Living With the Dead: The Hungry Land (Book 3)

by Joshua Guess

  From what I've heard, none of the zombies that attacked our people showed the slightest fear at the worsening weather. If this was a trap, that piece of behavior scares me more than any other. Were they faking us out on that the whole time? Building our confidence up that they wouldn't come in numbers during a rainstorm? The implications are awful.

  We did lost eleven people to the zombies, but it would have been a lot more if Jamie and Will hadn't drilled emergency orders into every person that went out. If an alarm went up, everyone was to move toward a predetermined spot and get into a box formation, weapons at the ready.

  Most of the injuries we dealt with this morning are a result of that box formation. Forty-odd men and women swinging away at the undead around them with a new and unfamiliar weapon. There were cuts and scrapes all over. One woman lost three fingers. If half of them hadn't been inside the box formed by the other half of them, firing arrows out into the crowds of zombies, I think it would have been a lot worse. As it is, I have several people who might lose limbs. Seven with deep tissue lacerations that will take months to fully heal. Five with wounds that required dozens of stitches.

  All in all, it's been a busy morning. I've been sent out of the clinic since I got off duty at three in the morning and was woken back up when the injuries came in. Luckily, we now have enough people trained in the basics that I wasn't needed for anything but the worst injuries. Having two doctors here to teach people is amazingly helpful.

  Oh, and Josh. He was in a tree stand when someone blew the foghorn to sound the alarm. He tried to climb down, but the dark and unfamiliar equipment got in the way. He fell the last ten feet out of the tree. Nothing broken that we can tell, but the arrow he had ready to draw snapped when he fell and the head went into his leg. He landed on his machete, which fortunately only slid about five inches out of it's sheath. The cut going up his wrist from that looks awful, but it's actually pretty shallow. I expect him to do very well, though it'll be a while before he can type at full speed again.

  I guess the only good news is that a lot of our people survived what should have been certain death. It wasn't through brave heroics, though our hunters fought like devils to keep each other alive. It was because a few minutes into the fight, most of the undead that were still standing gave up and moved on. Our people didn't understand why until they started doing damage assessment in that lonely stretch of woods. The ones that had attacked our people might have just been a distraction.

  All their kills were gone. We lost eleven priceless men and women, with not a scrap of meat to show for it.

  Tuesday, May 17, 2011

  Empty Handed

  Posted by Josh Guess

  First, I want to give my heartfelt condolences to everyone in the compound that lost a friend or loved one in yesterday's horrible attack. The zombies hit us hard, and took men and women from us. Loss is always terrible and hard. We will stand together in mourning, and soldier on. What else can we do?

  I also want to thank Gabrielle for taking the time to share on the blog yesterday. It was important to me that someone present the events as they happened, or as close to it as reports can manage. I'm also happy that she relayed my own injuries, though she left out the fact that my awkward fat ass fell out of the tree when I got tangled up trying to climb down. The fact that I was at the edge of the kill zone is probably why I'm still alive. I wasn't part of the fight.

  We're pretty definitively worse off because of this trip. The worst is, or course, the loss of life. It's hard to write about losing people without wanting to go into detail about how hard it is for all of us. I want to tell you about the sad faces I see, the stories people are telling about the fallen. I want to dedicate so much time and effort to making you understand the impact it's had on us.

  But you know. Anyone out there who is reading this blog is a survivor. You've lived through the same hell as the rest of us, and you understand what we're feeling. Further, if you've read this blog for any length of time, you understand that it's not simply a place for me to vent my feelings. It's also a record of our collective struggle. It keeps track of our decisions and hard calls, for good or ill. Maybe to teach us what we've done right and wrong. Maybe it will teach others.

  Aside from our fallen hunters and scouts (and there they go, with one sentence. Moved past them as they exit, stage left. Terrible. Terrible and necessary, so that we can focus on how to keep going) we're left with the same problem we've faced to an increasing degree over the last few months. We still have people out hunting, fishing, and trapping. It's enough for now to keep us from enacting harsher rationing, but not nearly enough for us to build up additional stores of food.

  On a purely social and psychological level, yesterday was devastating. Morale is low, and no amount of positive attitude seems to do much good. I mean, Pat is one of the most upbeat people I've ever met. Folks love him. Yet the citizens see him smiling and trying to strike up conversations about projects we want to work on, and they see it as a sad attempt to change the subject. To gloss over what happened.

  Because a lot of people are seeing the zombie assault yesterday as being the fault of those who organized it. Those who run the compound. Part of that is the human need to blame, to assign fault for the painful things that happen. Part of it is a reflection of the intense individualism that makes our population such good survivors.

