Thursday, 28 May 2009 - 5:43 pm


The group travelling with us call themselves the Wolverines.

“Aren’t they little ratlike things?” Masterson asked them. “Vermin, right?”

“No, dude, like the comic character. Wolverine.”

“Oh, right.”

We’ve agreed to stay together for the time being, for the safety of numbers. There’s no real trust between the groups yet; that’ll take time and I don’t like how some of them look at us.

There’s six of them, all men: Rico, Conroy (the comic fan), Jersey, Kirk, Sean, and Dale. They asked us where their friend Dennis – the weasel who broke the window – had gone, but none of us have seen him since we blocked up the pane. Last seen running down towards our rooms, they said. He must have been caught by something hungry. They didn’t look particularly upset; apparently, smashing the window wasn’t his first stupid act, and he wasn’t missed.

I felt bad for him. To not even be missed by the group – I can’t imagine that. Masterson is a pain in the ass and not well-liked, but I think he’d be missed. Not just by Sally and not just because he’s a doctor – I think we’d grieve for him. I hate the idea anyone means so little that those who knew him can step on without a flinch.

I had to work hard not to think about Ben too much while they talked about the weasel being missing. I could feel the tide rising behind my eyes and closing my throat, and had to fight it back. I still look for him when we stop for a while. He is missed.

It’s one of the reasons I keep this journal: so that no-one is forgotten. Not even Dennis, the wild window-breaker, the weasel who ran off without his group and into something’s jaws. He bucked against them all the time, they said, always doing his own thing and causing trouble. No matter how many times they tried to teach him a lesson, he never got the message. Not quite there, they said, though I don’t believe that. He looked frightened and desperate for those few seconds I saw him – not crazy. He knew exactly what was going on.

There’s also the possibility that he was reacting to more than the shamblers chasing them. I really don’t like how some of the Wolverines look at us.


We pushed on today, after spending half an hour trying to explain our route to the Wolverines without telling them our actual plans. We aren’t moving quickly – Matt is still limping badly and leans on me or Thorpe sometimes, and the Wolverines have injuries too. We’ve patched them up as best we can, but I think a couple of them are sick.

Another clump of shamblers blocking up a street forced us to detour to avoid them; we gave them a wide berth in case they picked up our scent. They seemed intent on a single building, shuffling into a clot around it. I think another reason we went so wide around them was so that we couldn’t hear whoever they were focussed on. It’s easier to ignore screams and pleas you know are there if you can’t hear them.

We’re not far from the car yard now. I can’t think about that too much right now – we have to keep an eye on the Wolverines. They think they outnumber us because we have kids with us; I think they might try something. I had to hide in a little side room to get this post done, just in case. We’re far from trust now.

I’d better go check on the others.