Adrian's Undead Diary Enter the World of AUD

June 12^th.

                Well well well.  The hits keep coming.  I’m starting to worry, because there are far too many roses blooming here lately, and that often means we’re knee deep in shit.  We’ve had two more good days on campus, and it’s starting to be unnerving.  Whenever we string too much good together, nothing good comes of it.

                Weird how that works.

                I’ll try to keep this as short as possible.  I’ve had a small amount to drink today, and I’m at the point where typing this is a little bit of a struggle for me.  To be honest, this could go either way.  I might faceplant on the keyboard, or be up all fucking night typing because I’ll catch my excited buzz second wind. 

                Yesterday was Worky McWorkerson.  We had a huge day of getting shit done yet again, and worked an extra hour late to get a few more logs upright, and reinforced.  We’re really trying to get this shit done in a hurry so we can move back to more “productive” tasks.  Not that safety isn’t a productive task, or a major priority.  It’s just stupid when we could be in town, gathering resources, killing undead, and being more of a proactive force for the world.

                Eh, whatever.  This shit needs to be done for our long term chances at survival. 

                Otis dislikes me tonight.  He’s ignoring me.  I suspect it’s because Mallory is here in the bed with me, and it’s kind of damp and warm tonight.  There’s no room for my homeboy.  He’s sitting in the corner of the room watching me type, and I swear he’s giving me the “dude, bros before hoes” look.  Poor cat.  I wish he still had his balls.  I’d love to have his lineage continue on.  Maybe they’ll grow back someday.

                As I was saying, yesterday was a heavy workload day.  We got a bunch of shit done.  No injuries, no trouble, nothing to note.  We did however agree that Daniel Junior needed a firearms refresher course.  He hadn’t done any shooting since his dad was around, and he’s old enough, and experienced enough that he should be carrying some kind of firearm at all times.  His mom Angela is all for it, but she doesn’t have the patience or experience to teach him how to shoot.  I’ve half a mind to ask Abby or Gilbert to do it, but Gilbert’s eye is still on the mend, and Abby is a little short on patience at the moment.  Sooooo… it falls to me to teach the kid how to shoot again.  I’m thinking we get him a decent 9mm pistol, and perhaps one of the 20 gauge shotguns.  More than enough firepower for him to support us in a fight, and not too much gun for him to manage.  He’s a thickly built kid like his father, and in a year, he’ll have no trouble handling anything we put in his hands.

                Not sure when I’ll tackle his training.  Tomorrow we are expecting good weather, and if we do, we can make a huge portion of wall leading up to a few existing large trees.  Trees are a mixed blessing.  They’re free wall, but the roots are a bitch to dig around and into.  The backhoe does it fine, but it’s one more pain in the ass hurdle.  Anyway, if we wind up getting stymied by the roots of the tree, maybe I’ll take a few hours, and Danny and I can sneak away for some trigger time.

                Today as I said before Mike and crew rolled into town with the water truck for a trusty refill.  They didn’t have a huge need for much from us, and they didn’t have much to trade us either.  Their spare trade goods have dried up pretty dramatically since the returning folks in Westfield have been mooching off their supplies.  Mike said things were pretty good, but the sudden addition of 30 mouths in the town has made things awkward.  The scavenging in town has all but dried up, and Lenny’s farm can only grow so much food, so fast. 

                Mike is now wondering how they’re going to make it through the winter.  I don’t like the idea of people starving.  We might need to seriously step up our hunting activity as cooler weather kicks in.  If we can drop a half dozen deer, that’s at least 500 pounds of venison.  That much meat can be doled out over a pretty long fucking time if we can preserve it.

                Which reminds me, we need more fuel soon.  It’s been a long time since we re-upped, and we’re pissing through diesel like there’s no tomorrow.  We’re saving the gasoline for the generators as much as possible, but because we’ve switched over to the diesel trucks, and with the addition of a dualie, as well as the Deuce and a half, our diesel use has just leapt up.  At some point in time, we’re going to have to start accumulating more fuel.  I think our best bet is to hit some of the homes with heating oil, and just drain some drums out.  Ideally, if we can hit the houses down on Route 18 first, that’d be best.  Work our way closer to us as we go along.

                So yeah Mike came today.  Few other folks, but honestly I don’t care that much right now.  I’m basking in a nice buzz, and the afterglow from pretty good sex.  I was a little sloppy though, and I have to own up and say that I underperformed tonight.  Shit happens.  Sorry Mallory, next time I promise I will try harder.  Lol.  Harder.

