We now resume our previously interrupted story.
We left just before dawn. Whenever we go on excursions like this, we go completely on foot. It's easier to move through and not draw a lot of attention running without a vehicle, but it does limit your escape options. With this in mind we've scouted the area for potentially useful vehicles should we need to make a run for it. We hold the same perspective on ow we fight on these missions. In the midst of a large group of zeds, firearms can mean the difference between walking out and getting swarmed. Most of the time though, especially when dealing with smaller groups, we stick to melee weapons. This way we can keep our profile low and run our scouts without the zeds interfering too much.
We swept down Washington Street, making our way methodically towards Washington Square. Ian was out in front, scouting for the first groups, and Alec had elected to take rear guard. That was a lesson we learned quickly. You never know what might pop out behind you. The rest of us were concetrating on moving as quietly as possible so as not to attract undue attention from any unseen swarms or stragglers. We cleared the last turn in the road before Washington Square, and Ian signaled for us to stop as he crept forward to get a better look at the situation.
He came back a short while later and let us know there were about 20 zeds milling around at the end of the street. They seemed to have congregated over either a fallen zed, or a yet to reanimate corpse. They were wandering aimlessly, seeiming disinterrested in the fallen zed/corpse, but with no other inclination or prey to draw them away from it, that's where they would stay.
This is a tricky situation. It's a big enough group that guns might be worth the risk, but it's also the very beginning of our mission. If we blow this and draw too much attention to ourselves, we might lose our grip on the situation. We do have silencers, which helps to make the choice easier, but it's still a risk. All things considered, we decided to risk having the best shots hang back and pick a few off. The rest of the group would then wind their way up to work on the remaining zeds hand to hand. Once the group was engaged in close combat, the shooters would run forward and help the rest of group pick off the last few.
Ian and I were elected to hang back and start taking shots. I was ok with this, as I tend to prefer to stay out of melee, but Ian seemed a little crestfallen. He's always been more of the charge in and have some fun type. When the rest of the group had started their move forward, we started picking off the closer targets, drawing the attention of the rest of the group and causing them to condense a bit. We were able to drop about 6 of them before the rest of the group got close enough to engage.
Once I saw Brian take a swing with his machete, I holstered my gun, and began my move forward. I heard Ian let off another shot before he did the same. I hefted the hammer (I've grown quite fond of it recently) in preparation for meeting the zeds head on. The rest of the crew had managed to dispatch about 8 more zeds before we got there, so I adjusted my course slightly to crush in the head of one of the few remained standing.
Oh man, it was a satisfying crunch.
With this patch of zeds cleared, we moved to set up a base of operations for clearing out the rest of the square. In the time before "Z-Day" this had been a great little pizza shop. Now it was gutted and abandoned, but the large windows and arrangement of exits made it perfect to keep a lookout and to embark from while we cleaned out this half of the Square.
It's a good gauge of your progress and your current situation to set up a central point to work from. This way, you can monitor the activity and how it's being drawn. We hoped that by the time we noticed a steady migration of activity to this point, we'd have cleaned out a good bit of the Square. Then, we could break down shop here, and start moving through and cleaning out the rest of the square, always moving towards our planned exit.
We put Crista up on the roof to act as our eyes, and let Alec and Brian take duty at the windows, picking off anything that got too close for comfort. Ian and I decided to take the first swing out of the back of the building, and down Beacon St. towards the city proper. We were mostly scouting for concentrations, but were going to take out any smaller groups we ran across.
Beacon St., inbound from Washington Square, splits so that the outbound lanes run up on a hill. From here you can look down on the inbound lanes and the T tracks. The added benefits of this viewpoint, and the fact that it has traditionally been clearer, meant this was our chosen path. It wasn't long until we were able to suss out how the concentrations on the inbound lanes and T tracks were moving. Thankfully, we only had to take out a few small groups in the process. It was nothing overly special. A few zeds caught wandering here or there, maybe chasing a squirrel or bird. Nothing to worry about. We got the the edge of the main zed concentration and hustled back to report our findings.
So far, so good, and soon it would be time to make out first push in to really reclaiming the square.
Tuesday
A Brief Delay
Apologies, but we've been having some power problems recently. We've been able to maintain enough juice to keep the connection up, but not to run the computers we usually post with. Our time and energy has been spent resolving this issue. We're most of the way there, but we've got a few kinks to work out. We'll be back to finish that story and catch you up soon.
- B
- B
Wednesday
(Recap) Day 224 - Smash and Grab
It's been quite a while since I've had a chance to hop on here and update, and I apologize for that. Things have been crazy these last few days.
After that day with Molly and Rachel coming over, and Molly spending the night here to reassure me, I think I've finally come to terms with the encounter with Rose. Some nights I still relive pieces of it in my dreams, but more often than not, in the morning I wake up with a renewed sense of the urgency of the situation. We have a lot to do, and every day the fight is going to get a little harder. Ian, Crista, Alec, and Brian have been nothing but supportive, and they've done more than their fair sure in keeping things moving along while I've dealt with this. I've got to make that up to them soon.
As if the Rose situation weren't enough, everything we'd been doing was put on hold on Saturday. Ian and Crista were out taking a stroll around our territory and making sure all was well. When they got down to Washington Square, which we've kept pretty clean for a while now, they ran across something unexpected. It seems a major zed population to the south had started shifting its territory, and Washington Square was now sporting more than its fair share of zeds. Ian and Crista backed out of the area quickly and quietly, and b-lined for home.
When they got here they gathered us together so we could figure out what our course of action should be. We haven't had to go on a major hunt in a while, and we were woefully unprepared for this one. We took care of the easy part first, spending some time planning our attack. We decided to move in from the north and then pull our way out to the west to draw any stragglers away from us. Then we moved on to the more arduous and tedious process of getting our supplies together. Unfortunately, we realized our lack of diligence in monitoring our supplies had really bitten us in the ass.
For one, it took us far longer than it should have to pull everything together. Some of our equipment was in pieces so we could maintain or enhance it. Also, our supply of non-perishable food suitable for extended trips was running a bit low, as we hadn't taken the time to refill it recently. We gathered what we could, putting the equipment back together, and taking stock of what we didn't have. This took us the better part of the afternoon, meaning we'd have to make a run tonight, and push our attack back to the morning. We could only hope only a few of the zeds wandered up this way.
What we were really hurting on more than anything was beef jerky and bottled water, the two main staples for our prolonged operations. The water is an obvious necessity, but beef jerky is perfect for these sorts of runs in that it's the lightest and most nourishing food you can carry. It gives you most of what you need, if it's a bit heavy on the sodium, and doesn't require you to set up camp or build a fire. You can snack as you need the energy, and keep moving.
Once we'd finished gathering the supplies, Ian, Crista, and I took off to go try and find what we needed, leaving Alec and Brian to get all of our supplies loaded in to our bags.
Over the past couple of months, we've scouted and recorded a few locations that hadn't been raided yet. Today's trip, we decided, would take us in to Brighton Center, where there was a convenience store that hadn't yet been touched. We'd avoided hitting this store so far because Brighton Center hadn't been swept clear yet. It would mean a bit of risk, but this was the closest location that had supplies, and we didn't have a lot of time.
We hopped in the truck and headed north, taking the most direct route. It would need to be a smash and grab operation so we could get as much as we could and then get out, with the minimal amount of zed activity. Ian would stand guard by the truck and cover us as any zeds came by, and Crista and I would run in to make quick work of the store and get everything out in to the truck.
As we pulled up outside of the store, I overshot the store a bit, slammed on the brakes, threw the truck in reverse, and swung the truck back, around, over the curb, and through the store window. We jumped out and Crista and I dove through the window and began grabbing things as quickly as possible. We'd gotten about halfway through the store before we heard the first shots from Ian's guns. He yelled through the window to pick up the pace, as there was a small group of zeds that had started our way.
We flew through the store grabbing everything we could, and made quick work of the rest of it. Right before leaving, I dove behind the counter and cleaned out their cigarettes (there's not time like the end of the world to start smoking, not to mention the stress relieving effects), and the rest of the valuable stuff they hide back there. We left the register. It's unnecessary weight, and if we survive long enough that having money becomes important again, we'll be happy just to have survived.
I dove out of the window, dumping the last armful of stuff in the back of the truck, and jumped in the driver's seat. Crista jumped in, and Ian jumped down in to the seat, closing the door behind him. We took off quickly and wove our way back home.
We pulled in to the parking lot just a little before sundown, and started unloading the supplies. It was a good haul, and replenished a lot of the things we were lacking. Alec and Brian reported that there had been a little zed activity filtering up from Washington Square, but nothing they couldn't handle. After we finished unloading and storing everything, and getting our gear all set for the morning, I elected to take first watch and headed to the roof.
On my way to the roof, I snagged a cigar. It's my sort of good luck routine the night before a big fight. Ian joined me once he finished squaring his equipment away. We stood there, looking out over the streets, smoking and chatting, and mentally preparing for the next few days.
- B
After that day with Molly and Rachel coming over, and Molly spending the night here to reassure me, I think I've finally come to terms with the encounter with Rose. Some nights I still relive pieces of it in my dreams, but more often than not, in the morning I wake up with a renewed sense of the urgency of the situation. We have a lot to do, and every day the fight is going to get a little harder. Ian, Crista, Alec, and Brian have been nothing but supportive, and they've done more than their fair sure in keeping things moving along while I've dealt with this. I've got to make that up to them soon.
As if the Rose situation weren't enough, everything we'd been doing was put on hold on Saturday. Ian and Crista were out taking a stroll around our territory and making sure all was well. When they got down to Washington Square, which we've kept pretty clean for a while now, they ran across something unexpected. It seems a major zed population to the south had started shifting its territory, and Washington Square was now sporting more than its fair share of zeds. Ian and Crista backed out of the area quickly and quietly, and b-lined for home.
When they got here they gathered us together so we could figure out what our course of action should be. We haven't had to go on a major hunt in a while, and we were woefully unprepared for this one. We took care of the easy part first, spending some time planning our attack. We decided to move in from the north and then pull our way out to the west to draw any stragglers away from us. Then we moved on to the more arduous and tedious process of getting our supplies together. Unfortunately, we realized our lack of diligence in monitoring our supplies had really bitten us in the ass.
For one, it took us far longer than it should have to pull everything together. Some of our equipment was in pieces so we could maintain or enhance it. Also, our supply of non-perishable food suitable for extended trips was running a bit low, as we hadn't taken the time to refill it recently. We gathered what we could, putting the equipment back together, and taking stock of what we didn't have. This took us the better part of the afternoon, meaning we'd have to make a run tonight, and push our attack back to the morning. We could only hope only a few of the zeds wandered up this way.
What we were really hurting on more than anything was beef jerky and bottled water, the two main staples for our prolonged operations. The water is an obvious necessity, but beef jerky is perfect for these sorts of runs in that it's the lightest and most nourishing food you can carry. It gives you most of what you need, if it's a bit heavy on the sodium, and doesn't require you to set up camp or build a fire. You can snack as you need the energy, and keep moving.
Once we'd finished gathering the supplies, Ian, Crista, and I took off to go try and find what we needed, leaving Alec and Brian to get all of our supplies loaded in to our bags.
Over the past couple of months, we've scouted and recorded a few locations that hadn't been raided yet. Today's trip, we decided, would take us in to Brighton Center, where there was a convenience store that hadn't yet been touched. We'd avoided hitting this store so far because Brighton Center hadn't been swept clear yet. It would mean a bit of risk, but this was the closest location that had supplies, and we didn't have a lot of time.
