Day thirty-eight on Arklay Island, conditions have yet to improve. Though it has only been four days since my last entry, I feel as if we have hit a moment of stagnation. The high population of reanimated dead continue to persist. Injuries, from the product of hostile encounters, have apparently capped off to a daily average. Resources continue to dwindle, but water and power is still available. Coach’s Pub, fortunately, still has an ample supply of liquor and coffee.

I would be remiss to note one change to the island. A group of entrepreneuring survivors recently laid claim to the local gas station. From the looks of things, it appears as those people mean to bring the business back to its former operations. Tools and resources pile up on the exterior of the building. Perhaps these workers may one day offer their repair services to the rest of the island. If that truly is their ambition, I should make note to contact them in regards to fixing the water treatment facility.

Plans to repair the facility are still underway. Operation Rainmaker progresses, but slowly unfolds. Epsilon recently broke ground into working out squads for the purge. The Commanding Officer of Operations set out to petition Arklay Emergency Services for help. We still have yet to survey the facility and determine the extent of necessary repairs. It will take every available person’s assistance to accomplish this goal. Unfortunately, the population of living people dwindles by the day.

There is a growing account of missing persons. Susan Evans, a local cat lady, went missing from her apartment at the Eights. Randy, of which I know nothing about, is gone as well. There undoubtedly are more names among those that cannot be accounted for, but one stands prominent over all: Coach. Coach is best known for as the owner of the bar which bears his name; Coach’s Pub. In the early days of the outbreak, Coach left to the woods for a picnic and never returned. An axe and blood at the scene may hint that the man met an untimely demise. I feel it is likely he met his end in the hands of the dead, though the circumstances are still mysterious.

These reports are unnerving and a constant reminder that self-defense is key to preservation. Hearing this news makes me even more eager to attend Huntress’s lessons on gun safety and training. It was just the other day she made the offer to both Perkins and me. With her mentorship, and the provision of a manual, I may just yet learn how to properly fire the weapon. I pray, however, that the gun in my possession may never see use.