Shit's been... hectic (is that the right word?) since yesterday.
And I can't really say that things have... calmed down either. If anything, the situation is rather tentative. Danger abode. Tensions are rising. Yet everything is calm...
Ugh, shit. How fucking cliche. But fine, I'll say it:
It feels like the calm before a storm.
A dog-Freak managed to get inside the security measure's we'd enacted yesterday. Following its death, we gathered those we could find. Hector was up by then of course, he was there when I managed to take down the doggy. Henry was up, but hiding out inside his room. Anna being downstairs with Monica.
And Colin, no where to be found.
We couldn't take any chances. A Freak had gotten inside, there had to be an entrance we hadn't accounted for somewhere, so we retreated into the infirmary for the rest of the night. We couldn't even risk the trip to gather more weapons at the armory.
We holed up in the infirmary together for the rest of the night with the weapons we had then. Four assault rifles. And we waited for the dawn to come.
The only real problem came shortly after we entered the infirmary.
Hector still didn't know about Sean's death. He had assumed Sean was down in the infirmary with Anna. But when we entered and he didn't see him, he asked me. And I couldn't look him in the eye.
He asked again and when I didn't answer, he grabbed me by my front and, more violently than I ever remember him, shook me and demanded I tell him where Sean was.
I looked at him then, I wanted to be honest, to tell him frankly that Sean was dead. Had died alone, because of his idiocy. But I saw the torn emotions building within his eyes; the stormy fear and knowledge already there crashing together into tears.
I told him Sean was dead.
Took me roughly three sentences to spit it out. And another to make it comprehensible.
He pushed me away and tried for the door. He had a gun. He was dangerous. It was a miracle none of the others got shot restraining him. Holding him back.
And he spent the night crying bitterly as me and Henry tried to keep him down.
Morning came and with it, the opportunity to go out. But of course, first we had to run a precursory search of the building. Make sure we didn't stumble upon any sleeping Freaks during the day. And when that didn't turn up anything except the dead dog and Sean's body, we moved toward looking for the means that the Freak used to get inside.
And we started looking for Colin's corpse.
That was the assumption of course. Colin must be dead. He must of been out in the hallways when the Freak-dog got inside and was taken out easily. The dog probably devoured him whole. Or left the remains somewhere obscure. We we're sure we'd find his body eventually.
Probably up a tree.
We found a passage that opened into the roof was pried open. It's a small thing, tucked into the second floor's east corner, behind an alcove. Not something we had to secure, the door itself is pretty solid. But in the morning we found it slightly ajar. A small shoe prying it open slightly.
A shoe the size that would fit a small boy.
Colin (or what remained) wasn't on the roof either.
So we buried Sean that afternoon. I wouldn't have taken the time to do it (and I think Henry didn't want to either) but Hector demanded that he receive a proper burial. And to my surprise, Anna supported the idea.
So we buried him, next to the tree in the northern yard that Anna used to meditate under. Hector dug the hole himself. He claimed Sean would have appreciated the gesture "six feet under". And we had a small service for him there, under the sky.
On a side-note, although no one's brought it up, it seems the gun-ban is over. Somewhere in the darkest of the night, the trust of the others in me and Anna was restored, if not slightly.
And after the service for Sean, I found a small piece of paper folded and tucked into my pocket. A single word scribbled upon it: USEless.
I've received this kind of message before, although I still don't know who exactly delivers it. But it disturbs me nonetheless.
Monica's still asleep. Nothing's changed there. But upon awaking, her whole world's going to change.
And our dwindling supplies still haven't been replenished. Not that we're in need... we still technically have weeks left of supplies (a few months even if we start severely stretching our meals), but the medicine Henry gives Monica for the pain is almost gone (he's started popping those pills dammit, or at least I suspect) and more of the school's pipes have started chugging out muddy water.
And almost as if in cruel jest, I picked up a word in the radio today, among the static. I thought I'd imagined it at first, but the moment caught me, and now I'm ready to swear I heard what I heard. Swear to whom? No one in particular.
The word I heard: "Still-".