We hopped in the truck and headed north, taking the most direct route. It would need to be a smash and grab operation so we could get as much as we could and then get out, with the minimal amount of zed activity. Ian would stand guard by the truck and cover us as any zeds came by, and Crista and I would run in to make quick work of the store and get everything out in to the truck.
As we pulled up outside of the store, I overshot the store a bit, slammed on the brakes, threw the truck in reverse, and swung the truck back, around, over the curb, and through the store window. We jumped out and Crista and I dove through the window and began grabbing things as quickly as possible. We'd gotten about halfway through the store before we heard the first shots from Ian's guns. He yelled through the window to pick up the pace, as there was a small group of zeds that had started our way.
We flew through the store grabbing everything we could, and made quick work of the rest of it. Right before leaving, I dove behind the counter and cleaned out their cigarettes (there's not time like the end of the world to start smoking, not to mention the stress relieving effects), and the rest of the valuable stuff they hide back there. We left the register. It's unnecessary weight, and if we survive long enough that having money becomes important again, we'll be happy just to have survived.
I dove out of the window, dumping the last armful of stuff in the back of the truck, and jumped in the driver's seat. Crista jumped in, and Ian jumped down in to the seat, closing the door behind him. We took off quickly and wove our way back home.
We pulled in to the parking lot just a little before sundown, and started unloading the supplies. It was a good haul, and replenished a lot of the things we were lacking. Alec and Brian reported that there had been a little zed activity filtering up from Washington Square, but nothing they couldn't handle. After we finished unloading and storing everything, and getting our gear all set for the morning, I elected to take first watch and headed to the roof.
On my way to the roof, I snagged a cigar. It's my sort of good luck routine the night before a big fight. Ian joined me once he finished squaring his equipment away. We stood there, looking out over the streets, smoking and chatting, and mentally preparing for the next few days.
- B
Friday
Day 223 - A Fresh Spark
Molly brought Rachel over today to say 'hi' and chat for a while. I have to say, despite everything that happened yesterday, it's comforting to know we have some new friends around here that we can rely on. The old stories we tell seem fresher when they're falling on new ears, and for once we can listen to someone else tell us about what they've experienced. The lessons we've learned are surprisingly similar, but the new perspectives make all the difference.
Given this pleasant surprise, we let go of our plans for the day and opted to entertain them instead. I think it's for the best, as we have nothing pressing to take care of right now, and I know I wasn't going to get anything done today. All I've been good for since we got back from our surveillance run is standing watch and thinking too much. Since I have a penchant for seclusion when things like this happen, I opted to take watch while Rachel and Molly spent time with the rest of the group.
I had barely gotten situated on the roof when I heard the door open behind me. I sighed to myself and opted not to turn around. Instead I laid out my rifle where it could be conveniently grabbed, and went to dig the binoculars out of the supply box we keep up there. As I grabbed the binoculars, I looked at the bottle of whiskey we keep among the more practical items in the box. Say what you will, but watch can be hard, and sometimes you need to calm your nerves without abandoning your post. I had to fight myself not to take a swig, at least while someone else was up here with me.
I sat down an began my watch, carefully ignoring the person standing behind me. As I trained my binoculars up towards Comm. Ave., I felt a hand on my shoulder. I sighed more openly this time and turned around. It was Molly. She was looking at me with concern.
"Hey," I mustered, trying my best to look collected, "what's up? I thought you were going to regale the others with your stories."
"You're not getting away from me that easily, B. I've seen that vacant look before. Something happened to you, and you're going to tell me about it right now."
"Eh, it's nothing, I'm just tired," I tried, half-convinced it might work.
"That may be part of it, but it's still mostly bullshit. Look, the day you saved my life, you looked me hard in the eye. There was a strength there, and a fire in your soul. It was as if you were screaming 'you have to survive, goddamnit' to me without saying a word. I admired that at the time. Today, though, the fire is gone, replaced with the same vacant look most of the other survivors wear. So no more bullshit, tell me what happened."
I related Rose's story to her.
When I finished, she sort of half-slumped down on the bench next to me, looking despondently in to the box I had left open. After a moment, she reached in an pulled out the bottle of whiskey, cracked it, took a swig, and passed it to me. I took it from her, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, had a belt, and passed it back. She capped the bottle, put it back in the box, closed her eyes in concentration for a minute, then turned and looked me straight in the eye. I could see her eyes beginning to water.
"You don't know much about me Brandon. We've talked a little, and you've saved my ass a few times, but you barely know me. Now's when you get to start. That story you told is a real heartbreaker, and it probably hurts me more for the times I've had to do it myself. You're lucky in that most of your friends live far enough away you haven't had that problem yet. Most of mine lived on my street, and I dispatched a bunch of them when they came for me, as they inevitably do. There's something in there, a leftover spark that tells the zed when ground is familiar or not. Sometimes old common patterns are kept, and for no apparent reason, they'll end up somewhere that was important to them before they turned. I've had a few turned friends try to beat down our door, and I've laid all of them to rest.
"Look, the first one is the hardest, and it will take some time for the pain to heal. From how you told the story, I can gather she was important to you."
"She was," I muttered, "in ways I never got to tell her. You know the old story."
"I do, but now you've told me, and I'll remember for her. Just promise me you'll find that fire again. What good are you to her if you just let yourself become one of them. What good are you to me? To any of us?"
With that she put patted me on the back reassuringly, then headed back downstairs to the rest of the group.
I sat there for a while, going through the routine of the whole thing, and before I knew it Ian came up to relieve me. I went back down and went to my room to put away my rifle, and Molly was there waiting for me.
"Just here to make sure you don't go in to hiding. So your friends tell me you have an internet connection hooked up. Show me."
I brought her in here and showed her what we had found so far. The news sites detailing something they had never grasped the scale of, right up to the point where their offices were overrun. The amateur bloggers sticking with it until they were overrun or their connections went down. I showed her this very site, and she sat down to read it. Her only comment was, "the story was better when you told me in person, but you're a wonderful writer."
I'm not sure I've ever actually blushed before, so chalk one up to the history books. She took me by the hand and lead me back out to where the rest of the crew was entertaining Rachel and listening to her stories. Rachel's quite the life of the party. I plopped down in and empty part of the couch, a spot down from where Rachel was relaying some story about her wild, college days. Molly plopped down next to me, leaning her back again my side and propping her feet on Rachel's lap.
Time passed far too quickly, with the cast of characters constantly changing as watch shifts came and went. By the end of the day, as the sun was just going down, I was finally starting to feel like myself again. I was finally able to start letting Rose go and coming back to what was important. I laid my head on Molly's hoping she would understand my meaning. I could feel the tension leave her, as she settled in more comfortably.
Ian popped in from the kitchen, having been voted the best candidate to make dinner for our guests. It was another one of his miracle stews. I don't know how he does it, but every time it's damn tasty. We chowed down and I mentioned quietly to Molly that the sun was setting, and they should think about heading home before it got too dark.
She looked at me, with a playful reproachfulness, and asked, "What makes you think we're going home tonight."
I conceded the point and finished my stew.
We talked late in to the night, finally retiring not too long ago. Rachel grabbed the couch, and Molly insisted on coming with me. I told her I needed to pop up here and collect some thoughts. In fact, she's reading over my shoulder, critiquing me playfully whenever I misspell something or my grammar falls apart. I think she's happy with the summary of the day.
She's also been staring in to my eyes a lot, even as I'm looking at the screen, trying to write. I hope she sees whatever that spark is beginning to come back. If nothing else it will get her off my case.
She's laughing. Mission accomplished.
We're both exhausted and heading to bed. I'm sure the zeds won't give us many more days of peace around here, but it's certainly welcome right now. All of this is certainly welcome right now.
A friend of mine used to say "You take the good, you take the bad, you take the rest, and then you have the facts of life." Of course he was quoting the "Facts of Life" theme song, but it's a reasonably poignant summary of day to day life. These days there seems to be a lot of bad moments, so I want you all to promise me that whenever a good moment comes along, you'll drop everything and pay attention to it.
More soon,
- B
Given this pleasant surprise, we let go of our plans for the day and opted to entertain them instead. I think it's for the best, as we have nothing pressing to take care of right now, and I know I wasn't going to get anything done today. All I've been good for since we got back from our surveillance run is standing watch and thinking too much. Since I have a penchant for seclusion when things like this happen, I opted to take watch while Rachel and Molly spent time with the rest of the group.
I had barely gotten situated on the roof when I heard the door open behind me. I sighed to myself and opted not to turn around. Instead I laid out my rifle where it could be conveniently grabbed, and went to dig the binoculars out of the supply box we keep up there. As I grabbed the binoculars, I looked at the bottle of whiskey we keep among the more practical items in the box. Say what you will, but watch can be hard, and sometimes you need to calm your nerves without abandoning your post. I had to fight myself not to take a swig, at least while someone else was up here with me.
I sat down an began my watch, carefully ignoring the person standing behind me. As I trained my binoculars up towards Comm. Ave., I felt a hand on my shoulder. I sighed more openly this time and turned around. It was Molly. She was looking at me with concern.
"Hey," I mustered, trying my best to look collected, "what's up? I thought you were going to regale the others with your stories."
"You're not getting away from me that easily, B. I've seen that vacant look before. Something happened to you, and you're going to tell me about it right now."
"Eh, it's nothing, I'm just tired," I tried, half-convinced it might work.
"That may be part of it, but it's still mostly bullshit. Look, the day you saved my life, you looked me hard in the eye. There was a strength there, and a fire in your soul. It was as if you were screaming 'you have to survive, goddamnit' to me without saying a word. I admired that at the time. Today, though, the fire is gone, replaced with the same vacant look most of the other survivors wear. So no more bullshit, tell me what happened."
I related Rose's story to her.
When I finished, she sort of half-slumped down on the bench next to me, looking despondently in to the box I had left open. After a moment, she reached in an pulled out the bottle of whiskey, cracked it, took a swig, and passed it to me. I took it from her, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, had a belt, and passed it back. She capped the bottle, put it back in the box, closed her eyes in concentration for a minute, then turned and looked me straight in the eye. I could see her eyes beginning to water.
"You don't know much about me Brandon. We've talked a little, and you've saved my ass a few times, but you barely know me. Now's when you get to start. That story you told is a real heartbreaker, and it probably hurts me more for the times I've had to do it myself. You're lucky in that most of your friends live far enough away you haven't had that problem yet. Most of mine lived on my street, and I dispatched a bunch of them when they came for me, as they inevitably do. There's something in there, a leftover spark that tells the zed when ground is familiar or not. Sometimes old common patterns are kept, and for no apparent reason, they'll end up somewhere that was important to them before they turned. I've had a few turned friends try to beat down our door, and I've laid all of them to rest.
"Look, the first one is the hardest, and it will take some time for the pain to heal. From how you told the story, I can gather she was important to you."
"She was," I muttered, "in ways I never got to tell her. You know the old story."
"I do, but now you've told me, and I'll remember for her. Just promise me you'll find that fire again. What good are you to her if you just let yourself become one of them. What good are you to me? To any of us?"
With that she put patted me on the back reassuringly, then headed back downstairs to the rest of the group.
I sat there for a while, going through the routine of the whole thing, and before I knew it Ian came up to relieve me. I went back down and went to my room to put away my rifle, and Molly was there waiting for me.
