Living With the Dead: Year One (Books 1-2, Bonus Material)
Page 28
It's funny how any time we feel in the least secure, we begin to argue and debate among us. We endlessly discuss every aspect of our lives and our society, and it's only when we are faced with a clear and unifying threat that we let all of that fall away. When it really counts, we band together.
I say this because there is already some serious talk along the wall as people work about changing the way things are run. Some folks think that the leadership is too close knit and from too small a group of people. Given that I was the one that started this place with my friends and family, I tend to think that you give credit to the people that have made the right calls and kept you alive. But that's me. I won't argue if folks around here choose to elect new leadership democratically. That's their right, and one I truly believe in.
But I will definitely be cautious of any changes. I won't blindly follow someone who clearly has no idea what leadership is. I won't waste my effort working for a person that is obsessed with their own ideas over the good of the group. I have been that guy. I know the follies.
My problem is that the dangers are just too real for me to be comfortable with people running this place that aren't already doing it. The council is mostly made up of folks who have been around here pretty much from the start, when the zombies still walked all over us on a regular basis and other survivors made war on us daily.
The problem about a purely democratic society is that when the masses imbue one person or a small group with a tremendous amount of power, they tend to overuse that power at times. The way things are now seem pretty minimalist in terms of rules and governance, and most of us would like to keep it that way. But of course, you always have people who think there is a better way, a way that no one has considered.
And there might be, I admit it. But given the mortality rates in this town, I think that we have done about as good a job as could be hoped for. Defensible fortress. Organized community and government. Plentiful food.
Survival.
I mean, what more can you ask for? It is because of that small group of people that we have communications with the outside world (or what's let of it anyway), why we have solar and wind power (and plans for more renewable energy down the road) for our lights...I just don't see what rocking the boat could do to improve our lot. But I am open to change if I can be convinced it's for the better.
Got off on a tangent there, sorry. But since all we are doing is zombie-proofing the compound, not much else to write about but my random thoughts. Sue me.
Ha. No lawyers. One advantage of society falling.
Done with lunch, back to work now...
Posted by Josh Guess at 11:40 AM
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Coming Up Short
The only kind of infection I worry about is from zombie bites. I have never been particularly fussed about putting neosporin on my cuts, or putting a band-aid over every little scratch. Call me wonky since I was raised by a nurse or two, but it just never bothered me, and I have never gotten an infected cut.
But today, my feelings are slowly shifting. Funny, since now each tube of antibiotic ointment is part of a limited supply. We finished the wall about twenty minutes ago, and I helped hoist the last section of wall up. It slipped a little, and I helped catch it, giving myself a handful of splinters. Jess is picking them out of my left while I type this with my right, and it's slow going.
Once again, a small accident has given me food for thought about our long term situation. A dozen splinters isn't really a big deal, but until and unless we can make our own medicines and medical supplies, we are running on a dwindling supply. Enough people received small injuries in the last few days to make Evans (our doctor) and Gabrielle (our head nurse/wound specialist/general badass) call the council together to discuss the matter. It's hardly surprising that the composite monstrosity that is our wall has been the source of injuries. We used everything and anything we could to get it built. It's an uneven beast at least ten feet high but up to twenty in some areas, made of everything; aluminum, steel, brick, cinder block, tree trunks, finished lumber, old wooden doors, desks, cars...you get the idea. Try working with any or all of that and not get hurt. I dare you.
But it does bring up the need to bolster our medical supplies. Between the constant fighting and the hard labor we are burning through them at an alarming rate. We have some guides on how to make our own gauze and a few other similar items, but it won't be enough. We've cleaned out everywhere in town, doctors offices and the hospital, not that there was that much left in most places by the time we got to most of them. Don't get me wrong, we aren't in an emergency with supplies yet. But we will be desperate for them not too far down the road if we keep using them anywhere close to the rate we are now.
So it's looking like a trip to scout for medical supplies. Others are planning it, a small group will go looking. I intend to volunteer, since I am pretty versed in what things are, what they are used for, and I'm good in a fight. Gabby will probably go as well, and that worries me. She's incredibly valuable to the community, not to mention her own family. We never want to risk people who have specializations, but sometimes circumstances demand.
Posted by Josh Guess at 9:35 AM
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Practical Considerations
I think I have to drop what I think is this blog's first lol. It's a nervous and funny sort of laugh but also one that comes from a place of intense relief. Outside there are many angry and hungry zombies beating on the walls. Our unbroken, guarded walls.
