I took a trip around the upstairs. The boards are all tight, but the night is dragging on and the dead are still too quiet: That bothers me a great deal. I don't know what they are up to. I will be glad when morning arrives, although to be honest it doesn't seem to stop them much anymore. They are getting used to it, if they ever weren't. Maybe it is just my own mind that is more comforted by the daylight...
Had me a little drink. Rummaging around upstairs and found the access panel to the attic. Just a square in the ceiling, but you pull the handle and a set of stairs drop down. No floor up there, just tons of that blown-in insulation, and boxes and crates packed in there sort of haphazardly. I found a case of brandy in between the ceiling joists, dusty, but when did that ever matter when it came to booze. I was afraid it might be gone over. I'm not even sure that is possible. In any case it doesn't taste gone over. It tastes fine. Smooth. It will make the rest of this night easier... I hope it will anyway.
I was telling you about the City, Rochester. I had misgivings and I ignored them. I shouldn't have, but of course after the fact we all see twenty-twenty, as we had gotten closer to Rochester we had found others. They had come out of hiding. Some to say hello, some to warn us, others to join with us. By the time we rolled down East Avenue into the city we had a few more vehicles and more than a dozen more people traveling with us.