Left 4 Dead: From the Desk -- Day 38
30 January 2010
Early afternoon…somewhere around 14:00
Disaster has struck.
I was awakened this morning at around 07:00 by the twins. Rarely were they up this early, and they were restless for some reason. At first I'd thought it was because they needed their diapers changed, but that had turned out not to be the case (though I put on fresh ones anyway, just in case). By the time I was done with them, Caroline and Blake were awake, too; our Witch wouldn't stop growling or looking around frantically, nor would she cease flexing her claws. Even Blake was wary of something, though the only sign of his discomfort was the amount of smoke he was giving off.
I know by experience that animals are able to sense danger before it hits. Take those who had escaped to higher ground before the 2004 Indonesian tsunami, for example. The Infected seem to have that same sense-but not for natural disasters. The only thing that can rattle one of the Infected, it seems, is one of their own, that hulking brute known as a Tank. Thanks to my pack, I had enough time to dress for the cold and retrieve my pistol (as though it would be any good!) before it came.
I don't believe it knew I was in there. I believe it had migrated here, and my lab was in the way. But as soon as it smashed through the wall of the lab proper, it caught my scent, and then I was its target to crush.
I was frozen as it came at me, roaring its rage. I couldn't move, even though I knew I had to run. I couldn't even scream; fear held me in place, and I'm fairly sure my bladder let loose. My body wouldn't obey me, and I couldn't see or hear anything but that gruesome, jawless creature advancing on me. The only thought I had in my mind at the time was that this was the same Tank that had destroyed Private Carter and our two other compatriots the first time we were driven from the lab.
Blake finally broke me from my paralysis. His tongue wrapped around me and he yanked me to him with a strength he usually reserved for killing; I ended up flying down a portion of the corridor leading to the dorms, right into his arms. He kept hold of me as he turned and ran, forcing me to move or be dragged by my waist. I started running, and he let go. Behind us, the Tank gave chase with a bellow, crashing down the hallway after its prey.
My Smoker led me into a room with a window. He smashed it open and jumped, pulling me with him. I couldn't help it-I screamed. We only fell two stories, however, and I received only a few superficial scratches from the glass, but it did tear open my winter coat, letting in the chill wind. I started shivering almost immediately, but that died down as soon as we started running again. The transition to the snow did nothing to slow the Tank down; he kept up his pursuit relentlessly.
When we were several blocks away, I heard the twins' killing shrieks, followed by a pained roar from the Tank. Blake and I turned around to see the two of them clinging to its muscled back, tearing into its flesh with both sets of claws. It snarled and shook them off just as Blake's tongue shot out again. This time, my Smoker's aim was for the Tank's leg. His aim was again impeccable; the appendage wrapped around the behemoth's ankle, and he yanked again with the same strength he showed before. The Tank went down to one knee, and Blake bit off his tongue before our enemy could use it against him.
Lexi tried to take advantage of this, leaping at it again. But it caught her in one massive hand, and started to squeeze. She was helpless in its grasp with her arms pinned to her sides and her powerful legs dangling uselessly. She screamed in pain as his grip became painful and crushing. Chris leapt at the arm in which Lexi was being held, starting to gnaw and tear at the Tank's flesh in an effort to free his sister. The Tank's other hand came around, plucking the Hunter off and flinging him aside, followed closely by Lexi. Chris landed in a snowdrift with a yelp, but Lexi landed on top of him with a howl of pain.
The Tank started after Blake and me once again, but as it did, a horrible wail pierced the air. In a flurry of snow, Caroline rushed the Tank seemingly out of nowhere, her claws outstretched and her eyes blazing with fury. As it turned to meet her, she slashed at it, opening four deep gashes in its chest. These lacerations were deep; blood was spurting out with each heartbeat, splattering the snow. I wouldn't be surprised if she had pierced its heart. Certainly it would have been enough to disembowel a person, or even another Infected. Yet despite its wounds, the Tank roared in fury, swinging its heavy arms at its attacker.
Caroline was quick, though, quicker than the Tank. She ducked under the blows and followed up with another slash, this time from the other hand. A matching and intersecting set of gashes opened up; the Tank was losing blood fast. I brought up my pistol then to do what I could to help, even as Chris succeeded in digging himself from the snow and made another leap at the enemy's back. Caroline kept the giant's attention, screaming at it and dealing it the most damage to keep its fury directed at her.
