by Guess, Joshua; Ribken, Annetta; Ayers, Rachel; Whitwam, Lori
I'm worried that we won't get out of this building for a lot of reasons. I love my wife and I want to be with her, safe. That's the biggest one. I love my friends and family, and I want to grow old with them (as unlikely as that seems at times). That's close behind.
Also--I love people. In general. I love humanity for every flaw and every virtue. I want so much to see how we move along from here. I can't do that if I die in a glass cage surrounded by an army of the hungry dead, and one smirking bastard intent on creeping me out.
I guess it's time I get creative, too...
at 9:36 AM
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Homemade Hero
Posted by Josh Guess
Zip ties. Duct tape. Lots of paper. Extra clothes. Blankets. Sleeping bag. Wet floor signs. Wood paneling torn from the walls and desk.
Rolls of toilet paper soaked in flammable cleaning fluids. A broom handle broken at the base.
This was my armor, these were our weapons. Jess climbed onto the roof of the rest area from the inside. Thank god the office window was high enough that she could reach up and snag the eave. She almost didn't make it up, but the tiny bathroom in the office has its own exhaust vent, and she was able to grab the pipe coming out of the roof and pull herself up. I swung the broom handle at the heads of the few zombies that came close. They didn't crowd the back of the building as much, not reckoning on us coming out that way.
When her hand floated down, I slung the backpack full of toilet paper and cleaner toward it. She gave me the all clear, and I made my way into the lobby.
I had to have looked like and idiot. I was wearing every stitch of extra clothing we'd brought inside with us. Heavy sweater, winter coat. On top of that we'd layered paper thickly, held together with duct tape. Everything from copy paper to those brochures that are all over rest areas ("Welcome to Michigan!"). It was strong, but left my joints exposed. It had to, since the weight of it reduced my mobility to a frightening degree. Over that, sections of desk paneling, the wet floor signs, and pieces of anything flat and hard were taped and zip tied all over me. In my right hand I carried my makeshift spear--the broom handle. On my left forearm one of the plastic doors from a bathroom stall (thankfully those cheap half-stalls. I couldn't carry a full sized one) was waiting, zip ties through messily drilled holes for me to hold it like a shield.
I went to the front door, and waited with my thumb and forefinger on the lock. As soon as I unlocked it, the smart zombies would start shaking the doors. They opened outward, so it would only take a second for them to get at me. I waited, sweating in my horrible makeshift armor, wishing distantly that we'd found a football helmet or something. My head was exposed, though I looked like I was wearing a turtleneck made of gray spaghetti. It was a mop head, pulled tight and tied off. Sexy, I know.
Two loud thumps came from the roof. That was the ten second warning. I set myself, raised my "spear", and when the last thump came, watched as arcs of flame came down into the crowd of zombies at the door. Several of the rolls of toilet paper unfurled as they flew, loosened and rerolled by Jess and I to give them a chance to spread out when thrown, even soaked with chemicals.
My eyes darted to the CR-V parked twenty feet away. It was a short distance, but an impossible one through the crowd before me. The trek started looking more likely as the zombies panicked at the rain of fire from above them. They started to move away as Jess pelted them with flaming paper, making a rough corridor through to the SUV.
I threw the bolt, and the noise got the attention of several zombies that were still close. They rushed the doors, which were balanced to open easily, and I waited until they were almost to it before I kicked the hell out of it. The doors flew open and smashed them in the face. The force of it, along with the surprise, knocked them backwards. My heavy frame barreling into them, "shield" held out like a battering ram, took them to the ground.
Honestly, I don't remember the run to the car. I recall slinging my hands about, possibly hitting zombies with the stall door. I know I slung my broom handle at some heads, but I can't imagine that I did more than irritate one or two of them. When I reached the CR-V, I glanced down at the keys, duct-taped to the front of my awesome, awesome armor. Good thing I looked before I grabbed for them, because that little glance saved my life.
That smiling bastard, the smarty who had been messing with my head, was under the car. I saw his hand shoot out, and I pulled my foot back. He squirmed on his back far more quickly than I was comfortable with, trying to work his way free and get hold of me. I was so focused on him that I didn't notice the zombies crowding around me. Only seconds since I'd run from the doors, yet they were already swarming.
I felt hands tearing at the paper and plastic covering me. I bent over, trying to get my head away from them, and the smiling zombie reached up toward my face. I didn't think about it; I just slammed the stall door down on his head as hard as I could. It caught him right in the mouth, and I could hear the hollow crack as I broke his spine, probably his jaw, and apparently severed what passed for his spinal cord. He stopped moving at once.
I whipped my hands out, trying to create space as my body whirled. The stall door cracking into the faces of the dead, the broom handle cutting the air until it connected with the eye socket of one of them. It got ripped from my hand, as did the stall door. I really saw them, then: a dozen of them right near me, many dozens more still running from the fire. Perhaps fifty making their way from nearby groups, realizing that prey was attainable at last.
