Michelle laughed. “Maybe you forgot how messed up the world was. We needed a reset in the worst way, Mr. Thorpe. God or whatever it is you want to call the power that is, achieved that through means it felt appropriate. We were judged by our dead. There are multiple verses of the King James Bible that speak of the dead walking the Earth. We shouldn’t be surprised in the least that we were taken to task by our deceased. We are lucky that the Trinity came together in time, and that we did what we had to do to save everyone.”
“You are the prettiest, nicest, creepy woman I’ve ever met,” Thorpe said, totally uncomfortable with everything she said. We all laughed at that, and Michelle blushed. She added an agreeing nod at the end of the laughter.
“So then Bastion is close?” Mizaki said, ending the humorous moment like a loud, damp fart in the confessional. One more humid Hail Mary, General.
“Yeah not far,” I said back.
“So would it be too much to ask to tour it today? It’s a very long drive southwest to here. We could move this forward by leaps and bounds were you to let us see your base. We would be respectful of anything you asked of us during the tour. We could leave our armor here and ride in one of your vehicles. Just Colonel Thorpe and I. I’d be very appreciative of the gesture,” he added. I got the impression it was less of a request, and more of an attempt to push us along politely.
I don’t get pushed much. I gotta hand it to him though, he was genuine. He would’ve gone with just he and Thorpe. That’s a huge sign of trust, and I didn’t skip over that.
“Not today, General. I hear you on the long drive and the fuel waste, but we’re still moving on a slow schedule for this, and today is not the day. No dog and pony show for you.”
He laughed. “I had to try.”
“It was an admirable effort, General, really,” I joked back at him.
“When can we come? We’d like to see where your story played out. We’re told you’ve quite the fortress, that you built it all yourself.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear. I did a lot for Bastion, but my people did the bulk of the heavy lifting to get it where it is today. And it’s pretty secure, but it’s no Calendar Mountain. We’re in a good spot. Safe. You’ll approve, I think.”
“I’m sure we will. No one’s managed a siege on your Bastion yet, and that’s saying something,” Mizaki added.
“Not many have tried. I suspect we’d put up a helluva fight though.”
“I hope to never find out,” Mizaki added, his words solemn and very real.
And that kind of ended it. We talked about the town, its local resources that we’ve already drained, and that seemed to deflate their idea of MGR’s value to them. Less raiding and foraging opportunities I suppose. Though to spread out their communications reach, and find safe neighbors has to be good.
We sent them away with no date for the Bastion tour. I couldn’t give them a day on the spot, but we said we’d be in touch soon through the Factory.
Mike and Patty calmed down after they left too, and eventually wound their way around to saying nice things about them. Again, Mizaki and Thorpe seemed like good people, and the soldiers they keep bringing with them seem like really nice people too. No missteps on their part so far means good things, right? I’d wager we’ve been more of the assholes to them.
Eh, whatever.
Caleb and Sophie are better, but not well.
Jo-Ro is cute. Jumped the ugly hurdle.
Gavin is still cute, and is crying less every day. Abby is a great mom in between posting her newsletters all over campus and sending them out on patrols to MGR. She’s reporting the NVC alliance meetings to the general populace as being ‘very positive.’ Hal’s a great dad. He’s so proud of his baby boy. I overheard him talking to Abby late last night about how he wished his mother and father could’ve met Gavin. He didn’t cry, but I could hear a tone of mourning in his voice. He was close to his mom and dad back in England, and there’s no chance now of ever seeing them again, if they’re even still alive.
People seem to be happy about Abby’s talk about the NVC, and I’m sure her newsletter later today will only add to that. They are excited that the process has been peaceful, and that it’s moving forward. No one here has cold feet about it, or if they do, they’re wearing socks and shutting the fuck up about their icy toes.
Michelle’s great. Using her bookmark all the time, and keeping our little municipal world running smoothly. I’m so proud of her. Still not sure what it is I do here exactly, but that’s okay. Story of my life.