                I spanked her.  Softly.  Didn’t want her to wake up and wonder why I was spanking her.  She just fell asleep.  I’d hate to interrupt her dreams.  However, if I work up an erection while staring at her ass, you best bet I’m waking her up with it.  I see no sense in wasting a perfectly good boner.  Those things have an expiration date.

                Where was I?  I have my own penis on the mind.  Terribly distracting Mr. Journal.  The curse of being a man.

                Westfield is +1!  Yay for childbirth.  Megan Clough gave birth under Lisa’s watchful eyes to a seven pound, ten ounce baby named Allison.  Although honestly I’m conflicted on this.  Mike said that back when Sean was still kicking over there, he’d taken a few girls into his bedroom as an executive privilege.  Megan was one of them, and if you do the math on the whole deal, it is pretty much a fucking LOCK that the baby born on June 4^th is Sean’s.  I dislike that idea.  I realize fully it’s asinine to think that child will turn out anything like her father, but I can’t help but wonder what she’ll turn out like.  I’m hoping that apple drops off the tree, and rolls far the fuck away from her father’s genetic heritage.  We don’t need a dickhead’s daughter running around here.  Anywhere else for that matter.

                I digress.  We shall celebrate the birth of a new life, and be happy that the mother and daughter are both healthy, and happy.  I need less bitterness.  More happiness.  Sunshine, rainbows and ponies.  And sex.  That shit always makes me happy.

                Speaking of people shitting out babies…  Kim and Blake followed Mike and friends back to Westfield this evening when they left.  Kim has had zero prenatal care, and when Lisa found that out, she shat an enormous brick.  She immediately demanded Kim make the trip, and likely stay there in Westfield until the kid was born, which based on the size of her belly, could be moments away.  It looks like she’s going to give birth to a Peterbuilt.

                Blake, ever the nervous father-to-be, has elected to go with the mother of his child, and that means we are without our backhoe operator, and our mechanic.  You should’ve seen Blake pack up his shit.  It was like they were on their way to the ER right then and there and she was having her contractions.  Had to get his ass to relax. 

Buuuuuut… like a goddamn Mexican rock star, Hector has elected to stay here for a few days while they sort out Kim’s birth.  With any luck, they’ll have the kid soon, and things will be back to “normal” within a week or so.  I’m also happy to report that Mallory has also elected to stay here while Hector does, which means my access to fresh, mostly willing vagina has been turned back on for the time being.  Well, as long as I step up my game up over tonight’s performance.  Kinda mailed it in after too much to drink.  One more night of that and she’ll start thinking that she’s better off doing it herself.

And we can’t have that, can we Mr. Journal?

So yeah, that’s about it.  Not a whole lot else to say or add.  The deer I killed the other day fed us during the trade/relaxation day, and that bitch was delicious.  Mike nearly shit his pants when he smelled it on the grill.  Too funny.  I don’t know why they haven’t dropped more deer out their way.  Maybe it’s because Westfield is a bigger town and more urban?  Who knows? 

Mike officially said they needed more protein in their diets according to Lisa, so if we got ANY spare meats, they were in need.  Of course they don’t have much to trade that we need now, so we’re reaching that null point where we’re not trading between organizations for economic purposes, but allocating resources between two allied locations.  I think I’m okay with that.

Tomorrow I’m going to try and slip away to give Danny some shooting lessons.  Before and after that we are back to the grind of building our giant fucking wall.  I am really starting to get the itch to check out that damn apartment building downtown.  I have a feeling we NEED to check that out sooner rather than later.  I can’t explain why I feel that way, I just know deep down inside we’ve got to figure that puzzle out.

I’m hoping all is well with it.  I’d hate to spend the time clearing a five story building only to find out it’s been stripped of good shit, and left filled with the fucking undead.  What a buzzkill that’d be right Mr. Journal?  Apartment Building of the Living Dead.

I’ll update more as I can think of shit to say.  As of now, I’ve managed to think far too much about Mallory’s ass under the sheets, and as a generous nightcap gift, I’m going to attempt to undo the sexual disaster I laid on her earlier.  Hopefully, I don’t fuck it up and make my situation worse.

If you have fingers Mr. Journal, cross them and think of my sexual abilities in a positive manner.