It's one hell of a feeling.
As a whole we're still licking our wounds from the beating we've taken retreating, fighting, and coming back. Most folks seem in relatively good cheer despite the hardships, and I think that speaks volumes about the resiliency of everyone who has survived up to this point. Those who can adapt and survive under the intense emotional strain will do so. Anyone who can't will go crazy and die.
It is almost certain the the smart zombies (smarties) will continue to be a problem in the future. The very idea that they can infect and alter other zombies, even a small percentage, to be like them means that they are very much a long term threat. We have to assume that as other groups become more desperate for security and supplies, we will be attacked. The threats we face are many, but we are prepared.
Fields have been sown, animals tended. Basic necessities are being made by hand. We are forging tools and weapons, getting better at hiding what farmlands we use outside our walls.
It all comes back again to one of the most important things we simply must have: medicine and medical supplies. Ideas are being thrown around, places to check out being discussed. Vehicles are being looked at and tuned up for possible use. The last major items we need in case of a long, drawn out imprisonment in our own town are out there somewhere. We need them, of only for insurance that should we have to dig in here and face the possibility of not being able to leave, we will be able to keep our people alive.
There are the usual dramas going on around here. People questioning authority, talking of major votes to change the way we operate. Those of us that decide how things are done are the ones making the practical choices to safeguard the future of all.
I hope that is remembered.
Posted by Josh Guess at 11:34 AM
Friday, August 13, 2010
Blah
I'm sick.
I woke up this morning with a terrible headache and intense nausea. I have been drinking lots of water and eating when I feel like I can, but I can't keep anything down. I feel like shit, and I ache all over. Summer Flu, I guess.
We had our first real test of the newly finished wall last night. A fair sized group of zombies hit the east wall, which is the one that shares a border with the neighborhood next door. We're thinking of annexing it at some point, it's a nice place.
I wasn't on patrol last night, but some of the folks that were swung by to fill me in. It was a group about a hundred strong, mixed normal zombies and sm
arties. The east wall has the highest concentration of short sections (only ten feet high), so I guess the smarties figured that to be the weakest point.
Of course, they couldn't know that we wired up some of our small solar panels to batteries and hooked up some lights. Motion sensitive ones. Our guards knew they were coming, and the lights were bright enough to make them pause, and must have hurt their eyes for a minute because a lot of them were trying to shake away the sudden brightness. Our guards, of course, had no such problem. They were safely behind the bulbs and had clear views of the dazed undead.
So they pretty much unloaded on them.
Job well done, I'd say.
It's sort of funny to me that the sound of gunfire won't even wake me up for more than a few seconds anymore. It's one of those things you get used to living in an armed camp, and I don't really know if that's a good thing or not.
Ugh, I need to take a nap. This flu or whatever it is sucks, and it's making me dizzy just to sit up. Hopefully I will be feeling better tomorrow...
Posted by Josh Guess at 1:09 PM
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Terror in the Sky
A helicopter crashed somewhere nearby.
We didn't even realize there was one flying around, but some of the zombies at the walls began to act funny, holding their ears like something was hurting them. It was a few seconds later that we could hear the beat of the rotors and the scream of what was plainly a dying engine. Guess the undead have sharper hearing than we thought.
Jess and I were in the back yard harvesting summer squash (gross, but they grow like weeds and they keep us going) when we saw the thing go overhead. I have to think that it was heading for the hospital, since that is the direction it was going and the only helipad in the county. Not that it couldn't have landed somewhere else, but anyone with enough brains to fly the thing is probably smart enough to know that the hospital is the only game in town for fuel that will work in a helicopter.
Of course, the hospital is the only game because we made sure that no one would want to get into the national guard armory or the airport. From the sky you can tell that both places have been gutted. We keep a lot of that stuff hidden elsewhere...just in case.
But I digress.
A team went out to find the wreckage and see if there are any survivors, or at least anything we can salvage. It scares me a little, because that wasn't a normal chopper. It was military. Anyone who saw it would have recognized the distinctive shape of a blackhawk. Hopefully this won't go in a bad direction and isn't a harbinger of renewed hostilities with ex-military or wanna-be commandos. We took such heavy losses last time...
I'm hoping to hear something before too long. It won't take the team more than a quarter hour to get there, and only a few minutes to search. I just opened up an old bottle of Ancient Age and poured half a snifter. Thinking about what bad things might come of this, I really need a drink to calm my nerves.
Maybe two.
