Forty. Where is Everybody? Thirty.

July. Not very much has happened in the last month, other than Will hooking up with Vinnie, and the two being inseparable. I kind of wish this had happened sooner. It gets him out of my hair, and them both across the street where two extra spaces appear here at home. And our insect gets a very fine meal indeed out of it. How come this cannot happen for the lot is anyone's guess. How I dearly want and wish for some lonesomeness. Ironic, since the world is vacant. But I'm not leaving the very house I've been living in for the last five years, nor the town of angles. I have not known any other, nor shall I intend to. Besides, what possible benefit could I ever get out of it?

Val has had an interesting feast in the past five days. He's been sticking around the outside of the house where he can feel and bathe in their passionate aura. Oddly enough, I can kind of feel it, too. There's a clear thaumic resonance coming from that old house. My neighbors who lived there have always been the quiet, keep to themselves types, yet the current ones, who lived here, mind you have been getting themselves knocked stupid and likely boozed to the point of unconsciousness ever since they rearranged the shed in back. I admit I helped, and dug the trench, which Monica and Sweet helped with. They wanted him out of here too just as much as I did. Just last evening, we've had a particularly cold night, and I could smell smoke coming from the chimney, and confirmed it by looking out. As I suspected, Vinnie had demolished all the furnishings save the bed and a few other mattresses and made them firewood. The metal ones had been cast outside into a junk pile to rust, a smorgasbord of edible steel in a month or two. Val himself confirmed this when I asked, and I somehow knew it would come to this. Sacrificing my neighbors interior deco and furnishings for the benefit of someone I don't like, and for someone else I love a lot.

Angela and Sweet have been the light of my life for this past month, and kept me away from the mind numbing boredom with their mere presence. And they helped me discover something I didn't even know i had. The talkative one tried the bracelet on, and immediately cast it across the room, where I caught it before it smashed. I didn't think it would, but I won't take chances. This gift was offered by the kind humans down in the tunnels. I can't discard them like that. When I immediately began reprimanding Angie's recklessness as the thing was still in midair, the thing suddenly froze there as if time itself had stopped, which it clearly didn't. We were all breathing, our chests falling and rising as they should. But some invisible magnet was holding the thing between the ceiling and the floor, and almost at the wall it nearly struck. It took me a full minute to realize I was watching it the whole time, and the minute I took mine off of it and looked at Miss Balsam, we all heard a loud *clink*, which made us all flinch. Damn sensitive ears. When my attention got back on it, it jumped, like a jumping bean, or jack. Fu--

I told the others about this, and they simply laughed and shrugged it off. No, the bracelet wasn't damaged. Sweet put it on, and immediately fell to her chest. I couldn't bear it. I removed it at once. The Hadleys of all ponies did try it of their own accord, and neither of them fell or tried to fling it, but they did lose a shimmer and glimmer in their eyes. They both looked flushed when they removed it. Very similar to what happened when Val drained Monica of all feeling, leaving him a shell for a day, only I could sense the Thaumic absorption cease. He wasn't weak, but weaker indeed.

In the past month, we had a nice rainstorm, and I turned every barrel up for rain. Will and Vinnie have been practicing their fire starting, and for precaution, took sifters and strainers and grates, and placed them over the tin/steel cans they found, and punctured the base and sides for oxygen. They would then take another tin or aluminum can and fill it with water, then pull some dead leaves, bark and twigs off of the eucalyptus trees and cast them into the bottom can. They would then take a toilet roll, and focus the daylight on it till it smoldered. Will's lung capacity is actually very, very large, so he can blow on it for minutes on end without sounding winded when he stops, and Vinnie, while she hasn't shown that same feature, has used her large batlike wings as a fan, fanning the embers. When they first did this over there on the concrete driveway, I though they were going to burn the houses down, or even the whole neighborhood. Thank God that they did not, and took more precautions than I gave them credit for. Good on them. I've had to keep our windows shut because of them. Yet they've been boiling water in emptied tins for the better part of last month, and without fail that'a way.

The three of us are now sleeping in the same bed. Still acting like a gentle clot, I'll sleep on the floor some nights in the bag, yet for most, they will convince me to get in bed between them. Angela does most of it, but Sweet Stuff wins me over. Then Angie will talk us to sleep.

Downstairs, Samantha, the Hadleys, Pickering, Anthony, and Joanna sleep on the sofa and on the floor. An odd habit has been picked up by Sherman when I see him. He'll be right there next to Monica on the sofa, on the floor, on his feet, yet the lights are out. He'll stand there motionless as if in a trance, yet not. Where the rest are seated and/or laying, he is standing. Standing there with his lights ever so clearly out. How...?? I'd better not question it. Just another quirk.

.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................

July 30. Someone not from here has set a useless sack of straw on our porch! Will has denied any accusations of it, everyone here has likewise said they haven't been out all day or night. Either someone's lying, or Martinez has been disregarding our wishes. We would mingle when we need to, and at not other time. I did what Clark told me, or rather what he told me to tell Will to do, as he won't talk to him for obvious reasons. We buried the skeleton of that man he killed, though only he was demanded to do it. I helped. I feel that even though we are distant, we both felt what thaumic isolation and deadzones are like. His stamina outclasses mine by a long-shot. I can only keep up with him on foot if on bicycle. (Even though I can only stand as I did for a minute or two, I can sit that way just fine. How flexible are these alien horse bodies?) And he keeps up with me. We have more mutual respect for each other than we did. And we had similar reactions to the man's death, and to being weak, only mine was longer. And finally, we both hated that straw when we gave it a whirl. How can anyone like this stuff?

The yard weeds, that's different. All the rain and humidity has made them flourish. I have a particular likening for dandelion.

The mare on the tube has been broadcasting less and less, but often enough to know that's she's alive. She claims to have been by the coastline recently, and found something in the harbor. Monica has decided we should be going there tomorrow. I won't ever argue with him when it comes to potential rescues. Writing of which--

That rainstorm may have been the siren's saving grace. He wasn't a mirage as far as I am concerned. And he's certainly a unique one, as he cannot walk. He doesn't seem likely to have survived. I might never know. We dropped a die, and Will, Monica, Sweet, and me will all go out to see what awaits in and around the harbor. And maybe something else will happen to trigger my-- whatever it is.