If there were such things as freight trains any more, I'd ask one of you out there to get the number of the one that hit me yesterday.
My day started off fairly normal. I woke up and made a little something to eat, worked on the archives for a bit, and started planning out a blog post. I was running a little behind since I'd slept in later than normal, but I was on track to make up the difference when Will himself showed up, banging on my door, shouting for me to hurry, to come on, that he needed me right that second.
I keep the armored coat Jessie made for me right by the door with my bow and quivers, so I snatched them up as I made my way out. My first thought was that the remaining zombies from the assault last week had pooled back together and were making a run at the wall. Then I realized that the warning bells hadn't sounded, and my mind went to horrible places. Had the strangers infiltrated New Haven and killed our lookouts? Were the Exiles across the river inside the walls? Did we have to fight house-to-house in an attempt to take back our home?
I was worried about Jess since she was out working on the greenhouse project that has taken her over lately. I haven't mentioned it only because so much else has been happening, but my wife still runs a lot of the agriculture here and she does tend to get lost in projects.
Will piled me into a car--unusual itself inside the walls since it's a waste of fuel--and we hauled ass. It was a short drive, only to the nearest community mess halls, and Will dragged me inside as I unsnapped my favorite knife. I didn't know what we were about to deal with, but I was prepared whether it be a person, a zombie, a rabid animal, whatever.
It's a good thing I didn't have my guns on me. It's a bad idea to throw a surprise party for people carrying firearms.
Yesterday was my birthday as well as Thanksgiving. Will made certain to run everyone in half shifts all day so everyone could spend some time enjoying themselves on the holiday. Not that the usual feasts like in the old days were possible, of course; we're on tight ratios until we can start farming again. We're not hurting for food, but we would be if we didn't keep a tight reign on it through the winter.
Patrick and Jess had, very sneakily, managed to throw me a party. In the weeks of tumult and upheaval here I had somehow managed to forget that my birthday was coming up and that I was about to turn thirty. It's a little strange to have cake and open presents in a room full of people armed to the teeth, but overall it was a good time. There were a lot of people there nearly fifty. All friends and acquaintances, and over a period of a few hours some filtered out while others stopped by to wish me well.
I basically spent the entire day hanging out, eating, and telling stories. The party moved to my house at some point, but by then someone had broken out a case of very old and very, very smooth bourbon that had somehow escaped the distillers who make pure ethanol to mix with our fuel. Somewhere around dark things get fuzzy. I remember a wrestling match against someone who (and this part is clear) had a much better theoretical knowledge of the concept than practical. I woke up this morning next to Jess, Becky, and Will. We were all on the floor in my living room amid a pile of pillows and blankets. It was cold, but that's probably because I was only wearing boxers, one sock, and for whatever reason an eye patch. I think it's Steve's.
Someone got their blood all over me, but I couldn't tell you how. After being awake for the last hour I'm leaning toward certain that I didn't kill anyone in a booze-fueled blackout. Will is still out like a light. He has a black eye and I think his nose is broken. We must have had a hell of a time. I'm still clueless as to where my pants are.
Some time during the festivities, an actual zombie attack did come. It was a minor one, out on the far side of East, and the defenders there weren't pressed very hard by the fifty undead that rushed the wall. Helped that the people staying at the hospital saw it happening and rushed up to clean up the enemies. I really want to feel bad that I slept through that, but honestly that's not a priority for me since I can barely even feel my own face at the moment.
I'd like to say I had a good time, but it would be untruthful to make that claim about the stuff I can't remember. I'm guessing that part was a blast. Hopefully someone will stop by to tell me exactly how the night went.
Then again, maybe I don't want to know...