Log #1437

Twenty-one thirty-two.

I’ve been warned about writing while I’m meant to be on watch. I’ve never done it before, though. The time Joel saw me sat with his on my knee I was turning it off after updating.

I feel so childish complaining about that. I really should be keeping watch. If just one Infected gets in here it could mean the end of all of us. But I’ve got Kelvin with me and he’s the attentive sort, so it’s fine. Not like Joel doesn’t blink when he’s on watch.

No encounters in the past week. Bridget hasn’t seen anything while scouting, either. Fran and Gabrielle seem to think it’s good–they’re right behind the idea that the Infected have moved out of the city ‘looking for food’. But there’s only one phrase comes to my mind: calm before the storm.

Buzzer’s being less weird. I think he’s noticed that Wendel is keeping tabs on him, so maybe that’s why. I’ll be happy if this status quo stays for another few weeks, because I’m tired of all the emotional turmoil. I think we all need some time to unwind; get some proper sleep, proper exercise, proper food.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like there’s something in the air. Lately I’ve been tempted to walk out of here and not come back. I wouldn’t, because I have a responsibility to these people, and to any souls who come here looking for help.

It’s my job that keeps me alive these days. Not my family.

Twenty-two o’two. Next log shortly.

– Titouan Denaux