Ten days had passed since the Fire Spitter incident at the Municipal Office of Jackson Township.
In that short stretch of time, life had calmed down considerably—not just for our group, but for the people of Jackson Township as well. It felt strange, almost surreal, that after everything we had gone through, we had found ourselves settling into a kind of routine with them.
When I say "we," I mean both groups. Ever since we'd stumbled across their community, we'd been spending a lot of time together. Most of the time, it was us making the trip to the municipal office—sharing meals, trading supplies, or simply exchanging stories about the world and our lives before and after it all fell apart. Somehow, without even realizing it, we had become something close to friends.