"Just here to make sure you don't go in to hiding. So your friends tell me you have an internet connection hooked up. Show me."
I brought her in here and showed her what we had found so far. The news sites detailing something they had never grasped the scale of, right up to the point where their offices were overrun. The amateur bloggers sticking with it until they were overrun or their connections went down. I showed her this very site, and she sat down to read it. Her only comment was, "the story was better when you told me in person, but you're a wonderful writer."
I'm not sure I've ever actually blushed before, so chalk one up to the history books. She took me by the hand and lead me back out to where the rest of the crew was entertaining Rachel and listening to her stories. Rachel's quite the life of the party. I plopped down in and empty part of the couch, a spot down from where Rachel was relaying some story about her wild, college days. Molly plopped down next to me, leaning her back again my side and propping her feet on Rachel's lap.
Time passed far too quickly, with the cast of characters constantly changing as watch shifts came and went. By the end of the day, as the sun was just going down, I was finally starting to feel like myself again. I was finally able to start letting Rose go and coming back to what was important. I laid my head on Molly's hoping she would understand my meaning. I could feel the tension leave her, as she settled in more comfortably.
Ian popped in from the kitchen, having been voted the best candidate to make dinner for our guests. It was another one of his miracle stews. I don't know how he does it, but every time it's damn tasty. We chowed down and I mentioned quietly to Molly that the sun was setting, and they should think about heading home before it got too dark.
She looked at me, with a playful reproachfulness, and asked, "What makes you think we're going home tonight."
I conceded the point and finished my stew.
We talked late in to the night, finally retiring not too long ago. Rachel grabbed the couch, and Molly insisted on coming with me. I told her I needed to pop up here and collect some thoughts. In fact, she's reading over my shoulder, critiquing me playfully whenever I misspell something or my grammar falls apart. I think she's happy with the summary of the day.
She's also been staring in to my eyes a lot, even as I'm looking at the screen, trying to write. I hope she sees whatever that spark is beginning to come back. If nothing else it will get her off my case.
She's laughing. Mission accomplished.
We're both exhausted and heading to bed. I'm sure the zeds won't give us many more days of peace around here, but it's certainly welcome right now. All of this is certainly welcome right now.
A friend of mine used to say "You take the good, you take the bad, you take the rest, and then you have the facts of life." Of course he was quoting the "Facts of Life" theme song, but it's a reasonably poignant summary of day to day life. These days there seems to be a lot of bad moments, so I want you all to promise me that whenever a good moment comes along, you'll drop everything and pay attention to it.
More soon,
- B
Wednesday
Days 221 and 222 - The Storm (Part 2)
They lived in a generic looking apartment building a little south-east of Coolidge Corner. It was nothing special compared to some of the others in the area, but it was a step up from ours. As we were approaching, I noticed the top floors of the building looked burned out, as if someone had set fire to it, possibly to destroy an infestation. All the windows on the top floors were blown out, the streaks of soot rising from them a testament to the fire's intensity. This impression was only enhanced by the way certain strategic windows on the bottom floors seemed to have be broken in for ventilation. Whoever did this really knew what they were doing.
My friends had lived on the second floor, so I hoped they had avoided the inferno at the very least. The windows leading to their apartment were broken in, not out, and the whole block seemed abandoned, even by the zeds. Despite myself, I was filled with hope they had somehow managed to make it safely out of the city, or had found a place nearby to hole up with some other survivors.
That's when I saw her. No. I have to keep reminding myself, I didn't see her. I saw a corpse. I saw a walking corpse. Sure, it was a corpse that looked, and even, in the subtlest of ways, moved like she used to. But, this was not her. Her life and what made her a human being faded long before this encounter.
I tried to remind myself of this as I stared through the windshield, down the street. Despite myself, for a moment I saw her sparkling blue eyes, at once mysterious and welcoming, staring back at me. I saw her beautiful auburn hair, parted to allow it to playfully obscure part of her face. I saw her skin, delicately pale with a subtle, healthy pink glow to it. I saw her striking features perfectly showcasing a smile that could melt your heart and dispel your troubles.
But no, as I continued to look, her eyes had grown pale and lifeless. Her hair was cast in to disarray, with patches ripped out from some unknowable trauma. Her skin was now a sickening pale bluish-grey, ripped and torn and in places hanging loosely from her once toned muscles. Her face was in ruin, torn asunder by fighting and feasting. As her stare continued, her mouth dropped open, and let out that ever spine-chilling moan.
I saw Ian turn to see where the moan was coming from and yelled for him not to shoot. He looked at me, that characteristic inquisitive half-smirk spreading across his face, and shrugged. I stopped the truck, far enough away from her that it would take her some time to shuffle over, and told Ian to watch out for other zeds and eliminate them as they appeared. I would handle this myself. I had to handle this myself.
I secured the parking brake, left the truck running, and opened the door. I stepped out on to a street I had walked many times in the past, standing now amidst broken glass and the scattered remnants of lives burned and abandoned. I know Ian had little idea what was going on, as he had never known her or my other friends in this area. Once, long ago, there had been plans to make the introductions. That time was long past.
I don't know if this is a common trait among survivors, or just a product of my own odd sensibilities. I've never asked Ian, though no doubt he will read this and comment to me on it later. However, whenever I go out on any mission, I always bring with me one particular gun, which I almost never use, and hardly even need to have. To most it would look like a secondary back-up, but even in a case of extreme life in death where no other option presented itself, I would hesitate to use it. It is better maintained and more cherished than my usual guns, though I keep spectacular care of those as well. It has only been fired a few times so far, and most of those shots were at the range to get the feel of it and make sure it was in proper working condition.
The bullets loaded in to this clip in this gun are each special. I've engraved a little saying on each of them that I will not include here. Each bullet is being saved for someone special in their time of greatest need. It is saved for the people in my group, should they ever fall, so that they are not cursed to wander after their deaths. It is saved for me, should my time ever come, so I can protect others from my own horrid rebirth. I now realize it is saved for something else that, though I knew it could happen, I had hoped never to experience. This gun, meant to prevent the turning of incredible people in to unspeakable monsters, would now also be an agent of cleansing for those I had found too late.
I leveled the gun, and took careful aim. This was my best weapon, both in quality and familiarity. I would not miss. I could not miss. As I put a light pressure on the trigger, her features shifted one last time to those I once knew and loved. I said goodbye. The gun discharged and I watched the bullet enter dead center on the forehead. She fell, blown back by the force, and the horrible moan died.
I walked over to the fallen creature, and pulled her in to the park across the street from what was left of her old home. Having moved her from the street, I now walked back to the truck, killed it, and dug out an e-tool we keep stored there, just in case. I told Ian to cover me, and the truck, while I took care of this. I saw him take up a strong defensive position, while I began to dig. Good old Ian, reliable as always.
The work was long an hard, but I endured, laying the body finally to rest and covering it over. I went over to her apartment building and knocked off a few appropriately sized pieces of metal, weakened and purified by the fire. I used them to fashion a crude cross to place at the head of the grave, and then, dirty, tired, and worn down, I went back to the truck. Ian, who had a relatively easy job of defending me while I worked, hopped in, and we started to wind our way back. We rode in silence, as I could not speak, and Ian knows me well enough to know when not to ask. We killed the truck as we got close, and Ian broke the silence by radioing for them to open the gate. We coasted the truck in and parked it.
I looked at my friends -- no, my family -- and tried my best to smile. I'm sure I failed. I turned before anyone could say anything and made my way inside and up here, locking the door behind me. I'm not sure what Ian will tell them, but I think he'll get the important parts. He may never understand what she meant to me, or what any of them mean to me, but he knows me well enough to guess.
It's taken me a while to compose this part of the story, hence how late it is now. I was able to calm down a bit when writing the first part, and get that out clearly and succinctly. This part of the story, however, provides no distraction or comfort. I can't get the images to stop playing in my head. I can't get her to stop shifting from life to un-death and back again. I've found some pictures of her out on the net, and have them open to try to lock in to the memories and forget the horror, but I'm not sure it is going to work.
Today was a hard day. We've had many hard days. Hopefully tomorrow will be peaceful and I can regain my strength and forge on. At least there's now one more soul in Boston that can rest peacefully, buried in a playground she used to look out on fondly everyday, in an improvised grave with no name to mark the person buried there.
If someone finds this grave, and wonders who it was, and if they should find their way here someday and read this story, her name was Rose, and it's a shame you never met her.
- B
My friends had lived on the second floor, so I hoped they had avoided the inferno at the very least. The windows leading to their apartment were broken in, not out, and the whole block seemed abandoned, even by the zeds. Despite myself, I was filled with hope they had somehow managed to make it safely out of the city, or had found a place nearby to hole up with some other survivors.
That's when I saw her. No. I have to keep reminding myself, I didn't see her. I saw a corpse. I saw a walking corpse. Sure, it was a corpse that looked, and even, in the subtlest of ways, moved like she used to. But, this was not her. Her life and what made her a human being faded long before this encounter.
I tried to remind myself of this as I stared through the windshield, down the street. Despite myself, for a moment I saw her sparkling blue eyes, at once mysterious and welcoming, staring back at me. I saw her beautiful auburn hair, parted to allow it to playfully obscure part of her face. I saw her skin, delicately pale with a subtle, healthy pink glow to it. I saw her striking features perfectly showcasing a smile that could melt your heart and dispel your troubles.
But no, as I continued to look, her eyes had grown pale and lifeless. Her hair was cast in to disarray, with patches ripped out from some unknowable trauma. Her skin was now a sickening pale bluish-grey, ripped and torn and in places hanging loosely from her once toned muscles. Her face was in ruin, torn asunder by fighting and feasting. As her stare continued, her mouth dropped open, and let out that ever spine-chilling moan.
I saw Ian turn to see where the moan was coming from and yelled for him not to shoot. He looked at me, that characteristic inquisitive half-smirk spreading across his face, and shrugged. I stopped the truck, far enough away from her that it would take her some time to shuffle over, and told Ian to watch out for other zeds and eliminate them as they appeared. I would handle this myself. I had to handle this myself.
I secured the parking brake, left the truck running, and opened the door. I stepped out on to a street I had walked many times in the past, standing now amidst broken glass and the scattered remnants of lives burned and abandoned. I know Ian had little idea what was going on, as he had never known her or my other friends in this area. Once, long ago, there had been plans to make the introductions. That time was long past.
I don't know if this is a common trait among survivors, or just a product of my own odd sensibilities. I've never asked Ian, though no doubt he will read this and comment to me on it later. However, whenever I go out on any mission, I always bring with me one particular gun, which I almost never use, and hardly even need to have. To most it would look like a secondary back-up, but even in a case of extreme life in death where no other option presented itself, I would hesitate to use it. It is better maintained and more cherished than my usual guns, though I keep spectacular care of those as well. It has only been fired a few times so far, and most of those shots were at the range to get the feel of it and make sure it was in proper working condition.
The bullets loaded in to this clip in this gun are each special. I've engraved a little saying on each of them that I will not include here. Each bullet is being saved for someone special in their time of greatest need. It is saved for the people in my group, should they ever fall, so that they are not cursed to wander after their deaths. It is saved for me, should my time ever come, so I can protect others from my own horrid rebirth. I now realize it is saved for something else that, though I knew it could happen, I had hoped never to experience. This gun, meant to prevent the turning of incredible people in to unspeakable monsters, would now also be an agent of cleansing for those I had found too late.