In another few moments, it was over. The Tank collapsed, finally succumbing to its wounds. I let my trembling hand drop to my side and I leaned against Blake, who held me as I caught my breath and let the adrenaline burn itself out. Caroline slowly lowered to the ground, starting to sob again, while Chris immediately went to his twin's side. Lexi had, by then, pulled herself out of the snowdrift, but she was badly injured. Blood soaked her left sleeve, the arm hanging limp at an odd angle, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. Chris tried to help her, but she snarled at him when he moved her the wrong way; he backed away, letting her move on her own. At least her legs seemed to work fine.
Still trembling from fear and cold, I pulled myself away from Blake to attend to the Huntress. She snapped at me, too, when I jostled her to determine her injuries, but I was too tired and emotionally charged to have any of it; I thumped her on the head, hard, with a fist. She growled, but settled enough to let me lift her sweatshirt.
Lexi was very heavily bruised, and abnormal movement in her ribs with each breath meant that several were cracked. But she was lucky; none of them seemed to have punctured a lung. I felt along her arm, earning a howl of pain from her, and found that the blood came from a protruding bone fragment a few inches below her armpit, with a second break just above her elbow. There was little I could do for her ribs except keep them as inert as possible, but her arm needed to be reset, and quickly. So I tore apart my shirt from under my coat and did my best to tie Lexi's arm steady. It would serve until we returned to the lab…or what was left of it.
Holding Lexi, I started leading my pack back to the lab. Blake paused long enough to rouse Caroline from her rest. I will admit that if it hadn't been winter, I would have been lost; Blake had led me into an area of the city with which I was completely unfamiliar. But thankfully, I had our tracks in the snow to follow back home.
When we got back to the lab, however, I realized right away that we couldn't stay there any longer. The walls through which the Tank had crashed had collapsed, and already snow was beginning to blow inside. The dormitory was uninhabitable with the gaping hole through its center and the floor crushed by the Tank's weight. The only building left untouched was storage. If I hadn't been the only human, we might have been able to rebuild-but I was, and my pack wouldn't be able to understand any commands I gave them. Rebuilding walls, resetting tile…renovating was beyond them.
My first order of business was treating Lexi. I tranquilized her so that she wouldn't accidentally strike me when I reset her bone and bound her midriff. When I did what I could for her bones, I put on a heavy cast on her arm, and put it in a tight enough sling that she couldn't break-not with that arm, anyway. But once I was done with her, I left her with her siblings to retrieve my sled, and begin work on picking out only what would be absolutely necessary for our survival. I had foraged quite a bit by today, and so that chore actually took me several hours to complete, including actually loading it onto the sled. Much of what I packed was food-for me, and for my pack.
By noon, I was ready to leave. Lexi had woken up by then, laying feline-style on her belly with her good arm tucked against her chest. Chris was right beside her, laying the same way and purring comfortingly to her. I whistled to them, and they came to me, though Lexi occasionally yelped in pain as she moved the wrong way. Caroline came to me, too, even though I'm not sure she understood the whistle; Blake had remained with me the entire time. When we were all ready, I led them out of the ruined lab, and started south.
About halfway through the city we found a compact brick building at the end of a street block that was still mostly intact. I can't say for sure what it might have been, as there were no signs on the exterior-but from the outside, it looked as though it was perfect shelter, at least for a little while. So I unhooked myself from my sled and moved to the frame that was once a glass door for a better look inside. There was little to see; it was very dark inside, and it lacked any shelves or desks. I wondered briefly if the building had been vacant even before the Infection.
So intent was I in trying to look inside that I didn't hear the incoherent babbling of a Charger until it came barreling at me from the rear of the building. Blake, however, was quick on his feet as usual, and pulled me from my attacker's path before it crashed through the door and into the street. He held on to me with both his tongue and his arm as the rest of the Charger's pack filtered from the building to face the intruders.
There were four in all, and they formed one of the mixed packs that we at CEDA had observed early on-a pack that played on the strengths of each individual, though they were each of different strains. This one consisted of the Charger, a Jockey, a Smoker and a Hunter. But what was really unusual to me was the fact that all four of them were female. I couldn't fathom why.
The rival pack gathered as mine surrounded me. Chris and Lexi both stood in front of Blake and me, snarling loudly and trying to be as intimidating as they could-even Lexi, who was quite obviously injured. Their snarls were answered by the rival Hunter. Blake, I believe, was having a staring contest with the female Smoker; she was glaring at him, her right hand flexing and her smoke billowing in waves. The Jockey clambered, cackling, onto the Charger's giant shoulder as she came up beside the Smoker. We stared each other down (save the Hunters of course), exchanging growls, snarls, and swipes; even I brought up my pistol, releasing the safety.
