Log #1401

Fifteen twenty-five.

This time yesterday I was sat on a swivel chair with a mouldy cushion, being interrogated by three fishpeople. Two men and a woman. They’d ambushed me and knocked me out, but when I woke up I wasn’t bound, wasn’t locked away. They’d just taken my gun.

They asked if I really was UN, and if Pen was too. She’d probably told them who she was and what she was doing here, but she didn’t have her uniform–didn’t have her ID. I do have my uniform. My combat trousers, my shirt, my flak jacket, my helmet. And, importantly, my ID.

I got speaking with them and they said that they’d been living on a diet of fish, and that they figured that was the reason they’d started to mutate. But obviously people eat fish all the time and they never started turning into them before. It may be that they were eating the brains of Infected fish, and that the renanimatory proteins were accepted into their systems, causing, well, mutation.

They say they killed the others because they didn’t want them to mutate too. They killed them in order to save them.

I didn’t tell them about Gabrielle, and I won’t tell Gabrielle about them. I’ve agreed to leave them alone to make their own decisions on what they’re going to do. If I were one of them I wouldn’t want to go on living. But they each have to make their own choice.

The good news is that Pen is safe. She’s back with us now.

Unfortunately I couldn’t find out why were were drugged and stripped and taken down into that room. That doesn’t especially matter any more, though. We are safe…

Or at least, most of us are. When I told Pen about Si she burst out crying. I didn’t realise they were that close. But she’s been outside, knelt at the spot where we buried him, for about four and a half hours.

Ruby’s still working on the grid. We’re not making much progress, it has to be said, but hopefully when Pen gets her head straight she’ll be able to fix it up in no time. Then we can get to the roof of the Arndale building and radio back to the Station, for Sergio to turn on the power in the Hibbert Street building. Then we should be rolling.

I’m just not sure how long I should leave Pen grieving. I feel bad interrupting the process, but we aren’t exactly in a good position, here. We should be looking to move as soon as possible.

Sixteen thirty-five. Five hours isn’t much to grieve, but I think that’s all we can spare. I’ll give Pen until seven, then she’s going to have to get to work. The number of Infected there are wandering around out there, I won’t be surprised if they try something this evening.

Next log shortly.

– Titouan Denaux