I leveled the gun, and took careful aim. This was my best weapon, both in quality and familiarity. I would not miss. I could not miss. As I put a light pressure on the trigger, her features shifted one last time to those I once knew and loved. I said goodbye. The gun discharged and I watched the bullet enter dead center on the forehead. She fell, blown back by the force, and the horrible moan died.
I walked over to the fallen creature, and pulled her in to the park across the street from what was left of her old home. Having moved her from the street, I now walked back to the truck, killed it, and dug out an e-tool we keep stored there, just in case. I told Ian to cover me, and the truck, while I took care of this. I saw him take up a strong defensive position, while I began to dig. Good old Ian, reliable as always.
The work was long an hard, but I endured, laying the body finally to rest and covering it over. I went over to her apartment building and knocked off a few appropriately sized pieces of metal, weakened and purified by the fire. I used them to fashion a crude cross to place at the head of the grave, and then, dirty, tired, and worn down, I went back to the truck. Ian, who had a relatively easy job of defending me while I worked, hopped in, and we started to wind our way back. We rode in silence, as I could not speak, and Ian knows me well enough to know when not to ask. We killed the truck as we got close, and Ian broke the silence by radioing for them to open the gate. We coasted the truck in and parked it.
I looked at my friends -- no, my family -- and tried my best to smile. I'm sure I failed. I turned before anyone could say anything and made my way inside and up here, locking the door behind me. I'm not sure what Ian will tell them, but I think he'll get the important parts. He may never understand what she meant to me, or what any of them mean to me, but he knows me well enough to guess.
It's taken me a while to compose this part of the story, hence how late it is now. I was able to calm down a bit when writing the first part, and get that out clearly and succinctly. This part of the story, however, provides no distraction or comfort. I can't get the images to stop playing in my head. I can't get her to stop shifting from life to un-death and back again. I've found some pictures of her out on the net, and have them open to try to lock in to the memories and forget the horror, but I'm not sure it is going to work.
Today was a hard day. We've had many hard days. Hopefully tomorrow will be peaceful and I can regain my strength and forge on. At least there's now one more soul in Boston that can rest peacefully, buried in a playground she used to look out on fondly everyday, in an improvised grave with no name to mark the person buried there.
If someone finds this grave, and wonders who it was, and if they should find their way here someday and read this story, her name was Rose, and it's a shame you never met her.
- B
Days 221 and 222 - The Storm (Part 1)
What an exhausting couple of days.
Yesterday we spent some time trying to spruce up the security around our gate. We've been talking about this for a while now, but other more pressing issues always seem to arise. I think the late night encounter we had the other day finally drove it to the top of our to-do list.
The real problem with the gate is that for every bit of strength or security we add to it, it costs us in the time it takes to open and close it. Sure, the zeds don't move quite quickly enough for milliseconds to count, but we don't want to be caught in a situation where we're being pursued, we've run out of ammo, and we can't get the damn thing closed quick enough to keep them at bay.
We also want to keep it light enough that it can be manually operated by only one person. This frees us to have more people out of base scavenging or doing surveillance, or, in a pinch, fighting off zeds as someone runs to open it so we can get in.
It's a tricky equation, and this project is going to require a lot more work before any of us are truly satisfied with it. I think we've made some real progress, though. For one, the gate we scrounged was much wider than it needed to be for us to get even a vehicle in and out. Since we first secured it, we haven't had enough time or peace to address this issue, even though we have all the tools we need to cut it down and make it more secure. Today seemed to finally be the perfect day to cut it down to a manageable size. This left us a leftover piece that we could permanently secure, adding a lot more rigidity to the whole structure.
Luckily we were able to accomplish this and get everything tightened up before any zeds wandered over to investigate the sounds of our cutting and welding. We lured them up against the gate when they got here, to give it a field test, and let them try their best for a while. We were all pleased a how much more stable gate seems now, though I'm sure if we dedicate some scavenging runs to the matter, we can do even better.
As the sun was setting, we dispatched the zeds and cleaned up the place. It's been a long several days, so once evening rounds were agreed upon and we plowed through our dinner, most of us went to pass out. The night was pretty calm, and my own shift uneventful. Those shifts are both a blessing and curse. On the one hand it's nice to be able to relax a bit and not feel like you're in the midst of a constant battle. On the other hand, it can make you very paranoid, and often feels like a moment of calm before the storm.
I suppose I was indeed sensing a storm last night, but not the kind I've come to expect.
Waking up today, I found myself staring out at a beautiful, bright, sunny day. Ian had woken up before me and mentioned the night was clear on all watches, and had remained clear in to today. we talked for a bit, and decided we should go out on an extended surveillance run down in to Brookline. As I've mentioned before, we've been slowly extending our circle of influence and reconnaissance. Our survival plan relies on two simple things: keep the immediate area as clear of zeds as possible, and find more supplies as we begin to use ours up. The added benefit of this is that, as our territory expands, the zeds lose some of theirs. Enough survivors employing the same tactic, and we may all be able to work together to reclaim the city. That's the dream, anyway, though it's a long way off from where we are.
Since the discovery of Molly's group to the west tells us more about that part of town and how far we can reach in that direction, we decided it was time to expand again. Today's run would give us a much needed push to the south, an area we had neglected more than others. Ian and I geared up, and grabbed the long range radio to stay in communication with the base. We wished everyone the best, and set the pick-up cruising along in neutral. Second lesson we learned about using vehicles, never run them near your base.
When we got a sufficient distance away I kicked on the engine, hit the gas, and threw the truck in to drive. The first few times I did this back when we first got the truck, I thought the transmission was going to drop out on to the road. Now it's as smooth as ice. It's a fun trick I suggest you learn if you're running something with a manual transmission. It can also be done in an automatic with some finagling, but not as cleanly and with more wear and tear than it may be worth.
The run went pretty smoothly on the way down. I've gotten used to the various blockages and zed population centers, so I know how to avoid them. Ian seems to enjoy riding shotgun and picking off any zeds that get too close. We had pushed our way as far as we had intended, and were beginning to run our circuitous route home when I realized we were heading not far from where some old friends of mine were living when the dead rose. I decided to see what I could of their fate by heading down their particular street, since it would keep me clear of the nearby zed population centers.
- B
Yesterday we spent some time trying to spruce up the security around our gate. We've been talking about this for a while now, but other more pressing issues always seem to arise. I think the late night encounter we had the other day finally drove it to the top of our to-do list.
The real problem with the gate is that for every bit of strength or security we add to it, it costs us in the time it takes to open and close it. Sure, the zeds don't move quite quickly enough for milliseconds to count, but we don't want to be caught in a situation where we're being pursued, we've run out of ammo, and we can't get the damn thing closed quick enough to keep them at bay.
We also want to keep it light enough that it can be manually operated by only one person. This frees us to have more people out of base scavenging or doing surveillance, or, in a pinch, fighting off zeds as someone runs to open it so we can get in.
It's a tricky equation, and this project is going to require a lot more work before any of us are truly satisfied with it. I think we've made some real progress, though. For one, the gate we scrounged was much wider than it needed to be for us to get even a vehicle in and out. Since we first secured it, we haven't had enough time or peace to address this issue, even though we have all the tools we need to cut it down and make it more secure. Today seemed to finally be the perfect day to cut it down to a manageable size. This left us a leftover piece that we could permanently secure, adding a lot more rigidity to the whole structure.
Luckily we were able to accomplish this and get everything tightened up before any zeds wandered over to investigate the sounds of our cutting and welding. We lured them up against the gate when they got here, to give it a field test, and let them try their best for a while. We were all pleased a how much more stable gate seems now, though I'm sure if we dedicate some scavenging runs to the matter, we can do even better.
As the sun was setting, we dispatched the zeds and cleaned up the place. It's been a long several days, so once evening rounds were agreed upon and we plowed through our dinner, most of us went to pass out. The night was pretty calm, and my own shift uneventful. Those shifts are both a blessing and curse. On the one hand it's nice to be able to relax a bit and not feel like you're in the midst of a constant battle. On the other hand, it can make you very paranoid, and often feels like a moment of calm before the storm.
I suppose I was indeed sensing a storm last night, but not the kind I've come to expect.
Waking up today, I found myself staring out at a beautiful, bright, sunny day. Ian had woken up before me and mentioned the night was clear on all watches, and had remained clear in to today. we talked for a bit, and decided we should go out on an extended surveillance run down in to Brookline. As I've mentioned before, we've been slowly extending our circle of influence and reconnaissance. Our survival plan relies on two simple things: keep the immediate area as clear of zeds as possible, and find more supplies as we begin to use ours up. The added benefit of this is that, as our territory expands, the zeds lose some of theirs. Enough survivors employing the same tactic, and we may all be able to work together to reclaim the city. That's the dream, anyway, though it's a long way off from where we are.
Since the discovery of Molly's group to the west tells us more about that part of town and how far we can reach in that direction, we decided it was time to expand again. Today's run would give us a much needed push to the south, an area we had neglected more than others. Ian and I geared up, and grabbed the long range radio to stay in communication with the base. We wished everyone the best, and set the pick-up cruising along in neutral. Second lesson we learned about using vehicles, never run them near your base.
When we got a sufficient distance away I kicked on the engine, hit the gas, and threw the truck in to drive. The first few times I did this back when we first got the truck, I thought the transmission was going to drop out on to the road. Now it's as smooth as ice. It's a fun trick I suggest you learn if you're running something with a manual transmission. It can also be done in an automatic with some finagling, but not as cleanly and with more wear and tear than it may be worth.
The run went pretty smoothly on the way down. I've gotten used to the various blockages and zed population centers, so I know how to avoid them. Ian seems to enjoy riding shotgun and picking off any zeds that get too close. We had pushed our way as far as we had intended, and were beginning to run our circuitous route home when I realized we were heading not far from where some old friends of mine were living when the dead rose. I decided to see what I could of their fate by heading down their particular street, since it would keep me clear of the nearby zed population centers.
- B
Monday
Day 220 - An Old Friend
It's past midnight again, but this time we didn't get in until late, and I need to do something to calm down a bit before trying to sleep.
As you'll have gathered from the flashback post a couple of days ago, nothing much happened after the episode with Molly. We had a pretty standard day, rotating through a few watches while picking off some of the slower moving stragglers still wandering in from Molly's screaming and the gunfire. It always takes a while to get things in this area back to a state of calm. We're just close enough to major zed population centers that some of the outliers tend to come over. Thankfully most of the larger swarms stay away, most of the time anyway.
Today started far too early with an alert from our proximity alarm and our scout on the roof. I heard my radio crack and Brian scream for us to wake up, just before the alarm itself went off. We maintain radio silence at night, but in case of an emergency, we leave them on on, turned up, and right next to our beds, just in case.
I picked up the radio and called to Brian that I was on my way and that he should report on the situation as I headed out. He called down that a group of 10 zeds were amassing outside out gate. He hadn't seen them coming from his vantage point (it's a good one, but there are some areas we have trouble with), but the first couple had arrived just now. Our gate is pretty sturdy, and can hold off a few zeds for more than long enough for us to make it back from a run, or get outside to deal with them. More than half a dozen stands a decent chance of pushing through it if left unattended for too long though. Granted they can't then get in to the building that way, but it's messy to clean them out once they get inside.
