I laughed, which caused a fresh blaze of agony in my ribs.
“Everyone,” said Nate, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re coming home.”
A cheer came over the radio, and my pain was forgotten for an instant at the sound. Relief, happiness, celebration. We were whole again. Then Charlie’s voice came through the handset.
“Thanks, Lockey,” he said, the joy in his voice evident. “Love you.”
Oh my God. That was a punch in the feels too much. Right in the heart, kiddo; right in the fucking heart.
“You’re welcome, little dude,” I wheezed, half from pain, half from welling emotion. “Now, make sure that kettle goes on when they get home, as I’m gasping. Because Nate, tonight, I had to fight… uh uh… for my right…”
I left it hanging. I could virtually hear his eye roll from where I was sat, then his voice came across the airwaves, a flat sigh as he finished it.
“To pour tea?”
I both laughed and screamed in pain again. “When I get back, I will request the highest of fives for that, Pooh Bear.”
Nate got a Beastie Boys reference and a dad joke in one fell swoop. I’m telling you, Freya, that guy’s got layers.
Jesus, this was the single longest entry I’ve ever written, I think. I started at 2am, it’s now close to 5am. I’m beat, I’m in pain, I’ve just dropped two Tramadol and I expect to disappear into a pharmaceutical haze shortly, but I’m happy. Everyone came back alive and unhurt (well, apart from my likely cracked rib), we got the truck full of building and construction supplies, and Charlie still has his dad.
The thing I learned yesterday above anything else though, is that these people have faith in me. They put that faith in me without question, and I delivered, and that feels… well… that feels awesome.
The end of the world is fucking awful for the horrors it’s unleashed, but I can’t help feeling that in a selfish way, it’s actually been good for me, in a really fucked up sense. I feel like I’m growing as a person, even in these few short months, and a lot of that is down to the people around me – Nate above all - and this strong sense of community and family we’ve quickly built. Some good has come from this cosmic fuckery at least. I’ll have a think on this weird vendetta the undead seem to have against me, and chat to the others, but not for a day or two. Right now, I need pain relief, and I need to sleep more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.
I’m signing off, Freya. Time to visit dreamland.
Last night was a big win from a shitty situation, so I’ll leave you with this final statement.
Fuck yeah!
OCTOBER 12th, 2010
RECOVERY
It’s been a few days since I’ve written anything, largely because I’ve spent most of it smacked off my tits on super-strong painkillers. My head hasn’t been able to focus on stringing words together in any form of coherent structure, so I’ve taken a few days just to rest and grin like the drugged-up fool I’ve been.
Thankfully, I’m seeing improvement in my back and breathing. Because of the rapid healing, Maria deduces I was lucky and didn’t crack a rib. It’s more likely that I pulverised the crap out of the muscles there. The area is quite a special mix of black, yellow, and purple bruising, but I’m starting to feel a little more mobility, so I’ve stopped taking the prescription strength stuff and now just chomping anti-inflammatories. The last thing I want is a drug addiction in an apocalypse. I’m not doing anything strenuous on Nurse Williams’ orders, and I’ve done three days of head-fuzz on Tramadol for the excruciating pain, which is enough. Now I just want it to heal so I can get back out there.
For one thing, I need to set Operation Birthday into motion for Charlie. That kid has been through so much, and he’s such a sweetheart even despite all this bullshit, that I am determined to hit the pause button on this apocalypse for just one day. An apocapause, you might say.
The English language is so versatile. You can just take whatever you want, mash it all together, and still make yourself understood.
Mark has set himself to work while it’s dry and started constructing the outhouse to contain the generators. After the builder’s yard, it became painfully obvious that we don’t have anything like a QRF, and that needs to change, so Nate put it out there.
Isaac is determined to do his part, it seems. He’s got the camera system up and working, and now I can switch on this laptop – and there are two others here with the same capability – to look at the feeds surrounding our perimeter. There are even a couple that look left and right up the country road that passes us by, so we can see if anyone or anything approaches. It’s pretty cool actually.
Now that project is complete though, Isaac is finding himself at a loose end and wants to pitch in beyond the gate. As our little incident a few days back highlighted, we really do need everyone to be a shooter should the situation demand it, so Nate has been working with Isaac on all the basics. Biggest surprise of all?
Maria is also learning. Huh, I never expected it from her, so maybe there is something to what Nate said. Maybe a medical professional is just the kind of person who would excel at firearms. Apparently, Nate worked with snipers in the SAS who doubled as highly trained combat medics who could often go on to medical careers with the level of training they received.
With Norah’s home front shotgun skills, this will mean that everybody will be an active shooter, and I can only think