  To a degree, they're right. It's our responsibility as the council approved the plans and gave the orders. But responsibility isn't fault, is it? Well, I claim that we're at fault here as well as being responsible. We saw a prize that fit our needs, and we didn't waste time. We didn't take the time to really look at the larger area around the kill zone. We didn't pause to consider that the zombies might be setting a trap for us. There are enough smart ones around for it.

  We were rash and hungry. We were trying to head off the hot tempers of citizens who were fearful of rationing. We wanted to capture enough food at once to make a start at a nest egg of vittles. We wanted; we took a shot.

  We were stupid.

  Wednesday, May 18, 2011

  Two Can Play

  Posted by Josh Guess

  As you may remember, my brother has been working like crazy to get the trenches finished around the compound. It has been fairly slow going for a variety of reasons, and it looks like it'll be a long while before the project is completed.

  This morning he and his crew were working on it while the rain was pattering down. In fact, he even had a few extra people out there with him. They were working with hand tools, the backhoe sitting unused. The part of the compound they were digging outside of isn't too far from a decent sized patch of woods. Dave and his crew made a lot of noise.

  There were only a few sentries on the wall there, all of them keeping dry inside the small enclosures built for that purpose.

  The zombies saw men out in the open with little protection. They came out of the woods in a pack of nearly a hundred. See, normally when we see any undead going into that bit of woods, we send in teams to clear them out. We don't let them build up numbers in there. Yesterday evening when Dave was laying out the stakes and lines for today's work on the trench, the sentries saw a few zombies hiding among the trees.

  Then Dave thought it might be a good idea to give the undead a bit of their own medicine. So, he told the sentries to keep an eye peeled on the woods, but to do it without looking like they were paying too much attention. Over the course of the night, the woods slowly filled up with zombies moving ever so slowly. Carefully. My guess is that they were almost all smarties. Normal zombies lack the finesse to move with such caution.

  So when they attacked the workers outside the wall, they had no idea that we'd set a trap for them. They came in a massive wave, and not twenty seconds later arrows came over the wall, about ten of them. Attached to each was a small vial of ammonia. The shattering glass of the vials released the gas in a wide arc around the zombies, forcing them to move closer to the wall.

  Which wou
ld have been good for them if ropes hadn't been thrown over the wall so Dave's crew could escape. They'd have been an easy meal. Dave himself hopped into the backhoe, which has a cage of heavy mesh welded onto the cab. Basically, the thing's a tank.

  Then my brother, always one of the most calm and rational human beings I've ever known, had himself a fun time. Trapped inside a shrinking bubble of good air, the zombies didn't stand a chance. Dave crushed them, sliced them in half with the wide scoop on the front, and smashed them in groups with the boom arm. A few of them ran through the ammonia to escape, but by that point there were archers on the wall to pick them off. That was easy, since the gas makes them slow and stupid.

  It doesn't solve any of our problems. We're still scrambling to catch and kill enough to eat. There are still some very angry people who aren't happy with the way things are going. It doesn't bring back the people we lost in the attack the other day.

  There are a hundred less undead to contend with. In a world where the overwhelming majority of the population has succumbed to the zombie plague, that's less than a drop in the ocean.

  But it's a start.

  Thursday, May 19, 2011

  Way Out Far

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Our people out in Bald Knob sent a messenger out to the compound this morning with some promising news. We'd been wondering for a while what, if anything, there was to find in some of the more rural parts of Henry and Owen counties. They're close enough that it isn't too hard on gas, but isolated enough that there's a good chance that some caches of supplies might remain undiscovered.

  So, every day a pair of whatever people happen to be out at the Bald Knob outpost go a little further, carefully and quietly. They've been mapping the area for any possible locations that might contain useful things. We've been hoping to get a group of people together to make a run out there with enough numbers to provide for at least some safety.

  Today is that day, ladies and gents.

  Since we've recently suffered casualties, the folks that are going are non-essential to the compound. Well, no one is really non-essential. What I mean is that no guards, hunters, scouts, farmers, cooks, et cetera will be going. They're the ones that make the compound work. No, this group will be composed of people who can afford to be gone for a day or two without interrupting the machinery of our community.

  Since I coordinate several other people who each do a portion of my old job, I can go. And I will. Dave wanted to come, but the trenches are more important, and today is free of rain, so it's too good a chance.

  Though he's still recovering from his injury, Mason will be coming. So will Jamie. Those two won't be getting out of their vehicles, given that one of them has several severe injuries that don't allow him to move with any speed, and the other is missing a leg entirely.

  But their minds work just dandy. I can't think of any other two men whose observational abilities I'd want on my side more.

  Gabrielle will be coming since today is one of her rare off days from the clinic. Phil and Evans will be able to handle anything that comes up, short of a catastrophic event.

  Two of Jessica's armorers will join us along with three of the folks that make clothing, three of Dodger's assistants. Oh, Aaron will be going too. And Dodger himself, I think.