I got to the stairs and signaled Brian I was going down. Ian and Alec called in that they were grabbing their guns and would be along shortly. I told them to run with silenced pistols only. Nighttime is too quiet for loud gunfire. During the day you can hear peals from various parts of the city, so it's likely zeds will be drawn away again, even after they hear fire close by. At night though, it's dead silent these days.
I got out back to see the gate starting to sway a bit as the rest of the zeds started pushing against it, drawn even more by their sensing my presence. I started down slowly, and was joined in short order by Ian, Alec, and Crista. We worked our way down and when we got within range to make our .22s effective, we took careful shots at each of them.
It can take a while when using a silenced .22 to get the job done. There are certain drawbacks to them. The closer range needed for the bullet to stand a chance at breaking through the skull is a big one. However, they're quieter, there's a lot of ammo and parts available for them, and once a bullet does go in, it will usually ricochet around in the brain cavity rather than exiting the other side.
We dropped them all in short order, then opened the gate to inspect our kills and remove them from the immediate area. Clean-up is never a job I will grow to enjoy, but keeping them cleared out helps with morale, makes new ones (especially if they're dragging themselves along) easier to spot, and keeps the smell down.
After we radioed up to Brian to check to make sure no more were on their way, we checked that the gate was in good working order and closed it securely. I went up to relieve Brian from his watch, and the rest of the group went back to the apartment to catch what sweep they could.
The sun came up a couple of hours later and Ian came up to bring me some coffee and take over watch duty. I sipped lovingly and thanked him, and then went down to stow my weapons and take care of a few small projects. When I finished my coffee and some of the delicious breakfast Alec had thrown together, I went down to hit the bicycles and go through my daily workout routine.
The day went on pretty much as they all do until early afternoon when Crista called down on the radio to let us know that two members of Molly's survival group were coming down the street toward us. Ian and I geared up and went out to meet them. It turns out it was Molly's roommate Sarah and her brother Tom. It seems they were out looking for some wiring to fix their generator, and when they got back, they found Molly and the other roommate, Rachel I think, holed up in a fire-fight with a couple of dozen zeds. They're pretty sure the zeds must have been close, so when Steve started up the scooter they were going to use to make the run, they must have been drawn to the noise. Sarah and Tom had walked over here so as not to lure any along with them, which we were thankful for. They said their ammo supply was running low, and that they didn't know if they could make a sweep before they ran out. Ian radioed up to Crista and the rest of the team that we would be heading over with them to help them clean up the mess, and that we'd be back later that day.
When we got over near their base, there was a distinct lack of gunfire, so we drew our weapons as we approached. There were still a little more than a dozen zeds left trying to find a way in to their base, apparently as more had wandered over, drawn by the fire. We asked Sarah and Tom to draw the zeds in to two groups closer two us, as we prepared to make quick work of dispatching them.
It took a little longer, and the zeds got a little closer, than we would have liked, but we were able to take them out. Then we helped them move the corpses away and waited around a while to make sure no more were going to wander over. After a good bit of silence, we left them with what ammo we could spare, keeping just enough to get back safely, and headed home.
The sun was just going down as we got back. After cleaning up a bit, I went in to the kitchen to do my best at making dinner. Everyone claims it tasted good, but it certainly wasn't my best attempt. I must be more tired than I think.
When I had finished eating and cleaning up the dishes, I came in here to check on things and I found something I certainly hadn't expected. It seems my childhood best friend Jaco, who is down in the Philadelphia, PA area, has also managed to survive. I had hoped, but there's been no real way to contact him. When I saw his e-mail I nearly jumped with joy. I yelled for Ian to come in here so he could read it to.
Jaco, it seems, has been managing to survive as best as he can, even if he's not as well equipped as we are here. He's been able to find some connections to the internet still up here and there, and when he saw our site, he took the time to get in touch. I've asked him to start contributing to the site whenever he can find a connection and the time, in hopes that we can get some news pouring in from outside the Boston area. He's going to pop in whenever he can, so look out for him.
Reconnecting with Jaco has me far too excited to sleep. I may not get any chance to tonight. We'll see. In any case, that's all the news I have to report for today. More soon, and look out for the first of Jaco's post in the not so distant future.
- B
As you'll have gathered from the flashback post a couple of days ago, nothing much happened after the episode with Molly. We had a pretty standard day, rotating through a few watches while picking off some of the slower moving stragglers still wandering in from Molly's screaming and the gunfire. It always takes a while to get things in this area back to a state of calm. We're just close enough to major zed population centers that some of the outliers tend to come over. Thankfully most of the larger swarms stay away, most of the time anyway.
Today started far too early with an alert from our proximity alarm and our scout on the roof. I heard my radio crack and Brian scream for us to wake up, just before the alarm itself went off. We maintain radio silence at night, but in case of an emergency, we leave them on on, turned up, and right next to our beds, just in case.
I picked up the radio and called to Brian that I was on my way and that he should report on the situation as I headed out. He called down that a group of 10 zeds were amassing outside out gate. He hadn't seen them coming from his vantage point (it's a good one, but there are some areas we have trouble with), but the first couple had arrived just now. Our gate is pretty sturdy, and can hold off a few zeds for more than long enough for us to make it back from a run, or get outside to deal with them. More than half a dozen stands a decent chance of pushing through it if left unattended for too long though. Granted they can't then get in to the building that way, but it's messy to clean them out once they get inside.
I got to the stairs and signaled Brian I was going down. Ian and Alec called in that they were grabbing their guns and would be along shortly. I told them to run with silenced pistols only. Nighttime is too quiet for loud gunfire. During the day you can hear peals from various parts of the city, so it's likely zeds will be drawn away again, even after they hear fire close by. At night though, it's dead silent these days.
I got out back to see the gate starting to sway a bit as the rest of the zeds started pushing against it, drawn even more by their sensing my presence. I started down slowly, and was joined in short order by Ian, Alec, and Crista. We worked our way down and when we got within range to make our .22s effective, we took careful shots at each of them.
It can take a while when using a silenced .22 to get the job done. There are certain drawbacks to them. The closer range needed for the bullet to stand a chance at breaking through the skull is a big one. However, they're quieter, there's a lot of ammo and parts available for them, and once a bullet does go in, it will usually ricochet around in the brain cavity rather than exiting the other side.
We dropped them all in short order, then opened the gate to inspect our kills and remove them from the immediate area. Clean-up is never a job I will grow to enjoy, but keeping them cleared out helps with morale, makes new ones (especially if they're dragging themselves along) easier to spot, and keeps the smell down.
After we radioed up to Brian to check to make sure no more were on their way, we checked that the gate was in good working order and closed it securely. I went up to relieve Brian from his watch, and the rest of the group went back to the apartment to catch what sweep they could.
The sun came up a couple of hours later and Ian came up to bring me some coffee and take over watch duty. I sipped lovingly and thanked him, and then went down to stow my weapons and take care of a few small projects. When I finished my coffee and some of the delicious breakfast Alec had thrown together, I went down to hit the bicycles and go through my daily workout routine.
The day went on pretty much as they all do until early afternoon when Crista called down on the radio to let us know that two members of Molly's survival group were coming down the street toward us. Ian and I geared up and went out to meet them. It turns out it was Molly's roommate Sarah and her brother Tom. It seems they were out looking for some wiring to fix their generator, and when they got back, they found Molly and the other roommate, Rachel I think, holed up in a fire-fight with a couple of dozen zeds. They're pretty sure the zeds must have been close, so when Steve started up the scooter they were going to use to make the run, they must have been drawn to the noise. Sarah and Tom had walked over here so as not to lure any along with them, which we were thankful for. They said their ammo supply was running low, and that they didn't know if they could make a sweep before they ran out. Ian radioed up to Crista and the rest of the team that we would be heading over with them to help them clean up the mess, and that we'd be back later that day.
When we got over near their base, there was a distinct lack of gunfire, so we drew our weapons as we approached. There were still a little more than a dozen zeds left trying to find a way in to their base, apparently as more had wandered over, drawn by the fire. We asked Sarah and Tom to draw the zeds in to two groups closer two us, as we prepared to make quick work of dispatching them.
It took a little longer, and the zeds got a little closer, than we would have liked, but we were able to take them out. Then we helped them move the corpses away and waited around a while to make sure no more were going to wander over. After a good bit of silence, we left them with what ammo we could spare, keeping just enough to get back safely, and headed home.
The sun was just going down as we got back. After cleaning up a bit, I went in to the kitchen to do my best at making dinner. Everyone claims it tasted good, but it certainly wasn't my best attempt. I must be more tired than I think.
When I had finished eating and cleaning up the dishes, I came in here to check on things and I found something I certainly hadn't expected. It seems my childhood best friend Jaco, who is down in the Philadelphia, PA area, has also managed to survive. I had hoped, but there's been no real way to contact him. When I saw his e-mail I nearly jumped with joy. I yelled for Ian to come in here so he could read it to.
Jaco, it seems, has been managing to survive as best as he can, even if he's not as well equipped as we are here. He's been able to find some connections to the internet still up here and there, and when he saw our site, he took the time to get in touch. I've asked him to start contributing to the site whenever he can find a connection and the time, in hopes that we can get some news pouring in from outside the Boston area. He's going to pop in whenever he can, so look out for him.
Reconnecting with Jaco has me far too excited to sleep. I may not get any chance to tonight. We'll see. In any case, that's all the news I have to report for today. More soon, and look out for the first of Jaco's post in the not so distant future.
- B
Saturday
(Flashback) Day 36 - Adjustments
Thinking about the past has become a rather trivial matter since "Z-Day," but I still like to do it occasionally. Plus now that we have this uplink going, it might be useful for you to have some information on some of our earlier (mis)adventures on scavenging runs and whatnot. I'd like to assume that 219 days into this you've already set up a pretty solid camp for yourself, but if you haven't... here we go.
A little over a month after "Z-Day" the streets finally looked clear enough to head out to find the parts we needed for the stationary bike generator we decided to build. Before now we had only gone on short runs to places we already knew the locations of in order to get food, ammo, or other essential survival supplies. This was going to be a more experimental run, searching different possible locations for the parts to build a generator that would store power built up using a stationary bike. Having a manual powered generator would be great, but having one that we could store up power for later use on would be even better. That way we wouldn't have to have someone on it 24/7. We had already scrounged up a gas generator earlier on, but didn't want to have to rely on it. Better to have that as a backup.
Brandon and I had loaded the truck up with as much ammo as we thought we would need, each of us carrying a rifle, handgun, and melee weapon. It hadn't taken the two of us too long to figure out what was going on on "Z-Day," though we were still a bit weary about lopping off someones head... Watching our neighbor be torn limb from limb, and 3 hours later watching the corpse drag itself down the street using it's only remaining arm solidified our belief of what was going on though. Leaving the others (at this point it was just Crista and Alec), to guard the "fort," we took off for the nearest gym. I figured that the best stationary bikes we could find would be in a gym, so we figured that would be out best bet. Luckily there was one rather close to our apartment.