I had plenty of time to study them in those few moments. The Charger was the alpha, from the way the other three deferred to her. She wore the remnants of some sort of uniform; judging by what was left of a badge on her left (atrophied) shoulder, she had likely once been a caretaker at a zoo. That told me that they weren't from this city; the closest zoo was quite a ways away…but winter is a harsh mistress indeed, and they had likely migrated up here in search of food. Her skull had caved in on the left side, but amazingly, a filthy bandana still clung to what was left of her hair.
The Jockey was small and thin, even for her strain. A whipcord braid of hair the same color as my twins' dangled off of her right shoulder; I wondered how it could have stayed so well intact months after the Infection. She had a small backpack on her back, but I doubted that any of them realized what it was for. It was shredded, probably torn apart by her packmates or in a fight with some other Infected. An equally shredded sweater was tied around her waist, colored pink under the bloodstains. She was making swipes in our direction, her laughter never ceasing.
The Smoker never took her eye from Blake, looking as though she were sizing him up. She wore a faded plaid cardigan over a ragged t-shirt, along with ripped jeans and heavy boots-a look I believe was called grunge. But most unusual about her was the necklace that had fused in the tumors as they had consumed her face and neck. It was a simple piece, just a pear-shaped moonstone capped in silver on a chain of the same metal-all of it tarnished, of course. Despite the danger I knew I was in, wondered how easy it would be to remove it and Blake's stethoscope. Had the tumors actually consumed both items, and prevented non-invasive removal, or could I just lift the cancerous flesh and simply pull them off? I couldn't try it with this female Smoker, of course, as it was almost impossible I could capture her or convince her to stay-but I could certainly find out with Blake, once we were settled.
Of all of them, however, the Hunter was the most aggressive, as all Hunters are. She snarled at my twins with all her teeth bared (though that gesture was fairly useless against them). I found it quite appropriate that, given her virus-addled nature, she was wearing the remnants of a cat-eared sweatshirt; the ears were tattered, but still mostly intact, giving her a more animalistic look than my twins. She must have been a freerunner before Infection as Chris and Lexi had been, as her sweatshirt and pants were taped down much as theirs was.
Caroline, however, broke the tension. She sensed the hostility, and her crying turned into growls as she faced the rival pack. She spread her claws, falling into a full threat display. That Caroline was of our pack, and aggressive enough to fight for us, gave us the advantage. With that realization, the Charger seemed to decide I wasn't worth the effort of facing off against a Witch as well as two Hunters and a Smoker. She grunted, and turned to thump away with the Jockey still on her shoulder. The Hunter shrieked at us-or more specifically, the twins-but she followed after. The Smoker was last to go, finally tearing her eye from Blake to turn and limp after the others.
(I realized not long before she left that the reason she was so intent on Blake, and he on her, was because Smokers don't tolerate other Smokers. Rarely has more than one been observed coexisting peacefully in one place, much like birds of prey. The only reason Blake and the female Smoker hadn't been at each other's throats was because of their respective packs; if they'd encountered each other alone, only one would have survived.)
When they were out of sight, finally, we all five of us relaxed. Blake let me go, and I put on my harness again to pull the sled into the building. I took the opportunity to feed my pack and myself; it was a meager meal, and likely Chris would creep out sometime to snack and bring something back for the others. But that was exactly what I intended; most of the food I carried was for me, since I couldn't pull the sled if I'd brought enough for all of us. They could subsist on what they hunted; I couldn't.
There was no heat in the building, so we ended up practically piling together in a dark corner, the better to share heat and keep each other warm. Blake was the foundation, lying against the wall. I lay against his left side, while Caroline lay at his right. The twins curled together between the three of us. When we were settled, I began to write this.
With this turn of events, I believe that it's time to seek out civilization. We cannot stay here forever; there is no significant supply of food, especially if that all-female pack returns. Eventually, my supply will run out as well, and then I'm not sure what I'd do then if we stayed. So we go.
I will not say I'm not frightened. I am. I'm not at all sure of what I'm doing. But I take comfort in my pack, knowing that they'll continue to protect me, just as I do my best to take care of them. We are family now; we are pack.
We are the Home Sector Pack.