-Adrian

NEXT ENTRY

June 10^th.

                Making some hella progress on the wall.  We are now going in the opposite direction from the bridge, wrapping in front of Hall A and towards E.  The soil on that side of the bridge is heavily filled with rocks and debris though, and if we didn’t have the backhoe to dig, we’d be fucked.

                Oddly enough, there is a lot more ground water at the bottom of the ditch on that side, despite the fact that we have been digging on the lake side up until today.  Who knows.  I am worried the bottom of the logs will rot on us, but the way I see it, this fence is a temporary measure anyway, and if we can get a couple years of added safety out of it, that’s fine with me. 

                I decided earlier today when I was busting my ass on the fence that I’d do something with this entry that I haven’t done at all, as well as something I haven’t done in awhile.  I think as we get closer and closer to the one year anniversary of “that day” I should pause, and reflect on things.  I think maintaining the perspective is important to anyone who might read this one day, as well as to remind me of the things that are different.

                Having said that it is June 10^th, and this seems appropriate to me…

10 things I miss

1. I miss new movies.  I am already largely fed up with the few hundred we’ve accumulated over the past months of scrounging.  I want new actors, new plots, and just.. new stuff.
2. I miss pizza.  I used to eat the shit out of pizza.  We need to figure that out, because I really want a fucking pie.  Something really good, like a Hawaiian, or a meat lover’s or something. 
3. I miss being able to go out without a weapon on me.  I said before I miss being able to wear sweatpants, and shorts and stuff, and that still holds true today.  Granted, it’s too fucking hot for sweats now, but the idea remains.  I wish I could go somewhere, anywhere without my Glock.  Of course I say that, and I also know that if we ever get to the point where I don’t need to carry it, I’ll feel weird without out, and wear it anyway.
4. I miss my co-workers.  Some of them were truly interesting people, and I really enjoyed our conversations.  Teachers, counselors, athletics people, all of them.  Working at a school is a terribly interesting place to earn a living, and I miss that part of it.  I guess it doesn’t help that I live here now, and I frequently reminisce about things.
5. I miss the fact that Moore’s Sporting Goods is not open anymore.  I wish I could go in there and snatch ten boxes of ammo off the shelf as needed.  Sadly, they are closed, and the last time I checked, the shelves are as empty as can be.
6. I miss going to the doctor.  And that’s saying something, because I hate going to the doctor.  Now that medical care is so goddamn urgent, I find myself worrying about tons of little injuries and making sure they don’t get worse fast.  Hell, I had a mildly infected splinter the other day, and seriously considered looking up what antibiotic was most appropriate for it.  I am so scared of one of us getting really sick.  I don’t need to tell you how many of us have died already.
7. I miss the fact that my future is gone.  I wanted to be someone.  I wanted to do something special someday, and now, here I sit, struggling to make do and get by everyday with the people that are near to me.  Maybe I need to accept the fact that I am doing something special by helping these folks survive as well.  Shrug.
8. I miss soda.  I know that sounds dumb, because we still have a fair amount of it, but I was a pretty regular soda drinker back in the day, and I miss the fact that I can’t just crack a can or bottle whenever the hell I want to.  I guess for the above mentioned health concerns that’s a good thing.
9. I miss the internet.  I know I already said this, but shit… I wish I could just look stuff up whenever I needed to.  We’ve gotten good at using the resources in the library, but there are a lot of subjects not covered there, and there were a lot of books taken out by students, or are just gone, or destroyed by gunfire or gore.  There are a LOT of subjects that we will never learn more about unless we find people who know about them, or we find a book or some kind of documentation detailing them.  It’s a fucking shame all that knowledge has been misplaced, even if only for a short time.
10. I miss Dunkin Donuts.  God on hot days sometimes I’d get three large iced coffees.  I guess more than anything, I miss the convenience of not being able to just go out, and get whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want it.  Now, if I want an iced coffee, I need solar panels, a gas powered generator, a working fridge, clean water, coffee, a coffee making system, heat to boil the water, etc etc etc.  Not to mention, I NEED TO MAKE IT MY DAMN SELF.  Sigh.

Now here’s something new, which I think is important for me to do once in awhile.  Perspective.  Important stuff.

