Haven't been near a computer in a while, well haven't been near working electricity as a whole, period. I just got back from an expedition to rural Missouri. I'm running low on ammo. Everybody's running low. One would think that the boot heel dwellers would be more paranoid and stock up on this crap but it's becoming apparent to me that it's all been spent.
Town after town it's the same scene. Silent emptiness punctuated by the occasional moan of a lone zombie. Empty gun sheds and abandoned homes. Blood stained living rooms and broken windows. Final testimonies scrawled onto bedroom walls. It's a hard sight to take in. For me it's motivation.
The incident in Dexter brought a new problem to light. As comfortable and confident as I am with being alone on these excursions, I need some one to watch my 6. The problem is I don't really care for people these days. They're either in denial or afraid. Fear is something I can't have in a team. It makes you weak and in these dark times people need every bit of strength they can muster. It needs to be a small group. Fast, quick, and ruthless. No more than three. Nothing expansive like what Chris and Jesse are trying to accomplish. Larger numbers means more people to worry about. It means a higher chance of some one freaking out and breaking down. Yeah three.
My hopes aren't very high, most people think I'm crazy. Well crazy has kept me alive. So I guess I'm looking for some crazys. Or at least pissed off.
Chris just texted me.
It's airborne. Gotta go.
END LOG:
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