Our medical supplies arrived the next day. We got an extra ration and are now in fact entitled to Brotherhood medical training for our Doctors and Surgeons. Speaking of which, David is now crippled in one leg, and has a little trouble breathing, but his mom considers him to be an official war hero and won't let anyone forget it.
Ethel Watts has learned to take it easier now that the raiding has slowed. The nearest Den of Evil is now seventy miles away, and doesn't concern us. We're still a local militia after all. George Watts never doubted our 'eventual' victory for a second. However, now all of his arguments start with, "Well you were wrong about the militia so…"
Dothan is now a quiet farming community, run by the quiet people in the middle ring. They trade with us for even money and don't even think about crossing us. While that may be a little much, we can't convince them to be at ease with us around. Well, you win some, you lose some.
The weapons recovered were researched and reproduced by the Brotherhood. Those weapons were sold to us at prices as if we were fellow Brothers of Steel. The OICW I kept hasn't seen much use lately; criminals are still coming, but they don't pose nearly a large enough threat to us to warrant the destruction of their camps. In fact, they're usually just committing minor crimes like graffiti and flashing, but after George Watts blew someone to pieces for mooning his wife; they haven't come back in the last few months.
The Brotherhood expanded back west on a clean up tour of Mississippi and Louisiana. Things haven't really stabilized around those areas, since the Brotherhood is starting to spread thin, but some assistance from Senior Knight Ridley has spearheaded every operation in that frontier. This campaign is soon coming to an end, however, as logistics is starting to become a problem. Ridley's fine with it, boring is good in his profession, not that it'll last long.
As for myself, I'm fine. Three horse-sized shots of industrial strength "medical fix-it juice" later; I was back on my feet and seeing straight. My ever rewarding and endlessly boring job of guarding the town jail suits me just fine, and the ceiling still has my attention.