I did the only thing I could do, then--I ran. I didn't go very fast because of all the shit taped and tied to me, but I pumped my legs for all they were worth. The initial burst put a good twenty feet between me and the zombies as I moved away from them. I started pulling at my armor as I moved, shredding tape and shrugging off the zip ties that looped around me. Every pound I shed let me move a little faster, and that meant more space between me and them.
I stuck the keys in my mouth, clamped my teeth down on the leather of the novelty keyring I'd gotten from a renaissance festival. I made a long arc around, back the way I came, and went toward the building. Jess saw me coming but didn't have a lot of options, so she just watched. I ran toward her with every ounce of speed I could muster, pulled the keys from my mouth, and chucked them at her. I heard her yell something to me as I tore off toward the highway, but I couldn't catch it. I hope it was "I love you." but I'm leaning towards "You're an idiot."
I tried to get as many of them to follow me as possible. Jess can run with the best of them, and she's smarter than I am--she unlocked the goddamn car with the remote unlocker, which I was too stupid to do. I'm hoping she finds me soon, because I'm getting pretty cramped where I am. Which is in the back seat of a car, on the floorboard.
I ran down the highway as fast as could, trying to keep the zombies close enough behind me that they didn't lose interest while staying far enough ahead that I could try out the doors of abandoned vehicles all over the road. I was about a quarter mile from the rest area, my lungs about to burst, when I found one. I jumped inside, pulled the door shut, and locked all the doors. Thankfully there was a variety of junk in it--I reached up and pulled a ton of it down on me, including a blanket, which I am under right now, typing on my phone. It's been about thirty minutes. Jess has responded to my texts, and it just waiting on the crowd around the car I'm in to disperse. She's able to drive through the crowds, but she can't do it through the one around this car. At least, not if I want to get out of it. She can't risk hitting it.
It shouldn't be long. The zombies can't see me, and unless a smarty saw me come in here, they'll give up after a while. They're vicious and hungry, but the memory of your average zombie is terrible...
Escape (mostly) successful. Now, to wait.
at 10:28 AM
They speak
Posted by Patrick
I finally know what it's like to be a parent. The pain meds that I've been taking to dull the searing pain of my impromptu am
putation ran out a couple of days ago. The real pain isn't as bad as the ghost pain that I still feel from the bite in my hand, or the mind ripping need to scratch an itch on my wrist that is no longer there. Every ounce of me wants just to shut down and feel sorry for myself, every fiber of my being cries out for something to make my brain stop rehashing the deaths of my family and my friends. Yet I go on each day for those three little girls sleeping in the next room. That at its core must be what it means to be a parent or as near as I can tell, never having been one.
Finally they have started to talk and tell me bits and pieces of what happened to them. In reality, I wish I didn't know but it has seemed to help them to talk about it. The major breakthrough came when Kylie found a hidden weapons bunker. They heard me talk about a place where people would protect them and keep them safe but I don't think they believed me, and after what they've been through I don't blame them. When we found the weapons, I think they finally believed we had a fighting chance. Every time they have found safety since the fall it has been taken from them with violence by men with guns. So they took a measure of peace in having some of their own. Alysa's first word came when she held up a massive AR-15 and said please.
When I told them I would teach them to shoot the look of determination on Alysa and Kylie's faces almost broke my heart, Alice just looked happy to be included with the older girls. Then she too broke my heart when she said that she was happy to be helping her daddy come back to her faster. I glanced up at my nieces and they just both shook their heads at me. I knew Morry, Alice's father, was dead because I found his body when I went to his house looking for my sister and the girls. I found out later that when my sister fled his house with Alice and the girls she told Alice that her daddy was off fighting the monsters so they wouldn't get her, that he would come back after they were all gone.
In the last week I have taught the two older girls to fire every gun in the bunker and Alice to reload each and every one. I went on further to find a gun that was comfortable for each of them and give all three an hour of target practice each and every day with their own guns. With the huge amount of ammo here and basically unlimited targets Alysa and Kylie have become rather good shots, god knows they are determined enough. Alice on the other hand is still too scared and closes her eyes on most shots, but with help from the other girls she is getting better with her little .22 pistol.
It's really is amazing to see the transformation that the girls have been through in so short a time here. While none of them will ever be the innocent, attention seeking, light spirited, silly hearts they once were, they have manged to regain a measure of confidence. I just wish that it didn't come from a gun, that Alysa didn't have to sleep with hers in arms reach to sleep through the night. They have also manged to regain some of the weight lost and have put most of the symptoms of scurvy behind them as well.