Heading to bed, Mr. Journal. Tired, and I need to get with some people to start figuring out when we’re willing to bring the NVC inside our wire.
My asshole itches when I think about it.
-Adrian
January 20th
All is well enough, Mr. Journal.
Abby’s newsletter went out the other day and stirred up a wave of positivity with the people of Bastion and MGR. The frank and open conversation the NVC people had with the MGR folks pretty much made it straight into the two pager (her biggest publication thus far) and it helped to encourage people like nothing I’ve seen before. (As an aside, I wonder how many of these newsletters she can put out before we run out of paper, or copier/printer toner…)
Folks are genuinely happy with what happened that day, and they are absolutely excited to join with the NVC people. Mizaki and Thorpe being a little clumsy, and vulnerable when confronted made them seem human, and that made the difference, I think. Abby is happy as a pig in shit about how her writing has been received, and I’m happy for her as well. I’ve given up on trying to keep secrets from her, and that feels good.
So why am I still not entertaining a scheduled meet here on campus?
Um.
I’m scared?
Like, unreasonably scared to allow someone who could possibly be dangerous here? Escorted or not, it feels like a gigantic breach of security. I know Kevin and I are in agreement on this, but we are in the vast minority, and with each passing hour, fewer and fewer people are with us. I’m afraid to give up power.
I killed to keep this place safe. I put down hundreds of zombies, maybe thousands to keep it habitable, and to make it a place where I could live, and where I could invite others in to help them. It seems silly to me to give up what I fought so hard for.
But maybe this was part of the plan all along? Maybe all of what I did to build Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy into Bastion, and the place it is today was the first step of getting us to be able to be part of the larger, new world that’s forming right now?
Maybe the powers that be orchestrated the NVC being douches long enough for us to get our shit together, and then gave them time and focus to get their shit together, and now it’s meant to be? Maybe I’m the ‘old guard’ that needs to change for the youth?
Am I the grumpy old fuck that sits on his porch and yells at the neighborhood kids when they ride too close to his lawn during the summer? Am I that fucking guy?
Shit I think I’m that guy. I’m holding up progress. I’m the dude who can’t see the future, and keeps living in the past.
Ugh. I hate realizations. Epiphanies aren’t always enlightening in that positive way. I feel like the kid sitting at the back of the class that’s been arguing with the teacher, positive that he’s right, only to have the light turn on after figuring out he’s been arguing incorrectly the whole time.
And now everyone has turned around in their seat, and they’re looking at me. Judging me. Decided that I’ll never get a slow dance in the gymnasium at the next school function.
I need to talk to Michelle, and agree on a date to have them here. But I think I’ll do that tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.
But definitely soon.
In other news, Hector and Celeste have reported that nothing has changed at the Factory beyond now the NVC has a room there where they keep a small unit of four men in rotation. The men are involved in the security of the club, and are good folks by
their report. Once every other day, the soldiers make a call back to the NVC to give a short sit-rep, and that’s it. The two bosses seem very pleased with the arrangement thus far.
-Adrian
January 25th
Yeap. Still waiting on setting that meeting up. We had a small issue come up the other day at the wall, and that bought me a few days, thankfully.
I still don’t know why I haven’t set a date yet. The NVC has got to be getting pissed at me over this. They’ve been polite thus far about it, but that won’t last forever. I mean I know why, but I won’t admit to being afraid of progress, or STRANGER DANGER.
Two school buses pulled past MGR yesterday, and were seen dumping out a few dozen people on the streets of town in the morning. Mixed folks of all colors, shapes and sizes, the buses they arrived in bore markings from Iowa and Indiana. The MGR people stood up their security and notified us of the issue, and we got the QRF ready too.
After an hour of watching them wander through town like dislodged tourists sans cameras, they packed up and headed west out of town, towards here.
We watched their progress through our remote cameras, one intersection at a time as they made the turn off of Main Street onto Route 18. When that happened we doubled up our active shooters on the wall and at the gate, and when the two buses made the turn onto Auburn Lake Road, shit got a little intense.
