Wednesday, April 11, 2012


I'm not gonna get into how much I hate being stuck in this bed unable to do anything physical. I would actually be allowed up more by now, but I'm running a low-grade fever and Gabby is insistent that I rest and use my strength to heal. I still do some walking and sitting to keep my lungs expanding so as to avoid pneumonia, but it's never for very long. I always come back to this bed.

Not that I'm not doing work, of course. I am. Will has me as his assistant all the time now since I can't do anything other than use my brain. Will is going easy on me with the work, though I wish he wouldn't. I'm weak, not dead. Dave doesn't have that problem. He's taking up my extra time (roughly equivalent to most of my time) helping him rework and improve the designs for the expansion. It's a lot of number crunching and managing supplies. Familiar territory.

No, what's really bothering me is feeling like a freeloader. I know, I know. We take care of our own. That's the point. But I've spent too long working my ass off to feel okay with the notion that I should just be doing paperwork. There's a healthy dollop of rational fear in there, as well: I can't hop up and grab a weapon if there's any kind of attack.

I'm not allowed to go hang out with the sick people from Louisville, who are still here but getting a little better. That they've struggled against whatever is in their lungs says something about their toughness. I don't feel as though they should be putting any effort in (the little voice in the back of my head is quiet now) because they risked their lives to safeguard ours. I just got an infection.

Yes, I know I've risked my own. I'm too hard on myself. I'm a hypocrite with a double standard. Shut up. I'm ranting here.

The captive zombies are all dead. It was decided while I was being operated on that no one else should risk dealing with them, in accordance with my desires. Dodger did the job himself. Those rooms are filled with relatively comfortable cots now, ready for anyone who may need a place to crash near the clinic. I haven't discussed resuming our experiments with Gabby or the others yet. That's too far into the future, and I've just begun the recovery process.

One good thing about having so much time to sit around and think is that the analytically skilled part of my brain is getting a great workout. I can't miss the parallels between us starting the bare bones of our own expansion and what the Exiles are starting to do.

That's the most disturbing thing about being stuck here, knowing the enemy is still the enemy and not being able to observe for myself. Until now they've been content to do their own thing across the river, knowing we're watching them and feeling safe within the walls of the fallback point. Now, they've started raising these huge posts into the air around their stolen home. Tall spears of wood that must have been taken from somewhere else, maybe from downed power lines. They've got long homemade extensions built onto them, with attachments that carry steel cable between each one. Just last night the first three of the posts went up as our watchers observed.

Between them, two huge pieces of fabric flew high. One of them seemed to be an old parachute cut and stitched into a new shape. The other was a patchwork of material. The Exiles are blocking themselves off from our sight, and that's probably a bad sign.

Says something about the basic differences between us, doesn't it? New Haven expands to bring others in, to grow. The Exiles build to hide from us. Not that I blame them considering how coldly our folks view them at present.

I'd love to see it with my own eyes. Sometime soon, I hope. I'll be a good boy and heal up as I'm told. I just don't have to like being apart from everyone. Jess has been too busy to visit me in the last day with all the work being done in the annex farm. Pat is shaping metal for twelve hours a day, his girls apprenticing with him. Courtney and Steve are managing much of the trade operations, Becky in her makeshift lab...

Yeah, I'm going. I really don't want to start a pity party here, especially since I'm the only attendee.


  1. Months ago, there were several women pregnant... how are the new additions? How many children are there now? Is "school" still continuing? Are you and Jess going to try again?

  2. Ah, you remind me of so many little things that get passed over in the press of emergencies. I've touched on this a bit but I'll give it my full attention in the morning.