I wish to tell you also the stories that the girls have told me of Morry, my sister, and my aunt and uncle but there are pieces missing still and I don't want to push the girls now that they are talking to me. I'm sure that it will come in time. Right now I've done what I wanted, let off some steam and let you all know that we are o.k. and getting better by the day.
R.I.P. Jack
You will be missed
at 10:31 PM
Monday, February 7, 2011
Perspective In Motion
Posted by Josh Guess
Jess and I have made it back to Jack's no worse for the wear. It was pretty uneventful travel back, but we took our time anyway. Getting stuck in that rest area shook us both, and we weren't going to take any chances. So, we avoided any groups of zombies on the drive here, parked and rested when they covered the road (out of the line of sight, of course) and generally took it easy.
Both of us are still recovering from the extended lack of water and trying to make up for the lack of food. We've been hungry many times over the last eleven months, and because of that we don't have significant reserves of fat to draw on. Not that the diet of rice and preserved vegetables feels exactly hearty, but it worked for a billion plus Chinese people for centuries, so I reckon it'll do for us as well.
I got word last night that Dodger and Jamie are going to be picking up Patrick and his girls sometime in the next few days. It's been a long haul for that group, my brother David tells me, and full of all sorts of interesting stories. Apparently they've been sidetracked and slowed down quite a lot over the weeks since they set out to find Patrick. Helping people as they ran into them, hiding for days on end to avoid swarms of zombies, and they had to go on fuel hunts a few times. Any of the juicier bits I hear about when they get back will be passed on, I promise.
Gabrielle tells me that the engineers are hoping to get the human-powered generator up and running within a week. The most important parts of it are ready to work, no machining required. The transmission being built for it is simple enough, but needs to be tested to make sure it can handle the stress without falling apart. I'm hoping that we can use this idea again in the future. I've had some thoughts on renewable power that might make this a very functional and efficient model other places...
Honestly, I just don't have a lot in me today. Being back and safe after such a harrowing (and admittedly funny) escape has left me with a simple, pure happiness to be here.
Well, that's a bit of a starting point, I guess. I've never really looked at our situation, the world's situation, that way before. So much awful shit has happened that I never really thought about the sheer joy of just being alive. Yeah, there are lots of little things, many of which I have blogged about before, that make us happy and help take the edge off of the terror and desperation that comes with living in a world that has faced apocalypse and lost.
But man, I'm just really happy to be alive. I guess with everything else that weighs down on us, not the least being Will Price helping the Richmond soldiers to take our home, that sort of gets lost. I'm sitting at a table with friends right now, able to type about what's going on around me, while shoveling spoonfuls of rice and broccoli into my mouth. My dogs are wandering around here, one or another of them coming over now and then to nuzzle me or sniff at Simon, my cat, who is snoozing contentedly on my lap.
Now that I'm looking at the scene around me, the normality of it, I can't help but smile. It's not everyday when a person gains the perspective to realize just how awesome it is to simply be alive. To have the capacity to interact with the world, enjoy it for what it is.
I don't know why I keep thinking about my mom so much lately, but this feeling reminds me of her. She and I had one of those strange relationships that was much more a friendship than mother-son. I knew her exceptionally well; her habits, mannerisms, likes and dislikes, her views on almost everything, her attitudes...And I can't help but think that this is how she got through her days.
Mom had a lot of health issues throughout her life. She had chronic back problems from her job (nursing will do that--I was a CNA, I know) along with a host of other issues from cancer scares to terrible insomnia. She was always tired and worn out, and she developed Osteoporosis in her mid forties, which made her bones weak.
Yet, she was overall a happy person. I'm not saying she didn't have her bad days, we all do. I know that a huge part of who she was as a person was tied into her favorite and most important role--being a mom. I think that even more important than that was this idea that just being here, just being able to watch your kids grow and change, achieve and fail, was her driving force. I mentioned the other day that her favorite saying was "Don't sweat the small stuff", and now I think I get why. It wasn't that she saw problems as being inconsequential, but instead that every day, every minute, was an opportunity for a solution.
Every day has infinite potential for good and bad, but if you're huddled over in misery worried only about what has happened, you miss the chance to involve yourself in what might.
As time ceaselessly pulls me farther from the past when she was here with me, I think I gain a little more per
spective on her. Then, I would have been sitting at her kitchen table, telling her about this whole experience, asking if she had ever felt such a pure joy in simply being. Now, I have to turn over my understanding of her in my brain, take what I have learned and felt and hold it up to those memories, and see what I find.
I didn't really mean this post to evolve this way. I wanted to update you on what was going on, and then maybe take a nap. But I think it's important for all of us to take a closer look at who we are, and what we've lost. The old saw about those who ignore history being doomed to repeat it? True. The only way we as individuals can become better people is to learn from the past. The only way for individuals to come together and make a better society is to have the desire for that self-improvement, and enough awareness to achieve it.