Finally released from the Hospital. Given the all-clear after the plumbing got to workin’ a’gin. First day out and got dysentery from a nasty meal. ‘Least it didn’t taste bad goin’ down, but it sure hurt comin’ back up. Week and a half of clogged plumbing and the second I’m out, the floodgates are released. Reckon that’s called irony.

Met some of the new folks at the Eights while seein’ Darla a’gin. She hugged me and I froze; reckon it was better than gettin’ punched by her, which she seemed meanin’ to do. Might even get a doc to split their time ‘tween the Hospital and ‘hind our walls. Maybe that blood bank’ll see the light a’day a’gin.

Erey’time I walk up to ma’ room, can’t help but see that radio tower beggin’ ta’ shine in the distance. Somethin’ kin’ be done with that. Jus’ need ta’ figure out what. I’m gonna go take a closer look.

Met Chava by the tower’s base while she was searchin’ for wires. She might have the tech know-how to retrofit the building with a radio and get the signal out. Would take some time settin’ up, but once I’ve planted the winter vegetables with the seeds ah’ found outside Fortuna, I’ll have some time on ma’ hands.

In the meantime, swung by the Garage to see if Talla had any spare car batteries: something enough for a side project I’m thinkin’ a’givin’ a try. Let me know he’ll tell his scouts to keep on the lookout, but its first-come, first-serve. Luckily, the garage is right down the hill from home.

Part of me wants ta’ still look out for folk; folk I ain’t even met yet. Them that’re still wanderin,’ lookin’ for a place to call home. And maybe the Island can be their home. Why should ‘ah go out on a limb again for other people? Why tackle something like this?

Because I have a voice. And there may be some folk out there who need ta’ hear it.