Mon, 20 April 2009 - 6:51 pm

Cracks

Today has been far more hectic than it should have been. When I wasn’t collaring the doctor or tending Sax, I was trying to keep everyone else busy. The scooters are polished and primped, their tanks and cans brimming with fuel. Matt and Dillon painted them up with curly designs; they now proudly display the name we’ve been given, ‘Seekers’ blazing across their stubby noses and rounded rumps. The buildings along this stretch of road have been searched from top to bottom for supplies (we now have so much stuff that I’m not sure how we’re going to carry it all).

Every time there was a pause in the activity, an argument would start. Thorpe has a go at Alice or Masterson every time he gets the chance – mostly Alice. Ben has been snapping at everyone from the pressure of trying to keep the peace. Nugget keeps returning from an extra-curricular foray only to be shouted at, which only makes her disappear again. Dillon is keeping his head down and Sally is creeping around the edges of things, hoping that she won’t be noticed.

We’re fracturing under the strain of this sickness. It’s chipping at our edges and making us raw. And I get the feeling that it’s only just starting.

Sax’s breathing is worse. I have to go.

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