Getting to the gym was easier said than done. Abandoned cars, fires, and of course the ever-present dead made it tricky. We had to pick off a few on our way there, but it seemed the majority had moved into the city proper. Picking up an appropriate sized brick, Brandon hurled it through one of the plate glass windows in the front of the building. Using the butt of his rifle he cleared out the shattered glass and climbed through while I guarded his entrace, watching the street for any zeds or people. Not that we knew what to do if we found any survivors yet. We were still unsure how we survived, so finding others hadn't quite entered into our game plan yet. Hearing two gun shots from inside, and not seeing any immediate threats outside, I climbed inside to see a corpse lying motionless near the front desk, Brandon reloading the clip in his handgun. I nodded to him and moved over to inspect the stationary bikes. Finding one that didn't rely on electricity to run was tricky, but we found two of them in the corner. It took both of us to lift one, they were heavier than we expected. We moved it to the broken window and I cautiously climbed out. A zed had wandered over to the truck, but I imbedded my machete in its skull and pushed the body away from us. Getting both bikes into the back of the truck took a bit of heavy lifting, but luckily we had both started working out vigorously since "Z-Day" and had shed a little fat and picked up a little muscle, so it wasn't too exerting.
The next part of our little plan required picking up two more generators. We needed more parts than one would give us, so we figured if we could grab two it would give us some room to tinker with the design we came up with too. This was the harder part though. We had already been to the only places we could think of to find generators, and they had all already been picked off. So our options were to "acquire" one from a home. Which means driving around aimlessly till we find one. Not fun with all the zeds running around. But it had to be done or getting the bikes was all for nought. Luckily, we had already noticed a generator by one of the houses near our apartment building, so we could pick that one up on our way back, but now we needed to find a second.
Brandon took the wheel while I "manned the guns" and we started to explore. Brandon always feels more comfortable driving, and he likes to think I'm a better shot than he is, so it's a comfortable arrangement. Making our way up Brighton Ave. was easier than trying to get down Comm. Ave. but there were still a few zeds to take care of. We headed up into the residential area and scouted around for generators. We had agreed it was probably to dangerous to break into houses still to look for one, which we knew would make the search harder, but we figured not having to deal with zeds hiding around corners, or worse, survivors. We were rather uncomfortable with stealing from other survivors, unless they stole from us first (which is a story for another day).
Slipping down some back roads to avoid a larger group of zeds (who probably heard us anyway, I wish there was a way to make the damn truck quieter...) we noticed a house with a generator sitting next to it. Brandon killed the engine and coasted the truck to a stop in front of the house and I opened my door, swinging from the side of the truck into the back and grabbing a rifle, checking out the area for zeds. Seeing none we got out and, leaving the rifles in the truck, moved to the house. We scouted around and found two in the backyard we took out with our melee, the large hammer Brandon had found the other day making quite a mess. Wiping some of the gore off of my shirt I smirked at him and motioned towards the generator. It seemed to still be in working order, though not running, and we unhooked it from the house and started to lug to back towards the truck. The generators are far more compact than the bikes, but much heavier. We had to set it down and take a breather twice in the thirty-five yards from the side of the house to the truck.
It was on our second breather in the front yard I noticed the mass of zeds coming down the street. They had followed the truck and were coming after us. Swearing, I hauled the generator up on my back, a move I regretted that night, but the adrenaline I had pumping through me at the time made it possible. Brandon covered me to the truck and I dumped the generator in the back and climbed up, grabbing a rifle and covering Brandon as he started the truck and took off. The zeds had just reaches us as we pulled away, and I had to take care of a few who had grabbed the truck as Brandon peeled away. we took a wide route back towards the apartment, trying to lead them in the wrong direction for a bit. One thing we had learned quickly is it doesn't matter how far you go, if you take a straight path to your destination, they'll manage to follow you. We passed north of the apartment and picked up the second generator, then went wide of the apartment again until we were sure we had led them on a decent chase. Brandon cut the engine of the truck on the hill coming down towards the apartment, using momentum to get us the rest of the way to the driveway. Not having the truck running and making a ton of noise on our own block was generally a good idea, any zeds that might have wandered into the area weren't immediately notified of our presence. Whoever was watching for us on the roof has already gotten ready for our arrival, and Crista and Alec pulled it shut behind us. We unloaded all the equipment into the basement and headed upstairs, leaving the seeminly easy part for the next day, building the new generator...
I'll have our engineer draw up some schematics for the generator later perhaps, and post them. I'm not sure why I was thinking about that day today, but I felt it might be an interesting story to share. One of the more eventful days since "Z-Day" actually. I can of course offer more details on the generator and how we plan for an excursion if you like, it might be useful for you.
Until then, I'm signing off.
~Ian
...
A little over a month after "Z-Day" the streets finally looked clear enough to head out to find the parts we needed for the stationary bike generator we decided to build. Before now we had only gone on short runs to places we already knew the locations of in order to get food, ammo, or other essential survival supplies. This was going to be a more experimental run, searching different possible locations for the parts to build a generator that would store power built up using a stationary bike. Having a manual powered generator would be great, but having one that we could store up power for later use on would be even better. That way we wouldn't have to have someone on it 24/7. We had already scrounged up a gas generator earlier on, but didn't want to have to rely on it. Better to have that as a backup.
Brandon and I had loaded the truck up with as much ammo as we thought we would need, each of us carrying a rifle, handgun, and melee weapon. It hadn't taken the two of us too long to figure out what was going on on "Z-Day," though we were still a bit weary about lopping off someones head... Watching our neighbor be torn limb from limb, and 3 hours later watching the corpse drag itself down the street using it's only remaining arm solidified our belief of what was going on though. Leaving the others (at this point it was just Crista and Alec), to guard the "fort," we took off for the nearest gym. I figured that the best stationary bikes we could find would be in a gym, so we figured that would be out best bet. Luckily there was one rather close to our apartment.
Getting to the gym was easier said than done. Abandoned cars, fires, and of course the ever-present dead made it tricky. We had to pick off a few on our way there, but it seemed the majority had moved into the city proper. Picking up an appropriate sized brick, Brandon hurled it through one of the plate glass windows in the front of the building. Using the butt of his rifle he cleared out the shattered glass and climbed through while I guarded his entrace, watching the street for any zeds or people. Not that we knew what to do if we found any survivors yet. We were still unsure how we survived, so finding others hadn't quite entered into our game plan yet. Hearing two gun shots from inside, and not seeing any immediate threats outside, I climbed inside to see a corpse lying motionless near the front desk, Brandon reloading the clip in his handgun. I nodded to him and moved over to inspect the stationary bikes. Finding one that didn't rely on electricity to run was tricky, but we found two of them in the corner. It took both of us to lift one, they were heavier than we expected. We moved it to the broken window and I cautiously climbed out. A zed had wandered over to the truck, but I imbedded my machete in its skull and pushed the body away from us. Getting both bikes into the back of the truck took a bit of heavy lifting, but luckily we had both started working out vigorously since "Z-Day" and had shed a little fat and picked up a little muscle, so it wasn't too exerting.
The next part of our little plan required picking up two more generators. We needed more parts than one would give us, so we figured if we could grab two it would give us some room to tinker with the design we came up with too. This was the harder part though. We had already been to the only places we could think of to find generators, and they had all already been picked off. So our options were to "acquire" one from a home. Which means driving around aimlessly till we find one. Not fun with all the zeds running around. But it had to be done or getting the bikes was all for nought. Luckily, we had already noticed a generator by one of the houses near our apartment building, so we could pick that one up on our way back, but now we needed to find a second.
Brandon took the wheel while I "manned the guns" and we started to explore. Brandon always feels more comfortable driving, and he likes to think I'm a better shot than he is, so it's a comfortable arrangement. Making our way up Brighton Ave. was easier than trying to get down Comm. Ave. but there were still a few zeds to take care of. We headed up into the residential area and scouted around for generators. We had agreed it was probably to dangerous to break into houses still to look for one, which we knew would make the search harder, but we figured not having to deal with zeds hiding around corners, or worse, survivors. We were rather uncomfortable with stealing from other survivors, unless they stole from us first (which is a story for another day).
Slipping down some back roads to avoid a larger group of zeds (who probably heard us anyway, I wish there was a way to make the damn truck quieter...) we noticed a house with a generator sitting next to it. Brandon killed the engine and coasted the truck to a stop in front of the house and I opened my door, swinging from the side of the truck into the back and grabbing a rifle, checking out the area for zeds. Seeing none we got out and, leaving the rifles in the truck, moved to the house. We scouted around and found two in the backyard we took out with our melee, the large hammer Brandon had found the other day making quite a mess. Wiping some of the gore off of my shirt I smirked at him and motioned towards the generator. It seemed to still be in working order, though not running, and we unhooked it from the house and started to lug to back towards the truck. The generators are far more compact than the bikes, but much heavier. We had to set it down and take a breather twice in the thirty-five yards from the side of the house to the truck.
It was on our second breather in the front yard I noticed the mass of zeds coming down the street. They had followed the truck and were coming after us. Swearing, I hauled the generator up on my back, a move I regretted that night, but the adrenaline I had pumping through me at the time made it possible. Brandon covered me to the truck and I dumped the generator in the back and climbed up, grabbing a rifle and covering Brandon as he started the truck and took off. The zeds had just reaches us as we pulled away, and I had to take care of a few who had grabbed the truck as Brandon peeled away. we took a wide route back towards the apartment, trying to lead them in the wrong direction for a bit. One thing we had learned quickly is it doesn't matter how far you go, if you take a straight path to your destination, they'll manage to follow you. We passed north of the apartment and picked up the second generator, then went wide of the apartment again until we were sure we had led them on a decent chase. Brandon cut the engine of the truck on the hill coming down towards the apartment, using momentum to get us the rest of the way to the driveway. Not having the truck running and making a ton of noise on our own block was generally a good idea, any zeds that might have wandered into the area weren't immediately notified of our presence. Whoever was watching for us on the roof has already gotten ready for our arrival, and Crista and Alec pulled it shut behind us. We unloaded all the equipment into the basement and headed upstairs, leaving the seeminly easy part for the next day, building the new generator...
I'll have our engineer draw up some schematics for the generator later perhaps, and post them. I'm not sure why I was thinking about that day today, but I felt it might be an interesting story to share. One of the more eventful days since "Z-Day" actually. I can of course offer more details on the generator and how we plan for an excursion if you like, it might be useful for you.
Until then, I'm signing off.
~Ian
Day 218 - A Day in the Life, Part Two
Past midnight now, but I owe you a wrap-up to that story, and I can't find the desire to sleep.
Ian and I plunged down to the basement, stopping only briefly to grab a couple of handguns we had stashed for ourselves for just such an occasion. We ran out back and got to the bottom of the parking lot just as the others were moving the gate aside. We flew past them, leaving them to button the gate back up, and took off back up the street and toward the soon to be victim. We caught glimpse of her as she was getting to the corner just in front of our building. She was backing away from the zeds, completely focused on them. Poor thing, what if one had popped out of the building behind her? Lucky for her we kept this block so well swept.
We called out to her as we approached, so as not to startle her with our proximity. She gave us a crazed, panicked look, and started to raise the machete. She seemed to then realize we were running, not shuffling, and had spoken, not groaned. We told her to run to us, and get behind us. She paused for a moment, almost long enough for one of the zeds to grab at her arm, then seemed to collect her wits and bounded towards us. We let her pass between us, and brought up our guns.
I dropped the one on the right with two shots to the face, the second one entering dead center in the forehead, and Ian disposed of the other with one shot to the left temple. Ian always was better with hand guns. I need to get back in to the range and practice a bit. Can't have that showoff beating me much longer.
After we cleared the two zeds we knew about, we stalked our way up the block to the corner to get a clear look around. There were no zeds in sight, but with all the gunfire, some were sure to come out of the woodwork. We'd take shifts through the night, cleaning up any strays that found there way over to us. We turned to go back down the hill, and saw the woman huddled there, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.
