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Little Red Mark

George was dead fucking wrong when he said that almost everyone in his group couldn't shoot a gun. In reality, it was pretty much just him and Karl who didn't know the difference between the safety and the trigger. There were six-year-olds here who are a better shot than those two combined.

For the past week I've been training and helping these new people with every kind of weapon we got from sunup to well past sundown while also completing everyone's firearm certification. And by everyone, I mean, everyone.

Phil wanted to make sure even the old residents of Jackson knew what they were doing with a gun even though most of the townspeople's six-month registration wasn't even halfway up; it was better safe than sorry. And since I had nothing better to do, I was in charge of all the paperwork and making sure everyone knew how to load a clip, put the safety on, and at least hit a target in some sort of way.

George and Karl, on the other hand... let's just say there are plenty of new holes in the wall of the shooting range that clearly depicts their failures with archery, long guns, and handhelds. There were even a couple knife marks in the wall when they wanted to switch it up for the day.

Sitting in our usual booth in the back corner of Darryl's, I waited for everyone else to show up while filling out some random seventeen-year old's six-month registration. I let out a sigh and dug my fingers into the corners of my tired eyes, sight starting to get all wonky from looking at the same words over and over and over again for hours.

It was already dark, and the streetlights just came on as I hunched back over the paperwork. Phil had put up the morning patrol on top of the wall for extra guard duty while the afternoon patrol was out and vice versa just in case a certain somebody didn't like the stunt we pulled with getting a bunch of new people.

It honestly felt like she didn't even exist anymore.

The footprints that were reported on patrol were clearly someone from George and Karl's group. There has been no sign of any new squatters or outposts. No infected besides the natural migration packs that happen every year. It was like she disappeared off the face of the earth.

Not that I was complaining.

At the same time, I didn't want to lower my guard completely. If my luck with anything was going to have a say was that the moment I relaxed my shoulders, she was gonna pop out of somewhere and do something so drastic that we definitely would never bounce back from it.

Talk and discussion of the ambush has even dwindled down to barely anything. Phil was still accepting donations for the scrap and nail bombs but that's all I've heard. Maybe with the new people just joining, priorities have shifted for a bit? I got no clue, but it all felt like everything was just up in limbo and floating around.

Everyone was still getting settled and trying out tasks before officially deciding on what job they would decide on.

There are a couple new people already down at the hydro plant. That MIT graduate and apparently, she's got a little prodigy she's been teaching the ropes to for a couple years. Callahan was going on and on about how they might figure out what's going on with the solar panels any day now.

Some really took to spending their time and days in the greenhouses and planting. One of the older ladies was apparently hoarding seeds for years just waiting to have some place solid to plant them, and now we are expecting to have strawberries and raspberries in a few months. Well, strawberries at least, Mom gave me a whole spiel on how it takes raspberries eighteen months to grow.

George has shown interest in the patrol team but is a bit uncertain with his current skill level and Karl is on the fence with what he wants to do. He wanted to expand his medical knowledge but also wants to be on the patrol team... ya know once he can shoot a hunting rifle without landing on his ass from the kick back.