When I said that Jess and I were going on vacation, that was a lie. We did leave Haven, but we didn't do it alone and not for a break from working. It was a necessary lie for several reasons. One was that we didn't want the UAS to suspect we were coming their way. Another that we weren't exactly given anyone's blessing to take this trip. In fact, Will and the council pretty much forbid us. The third and most important reason was because telling that lie put enough suspicion on me here at home that Kincaid was totally able to slip under the radar and steal all the things we needed.
What the bloody hell am I talking about, right? I can hear the question all the way from where I am--which is undisclosed, but since we took the same old vehicle my people use for deep scouting, I have a mobile transmitter with me--and that's pretty far from home. We're currently riding out the storm of undead around our truck, a mob at least a hundred strong who took us a little off guard last night. We're far from patrol routes, but we're deep in UAS territory. took us two days to get here, another to set up our surprise, and then as we wait for a response this morning a swarm manages to get close to us without warning.
It's me, Jess, Kincaid, a couple named Alex and Greg who work for Kincaid, and Becky. I think Becky is the one they're missing the most, but she's also the person who makes our most dangerous things. She wasn't going to let us get away with hundreds of pounds of explosives without her along. I'll happily testify to that at the trial.
Why did we do this? What was the risk for? If you've been paying attention you probably already know. We think Patrick is alive, or at least that the body we found wasn't his. I tried to keep it low-key, but I put feelers out to everyone I could, asking for any of the refugees from the UAS forces if they'd seen anything within a set of criteria; big blonde guy with one hand, had they heard anything about a vital capture mission, lots of things like that. All I got back was one weak hit, but it was enough to make me believe in miracles.
We're pretty sure Pat is being held. So like any good friend, I planted bombs around an important and somewhat vulnerable enemy facility. Was it easy? No. Not at all. It took all of us working in the dead of night, and even then we had to settle for placing the explosives in such a way that they'd cause a catastrophic rock slide rather than destroy the place directly. The security was pretty good.
We gave them our rules: no one leaves the place, and if they do we hit the switch. No one attempts to move toward us except for a designated person waving a parley flag to let us know not to shoot him in the face. The deal is that we get Patrick back in exchange for not raining down a few hundred tons of boulders on the people inside. Which, given the fact that the place seems to be an armory, would probably not be so good for them.
Now we wait. I suppose it's possible they could just figure out where we are and shell us or bring an army against us, but that would mean the loss of the armory. At the first sign of trouble, we push the button. Not that I expect them to be able to find us, of course.
That's the deal: you give us one man back, my best friend, and a hundred people get to live in return. The clock is ticking, because if these zombies start to break through, I'll make sure to detonate before I die. Time's a-wasting.