10 things I actually enjoy about life now

1. I like my diet.  Even though we eat lots of canned crap, I am eating so much better than I ever have.  Even during my Army days I ate crap, and now I still eat crap, but it’s healthier crap, and I am super healthy for it. 
2. I enjoy my body.  I was pretty doughy before, and now I am lean, hard, and fast.  Once again I am the man that just missed the cut at Ranger school, only older, smarter, wiser, and even less of the kind of person you want to fuck with.
3. I love the stars.  There are no lights from the town, or the city to cast that dull orange glow anymore.  I can see a million stars when I tilt my head back at night, and that show is majestic and captivating.  I love the night sky now.
4. I like sitting down and eating dinner every night.  Cassie and I usually ate on the couch watching television, and we never talked as much as we should’ve.  Had we sat at the table, we’d be forced to chat, and maybe things between her would’ve gone differently.
5. I dig the adrenaline.  It can be addicting.  I enjoy the rush of the fight, I love the heart pounding moments when life is on the line, and things go good, and we all walk away.  Almost dying makes you feel alive.
6. Every day I feel like I have earned my living.  Despite being exhausted all the time, and nearly dying multiple times, I know when I crawl into bed at night, I have done my part.  Many people have dead end jobs where it doesn’t matter if they call out or not any day of the week.  I can’t take a day off.  If I do, it better be for damn good reason.  I like earning my paycheck.
7. I like the quiet at night.  Actually, I enjoy sleeping at night.  I used to work night, and sleeping during the day was a bitch at times.  Anyway, there is no traffic anymore.  There are no car horns, blaring stereos, or shitty parents with asshole kids running around all night.  It’s nice.
8. I like the fact that I write this regularly.  It helps me clear my head.  I like the fact that after I write every one of these dumb entries, it’s a few more days detailed about my life, and the lives of the people that are near to me.  I hope that one day the words that I leave behind here for you Mr. Journal become relevant to someone when the world starts to rebuild.  That might be a fool’s dream.
9. I love the fact that I get to drive big trucks.  It makes my penis feel good.  Yes, that’s an amazingly male thing to say, but it’s the truth.  Driving the HRT around all the time is a rush.  It’s like driving around a monster truck, or a Maserati or something.  It’s just ego swelling, and makes you feel a wee bit invincible.
10. I enjoy the fact that I am not harassed by assholes.  Granted, I’ve exchanged shitty drivers, and dickheads in the grocery store line for undead trying to eat me, but at least I shoot undead.  Before, I had to just put up with the asshole’s shit.  It’s a terrific tension reliever to shoot people.  I should note that I am not condoning randomly shooting people.  It should be a well thought out process reserved exclusively for people who deserve to be shot.

So yeah.  A little change of pace here.  Not much else going on.  We’re going to bust ass tomorrow because Mike and company are returning here the day after for another water/trade run, and I’d like to take that day off and let everyone recuperate.  We’re working our asses off, and the way I see it, we’re only a day or two away from people starting to get really angry and shitheaded.

        Hopefully Mike has good news from Westfield.

        -Adrian

NEXT ENTRY

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June 8^th.

                What a pair of days Mr. Journal.  I feel certain renaissance coming on.  Almost like we’re headed back into the good old days… Well, back when more stuff was going right for us than wrong for us.  I shouldn’t say that.  I know better than to say that crap now.  That asshole Jinx Fairy hangs out near me far too fucking often for me to be running my yap like that.  She brings down the sparkly pwnage wand and just like that, I’m bent.

                Fucking Jinx Fairy.

                So yesterday was a great day on many levels.  Legitimately pretty frigging awesome.  I already mentioned that in order for Blake to finish up his upgrades on the HRT as well as get that backhoe in 100% good shape, we needed to hit the auto parts store as well as Mike’s Auto.  We did that yesterday.  Because I am alive and typing this, and I’m not being a melancholy bitch about life, you know we made it back okay, and I didn’t die.  Yay for the little things.

                As I suspected, town was largely wide open.  The amount of undead kicking around the joint has dropped to pre summer levels.  I would almost go so far as to say that it’s safe to walk about on foot now.  They’re few and far between, and as long as you kept moving, I think it’s safe enough in most neighborhoods to be on foot if you know what you’re doing.  Doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous still mind you, just means it’s much better now than it has been.  I fear as usual, it’s just the calm before the storm.  Fucking storms.  I bet they hang out with that asshole Jinx Fairy.