From the Desk of Dr. Garnet Merle, D.V.M.
Early afternoon…somewhere around 14:00
Disaster has struck.
I was awakened this morning at around 07:00 by the twins. Rarely were they up this early, and they were restless for some reason. At first I'd thought it was because they needed their diapers changed, but that had turned out not to be the case (though I put on fresh ones anyway, just in case). By the time I was done with them, Caroline and Blake were awake, too; our Witch wouldn't stop growling or looking around frantically, nor would she cease flexing her claws. Even Blake was wary of something, though the only sign of his discomfort was the amount of smoke he was giving off.
I know by experience that animals are able to sense danger before it hits. Take those who had escaped to higher ground before the 2004 Indonesian tsunami, for example. The Infected seem to have that same sense-but not for natural disasters. The only thing that can rattle one of the Infected, it seems, is one of their own, that hulking brute known as a Tank. Thanks to my pack, I had enough time to dress for the cold and retrieve my pistol (as though it would be any good!) before it came.
I don't believe it knew I was in there. I believe it had migrated here, and my lab was in the way. But as soon as it smashed through the wall of the lab proper, it caught my scent, and then I was its target to crush.
I was frozen as it came at me, roaring its rage. I couldn't move, even though I knew I had to run. I couldn't even scream; fear held me in place, and I'm fairly sure my bladder let loose. My body wouldn't obey me, and I couldn't see or hear anything but that gruesome, jawless creature advancing on me. The only thought I had in my mind at the time was that this was the same Tank that had destroyed Private Carter and our two other compatriots the first time we were driven from the lab.
Blake finally broke me from my paralysis. His tongue wrapped around me and he yanked me to him with a strength he usually reserved for killing; I ended up flying down a portion of the corridor leading to the dorms, right into his arms. He kept hold of me as he turned and ran, forcing me to move or be dragged by my waist. I started running, and he let go. Behind us, the Tank gave chase with a bellow, crashing down the hallway after its prey.
My Smoker led me into a room with a window. He smashed it open and jumped, pulling me with him. I couldn't help it-I screamed. We only fell two stories, however, and I received only a few superficial scratches from the glass, but it did tear open my winter coat, letting in the chill wind. I started shivering almost immediately, but that died down as soon as we started running again. The transition to the snow did nothing to slow the Tank down; he kept up his pursuit relentlessly.
When we were several blocks away, I heard the twins' killing shrieks, followed by a pained roar from the Tank. Blake and I turned around to see the two of them clinging to its muscled back, tearing into its flesh with both sets of claws. It snarled and shook them off just as Blake's tongue shot out again. This time, my Smoker's aim was for the Tank's leg. His aim was again impeccable; the appendage wrapped around the behemoth's ankle, and he yanked again with the same strength he showed before. The Tank went down to one knee, and Blake bit off his tongue before our enemy could use it against him.
Lexi tried to take advantage of this, leaping at it again. But it caught her in one massive hand, and started to squeeze. She was helpless in its grasp with her arms pinned to her sides and her powerful legs dangling uselessly. She screamed in pain as his grip became painful and crushing. Chris leapt at the arm in which Lexi was being held, starting to gnaw and tear at the Tank's flesh in an effort to free his sister. The Tank's other hand came around, plucking the Hunter off and flinging him aside, followed closely by Lexi. Chris landed in a snowdrift with a yelp, but Lexi landed on top of him with a howl of pain.
The Tank started after Blake and me once again, but as it did, a horrible wail pierced the air. In a flurry of snow, Caroline rushed the Tank seemingly out of nowhere, her claws outstretched and her eyes blazing with fury. As it turned to meet her, she slashed at it, opening four deep gashes in its chest. These lacerations were deep; blood was spurting out with each heartbeat, splattering the snow. I wouldn't be surprised if she had pierced its heart. Certainly it would have been enough to disembowel a person, or even another Infected. Yet despite its wounds, the Tank roared in fury, swinging its heavy arms at its attacker.
Caroline was quick, though, quicker than the Tank. She ducked under the blows and followed up with another slash, this time from the other hand. A matching and intersecting set of gashes opened up; the Tank was losing blood fast. I brought up my pistol then to do what I could to help, even as Chris succeeded in digging himself from the snow and made another leap at the enemy's back. Caroline kept the giant's attention, screaming at it and dealing it the most damage to keep its fury directed at her.
