I realized when I woke up a few minutes ago that today is Halloween. There's certainly no candy out here, and we're hours away from any other survivors at the absolute best, so there's little chance of getting any celebration in. It's always been my favorite holiday, but this go round it doesn't look like I'll be putting on a costume and having any fun.
I can't help but think about the zombies out there, deadly and hungry for our flesh, and giggle a bit. Today is Halloween, and that makes the undead seem just a shade silly to me. They're monsters that we used to make fun of, dressing up as them to scare kids. For all the reality that they're a threat to our very existence, something about today just makes it a little easier to remember the way we used to see them.
Not that there are many undead out here. The area of the country we're travelling through at the moment is pretty empty. Of everything. Mostly just scrub and flatland, leading up to the edge of desert country. We've been on the road continuously for a good long while now, and we've gone very far. I'm told I slept right through a stop at one of the fuel depots to top off. Mason was supposed to wake me up to take a shift driving, but he let me sleep through.
We've been passing the time trying to get Mason to spill to juicy details of his date with Jane. He refuses to call it a date, which is in itself suspicious. He's being gentle about it so far, but knowing me, Becky, Will, Rachel, and Steve, eventually we'll wear him down to the point where he either tells us, or shoots us to shut us up.
I give either possibility a fifty percent chance.
It's boring and lonely out here, but at least we've stopped long enough for me to write and talk to the folks at home. My former trainees back at New Haven are handling all the communications with other groups of survivors I usually manage since we can't stop often enough to be effective at passing important news. I've heard some interesting things this morning, but most of them are sensitive, so I have to leave you hanging.
One I can tell you about is crazy to the point of suspicion, though. Kincaid and his people have, at the encouragement of the council at New Haven, been extending the olive branch of peace to other groups of marauders. As it turns out, resources out in the wild are getting harder to come by, which is part of why so many bands of marauders have started getting more violent. That's really bad for them, because one of the advantages of staying put in a compound is that you build up resources, defenses, and plans. The high ground is ours. That makes raiding a costly and dangerous affair for marauders.
And it's cold as hell outside. Which means less people on the roads, less prey for marauders. I don't know if many (or any) of the groups Kincaid has talked to will give positive responses, but we can hope. Every person who isn't attacking others for their supplies (or worse, to capture people) is a victory for the rest of us. I don't know how the communities out there will deal with men and women who've done the terrible things many marauders have, but it seems like they can't all be really terrible. Not all of them are rapists, as Kincaid proves.
It's a sticky situation, but potentially a very good thing. Damn, I've gone way over what I intended, and Will says it's time to move out again. Stupid time limits.
At any rate, happy Halloween. Don't forget to eat something bad for you. Try not to get eaten.
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