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June 22nd Tags: 149th entry

June 22nd.

                We definitely should’ve skipped clearing the bottom two floors of that goddamn apartment building.  What a shit show.

                Injuries are everywhere here today, and we’re lucky no one got fucking killed.  Someone without a doubt had our back yesterday, and I’ve been knocking on wood all day saying thanks.

                Tired.  Where to start?

                So yesterday morning we rolled back into town with the intention of clearing out the bottom two floors of the frigging apartment building.  We encountered 14 undead on the fifth floor, and we were operating under the assumption that the bottom two floors would be worse.  The residents, especially Martin, said he was sure there were at least 20-30 undead on those two floors, and he was a little short on his guess, but more or less spot on otherwise.

                38 was the final tally.  All dead.  Our injuries were fucking stupid though.  Dumb little mistakes in tight spaces, and god bless Hector, but he’s just not used to working with Abby and I, and he was almost more in the way than helpful.  Here’s the final injury count, and corresponding stories associated with them.

                Abby broke a toe.  Maybe two.  Her whole foot is swollen and sore.  Her injury came about halfway through the purge when we were heading from the second floor down to the first.  Inside the stairwell was a roaming zombie, and when we opened the door, I snapped off a round and killed him, and god knows why, but he fell down forward, right past me, and somehow managed to head butt the poor girl’s foot.  Smashing her pinky toe and the one next to it.  She tried to push on, but it hurt so much and she was hobbling all over the place so awkwardly we got her up and out, and Gilbert took her spot in the stack.  Actually, he took the rear of the stack, but who’s counting?

                No sooner had he joined us that Hector went down.  We had just booted in an apartment door and engaged about three undead inside.  Gilbert fired in the hallway to our rear at the same time killing something, and Hector was half in the doorway at the time.  He spun to put his barrel on the area Gilbert was shooting at, and somehow managed to smash the hell out of his hand on the doorframe.  We think it’s just a really bad bruise, but when he gets back to Westfield, he’ll need xrays to see if any bones are broken.  Hector was out, then Angela and Amanda was in.

                At that point we were dangerously inexperienced, but mostly done.  We slowed everything down, and went over every door’s plan before opening it.  I’m happy to report that the two sisters did really well, and held up under pressure.  Angela is a beast I should add.  Maybe the fact that Danny was her husband gave her some mental fortitude for this?  Anyway, she was a ball buster, and if I can spend some more time behind the sights with her, she’ll probably develop into a helluva trigger puller.  Gotta love the women I keep finding. 

                Having said that, Amanda’s strong suit is not shooting in close quarters.  She was marginally useful at best, missing at least two thirds of her shots, and after an hour of clearing rooms, she was deaf as hell.  Fortunately, she wasn’t involved too much in the fighting.  We were done shortly after that.

                Oh yeah shit.  Gilbert took a fucking ricochet off something in the fucking leg.  One of his reloads too ironically, which gave us both a laugh.  Gilbert kept going on and on how “appropriate” it was that all his hard work was biting him in the ass.  That guy is too funny.  It was nice to have him in the fight though.  He’s such a calming, steady influence in the shit.  Always on point, focused, listening, and just.. awesome.  I wish he was fifteen years younger so we could really make some fucking progress.  He and I Mr. Journal, we could tear shit up.

                Also, I’m happy to report that Gilbert’s reloads were the hotness.  They worked amazingly and without flaw in the M15’s, but I had a few misfires in the M4.  Hector shot clean until he went out of commission, but all in all, for a relative noob doing reloads, Gilbert did us a solid.  If he can continue with that kind of quality work ongoing, I’ve got total confidence in his skill.

                So.  It took us what?  Two full hours to clear just the fifth floor the other day?  It took us eight full hours to do the bottom two.  What a soup sandwich.  The injuries really started the toe pushing for us because we had to hit up the fucking minor leagues to fill out the roster.  Once again I was missing Gavin like a motherfucker.  He, Abby and I were a fucking clearing machine.  We would’ve pulled Patty up from the ground to lend a hand, but she was our most experienced and mobile shooter on the outside, and if we were hit by survivors, or a huge pack of undead, we couldn’t risk her not being there to help the gimp squad we’d sent down.

