You know, there are any number of small bits of good news. The constant rain over the last few days has filled our cisterns and reservoirs--many of them very new and large--to a point that gives us months of water in case of drought. The clover we've seeded all over the place grows back within a week of us cutting it for food. We've got lots of extra food. Work on the expansion is coming along nicely, faster than we planned for. George and his team are back with no incidents. Their cargo was unloaded yesterday afternoon.
I've got a laundry list of positive things in front of me but not one can stop me from drifting back to the yellow post-it note on my desk. There are seven names on it, and my eyes lock on to hers every time I lose my focus. Lindsey. Five years old.
It's a blessing that we've been able to beat the New Breed zombies back for a time. The lack of attacks means a time of relative peace and calm. Unfortunate that the quiet means it's much easier to dwell on the new strain of the plague that's taking our people.
I've been to visit her. She's a small thing, thin but wiry with the soft muscles children always seem to have. She's got lovely caramel skin, bright green eyes, and mocha hair cut short to her head. Her parents died in The Fall, no one is sure what her background is. Lindsey came here from Lexington last year with the group we pulled from Rupp Arena. She's an orphan. She has parents of a sort, two women that took her in and cared for her, love her. I've seen both of them come visit her several times with tears in their eyes.
So tiny and frail, but not alone. Not in body or spirit or heart.
A part of me wants to rant against the universe for seeing anyone face what these people are facing. The slow agony of having your breath choked off, never quite able to pull in enough air. The rest of me is past that childish reaction. No amount of shouting at the heavens will change a thing. All we can do is our very best, but we don't have the resources or time to try anything like a cure. In the movies some brilliant biologist or chemist comes up with a solution and saves the day.
The real world, even before The Fall, has never functioned that way. Because of that truth, that breakthroughs take time and knowledge and technology, it's possible that a small girl will die. I can't blame anyone for it. It's no one's responsibility. It's just sad.