  I want to tell you SO badly what we're going after. It was only discovered this morning, and it's incredibly good news for us. Unfortunately, I've learned the hard way that posting a blog about it is a good way to point people right at what you're after. So I won't get too specific, other than to say that if accurate, today's run will solve a major short-term problem and possibly a long-term one as well. It's not anything world-shaking; no hidden nuclear reactor or secret science base. It's pretty mundane. Ordinary, really.

  It's just that what we're after could be a windfall that might save a lot of lives. That is what's exciting. I'm jazzed!

  Heading out in a few minutes. If we're done by tomorrow, I'll let you know what we went after.

  Later, Peeps.

  Saturday, May 21, 2011

  Free Range

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Becky came with us on our trip to Owen county, which was very helpful. She's uncannily good at catching chickens.

  I gave you guys a hint, really I did. I said, "Later, Peeps." Peeps, the marshmallow candy covered in sugar, were made to look like chicks. I was trying to be clever. Maybe it was completely lame.

  Anyway...

  We found exactly what we were looking for: an abandoned farm way out in the boonies that had a huge penned area in which our people from Bald Knob discovered a trove of meals walking around and clucking. We searched the place pretty thoroughly while we were there, and it was interesting. Turns out the family that owned it raised chickens to be free range and sold them as organic. Made a good amount of money at it before the zombie plague broke out, too.

  We caught about three hundred of them total. There were a few dozen chickens left there, but we didn't try to get all of them. Left to their own devices on the big plot of land they occupy, there's a good chance they'll multiply again. We can hope. Besides, the vehicles we took were absolutely stuffed with birds. We couldn't have fit any more of them in without using a hammer to do it.

  I was surprised that so many of them could live in such a relatively small area without someone to feed them, but after talking to one of our farmers it made more sense. Chickens are omnivores, and they can survive off of almost anything. Kentucky has a lot of bugs and other small creatures. Not really that strange to find a decent population of chickens out there. Lots of folks around here used to keep them as pets. Many of those people would also eat the eggs.

  We're going to try something. Given the truly stupid amount of potato beetles we're seeing, the people who run our farms think it's worth trying to release a bunch of them into the fields to see if they can clean house. I'm more worried that the chickens will destroy the potato plants, but the bugs will do that anyway if we can't get them under control.

  The urge to slaughter a bunch of them and eat very well for a few days is strong, and the sentiment isn't just limited to me. Fortunately, that choice isn't for any one of us to make. It's a lot more logical to set up some nests and collect eggs. Much more food in the long term, and full of protein and fat.

  Still, fried chicken sounds delicious. I know a lot of people are thinking the same thing...

  Ahh, OK. Got to get my mind off that. Let's talk about the actual trip.

  It was fairly uneventful, to be honest. The way there had been cleared by our people from Bald Knob during their scouting trips. There weren't a lot of surprises to be had. I will admit to being pretty surprised by the fact that the chicken farm was untouched by zombies, considering how many fowl were there, easy meals all. I took a close look around when we got there, and saw that the fence was pretty resistant to damage.

  It was pretty tall, about six feet. It had started life out as standard grid fencing, cheap but sturdy. The people who had put it up had sunk posts every four feet, which gave the thing a lot of stability. Of course, that alone wouldn't have been enough to stop the undead, should they have discovered the place. No, the owners had thought ahead and planted some dense climbing flowers all around the outside of the fence. The whole damn thing was a mass of vines and leaves, impossible to see through. I'm told that it probably attracted a lot of bugs, too. Our birds likely ate very well because of that.

  All the foliage gave nice cover to the chickens, and grew thick enough that it basically made a solid wall. If you've ever seen a creeper of ivy in a piece of stone, the tiny thread of green cracking it like an eggshell, then you can understand why I'm not surprised at how strong the fence was.

  Actually catching the damn things was awful. Also? Really funny. Except for Becky, who is a lot faster than most of the people who went, it was chaos. We slammed into each other over and over, tripped on our own feet as we scrambled to get our hands on the birds. It was about as awkward as two vi
rgins screwing, only with a lot more swearing and less satisfaction.

  Still, it was a good trip. We've hopefully got a decent setup to avoid starvation if our hunting and fishing efforts falter because of this trip. Worst case scenario, we can kill and eat them. I don't want to, though. In fact, a lot of people have expressed interest in keeping some of the chicks we caught (or letting some eggs get fertilized) in order to have a chicken at home. I think it's a good idea. Who doesn't want a pet that will keep your garden free of bugs while supplying you with a tasty egg most mornings? That sounds like a WIN!

  In fact, I've already got a chick. Cute little thing. My dogs have been eying her enough that I had to put her cage (our old ferret cage, the one we used to take the ferrets with us when we left the compound) in my bedroom with the door shut. I think I'll let the chick grow some before I risk putting her and the dogs in the same room.