                Alright so we actually went out fairly light today in terms of a force.  We wanted to give some of the new people a spin in front of some danger to see how they reacted, and we also wanted Gilbert to continue to work on reloading .223 and resting his eye.  I’d hate for him to completely lose the eye, and with the extra living, breathing bodies we’ve got here now, there’s little incentive to stress the old guy.  He’s certainly earned a frigging rest after everything he’s been through, and that’s not even counting everything since last June.

                It was Blake, myself, Abigail, Amanda, and Angela in the HRT, and the Deuce.  I think I will continue to rave about the deuce for some time because it’s such a huge ass beast of a truck, and we can shoot accurately and safely on the move from the rear of it.  It’s high enough off the ground that there’s plenty of clearance from being grabbed, and it’s a military vehicle, so it’s tough as nails.  I’ve thanked the two sisters a hundred times for having brought it, and I’ll thank them a hundred more before the thing shits the bed on us. Blake says as long as we can get spare parts for it, he can maintain it until he drops dead of old age, which does seem like an unlikely way to go given our current world, but hey, I have to appreciate the thought.

                Our first stop was Mike’s auto.  Town was largely clear as I said, and we were able to drive straight up to the garage.  Blake moved the few cars he’d been using as a wall/gate, and we backed the Deuce right to the damn garage door, and we emptied the bitch.  Blake took everything he could, and vowed that at some point we had to return to pull the lift.  The garage doesn’t have an in-floor one, which is nice.  It’s the kind that’s standing on both side of the car and it slides some swing arms under the vehicles, then raises it.  If the clunkers we’re using need serious undercarriage repair at any point, we’ll be needing that to make it easier on us.  For the moment though, it’s a pretty big project we don’t need to accomplish anytime soon.  It can wait.

                Once we had the good shit taken out of the garage we drove our asses out.  I should mention that we only had to kill a single zombie while we were there.  Amanda dealt with it while we loaded shit.  She’s got this golf club she brings with her everywhere.  I think it’s a nine iron, and I tell you what, that is a mean broad with that fucking short iron.  Once I saw her yell FORE before clunking a dead guy in the head.  Crushed the side of his skull above the ear like it was a fucking eggshell.  Note to self:  get some golf clubs.  Club head speed seems directly linked to, and pretty effective at destroying brains.

From Mike’s auto we made our way the couple of miles across town to the auto parts store we hit on Blake’s behest some time ago.  There were a couple of zombies milling about nearby down at the pile of trash outside the base of that large apartment building down the street.  They were shuffling their feet looking upwards at the building for a bit before heading down our way, which makes me think there are people still up there.  I’m wondering if we should attempt to make contact with them soon.  They might need our assistance, or at least have some kind of information to offer.

Shrug.  People kind of scare me.  Most of them try to kill me and my friends.

So we dispatched those assholes once we got parked and situated, and we spent nearly four hours cleaning the place out.  One of the joys of small town auto parts stores is the diversity of the inventory.  Because they frequently had to fill orders for parts for things other than cars, they maintained a large inventory of more commercial style parts.  Tractors, diesels, hydraulic repair gear, blah blah.  I guess the point of this giant bullshit rant is that they had a lot of really useful parts, and not just for fixing cars.  Blake was like a kid in a candy store, especially when we realized that we had a lot of time to really clean the place out.  We were concerned at first that we’d have to do a quick in and out if there were too many undead about, but that wasn’t the reality. 

The Deuce was loaded up big time, and we were off.  The trip home was about as clean as could be.  I was in the lead in the HRT, and Blake was behind me in the Deuce, and all was well until we got to Auburn Lake Road.  We were maybe a half mile up the road, and it was just about at that point where the sun is at the horizon, and it’s just past that golden hour of sunlight.  Sort of that dawn-esque into dusk time. 

I was plugging along, and just like that BAM!  A fucking deer leaps over one of the rock walls in the front of someone’s yard.  I slammed on the brakes, just barely missing the damn thing.  Now, I had like... one second to make a decision on the deer, and I nearly blew it.  I reached down and tried to get the M4 up and out the window, but the barrel caught on something, and I dropped it and got the Glock out.  The driver’s side window was already open, and I leaned out, and just as the deer started to bolt away off the road, I let fly about four rounds at the thing.

Three of the rounds I clearly saw impact in the rib area of the deer, but the fourth walked off of it.  I was firing more or less gangsta style sideways out the window, so I was bound to miss at least one.  I should talk more shit about having used a handgun after avoiding an accident in such a badass way.  I feel very 80’s action hero-ish.  Have I mentioned how fucking loud it is to shoot a gun inside a car?  Geezum.  As if I wasn’t deaf enough already.