I ran down to her, and dropped to my knee beside her.
"You all right," I asked, venturing the words softly and reassuringly.
She continued to cry heavily for a few more minutes. I waved Ian to go down and get the others to do a more thorough sweep of the area. "We might as well clean up what we can while we're out here already."
He went off and I saw them split in two teams to go off for a quick sweep. Ian, as usual, took Crista with him. Those two are too perfect for each other.
I waited until the woman was able to calm down and collect herself. Eventually, having worked herself down to sniffles, with the occasional punctuating sob, she looked up at me. I've seen that look a thousand times since the zeds first came, and each time it hurts just as much.
I put my hand on her shoulder reassuringly, and asked, "what are you doing out here, miss?"
"I was *sniffle* out with part of my crew looking for parts for our generator, when we got separated by about a dozen of them. I was forced to take off this way, and only those five followed me. *sob* We were just a bit down Comm. Ave. I tried to fight them, but this thing," she held up the machete, hand too weak to keep it from just dangling there useless. She sobbed a bit before continuing, her voice cracking slightly with her tears, "is all but useless and I was afraid to let them get too close. Before I knew it I was here, trying to ward them off and find my way back. One of them got a little close for comfort and gnashed it's teeth close to my arm. I remember screaming, and then gunfire."
"Well it's a good thing you did scream this time, so we could know to come help you. That was us, by the way, with rifles on the roof, so no need to worry about anyone popping out just now. Next time though, miss, just run carefully and try to lose their trail. There's no telling how many you might draw to you by screaming like that."
"I... *sob*... I know. *sniffle* I know. Thank you. Oh God, I thought I was dead. What can I possibly do for you to thank you for saving me?"
"Now, now, don't worry about that sort of thing. The only payment we require here is that you keep on surviving. That means you run when you can, and fight when you can't. Oh, and if you hear gunfire, run even faster towards it. Better a bullet than a zed."
She took in the words silently, but I could see by the look in her eye that she was finally calming down. The adrenaline was wearing off and she was composing herself for good.
I gave her my hand and pulled her to her feet. "Well, Miss..."
"Sanderson. Molly Sanderson."
"Well, Miss Molly Sanderson... can I call you Molly?"
She nodded.
"Well, Molly, I know you have a crew to return to. We all need to stick close to those we're with, after all. But... I'm not sure the light is going to hold out long enough for us to help get you there, and I can't in good conscience let you wander off by yourself. Tell you what, you're welcome to stay here tonight, and first thing tomorrow we'll get you back. We have enough supplies for it certainly, and we'd love to hear your story."
She smiled as best as she could, and I put my arm around her and walked her down the block and around to the gate. As I began to open it, the others showed up and gave the all clear. I made the proper introductions as we moved in to the parking lot and secured the gate with special care, in case anymore zeds came wandering along.
Ian cooked up a mean stew for us as we sat around listening to Molly's story. Apparently she was with a crew of 4, two of Molly's roommates and one of their brothers who happened to be up visiting. They were surviving just a bit farther out of the city, about a mile's walk mostly down Comm. Ave. They had survived much in the same way as we did. While their friends and neighbors took to the streets, they did their best to lock themselves in. Seem they have quite a crew over there, and hopefully we can start working together on projects as the need arises. Boston is still in a very "every man for himself" state amongst the survivors, but it's worth a shot to try and get something going. Worst case we can set them up with a long distance radio, so at least we can talk and keep tabs on them, and make sure they stay alive.
Alec, Brian, and Crista volunteered to take watch that night and let Ian and I take it easy. Watch usually involves sitting on the roof with one of our infrared scopes and making sure things stay calm. I offered up my bed to Molly so she could get a good night's sleep. We have a kick-ass couch anyway, and I find myself crashing there some nights just for the hell of it. She gave me a look that said, 'I'd rather not be alone tonight,' and so we ended up sharing the bed. We didn't do anything, but it was wonderful to at least have the company of a stunning young woman. The night was calm but for the occasional peal of rifle fire as a curious zed shuffled in to the area on the heels of the day's commotion.
The next morning we got up bright and early, had a good breakfast, geared up, and took Molly home. The trip was uneventful. When we finally arrived, she called her crew out using a little hidden talk box behind a bush just outside the front door. Clever idea, and one I may need to implement, just in case. They came out, a bit warily at first, but Molly assured them things were fine. After they seemed to conclude we had no ill intent, we all stood around sharing stories and survival tips and tricks. I promised to send them a long distance radio as soon as I could get one working, so we could keep in touch and they could call for help if need be. We said our goodbyes, and Molly hugged me fiercely. Then we came home to another normal day in post-zed Boston.
We're not always so lucky, but for Molly's sake, I'm glad this time we were.
- B
Ian and I plunged down to the basement, stopping only briefly to grab a couple of handguns we had stashed for ourselves for just such an occasion. We ran out back and got to the bottom of the parking lot just as the others were moving the gate aside. We flew past them, leaving them to button the gate back up, and took off back up the street and toward the soon to be victim. We caught glimpse of her as she was getting to the corner just in front of our building. She was backing away from the zeds, completely focused on them. Poor thing, what if one had popped out of the building behind her? Lucky for her we kept this block so well swept.
We called out to her as we approached, so as not to startle her with our proximity. She gave us a crazed, panicked look, and started to raise the machete. She seemed to then realize we were running, not shuffling, and had spoken, not groaned. We told her to run to us, and get behind us. She paused for a moment, almost long enough for one of the zeds to grab at her arm, then seemed to collect her wits and bounded towards us. We let her pass between us, and brought up our guns.
I dropped the one on the right with two shots to the face, the second one entering dead center in the forehead, and Ian disposed of the other with one shot to the left temple. Ian always was better with hand guns. I need to get back in to the range and practice a bit. Can't have that showoff beating me much longer.
After we cleared the two zeds we knew about, we stalked our way up the block to the corner to get a clear look around. There were no zeds in sight, but with all the gunfire, some were sure to come out of the woodwork. We'd take shifts through the night, cleaning up any strays that found there way over to us. We turned to go back down the hill, and saw the woman huddled there, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.
I ran down to her, and dropped to my knee beside her.
"You all right," I asked, venturing the words softly and reassuringly.
She continued to cry heavily for a few more minutes. I waved Ian to go down and get the others to do a more thorough sweep of the area. "We might as well clean up what we can while we're out here already."
He went off and I saw them split in two teams to go off for a quick sweep. Ian, as usual, took Crista with him. Those two are too perfect for each other.
I waited until the woman was able to calm down and collect herself. Eventually, having worked herself down to sniffles, with the occasional punctuating sob, she looked up at me. I've seen that look a thousand times since the zeds first came, and each time it hurts just as much.
I put my hand on her shoulder reassuringly, and asked, "what are you doing out here, miss?"
"I was *sniffle* out with part of my crew looking for parts for our generator, when we got separated by about a dozen of them. I was forced to take off this way, and only those five followed me. *sob* We were just a bit down Comm. Ave. I tried to fight them, but this thing," she held up the machete, hand too weak to keep it from just dangling there useless. She sobbed a bit before continuing, her voice cracking slightly with her tears, "is all but useless and I was afraid to let them get too close. Before I knew it I was here, trying to ward them off and find my way back. One of them got a little close for comfort and gnashed it's teeth close to my arm. I remember screaming, and then gunfire."
"Well it's a good thing you did scream this time, so we could know to come help you. That was us, by the way, with rifles on the roof, so no need to worry about anyone popping out just now. Next time though, miss, just run carefully and try to lose their trail. There's no telling how many you might draw to you by screaming like that."
"I... *sob*... I know. *sniffle* I know. Thank you. Oh God, I thought I was dead. What can I possibly do for you to thank you for saving me?"
"Now, now, don't worry about that sort of thing. The only payment we require here is that you keep on surviving. That means you run when you can, and fight when you can't. Oh, and if you hear gunfire, run even faster towards it. Better a bullet than a zed."
She took in the words silently, but I could see by the look in her eye that she was finally calming down. The adrenaline was wearing off and she was composing herself for good.
I gave her my hand and pulled her to her feet. "Well, Miss..."
"Sanderson. Molly Sanderson."
"Well, Miss Molly Sanderson... can I call you Molly?"
She nodded.
"Well, Molly, I know you have a crew to return to. We all need to stick close to those we're with, after all. But... I'm not sure the light is going to hold out long enough for us to help get you there, and I can't in good conscience let you wander off by yourself. Tell you what, you're welcome to stay here tonight, and first thing tomorrow we'll get you back. We have enough supplies for it certainly, and we'd love to hear your story."
She smiled as best as she could, and I put my arm around her and walked her down the block and around to the gate. As I began to open it, the others showed up and gave the all clear. I made the proper introductions as we moved in to the parking lot and secured the gate with special care, in case anymore zeds came wandering along.
Ian cooked up a mean stew for us as we sat around listening to Molly's story. Apparently she was with a crew of 4, two of Molly's roommates and one of their brothers who happened to be up visiting. They were surviving just a bit farther out of the city, about a mile's walk mostly down Comm. Ave. They had survived much in the same way as we did. While their friends and neighbors took to the streets, they did their best to lock themselves in. Seem they have quite a crew over there, and hopefully we can start working together on projects as the need arises. Boston is still in a very "every man for himself" state amongst the survivors, but it's worth a shot to try and get something going. Worst case we can set them up with a long distance radio, so at least we can talk and keep tabs on them, and make sure they stay alive.
Alec, Brian, and Crista volunteered to take watch that night and let Ian and I take it easy. Watch usually involves sitting on the roof with one of our infrared scopes and making sure things stay calm. I offered up my bed to Molly so she could get a good night's sleep. We have a kick-ass couch anyway, and I find myself crashing there some nights just for the hell of it. She gave me a look that said, 'I'd rather not be alone tonight,' and so we ended up sharing the bed. We didn't do anything, but it was wonderful to at least have the company of a stunning young woman. The night was calm but for the occasional peal of rifle fire as a curious zed shuffled in to the area on the heels of the day's commotion.
The next morning we got up bright and early, had a good breakfast, geared up, and took Molly home. The trip was uneventful. When we finally arrived, she called her crew out using a little hidden talk box behind a bush just outside the front door. Clever idea, and one I may need to implement, just in case. They came out, a bit warily at first, but Molly assured them things were fine. After they seemed to conclude we had no ill intent, we all stood around sharing stories and survival tips and tricks. I promised to send them a long distance radio as soon as I could get one working, so we could keep in touch and they could call for help if need be. We said our goodbyes, and Molly hugged me fiercely. Then we came home to another normal day in post-zed Boston.
We're not always so lucky, but for Molly's sake, I'm glad this time we were.
- B
Friday
Day 218 - A Day in the Life, Part One
Sorry I ran off so abruptly yesterday, but duty calls at the worst of times. Here's a run down of what happened:
I grabbed my rifle out of the rack I built for it and ran to the back stairs, heading for the roof. Ian was at the back door undoing the bolts as I got there, and we both ran up to the roof to see what was happening.
I should probably explain a little bit about our set-up here. We live in a second floor apartment in the Brighton neighborhood of Boston, and when things went to shit, we decided it was best to hole up here instead of joining the panicking masses making a run for it. The first floor is pretty indefensible with the giant glass front door. We opted to take out the front stairs down to the first floor instead. We've managed to secure the back doors to the downstairs apartments (thank God they have steel frames). We've also secured the basement so we could have a workshop and a way to get out of the building. The only doors to the basement are metal security doors, and lead to the parking lot out back.
