Just as dawn broke, the traders from around the country who braved the open roads with their swarms of zombies and roving marauders came together in our theater. The start of the day was also the beginning a new era of cooperation and a new economy.
Naturally, that's when the exiles chose to attack.
I don't have a lot of time, but I'll give you the gist of it: they must have positioned themselves at night. They were close. They swept in driving their armored vehicles and firebombed the hell out of us. Oh, not the homes. That would have destroyed them. They hit the inner wall, the wooden one.
The North Jackson soldiers were inside, since work on the outer wall hadn't begun for the day. No time to react, no time to stop them.
The inner wall is still on fire. I don't know what the exiles used in their concoctions, but whatever was inside those bottles is almost impossible to put out with water. And we've used a lot of water.
It's brilliant, don't you see? They'll burn down the inner wall and have an open way in through the unfinished section of the outer one. They might kill some of us with the smoke that hangs inside New Haven like fog. Even if we put the fires out and escape choking to death on smoke, they know we'll have used up the majority of our water. Without rain, we'll dehydrate in days.
All they have to do is sit tight where we can't sight them through a rifle scope (not that it would do much good with them behind bulletproof glass...) and wait for us to come out.
That's the state of things.