually their first targets. The fetters of law and order drop away from such men, and they tend to take what they want. We've got people here and there in the compound who have been freed from exactly that type of slavery. None of us have any pity for those kinds of men when justice finally catches up with them.
Mason spent the better part of yesterday killing those worthless excuses for human beings. He gave me all the horrid details, and I won't paint a picture, mostly because I just don't have that many words for the color red. It was brutal and awful, and completely deserved. That's all I'll say about it.
The last man alive had to suffer under Mason's knife for a few minutes as he was asked various questions about the intentions of his group. Turns out that they followed the blog intermittently when they could, and had planned on trying to gather a large enough force to attack us. Not to try and take over, but to raid our land and try to take what they wanted, from food to females.
Mason tells me that it was lucky the group was so small, and that they decided to spread out and take individual rooms at the base. With them split up, it was relatively easy for someone with the intense military training and experience Mason has to sneak up on each of them one by one and kill them quietly. From his description, he's pretty efficient at it. Navy Seals are just badass, I guess.
The woman came back with him, and Jess is looking for a home for her. I don't even know her name yet, but then neither does anyone else. She doesn't talk, just nods or shakes her head. She doesn't seem psychologically damaged--at least, not in the way that would divorce her from reality and cause her to become mute--but more like she's just too scared to talk. I know a few women who have survived the same sorts of things she has that might be able to help, as much as I hate asking them to relive those memories. They're strong, though, so I think they're up to the challenge.
So, it's another thing for us to think about. The base in Richmond is a juicy target, one that we need to find a way to secure. Right now it just isn't an option, but it's a project we won't be able to put off for too long. If anyone gets access to some of the weaponry stored there, we're well and truly fucked.
I meant to write something fun and happy today, but events seem to out pace my desire. I had a neat idea, and I'll get to it soon. It's just a cute thing I thought up as a change of pace, but it isn't important beside the horrible tragedy our newest arrival has endured, or the threat that her captors may have posed.
Oh, quickly--something weird is going on. I got a phone call this morning, very badly garbled, from a number that I've never seen. I've never gotten an international call before, but I think this had to be one, because there were a lot of extra digits in it. I couldn't make out the voice, but I did distinctly hear my name. I'm hoping that whoever it was tries to get in touch with me again, it's a very curious thing. I hate mysteries...