Posted by Josh Guess at 11:35 AM
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Blackhawk Down
There were two survivors from the helicopter crash. One of them is still unconscious, and Evans isn't sure that he will ever wake up. The other has a broken arm and leg, but he's in decent shape otherwise.
He claims to be a Lieutenant from the National Guard armory in Richmond, though I have no idea if they even have helicopters there. We have to take him at his word, I guess, because he hasn't given us any reason to think he is lying.
I'm pretty good at reading mannerisms, being able to extrapolate motives and honesty by watching a person. Something about this man is off. It could simply be that he is hurt and frightened, unsure what his status is. It might be his military training, I don't know.
His name is Will Price, and he's a smooth talker. Sometimes he seems terrified, and others totally at ease. When he saw my wife come in to his room with some gauze to wrap his wounds, he became very relaxed and affable, which is the effect most men feel when they see her cleavage.
I really don't know what to make of him, and that bothers me. I am so used to having a definitive opinion on things, on people, that uncertainty really strikes a nerve. I want to believe the things he says, but again it just rings false in some ways.
Oh, yeah. Didn't go into that yet.
Ok, here's the skinny on Richmond. Lt. Price tells us that he and about a hundred other officers and enlisted are holed up in a hotel there. He says that they have tried to find other survivors with no success, and that they have large stocks of supplies taken from the surrounding stores as well as what they were able to take from the armory.
As for the armory, he claims that the first thing he and his men did was to secure and hide much of the weaponry and ammunition there.
The main streets of Richmond are clear, he says, but the outlying roads are choked with destruction, making it impossible for people to get in.
That might be true, but we went through there on the way back from getting Evans, and the roads then were clear. I find it hard to imagine that a hundred patrolling soldiers with heavy weaponry would fail to miss a group of people destroying houses and piling up cars. It's much more likely that Lt. Price and his crew blocked the place off, but he says they didn't.
Lie number one?
I know, why should it worry or surprise me that he might be lying? I would do the same if it somehow protected the compound. I wouldn't blame the guy if every word he said was fantasy. What makes me sweat is that a military chopper loaded with weapons was crash landed here by someone with enough skill to do it and leave survivors.
That such a valuable piece of equipment would be risked to scout for other survivors says something very important about this Lieutenant and his soldiers.
Either they are so strong and geared up that they can afford to risk men and helicopters, or they are so desperate that they would risk both.
I honestly don't know which one scares me more.
Posted by Josh Guess at 11:18 AM
Monday, August 16, 2010
Nothing to Report
Not much going on right now. No big zombie attacks other than the usual small groups, and we are taking those out with reusable weapons to conserve ammo. No major dramas. Our guest is relaxing alone at the clinic, and he has become remarkably hush about Richmond, as if he thinks we are suspicious of him.
Just a short post to let everyone out there know that we're still here. No military guys attacking us or anything. Just nothing to report.
We (the council) are going to have a good, long meeting with Lieutenant Price tonight, and try to hammer out the facts. If there is a chance that we can trade with his people, or if they do pose a threat, we intend on finding out.
Until then.
Posted by Josh Guess at 9:42 AM
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Trust is a Two Way Street
I don't think I have ever met anyone with so many shades of gray.
What I mean is that our guest, Lieutenant Will Price supposedly from Richmond, Ky, is a quick talker that seems shockingly honest at times and incredibly shifty at others. He can blatantly contradict himself one second and then offer a correction so reasonable that you have a hard time not believing it.
We have been trying with little success to sift through the truth and the lies about this guy since our meeting with him last night. He says that his superior ordered him and his men to fly here in search of survivors, and supplies. Evidently one of them remembered the helipad at the hospital when fuel started to get low. From what he says, the chopper started malfunctioning about a mile outside of Frankfort, the apparent result of overuse and improper maintenance. Guess they don't have people in Richmond who know how to service a helicopter.
I want to believe him, really. He seems like an earnest guy that is in over his head, hopeful because he is alive and still amped up from the fact that he survived the fall of society and of his helicopter. But he's also scared as hell, and extremely cautious
when he remembers to be. I can't blame him. Here he was, probably six or seven years into his military career, veteran of two foreign wars by his mid twenties. His expectation when he woke up and saw us was probably that most people around here would be just like the civilians he used to know before society crumbled. People who he would automatically be superior to in situations like the one we live in now. People with awe for a uniform hardwired into us. Blind followers. Sheep People.
Or, as my wife likes to call them, Sheeple.