Monday, July 15, 2013

Distant Woes

The local UAS forces--though I begin to wonder what they'll be called down the road when they begin to integrate as their own community--are facing pretty heavy attacks by the undead. They're between us and the influx of zombies we get from Louisville and beyond. Things have just now settled enough to allow that terrible migration to resume, and it's no fun for the UAS or the people we've sent with them.

It is, however, an interesting bonding experience. Since hostilities ceased, groups of UAS all over the Union and the country at large have been focusing their efforts on dealing with the world they live in rather than killing the survivors in it. Some are resistant, striking out on their own and wanting nothing to do with other groups. Less, but still a decent number, are rebellious and still violent in their support of the UAS, which doesn't exist as it did a month ago.

I've talked to the local UAS leadership, though, and they're kind of blown away by the creativity and depth of experience our people are showing them. We don't just share the best methods of dealing with the undead, but also the theory behind it and the findings of all the research and observation we've done. Years of accumulating little tricks have given us an arsenal to share with anyone who needs the help.

That doesn't help the victims of human violence out there, but if the world were perfect I wouldn't be writing this.

Too many people are suffering the consequences of this war. Not just the fight itself, but even the peace has unintended side effects no one could predict perfectly. When it was a large-scale conflict there were obvious targets, clear objectives. Now the UAS has splintered into many groups outside their main force which still retains control in the central US. Some are isolationists, others rebellious. It leads to a lot of unpredictable fighting and raids, hungry or angry (or both) people who don't want to be a part of what's going on.

Not just the UAS, either. There are plenty of independent groups who've helped us out over the months and years who feel the same way. Some were trusted friends. Now the whole world is chaos. Much less deadly than the war itself, but less contained, at that. The stress of knowing the box of worms we've opened along with this blistering heat is enough to make a man weep.

I think I'll take a nap.

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