Today I scouted out Dickson street, finally. It was fairly easy getting there, but not so much on the way out.
I set out alone, as most of the others were out on other duties, and the rest needed to stay and watch over the house. So I went down Huntsville; a fairly direct route to where I needed to go. Seeing as I was lightly armed, being only with a few daggers and a pistol, I stayed out of site along the right of the road. There were a few scattered corpses and Zombies, but I don't know how old they were in terms of how long they had been there; some at least looked fairly fresh.
Before long I had made my way into town... none of the cultists were to be found. I assume they simply went to some sort of compound, but I am partially hoping that they got destroyed, based on the information I received.
There wasn't much activity up until I reached Dickson street, where a number of Zombies were roaming around. A short amount of light fighting brought be to the safehouse I was headed to, an old smokehouse turned bookstore, turned safehouse. There a group of Survivors were that I was slated to meet up with, and we discussed as best we could the situation in town.
From the intel they had received, apparently the cultists had forced the Traders out of the square, and taken over the majority of the safehouses in the area as well, which caused a number of deaths. We discussed other matters of less importance for an hour or so, then went out separate ways; I was about to make the return journey home, when a large front of Zombies moved in from the north. I was forced to flee at this, and eventually made my way to the library.
The library had long since been broken into; it was a safehouse at one point, housing a large number of people, but the number of large, thin windows all along the front, and the numerous entrances, made it a poor holdout. Every once in a while survivors would hold out upstairs, seeing as all they needed to do was move bookshelves, but I had no such luck in finding people here today.
Moving upstairs nonetheless, I found the remains of a group who had failed to defend themselves here. I attempted to take them out with the daggers, but was eventually forced to use my pistol; a nearly fatal problem. The sound of the weapons fire brought the attention of the swarms to the building. For the next half hour or so, if I reckon correctly, I was involved in a, quite frankly, terrifying game of cat and mouse between the various bookshelves, before I was elated by the sound of a shotgun report.
Due to the fact that help had arrived, I made the choice to turn from hunted to hunter; moving as swiftly as possible and taking down my opposition. I must say, the training I had taken a few weeks before was a saving grace; due to the short range and lack of overall ammunition on the pistol, I could rush up and fire a round or two if necessary into the head, then move on. The shotgun rounds were quite frequent as I moved towards the entrance, and by the time I reached the users I was quite out of breath and nearly out of ammunition; I had only brought three clips, and was down to more or less half of the last one.
My saviors were my sister and a couple of our friends, all armed with Remington 1100s. I've seldom been happier in my life, than to see the trio bearing arms and blasting apart my adversaries. After a brief rest we made our way home, though we had to high-tail it as quickly as possible; all the gunfire had attracted much of the remaining hordes that were coming down from the north.
Still, we've made it home, and as far as I know the others had too. All in all, a productive journey, if a little taxing on the ammunition supplies.
-Aldon the Silent, All don the shroud.