It finally happened: an agent has shot an uninfected civilian. I've spent most of the day under armed guard in my room since it's too dangerous to travel to the infirmary. The vaccine is finally turning the tide, but the town is on lock-down because some boozer mistook an agent for an infected. We haven't had a documented rogue for days, and we tried to let the public know, but undercurrents of a civil war have been boiling for a while now.

But it's not like there's riot going on right now. Actually there's nothing. Only the occasional patrol car breaks the silence. But isn't this the calm before the storm, or the eye of the storm, or something bad?

It's surprisingly difficult to find an unsupervised moment. I'm currently in the bathroom, typing on the toilet (with the lid down, of course; I'm not that gross). The guards aren't technically supposed to be in my room without reason, but I think they installed something yesterday. I've been reading parts of Goethe aloud and practicing my Elaine dance just in case.

I wish I had my hula chair so I could at least work out during my down time.

Sorry I haven't posted for a while. It's getting kind of scary out there, and I don't mean the infected. Who knew that I would be scared of my own government one day? I've become used to not being able to sleep due to random shouts/screams/gutturals, but recently the noises have been either preceded or quickly followed by the distinctive sound of a Glock 22 (or less frequently, 23). It's not the shot itself that's bothersome, but the utter silence that follows.

And while you would think that protecting the town is cut and dry, Clint patiently explained to me that recently the townspeople have been jumping the gun (so to speak) and attacking anyone who appears to be exhibiting signs of infection. In other words, the FBI not only has to protect the citizens from the infected, but the infected from the citizens, and ultimately the citizens from themselves. Fortunately the curfew and military presence has helped tone things down, but still...it's frightening.

Personally, I've only witnessed one fatality. A young girl in the triage unit had broken her restraints and became aggressive. We have policies, but in the time it took me to jerk open the haloperidol box a stationed agent shot her three times. Dead. I knew it before she collapsed on the floor, but I still scrambled with the latex gloves and gauze. I want so badly to be angry at the agent, but their shifts have been long and tense, and he looked utterly devastated. They sent him back the same day.

They don't make incident reports for this kind of thing.

I should have known better

You guys are like little children, I swear. I don't suppose anyone knows anything about the Post Office being swarmed yesterday? No? Of course not. Between my warnings and your marvelous self-restraint we are proving to the FBI that we can be trusted with life-saving information.

I know how frustrating the situation is. I'm sure you're all sick of the antiseptic smell pervading town. I too crave the fresh grease of fast food. And let's hear it for the only vehicles permitted on the streets: you rock, unmarked SUVs and cop cars. But seriously, if you had gotten your hands on the vaccine, would you know how to use it? Or would you just waste it in your misguided, panic-driven state?

Assholes.

Sorry, I couldn't post yesterday. I spent most of it briefing Clint on THE BRAND SPANKING NEW VACCINE that is slated to come in sometime this morning. My bad, did I just shout that? It doesn't matter, right? Good news like this deserves to be shared with everyone.

But federal agents don't think like you and I. They don't walk into the makeshift triage unit and see the sunken eyes of friends and relatives who hope that their loved one will be the exception and wake up unchanged. Apparently being a special agent means your sleep isn't disturbed by what I wish like hell was an animal cry. Clint is positive we'll have a riot on our hands if the general populace has any inkling of the vaccine's existence, and despite the fact that just yesterday three more people were added to the confirmed list I'm prohibited from sharing the first scrap of hope to come our way in a long time.

For now, be of good cheer and do not, for the love of everything and everyone you hold dear, tell a soul about this blog.

What was the first rule of this blog?

Um.

Why has my blog's readership tripled?

The first good news in ages: a vaccine is on its way. The squints in Bethesda have isolated the virus and I expect results on lab experiments any moment. Thank god. I immediately wrote up a press statement (because lord knows we need all the hope we can get) but when I called the police chief he passed the phone off to Special Agent Clint Steel. I swear FBI think they're rock stars. They arrive in the field fashionably late, walk around with an entourage of groupies, and generally act surprised if you don't drool over their very presence. Please.

"So Clint," I said, "I just received some great news. The CDC is developing a vaccine as we speak, and I think we should let people know." I didn't call him Special Agent because the only thing that makes them special is falling within an age range and running a mile a little faster, but apparently the omission got us off on the wrong foot. He replied in a stereotypical clipped monotone that I wasn't authorized to release any information, and if the time came for a press conference I would not be conducting it. All information regarding virus research is to be treated as confidential subject to his sole discretion, and was he making himself clear enough?

Which makes this blog more than my emotional outlet. A whole lot more (about 15-30 years, depending on the charge, although if it's considered treason they technically have the option of death). To the few of you following my blog: please keep it to yourself. In return, I promise to be 100% honest and complete in everything I post here. But please, please, please. The first rule of this blog is that you don't talk about this blog. The second rule is...

But it's not like they could google key words in this blog and trace it back to me, right?

There's almost no chance I'll get to name the virus, but if they ask I've got one ready: adazumbi virus(zumbi is West African for...well you can guess). That'll put this town on the map.

Spent New Year's scooping out brain matter to send back to Maryland. A body of a confirmed was found behind the hardware store, death by BFT. This is unfortunately becoming more common, as the diseased tend to be combative after coming out of their psuedo-comas. I've asked the police to remind people not to take matters into their own hands, but I almost pissed my pants examining a tranquilized patient in five point restraints so I can't really talk.

Hoping to get tissue and blood sample results back in a few days. Between the location, the weather, and the situation supplies are running low and people are getting desperate. Hell, my rental was broken into and most of my hypodermics stolen because of a rumor that I was hoarding the vaccine. Press conferences quickly devolve into combat sport, and on the whole I'm really beginning to wish I pursued that concealed weapons permit. As it is, the CDC has asked for a local police escort to follow me around and there are some hints that the FBI has taken an interest in the outbreak.

I know, I know, I thought it might have been a bioterrorist attack too but then I looked around and remembered this town got excited over a new postmaster. Come on, people.