                I mean all in all it was a resounding success.  Minor injuries that were easily dealt with, and now, officially, we own that fucking place.  When we were on the roof exiting yesterday it was Gilbert, Amanda, Angela and I and we stopped to take in the view.  The weather has been spectacular.  Sunny, high 70s, no humidity, and just fucking awesome.  It was a wonderful way to cap it all off, after we all got done emptying our fucking guts out.  At least this time I was smart enough to not eat anything right before heading in.  Mostly dry heaves for me.

                Anyway, Amanda and Angela were sitting on a solar panel array catching some fresh air and downing some water and Amanda turned to Gilbert and I and asked a neat question.  I’m really glad she asked it.  “What’s this place called?”

                “I have no idea. I’m sure there’s a name on the side of the building downstairs.”  I said back to her.

                Angela piped up after a few seconds of thinking, “we should rip that off, and give it a name that means something to us.”

                Gilbert and I exchanged looks and nodded.  It was a good idea.  After a few minutes of careful deliberation, we settled on a name that made a lot of us happy.  The apartment building shall be known henceforth as the McGreevy-Russell Outpost.  Or MGR for short.

                Abby, Danny Jr., and Angela were pleased beyond measure, and I know the rest of us were all happy.  It was a nice way to pay homage to our fallen, and because both of the men were fighters who gave their lives protecting others, it made sense to name a place we were going to use as an observation/security outpost after them.

                I’m really happy with this.  Of course now I’m wondering if we should rename the school?  After all, if we are starting a whole new world here… might make sense to start naming things in meaningful ways to us.  Of course that also seems arrogant to me, but I guess we can talk about it at a later date.  There’s no need to rush this shit.

                Today…  a day of rest.  Everyone who was hurt put their collective feet up, and we started to formulate a plan to get the hydroponics shit out of MGR.  We don’t want to break the welds on the bottom floor doors, and that means we either go out the balconies, or we go off the roof.  I’m thinking we do the balconies after getting the plants out somehow.  Zach and Ryan have been talking to Gilbert for hours now trying to figure this operation out. 

                Gilbert has some herculean patience.  Watching him talk to those two is a lot like watching a math teacher trying to explain geometry to snails.  Somehow, he has managed to glean intelligence somewhere in their heads, and I think with gentle guidance, those two will be very useful for us.  At the very least, if I can plug them into making a full hydro set up for us, and getting them to maintain it ongoing and teach others how to help them… then they’re both worth their weight in whatever drug they want.  Ooooo…  huge idea. I need to seriously lock down our medications.  I do not want those two assholes getting the bright idea to break into our closet and help themselves to painkillers or whatever it is they want.

                Honestly, I should’ve done that a long time ago anyway.  I suddenly feel very lazy for not having done this crap already.

                Alright so.  Tomorrow we are taking the day off again.  It’s June 23rd tomorrow, and I think we all need to sit here, locked inside campus and just… hope to fucking god nothing happens.  We’re all partially convinced the world will shit the bed on us after midnight (again), and honestly, I am leaning towards that being a pretty solid reality.  Getting pwned is a way of life for us.

                Gilbert just sent a radio out asking for Abby to come over his place. I wonder what’s up with that.  I hope his leg is okay.  It didn’t seem like a bad wound, but at his age, anything could go south in a hurry.  Maybe he’s planning something special for the one year anniversary of the end of the world for us and doesn’t want to let us all in on it?  Clever guy that one.

                Mallory is fast asleep.  No poontang for me tonight.  Otis is sleeping in between my legs right now, and he’s happy as a pig in shit.  Cooler weather, back on the bed with me, and things have been nice and quiet.  Things are good for the kitty cat.

                Day after tomorrow we’re heading back to MGR to get the hydro shit out.  Once that’s set up, we can look into expanding it, and continuing our work on finishing the security shit here.  It should go much fucking faster now that we’ve got Martin, Julie, Alex, George, Zach and Ryan here to help.  They’re all fucking stoked to lend a hand, and frankly, I’m fucking stoked to have them here.

                Kinda cool.  Feels like a real community here suddenly.  Kids are playing, our wall is making everyone feel safer, we’ve got good food, good times, and we’re all very much stable in how things are going forward.  It’s almost like we’re kind of reached that tipping point where we’ve got shit handled enough that there’s some kind of reliable normalcy.


                I know, I know.  Jinx much?





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