7/24 5:45am

Dave woke me early. Right now he’s gearing up-- putting on his rumpled Army jacket, slinging up that shotgun, counting out his shells. He doesn’t look too good. Wheezes a bit, red eyes. Something’s up with him. Don’t want to ask what. Not sure I want the answer.

He tells me that we’re “going on recon.” I ask why recon has to happen at five in the morning, and he says that’s when, as he calls them, the goners can be “caught unawares.”

The man is a fruit cake. Still, he seems to know what he’s talking about. Certainly surviving better than I was. We’re set up now in a lumber yard on the edge of town, across the Spedwater and fields from housing or other clusters of shambling dead. Dave set up a tarp next to a block of railroad ties in the center.

Right now I’m drinking instant coffee from the tin camping pot he warmed up before I woke. That dog’s attacking it’s left leg like it’s got fleas. Hope I don’t get them. Can’t tell if Dave has them or not.

A few moaners passed by last night, as we sat in the center of the fenced in clearing, surrounded by obscuring rows of railroad ties. When I jumped up, slugger in hand, the old man swatted me and told me to calm down. The fire was banked low and he growled that they wouldn’t be attracted to us if they didn’t see us and couldn’t hear us. Told me it was Pleiku all over again. Whatever that means.

The old man mutters to himself sometimes. Stuff like "get the stuff or lose my edge. That's what I always say." He keeps checking his pockets, as if missing something he normally has.

When I ask him about his mutt, he gives me the hardest look I've seen yet from the man. “Daisy will not be a problem. I trained her long time past for quiet. She'll only bark when Dead Ed's ready to take his claws to my back. She's been waiting for this for a long time. Right, Daze?” He asks, absently scratching the dog's ear.

Gotta admit, she only whined quietly when the moaner rolled past last night. I was the one who panicked, not her. And it's clear Dave's got an oddly strong attachment to it. Stronger than he has to me right now, no doubt.

Looks like he’s ready to go. He hands me my bat, which gained several galvanized additions this morning. The nails glint dully in predawn light. “Let’s just say it was due for an upgrade. You’re going to earn your keep today, buddy-boy.”