A full on assault alarm was given, and every single person who could shoot a gun, got a gun. Those who couldn’t shoot picked up butter knives and prepared to get medieval. I myself geared up for war and found Kevin at the top of our berm wall (AT4 nearby) and we got down on the ground with our M4A1s. The boys and girls in the towers at the bridge had their SAWs trained on the far side, and at our backs were twenty more people ready to step into harm’s way to protect our home.
I was vibrating when the two buses crept down the hill through the area where we clear-cut the trees. (Where Zach died, and where we ambushed Sean’s assholes a few winters ago, if you recall.) I had my red dot on the driver’s distant head and kept it right there until the buses came to a stop on the down slope of the far hill twenty or so yards from the outer gate. I radioed out the patrols on horseback to flank them a half mile back in the event they took a shot at us and ran. They were ready for the counter attack if need be.
A thin guy of maybe forty got out of the bus and approached the distant wooden gate with his arms raised. I watched him through my ACOG as he stood awkwardly, waiting for someone to approach him from the other side of the delta shaped gate.
Kevin radioed for James Halwitz to talk to the man with his mic on, and Jimmy did that.
The man spoke with some excitement, but also nervousness. Through my scope I could see that he kept looking down at Jim’s M4 over and over, which told me he didn’t care for guns; I was later proven right.
His name was Tim Board, born and bred in Las Vegas. Tim worked as a stage magician in the casinos and clubs out there from the time he was thirteen to that day. He’s made his way out of the city and east since then, and hooked up with the crew in the buses some time ago before they made the pilgrimage here. Tim seemed like a good guy, but then again, he’s a performer, so he’s supposed to be likable.
When I say pilgrimage, I mean pilgrimage. They came cross country to meet the Trinity, and to live closer to us.
Over the course of the unfolding hours after that, we sent out more representatives across the bridge to meet Tim, and the several other people who came with him. In total, there were 43 souls on the shot up pair of yellow school buses.
In addition to the magician there was a sweet old lady of maybe sixty named Nell Turner. She went on and on about being excited to work with the people who manage our gardens. She was most excited to meet Michelle, though she seemed real pleased in general.
Thomas Thorn was a pickup of a lifetime. He met them a few weeks ago and joined up after his helicopter ran out of fuel. Yes, I said helicopter. Turns out he was a maritime Coast Guard pilot turned tour guide pilot, and he’d lived for months flying up and down the eastern seaboard, landing on offshore oil rigs for fuel, and trading goods to them he got on the shore and inland. He was a young fifty plus, and he’s a goldmine if we can find him another helicopter. We need to check the airport in the city to see if there’s something there he can fly. That’s a priority. He too seemed like a good person.
“I dreamt about you,” one of them said to me. Probably my favorite of all of them. It was a kid named Archer Mason, of maybe 20 years. Archer has Downs, and is the nicest kid you could imagine. He’s high functioning; had a job at the local VA he lived near just outside of Des Moines, and he was preparing to go to the local tech before the shit hit the fan. He would’ve done well I bet. He’s excited to be here, and he was real excited to meet me.
An older lady named Ginnie Wilson hung around Archer like it was her job. Turns out, she worked with people with brain injuries, and intellectual difficulties before the end, and she gravitated to Archer. I don’t think Archer needed the help, but she was there to give it. Ginnie also had a former client with her, a woman in her 30s who was pretty well debilitated from a car accident. Ginnie’s awful story began with her three kids being separated from her on that day as she cared for the lady who can’t speak or walk on her own. She wouldn’t talk much to me or Kevin, but she and Michelle hit it off. Michelle mentioned that Ginnie politely suggested that we might be able to help her find her kids, back in Ohio. Tall order Ginnie. Props to her for keeping her last client alive through the end. How I don’t know, but she did it, and that says a lot about her.
