Monday, July 4, 2011

Reborn on the 4th of July

The sky overhead is slate gray, dark with what should be ominous portents. Thunder. Lightning. Clouds moving on winds that would knocks us down if they were at ground level. We should be afraid, but we're not. Not today.

There's a sense of unity at the compound that has been missing since the other refugees and I returned. You'd have to see the men and women on the walls, working with matchless precision like the gears of some great and intricate clock to understand what I mean. Part of the energy we're feeling stems from the total shock of yesterday's events, the sheer joy of realizing that we might have a chance to survive this.

We expected the horde outside, which is now estimated somewhere around five thousand, to attack as one. That seemed like the most logical thing, since a huge wave of zombies would certainly be enough to overwhelm us. We didn't get hit with that.

Instead we watched with gleeful confusion as we were hit by small groups. Well, 'small' is a relative term here. They were coming in groups of 100-200 at a time. They never hit the same part of the wall twice. Most of the first five or six waves fell victim to the combination of defenses outside the walls. Many were impaled on the stakes, more fell into the trenches. Some actually made it to the base of the wall itself in a few places. My brother, in his infinite brilliance, has made sure to cut murder-holes here and there along the wall's surface.

Small holes that a thin weapon can be thrust through. Wait for a zombie to get close, then jam a spear or similar weapon right into its head. Simple, effective, and the safest way to attack.

We've got all sorts of traps set out, and as new sections of the walls are tested by the swarm outside, we observe and judge the effectiveness of the designs. It's tremendously useful.

Yes, I said the walls were being tested. I've gotten reports of zombies staying back while the attack waves come in, watching with the cold, calculating gaze that only smarties have. I knew such a large gathering of the undead being brought against us couldn't just be chance. There's a probing caution in the attacks, and that can't mean anything good for us.

Except that we're not being overwhelmed, which means we're alive. That's a plus.

Will has a lot of little tricks and ideas for when the flood of undead does finally come. I've also got a few theories about the smarties themselves that sort of came to me fully-formed as I got the battle reports. None of that right now, though. I hear the bells ringing, and I'm due for archery duty at eight.

Will has a few surprises ready, all right. I can hear the chatter of machine gun fire right now. Guess he managed to salvage at least one of the big guns we ruined retaking the compound. If we only had enough bullets for the rest of them...

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