The deer, like they always fucking do, still made it off the road and into the brush, so I threw the truck in park, and jumped out to chase it down.  I didn’t have to go far.  Three .45 slugs to the chest cavity at maybe 25 feet do some serious damage.  I think the deer made it maybe 30 feet off the road before going down in a heap.  Right when I got to the body Gilbert came over the radio asking if the shooting was us, and Abby let him know it indeed was us, and we were okay.

I put one more round into the deer, and gave it a quick gutting to get back.  In retrospect, I should’ve waited until I got back, because despite not liking it that much, the organ meats probably would have been good eating, at least for some of us.  Oh well.  Spilled milk.

I dragged the carcass back to the truck, roped it to the grille as best I could for the drive up the hill, and after getting a “fucking A!” knuckle bump from Blake, we were home in short order.  After we pulled in we had a brief powwow talking about the deer, and what exactly to do with it.  With all the mouths to feed we decided it was best to not go to the trouble of smoking the meat.  We dressed it up into edible portion sizes, and put the rest into the assorted fridges across campus.  We figure it’ll keep until it’s all eaten.  With all the folks here, that should be just about right for timing.

While that was going on, we unloaded all the parts and gear into the maintenance garage, which Blake has now completely taken over as his own.  That’s fine.  He needs the space to work on our vehicles, it’s largely unused, and will work out well.  We do need to address his ongoing power issues though.  It’s too far to run cables, and for the moment he’s doing the work up here near Hall B, which is scaring the living shit out of the chickens.  It’s bad enough that the zombies tried to eat them when we were under siege the other day.  Poor fucking poultry.  Ooh.  I think we’re about to get some new chickens.  What’re they called?  Baby chickens?  Chicklings?  Hatchlings?  Drawing a frigging blank.  Oh well.  Senility strikes again.  I think I misplaced my false teeth too.

Heh.

So that was yesterday.  Today was back to the grind (sort of) as Blake took the backhoe out of duty to get the repairs needed on it done.  Luckily we’d dug the trench way out in advance yesterday, so in all reality, the only part of the job we skimped on today was the part where we push the earth up behind the wall to form the reinforcing berm.  Once the earth is packed back into the trench to firm up the logs, they stand fine on their own.  The back wall is for projectiles, and making sure someone can’t drive a truck through the thing.  Good fucking luck with that.  Where it’s largely finished, it’s tough as hell and solid as a five foot thick brick wall.

Ollie wanted to get cracking on a set of double gates.  Sturdy, heavy duty bastards.  One gate will be on the opposite side of the bridge, and the other on the campus side.  We’ll set it up so we only open one gate at a time, creating a kill box.  We can use it as a trade area if need be.  Mainly we want the two gates so if someone rams the first, they’ll get caught on the bridge, where there’s no fucking cover, and we can light them up.  God forbid we get the guard towers built and equipped with LMGs.  Don’t know where we’d find them, but if we do, we’d be golden.

Not much else going on.  Fields are good, food is good, everyone is still healing well, spirits are slowly rising, campus has been entirely devoid of undead, and I haven’t been bitten in the crotch by any giant dogs, or shot in the chest in some time.  I am starting to get the itch though.  The special itch.  I think I need to get Mallory back here sometime soon so I can scratch the hell out of it.

Awwww yeah. 

Of course I haven’t seen her in some time.  Maybe I need to get a haircut.  I can feel the hair on the side of the ‘hawk growing in, so maybe I am due after all.  Reasons to get myself to Westfield +1.

Not much to report for things coming up.  I do kind of want to head back downtown to that large apartment building to see what’s up there.  There are no good reasons for those undead to be at the base near that huge ass trash pile unless something is attracting them there.  There has to be people up there, and I am wondering if they are trapped, or need assistance.  I guess if they were bad off, they would’ve signaled for us when we were at the auto parts store, but who the fuck knows? 

More fence building, crop growing, gate building, vehicle modificating, and the same old, same old in the upcoming days.  With any luck, more construction equipment will fall from the sky.  I can’t recall seeing anything big around town, even at the construction sites we’ve visited.  Our luck, right?  Sigh.

Peace out Mr. Journal.

-Adrian

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