Two sides of the parking lot have 5 foot concrete walls and another 6 feet of fencing on top of that. The third side is bounded by our buildings. To close off what used to be the driveway, we scavenged some sturdy gates to fasten at the bottom of the hill. They're designed to move so we can get vehicles in and out, but are sturdy enough to keep out the zeds long enough for us to pick them off. We've also cleared and secured all the buildings on the block to make sure nothing can get in to the lot that way. A little perimeter alarm around the whole deal has saved our ass a few times, though we fight hard not to let ourselves rely on it too much.
Our base of operations is on the second and third floors of our original building, as we're trying to keep our footprint small. We have room to grow, but not the supplies or means yet. Hopefully some day soon we'll be able to take in more survivors and more effectively try to reclaim our city. Hopefully some survivors will stay alive until they can make it to us, unlike most of the folk that come this way.
For now, though, it's just 5 of us. Myself and Ian who were living here, have taken over leadership and planning, as we both seem to excel at it. We're also blessed with our friend Alec and Ian's girlfriend Crista, who happened to be over when hell came to us, and our friend Brian, who we found fighting for his life on one of our supply runs.
Anyway, it occurs to me I was trying to tell a story. Ian and I scrambled up to the roof to get a look at what was going on. We searched the streets frantically for the woman, and Ian eventually spotted her not far off to the west. Unfortunately that's the worst way to approach here. There are tons of alleys for zeds to pop out of, and there's some light tree cover between us and where the poor woman was, which makes for somewhat crappy sniping.
The woman seemed far too healthy to be a nomad, so she must have come from some survivor cell somewhere. There's no telling what she was doing so far out our way. There's no other cell for at least a mile, as we've expanded our scavenging radius about that far and not seen a living soul. Maybe she was running reconnaissance, or scavenging at a foolhardy distance form her home. At the moment though, she was trying to protect herself from five, fresh looking zeds. Her weapon of choice: a rusty machete. I loaded my rifle and tried to get a line of shot, as Ian, being our strategical mastermind in battle, clicked on his radio and called down to the others, telling them to gear up and start heading out the back and over to the woman.
I caught the first Zed, the one closest to her, in the right temple. It crumpled, and so did she. Rookie mistake, and one that should never be made around zeds. With gunfire, always keep running. These days, it's better to die. As we've seen again and again, there's nothing worse than dying at the hands of a zed.
Ian finished up radioing instructions, and grabbed his rifle. I snagged another zed in the eye, just as Ian effectively lobotomized a third. They both slumped, and again, so did she. Once from fright is one thing, but this woman seemed to have a death wish. I signaled to Ian to stop firing, and told him she had done the same thing after the first shot. We'd dropped the zeds from five to two. Hopefully she could stay alive long enough for us to get to her.
Time for my turn on the bike-turned-generator. Back with the rest later.
- B
I grabbed my rifle out of the rack I built for it and ran to the back stairs, heading for the roof. Ian was at the back door undoing the bolts as I got there, and we both ran up to the roof to see what was happening.
I should probably explain a little bit about our set-up here. We live in a second floor apartment in the Brighton neighborhood of Boston, and when things went to shit, we decided it was best to hole up here instead of joining the panicking masses making a run for it. The first floor is pretty indefensible with the giant glass front door. We opted to take out the front stairs down to the first floor instead. We've managed to secure the back doors to the downstairs apartments (thank God they have steel frames). We've also secured the basement so we could have a workshop and a way to get out of the building. The only doors to the basement are metal security doors, and lead to the parking lot out back.
Two sides of the parking lot have 5 foot concrete walls and another 6 feet of fencing on top of that. The third side is bounded by our buildings. To close off what used to be the driveway, we scavenged some sturdy gates to fasten at the bottom of the hill. They're designed to move so we can get vehicles in and out, but are sturdy enough to keep out the zeds long enough for us to pick them off. We've also cleared and secured all the buildings on the block to make sure nothing can get in to the lot that way. A little perimeter alarm around the whole deal has saved our ass a few times, though we fight hard not to let ourselves rely on it too much.
Our base of operations is on the second and third floors of our original building, as we're trying to keep our footprint small. We have room to grow, but not the supplies or means yet. Hopefully some day soon we'll be able to take in more survivors and more effectively try to reclaim our city. Hopefully some survivors will stay alive until they can make it to us, unlike most of the folk that come this way.
For now, though, it's just 5 of us. Myself and Ian who were living here, have taken over leadership and planning, as we both seem to excel at it. We're also blessed with our friend Alec and Ian's girlfriend Crista, who happened to be over when hell came to us, and our friend Brian, who we found fighting for his life on one of our supply runs.
Anyway, it occurs to me I was trying to tell a story. Ian and I scrambled up to the roof to get a look at what was going on. We searched the streets frantically for the woman, and Ian eventually spotted her not far off to the west. Unfortunately that's the worst way to approach here. There are tons of alleys for zeds to pop out of, and there's some light tree cover between us and where the poor woman was, which makes for somewhat crappy sniping.
The woman seemed far too healthy to be a nomad, so she must have come from some survivor cell somewhere. There's no telling what she was doing so far out our way. There's no other cell for at least a mile, as we've expanded our scavenging radius about that far and not seen a living soul. Maybe she was running reconnaissance, or scavenging at a foolhardy distance form her home. At the moment though, she was trying to protect herself from five, fresh looking zeds. Her weapon of choice: a rusty machete. I loaded my rifle and tried to get a line of shot, as Ian, being our strategical mastermind in battle, clicked on his radio and called down to the others, telling them to gear up and start heading out the back and over to the woman.
I caught the first Zed, the one closest to her, in the right temple. It crumpled, and so did she. Rookie mistake, and one that should never be made around zeds. With gunfire, always keep running. These days, it's better to die. As we've seen again and again, there's nothing worse than dying at the hands of a zed.
Ian finished up radioing instructions, and grabbed his rifle. I snagged another zed in the eye, just as Ian effectively lobotomized a third. They both slumped, and again, so did she. Once from fright is one thing, but this woman seemed to have a death wish. I signaled to Ian to stop firing, and told him she had done the same thing after the first shot. We'd dropped the zeds from five to two. Hopefully she could stay alive long enough for us to get to her.
Time for my turn on the bike-turned-generator. Back with the rest later.
- B
Thursday
Day 217 - A Project Finished, A Project Begins
Well, I've finally done it. I've got the satellite communication dish up and patched in to the many remaining satellite networks as of yet untouched by the fall of humanity. We've had steady electricity here for the better part of two months. Some of it still trickles in from the grid, but mostly we rely on the generation and storing of energy using an old stationary bike we scrounged, and some technology of our own design. I'll try to get our engineer to draft some plans for it, so maybe you can try it too, or suggest improvements. There's a backup gas generator and a store of gas in the basement just in case, but since we need to keep active to keep surviving, this seems the best way.
We decided a while to back to use a part of this power to build and maintain this connection. We've managed to scrap enough hardware from the surrounding area to build a powerful but efficient server. I never thought I'd say this, but thank god for the green movement. Without their obsessive lobbying and their occasional resurgence among the painfully hip, we'd never have been able to pull this off. Well, we've finally done it, and here we are.
We've broken through a bunch of firewalls already and tapped in to some of the larger remaining online resources, mostly those managed by anal retentive IT people who wanted to keep their infrastructure up even in the face of an apocalypse. It looks like it's served them well. I think anyone reading this is in agreement that the most surprising thing is how large an amount of Wikipedia is still up. This has been a blessing for us today, and has helped more than can be believed. Couple that with the always connected e-book readers we've scrounged, and we really do have our own little Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Heh, I remember when Randall Munroe made a joke about this on his delightful web-comic XKCD. Go figure it would turn out to be true.
It's disheartening to see how many networks are left abandoned with no sign of activity for so long. We've seen a little bit of traffic here and there, but have been as of yet unable to trace it. We know we're not the only survivors here in Boston, but we had hoped to see some other communities get back online around the world.
This has spurned us further to start writing here. What we hope to do is to set up another go to resource for anyone else still alive and resourceful enough to get connected. We're using a virus to send out the address here to as many computers as we can reach, so forgive us for the spam. We really hope it reaches someone. You know, I would have never thought a web virus could be so useful, but here it might just save some lives.
We're going to do our best to let you know what we're doing here, for as long as we can survive. Hopefully some of what we talk about will help you, and, if it comes to the worst, maybe it will shed a light on what happened to us, so you can prevent it from happening to you.
The two of us who still feel like talking will be posting here whenever we can, hopefully at least one of us will get to it daily. Occasionally we get caught away on supply runs that take a few days. If you don't hear from us for more than a week, suspect the worst, and don't try to come help us. You need to stay alive.
If you're a survivor too, please make your voice heard here and share what you can about your current situation. The more we all know, the better we can hope to stay alive and maybe, just maybe, turn the tables on this thing.
Crap, there's someone screaming outside. It sounds like a woman this time. That means another lone survivor has dragged a bunch of them along to us. I've got to go and see if we can save her.
More later,
- Brandon
We decided a while to back to use a part of this power to build and maintain this connection. We've managed to scrap enough hardware from the surrounding area to build a powerful but efficient server. I never thought I'd say this, but thank god for the green movement. Without their obsessive lobbying and their occasional resurgence among the painfully hip, we'd never have been able to pull this off. Well, we've finally done it, and here we are.
We've broken through a bunch of firewalls already and tapped in to some of the larger remaining online resources, mostly those managed by anal retentive IT people who wanted to keep their infrastructure up even in the face of an apocalypse. It looks like it's served them well. I think anyone reading this is in agreement that the most surprising thing is how large an amount of Wikipedia is still up. This has been a blessing for us today, and has helped more than can be believed. Couple that with the always connected e-book readers we've scrounged, and we really do have our own little Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Heh, I remember when Randall Munroe made a joke about this on his delightful web-comic XKCD. Go figure it would turn out to be true.
It's disheartening to see how many networks are left abandoned with no sign of activity for so long. We've seen a little bit of traffic here and there, but have been as of yet unable to trace it. We know we're not the only survivors here in Boston, but we had hoped to see some other communities get back online around the world.
This has spurned us further to start writing here. What we hope to do is to set up another go to resource for anyone else still alive and resourceful enough to get connected. We're using a virus to send out the address here to as many computers as we can reach, so forgive us for the spam. We really hope it reaches someone. You know, I would have never thought a web virus could be so useful, but here it might just save some lives.
We're going to do our best to let you know what we're doing here, for as long as we can survive. Hopefully some of what we talk about will help you, and, if it comes to the worst, maybe it will shed a light on what happened to us, so you can prevent it from happening to you.
The two of us who still feel like talking will be posting here whenever we can, hopefully at least one of us will get to it daily. Occasionally we get caught away on supply runs that take a few days. If you don't hear from us for more than a week, suspect the worst, and don't try to come help us. You need to stay alive.
If you're a survivor too, please make your voice heard here and share what you can about your current situation. The more we all know, the better we can hope to stay alive and maybe, just maybe, turn the tables on this thing.
Crap, there's someone screaming outside. It sounds like a woman this time. That means another lone survivor has dragged a bunch of them along to us. I've got to go and see if we can save her.
More later,
- Brandon
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