There was some guy named Dave Ward, who struck me as a bit selfish. When I say selfish, I mean asshole. He looked like he joined the troupe because it was his best option, not because he genuinely wanted to go across the country after the apocalypse. He struck me as well as a midlife crisis frozen in time. His hair had product in it.
One of their brain trusts is a thirty odd year old girl named Harley Franklin. Harley was/is a librarian whose bookworm antics allowed them to figure out how to get the buses running and keep them that way, as well as build traps, find roads, forage for food, etc. Lol, I said antics. As it turns out, brains might actually help you survive the apocalypse, which explains why I had such a hard time of it. Harley will be a welcome addition to our community. We need a librarian to help with the school, and she perked right up when Michelle made the suggestion. It’s like seeing someone round the corner as they lay eyes on the home they grew up in.
Caroline and Roger Thompson are a great find. They are six months pregnant, and from small town North Carolina. Roger is a former police officer, and worked as their primary trigger puller on the journey. Kevin’s assessing him. Caroline is an elementary school teacher, and is the sweetest. Her and Roger have been together since high school, and that’s cute. I need to see their kid born. After Sophie and Caleb lost theirs… it’s now a mission of mine.
I will become the grand baby facilitator. Maybe, just maybe, Michelle and I will have one of our own, too. Still got to talk to her about that. Still chicken about it, too.
We have them housed in the homes near the exploded gas station at the intersection of Route 18 and Auburn Lake Road. Our security cameras there allow us to keep watch on them and their two buses all hours of the day, and that helps me sleep at night. I do think they’re good people though. I mean they drove all the way across the country just to meet us. Meet me. Pretty cool. Weird though. Really weird. Makes me uncomfortable if I think about it.
More people showed, but I am getting tired. Michelle knows this delayed the decision to have the NVC visit, and for that I’m thankful. She’s wise that she shouldn’t make the decision on her own, because she knows I’ll pitch a fit like a toddler, or find some reason to change her mind. I know I’ll agree with her the next time she asks me, but delaying it just feels good for some reason. I’m a weirdo.
A paranoid weirdo.
A paranoid weirdo who has kept a lot of peopl
e alive for a long time.
I view that as a highlight on my post apocalyptic resume, thankyouverymuch. You’realsowelcome.
We have a meeting with Maria Hunt and her people on the 28th too, by the way. Routine trade, and I am going to try to make it. I hope the weather holds.
-Adrian
January 30th
New people are settling in well around town. Of them, we’ve only allowed Tom Thorn (helicopter pilot) and Harley Franklin (librarian) inside the walls to live. Everyone else was set up in the houses on Auburn Lake Road, and Route 18 near the exploded gas station and the lime and urine home.
Ah... the lime and urine home.
I miss Gilbert. I miss him more than my real dad, and that’s the first time I’ve ever admitted it, I think. I don’t think about my parents much, but I do think about Gilbert.
Shit got too real. Moving on.
Okay so I mainly wanted to check in here because work outside has been stymied by shit weather. Michelle is up my ass like a butt doctor on the hunt for a polyp to schedule the NVC visit.
Kevin’s patrols on horseback in town have reported that since the 26th, they have seen two of the NVC M113 armored personnel carriers moving around in the east side of town, towards the city. They haven’t entered the town limits in depth, but they’re definitely making a show of wanting to be here. I don’t feel like they’re being aggressive, and Kevin doesn’t either, and I don’t know why we don’t feel that way.
Maybe it’s because they’re being very respectful of our actual space? Or that we’ve build a good relationship with Thorpe and Mizaki? I dunno, but I feel good about it. Michelle scheduled a meeting tomorrow with the brass (weather permitting) for us to make the final decision to have them visit here.
I also think the reason why I want to do that, is because every time I’m out and about here I get stopped and asked when the visit is. The past few days have seen people migrate from being respectful and inquisitive to me about it, to now they’re short, and obviously bothered by my lack of will to move forward. They want this settled, and they want to move forward.
Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 10): The Last Resort [Adrian's March, Part 2] Page 8