In another few moments, it was over. The Tank collapsed, finally succumbing to its wounds. I let my trembling hand drop to my side and I leaned against Blake, who held me as I caught my breath and let the adrenaline burn itself out. Caroline slowly lowered to the ground, starting to sob again, while Chris immediately went to his twin's side. Lexi had, by then, pulled herself out of the snowdrift, but she was badly injured. Blood soaked her left sleeve, the arm hanging limp at an odd angle, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. Chris tried to help her, but she snarled at him when he moved her the wrong way; he backed away, letting her move on her own. At least her legs seemed to work fine.
Still trembling from fear and cold, I pulled myself away from Blake to attend to the Huntress. She snapped at me, too, when I jostled her to determine her injuries, but I was too tired and emotionally charged to have any of it; I thumped her on the head, hard, with a fist. She growled, but settled enough to let me lift her sweatshirt.
Lexi was very heavily bruised, and abnormal movement in her ribs with each breath meant that several were cracked. But she was lucky; none of them seemed to have punctured a lung. I felt along her arm, earning a howl of pain from her, and found that the blood came from a protruding bone fragment a few inches below her armpit, with a second break just above her elbow. There was little I could do for her ribs except keep them as inert as possible, but her arm needed to be reset, and quickly. So I tore apart my shirt from under my coat and did my best to tie Lexi's arm steady. It would serve until we returned to the lab…or what was left of it.
Holding Lexi, I started leading my pack back to the lab. Blake paused long enough to rouse Caroline from her rest. I will admit that if it hadn't been winter, I would have been lost; Blake had led me into an area of the city with which I was completely unfamiliar. But thankfully, I had our tracks in the snow to follow back home.
When we got back to the lab, however, I realized right away that we couldn't stay there any longer. The walls through which the Tank had crashed had collapsed, and already snow was beginning to blow inside. The dormitory was uninhabitable with the gaping hole through its center and the floor crushed by the Tank's weight. The only building left untouched was storage. If I hadn't been the only human, we might have been able to rebuild-but I was, and my pack wouldn't be able to understand any commands I gave them. Rebuilding walls, resetting tile…renovating was beyond them.
My first order of business was treating Lexi. I tranquilized her so that she wouldn't accidentally strike me when I reset her bone and bound her midriff. When I did what I could for her bones, I put on a heavy cast on her arm, and put it in a tight enough sling that she couldn't break-not with that arm, anyway. But once I was done with her, I left her with her siblings to retrieve my sled, and begin work on picking out only what would be absolutely necessary for our survival. I had foraged quite a bit by today, and so that chore actually took me several hours to complete, including actually loading it onto the sled. Much of what I packed was food-for me, and for my pack.
By noon, I was ready to leave. Lexi had woken up by then, laying feline-style on her belly with her good arm tucked against her chest. Chris was right beside her, laying the same way and purring comfortingly to her. I whistled to them, and they came to me, though Lexi occasionally yelped in pain as she moved the wrong way. Caroline came to me, too, even though I'm not sure she understood the whistle; Blake had remained with me the entire time. When we were all ready, I led them out of the ruined lab, and started south.
About halfway through the city we found a compact brick building at the end of a street block that was still mostly intact. I can't say for sure what it might have been, as there were no signs on the exterior-but from the outside, it looked as though it was perfect shelter, at least for a little while. So I unhooked myself from my sled and moved to the frame that was once a glass door for a better look inside. There was little to see; it was very dark inside, and it lacked any shelves or desks. I wondered briefly if the building had been vacant even before the Infection.
So intent was I in trying to look inside that I didn't hear the incoherent babbling of a Charger until it came barreling at me from the rear of the building. Blake, however, was quick on his feet as usual, and pulled me from my attacker's path before it crashed through the door and into the street. He held on to me with both his tongue and his arm as the rest of the Charger's pack filtered from the building to face the intruders.
There were four in all, and they formed one of the mixed packs that we at CEDA had observed early on-a pack that played on the strengths of each individual, though they were each of different strains. This one consisted of the Charger, a Jockey, a Smoker and a Hunter. But what was really unusual to me was the fact that all four of them were female. I couldn't fathom why.
The rival pack gathered as mine surrounded me. Chris and Lexi both stood in front of Blake and me, snarling loudly and trying to be as intimidating as they could-even Lexi, who was quite obviously injured. Their snarls were answered by the rival Hunter. Blake, I believe, was having a staring contest with the female Smoker; she was glaring at him, her right hand flexing and her smoke billowing in waves. The Jockey clambered, cackling, onto the Charger's giant shoulder as she came up beside the Smoker. We stared each other down (save the Hunters of course), exchanging growls, snarls, and swipes; even I brought up my pistol, releasing the safety.
