I'm kind of drunk right now. Not wasted, because I can still type with reasonable coherence (and use phrases like 'reasonable coherence') but I can definitely feel it. Why, you may ask, have I been drinking so early in the morning? Or at all considering my usual opposition to intoxication in our circumstances?
Because I want to, that's why.
I've had drinks with people here and there, but for once I wanted to indulge myself. I'm doing no work today other than writing this post. I'm spending my time with my wife, who is similarly accomplishing nothing. Jess went with us when we took the fight to the New Breed, and she has earned a day off with me.
Part of it is to celebrate life. We lost good people when those ten Beaters died, and after that loss and the subsequent balls-out assault we gave the New Breed, I think the best tribute I can give them is a day spent mostly in bed trying to make the next generation happen. Yeah, that's probably way more than you want to know. But that's the truth and I've rarely shied away from that.
So, do you know what you get when you take the back end of an eighteen-wheeler and turn the trailer into a mobile war platform? You get a lot of dead zombies. The idea was a natural evolution of the tactic our team and the Louisville crew used at the zoo: make a cage that can't be breached by the zombie swarms, draw the undead toward it, and give them utter hell.
That's what we did. Outrunners moved among the horde and drew as many as possible toward the truck. We had tanks (not actual tanks, but modified vehicles outfitted with armor and weapons to mow down the undead) waiting to swoop in. We lost no one, partly due to good planning but mostly because of luck. Some of us wanted to step through the open walls of the cage as the outrunners and the zombies pulled toward us, but Will was there to rein us in. It was a damn good thing, too. Our blood was up, and we were close to going off-plan.
It was one hell of a fight. We went though more arrows, bullets, grenades, and other gear than we really should have, but even when the New Breed realized they weren't going to do us any damage we still kept cutting them down. After we blew up a bunch of them, shot them to death, put arrows in their faces, they ran. And we followed.
Our tanks circled them, our fire rained down in their path. We probably pushed harder than we should have and definitely went farther than we intended.
Did we kill them all? No. Not even close. Even if we had managed to corral them into an escape-proof location, the sheer numbers would have overwhelmed us eventually. But we hurt them badly. We showed no fear even if we felt it. We taught the New Breed how fierce survivors can be.
But that's not all of why I'm spending the day like this. In fact, yesterday I planned to spend this morning working like a mule. There are a lot of projects that need a little love. Instead, I'm drinking. I'm going to hop in my bed and take my time showing my wife some much needed love.
It looks like soon enough there won't be time for much fun. It's going to be all duty and caring for the ill. Over the last day and a half, a full dozen have fallen ill. One day isn't going to make the difference as we are right now, but tomorrow could bring a landslide of difference.
For now, joy and love. Tomorrow duty calls again.