Ambulate: Season One

"Gazette"

Episode
Twelve:

December
Monday 15th:

The course of training began today as soon as sun had risen. Grady and Markus set up an obstacle course for tactical shooting, hand to hand, and hand to gun combat. I could've participated in such events, but training someone who can't listen to the life of things and blames you afterwards for poor training performance.

Sorry, no fucking thank you. I've heard enough fuck you'd already don't need to hear it anymore. Instead I stood back and observed everyone below the roof of the hospital's courtyard. Watching Alyssa as well as the others assigning five party members to each group.

Each individual groups will learn and tackle different objectives starting with close, mid, and long range. Not only will they learn how to shoot with great precision, but they'll also learn how to think and be quick on their feet

Much as it pains me to admit I can't even bear to witness for the Christ of things those vaguely disreputable Whistler's are actually helping. They're actually fucking helping us!

Personally, I can't stand the fucking idea. There's got to be a hidden agenda for doing all this. My gut ain't no liar. I know they're working with Charles secretly. Shit there's something weirdly fucking off about this whole Goddamn thing.

Or maybe I gotta stop banging my head against the walls of paranoia. I know I'm not only one who feels and thinks that way of them, the others too. In fact how in the holy hell can these two assholes manage to find all the shit they offered us in return for a live Charles walker.

Can evil turn good?

Whatever the answer is, beggars can't be fucking choosers... Maybe Elizabeth was right after all. Maybe self reliance is the key to surviving against all odds.

But for how fucking long...

Ps.

We tried contacting Alan, but all we got is radio silent. I guess we'll try again tomorrow. We need all the of support we can get.

God damn this fucking snow storm.

December
Wednesday 16th:

Day two of training had its fair shares of success and complications. Nothing we couldn't manage or handle of course. All the loud shooting attracted over a dozen lurkers to our main and opposite gates. I'd say it was perfect for close up combat . We captured a few for training purposes only and kill them before it gets dark. Despite of everything, no problems or complaints from the Whistler's.

At least so far.

December
Sunday 19th:

Today we had a meeting to discuss our plans on the dealings of how we would execute the lurkers cause war doesn't create silence. So Grady brought a pill to the table for our headaches. He'd suggested that we plant explosives below street tunnel. Once detonated It'll create a large sinkhole.

Grady's advised that we plant explosives below tunnel streets of W 107th St running straight down on the dotted lines of W 96 St. From there we'll plant another set of explosives from opposite side of E 108th straight down to to E 96 St. With every idea brought to the table Grady was the best we heard and got. We definitely don't need a hotdog of lurkers swarming us like moth to a flame.

This sinkhole idea might do the trick. Tomorrow Grady and ten others will began the plantation. While Alyssa and the rest of us charge pier 38. The Curators stronghold.

Above all else. Alan is still radio silent. Son of a fucking bitch! Alyssa is persistent. That woman can be held at gun point and still have faith. One's gotta have faith, even if he nor she doesn't believe in it anymore.

December
Monday 20th:

Today at approximately 2:25 we raided the Curator's strong hold. Our triumph was without a doubt notably successful, but little did we know we'd stormed into the shores of disappointment...

Everything from the entire warehouse was despoiled. Call it shit luck. Charles's is a very clever fucking man. In the end the Whistler's were useful today and didn't lie on the whereabouts of the curator's hold.

Although they didn't hold their full end of the bargain. And for that I'm going renege upon the Whistler's deal and execute Charles when I see him on my crosshairs.

Four days from now Charle's along with his his militia will have there heads mounted on fucking spikes!

Ps.

Alan is radio silent yet again. We may not have spoken for years, doesn't necessarily mean I wish death upon ' em. Even though we sent each other to hell and went out different ways. But despite his arrogance he's still my kid brother. I love' em

Ps.

I hope you're safe and doing alright.