I had plenty of time to study them in those few moments. The Charger was the alpha, from the way the other three deferred to her. She wore the remnants of some sort of uniform; judging by what was left of a badge on her left (atrophied) shoulder, she had likely once been a caretaker at a zoo. That told me that they weren't from this city; the closest zoo was quite a ways away…but winter is a harsh mistress indeed, and they had likely migrated up here in search of food. Her skull had caved in on the left side, but amazingly, a filthy bandana still clung to what was left of her hair.
The Jockey was small and thin, even for her strain. A whipcord braid of hair the same color as my twins' dangled off of her right shoulder; I wondered how it could have stayed so well intact months after the Infection. She had a small backpack on her back, but I doubted that any of them realized what it was for. It was shredded, probably torn apart by her packmates or in a fight with some other Infected. An equally shredded sweater was tied around her waist, colored pink under the bloodstains. She was making swipes in our direction, her laughter never ceasing.
The Smoker never took her eye from Blake, looking as though she were sizing him up. She wore a faded plaid cardigan over a ragged t-shirt, along with ripped jeans and heavy boots-a look I believe was called grunge. But most unusual about her was the necklace that had fused in the tumors as they had consumed her face and neck. It was a simple piece, just a pear-shaped moonstone capped in silver on a chain of the same metal-all of it tarnished, of course. Despite the danger I knew I was in, wondered how easy it would be to remove it and Blake's stethoscope. Had the tumors actually consumed both items, and prevented non-invasive removal, or could I just lift the cancerous flesh and simply pull them off? I couldn't try it with this female Smoker, of course, as it was almost impossible I could capture her or convince her to stay-but I could certainly find out with Blake, once we were settled.
Of all of them, however, the Hunter was the most aggressive, as all Hunters are. She snarled at my twins with all her teeth bared (though that gesture was fairly useless against them). I found it quite appropriate that, given her virus-addled nature, she was wearing the remnants of a cat-eared sweatshirt; the ears were tattered, but still mostly intact, giving her a more animalistic look than my twins. She must have been a freerunner before Infection as Chris and Lexi had been, as her sweatshirt and pants were taped down much as theirs was.
Caroline, however, broke the tension. She sensed the hostility, and her crying turned into growls as she faced the rival pack. She spread her claws, falling into a full threat display. That Caroline was of our pack, and aggressive enough to fight for us, gave us the advantage. With that realization, the Charger seemed to decide I wasn't worth the effort of facing off against a Witch as well as two Hunters and a Smoker. She grunted, and turned to thump away with the Jockey still on her shoulder. The Hunter shrieked at us-or more specifically, the twins-but she followed after. The Smoker was last to go, finally tearing her eye from Blake to turn and limp after the others.
(I realized not long before she left that the reason she was so intent on Blake, and he on her, was because Smokers don't tolerate other Smokers. Rarely has more than one been observed coexisting peacefully in one place, much like birds of prey. The only reason Blake and the female Smoker hadn't been at each other's throats was because of their respective packs; if they'd encountered each other alone, only one would have survived.)
When they were out of sight, finally, we all five of us relaxed. Blake let me go, and I put on my harness again to pull the sled into the building. I took the opportunity to feed my pack and myself; it was a meager meal, and likely Chris would creep out sometime to snack and bring something back for the others. But that was exactly what I intended; most of the food I carried was for me, since I couldn't pull the sled if I'd brought enough for all of us. They could subsist on what they hunted; I couldn't.
There was no heat in the building, so we ended up practically piling together in a dark corner, the better to share heat and keep each other warm. Blake was the foundation, lying against the wall. I lay against his left side, while Caroline lay at his right. The twins curled together between the three of us. When we were settled, I began to write this.
With this turn of events, I believe that it's time to seek out civilization. We cannot stay here forever; there is no significant supply of food, especially if that all-female pack returns. Eventually, my supply will run out as well, and then I'm not sure what I'd do then if we stayed. So we go.
I will not say I'm not frightened. I am. I'm not at all sure of what I'm doing. But I take comfort in my pack, knowing that they'll continue to protect me, just as I do my best to take care of them. We are family now; we are pack.
We are the Home Sector Pack.
From the Desk of Dr. Garnet Merle, D.V.M.