Thursday, 3 September 2009 - 9:08 pm

Green plastic men

Hi, Matt again. Faith’s sleeping right now – she’s been asleep for most of the day. That knock on the head really laid her out, but she’s a better colour tonight.

I was naughty – while she was asleep, I read over the last lot of posts. It felt wrong – it’s like reading her diary, though she has always said that this is our story she’s recording. She puts so much of herself into this blog.

I always wondered where she got her strength from. I think I get it now – she doesn’t, not really. She’s as scared as the rest of us. She hides her fears in here and then runs full-tilt into whatever it is anyway.

Look at me, doing the same thing, trying to tuck everything in here like it’s a magic back pocket. She’s contagious, the silly brain-bruised girl.


She missed most of what happened yesterday. All heroic and trying to do the right thing, and down she went, boom. Should’ve seen Thorpe go off when she passed out – the big lump went all protective of her, and he almost got himself whalloped again for his trouble. Some of the others stepped up to support him too – Jersey and Terry, mostly. I was sure they’d get us all in trouble while our Faithful leader needed help. (Never call her that where she can hear you – she hits.)

I was too busy trying to get her to wake up. I’ve never seen her unconscious like that before and I’m not eager to do it again. I was so afraid she wouldn’t wake up again. She just has to be all dramatic, doesn’t she?

The General called for a stretcher and said they had medical facilities that could help her. The green plastic men would have carried her away from all of us if we’d let them, but while Thorpe harangued them thoroughly, I managed to sneak in and pick up one end of the stretcher. I’m not leaving her, I told them. Wherever she goes, I go.

They let me. Just me. It wasn’t great – the others were not pleased about being left behind – but I guess with this lot you gotta take what you can get. They’re not big on the giving.

This base of theirs is way bigger than it looked when we arrived. I was barely able to keep track of where we were going, too concerned with keeping up and not dropping Faith (I need to tease her about losing weight – my arms were fit to fall off by the time we got to the infirmary). So many buildings, and people! More people than I’ve seen in months outside of a shambler horde.

They’re pretty well set up here. They’ve got a doctor (so new his paint’s still wet, but he’s cute if you don’t mind the fatigues) and some supplies. Said our girl might have a cracked skull, but she’s doing better today.

Once I was sure she was okay, I asked to see the other Seekers. The green plastic men offered to take me to them, but I didn’t dare leave. I have this feeling that I’d never be able to find my way back again if I did. Or if I made it back here, she’d be gone.

It sounds so ridiculous when I put it like that. Paranoia much? But that’s the feeling I get when they ask if I want to go see my friends. Today, I asked them to get Tia to bring Faith’s pack, so she’d have a change of clothes, and they brought Faith’s pack. No Tia. Said she was busy. They brought mine too – so I wouldn’t ask again, I guess. None of it rings right with me.

Why haven’t the others come to visit her? I know they’d want to. I keep expecting Thorpe to tear the door off the hinges like a bear in a beehive. So what’s keeping them away?

I shouldn’t ask these questions. Especially not when I’m sitting in a dark room, all on my own (except for Faith, but she’s asleep so it doesn’t count), knowing the building is full of green plastic men.

Oh, I really creeped myself out with that one. This is the sort of thing they used to make horror movies out of. Used to make. Jeez.

At least they’re feeding us. Regularly, too. It’s not great – it’s not even warm – but it’s food. I suspect it’s dog food, but it’s not like we haven’t eaten that before.

You know what I really want? Clean underwear. It’s funny the things you miss. Me, it’s showers and clean underwear. I’m disgusted by my own clothes. If I think about it too much, my skin starts crawling, and trust me, there’s nowhere for it to go.

Look at me. The world ended and I’m bitching about underpants.

Better go before I use up all her battery. She really would kill me then.