We spent part of the day back on the roof of the tire shop in Sylmar observing the wrecking yard. Like clockwork, the bikers made another run around 2:30pm. We have confirmed that they have prisoners.
At 3:48 p.m., one of the bikers went into the main building and came out with a teenage girl. I can’t bring myself to write down the atrocities that scumbag and his two accomplices committed against the poor girl. Albert and I did not speak about it but I know we are both feeling the same thing. I got us out of there as soon as it happened for fear that my anger would make me do something stupid.
When we got back to my house, I went right to work on mixing up something Paul Miller refers to as “Berge’s blasting powder.” I prepped two M60 ammo cans to use as casings.
These are lunch-box sized heavy steel cans that, once filled with blasting powder, should make impressive craters wherever they are detonated. I drilled two holes in the side of each of the cans (for double fuses), carefully filled the cans with the mixed powder, sealed the lids with cold weld epoxy, then wrapped them with several layers of duct tape.
I taped a 6-volt battery along with the timer to the outside of each can, connected the bare wire leads from the timers to the fuses and surrounded them with steel wool. When the timer goes off it will allow power through the wire and ignite the steel wool, which will in turn light the fuses…in theory. I have explained this process in detail only because I may need to use these notes as a reference some day in the future.
Albert wanted to make the raid under the cover of darkness tonight but I talked him out of it. Without force multipliers (things like night vision or thermal imaging scopes) we would have no advantage against the bikers on their own turf. Going tomorrow afternoon once the bulk of them leave (if they leave) is our only chance of survival.
DAY 24
I am writing this while Albert loads up the Yukon.
It’s just about dawn. My eyes are burning, but the adrenaline is helping me through the lack of sleep from last night. We are going to raid the wrecking yard today. Once again, I don’t know if I will survive this. But we have planned this out as much as we can. I have left out all of Chloe’s food and plenty of water, but if I don’t come back, Chloe will only last so long trapped in this house. Our fates are intertwined.
Albert is right though, we have to do this. If we don’t, we will lose our humanity, which I now realize is a precious commodity. I know that what I’m about to write is foolish, and it has no chance of ever reaching who it is meant for, but Dad, I miss you more than anything. And if there’s a Heaven I’m going to do everything I can to get there, because I know that if you’re not there already, you will be some day.
I hope we make it.
We are back home and safe, for now.
We also have three new houseguests (thanks to Albert’s big mouth). So much happened today it has been hard sorting it all out in my head.
We arrived in Sylmar a little after 7:30 a.m. this morning. It may have just been paranoia on my part, but I didn’t want to go back to the tire store we had used as an observation post, just in case. We found a new staging area about a block north of the wrecking yard.
I parked the Yukon behind an abandoned metal fabrication shop. We climbed up on the roof and scanned the area. Our view wasn’t as clear because we were on the backside of the compound, but we could see that there was no movement inside.
After an hour of quiet, I decided it was time to go plant my explosive charges. I left Albert on the roof as a lookout. We had set up a radio protocol for our walkie-talkies. We didn’t know which channels the bikers were using for their radios and even though the odds were slim that we would be on their frequency, we decided that one click would mean stop whatever I was doing, and two clicks would mean someone was coming. Voice communication would only be used as a last resort.
I carefully made my way along the east side of their yard until I came to a steel lamp post almost up against the fence. I placed the back of my ammo can bomb up against the pole and covered it with loose trash. The pole would act as a backstop and (hopefully) direct most of the charge into the corrugated metal wall.
I placed the next charge about thirty feet away at the southeast corner of the compound (near their front gate). I hoped Albert was doing his job because if anyone mounted the guard tower they would be able to see me screwing around on their property. The burnt, charred corpses all around were making me nauseous. There was no music coming out of the gate speakers this morning but there were still a few moving undead loitering around the front gate. I was careful not to make any noise.
I put the charge right up against their fence and packed seven heavy sandbags behind it to divert the charge. I had found the bags in the street a half -block away (presumably used to divert water during the rains). It took me several trips to haul them to the corner. Once everything was in place, I quietly lifted two dead bodies on top as camouflage, almost throwing up in the process.
I set the timers on both of the bombs to go off in seventeen hours. That means that (if they work) they will detonate at a little after 2 a.m. tomorrow morning.
When I got back onto the roof with Albert it was 9:32 a.m. Nobody had stirred in the yard the entire time I was gone. At around 11 a.m. the bikers began to move about. From our vantage point, we couldn’t see much in the way of individual movement other than the bikers who mounted the main tower.
They proceeded to shoot down at the front gate, I guess taking care of the undead present there. Their gunfire attracted dozens more creatures. They came out of the surrounding buildings and converged at the front of the compound and out of our view.
The bikers repeated their gasoline barbeque routine and then were fairly quiet until around 1:45 p.m. Albert and I watched as about three dozen bikers rolled their bikes into the courtyard. They were leaving early today.
We hurried off the roof and moved into position at the back fence where we decided we would breach the compound. I set up the ladder and waited. Our plan was to start cutting the chain links around a section of corrugated panel while the bikers were warming up their bikes, so we could use the noise to cover up sound of my bolt cutters snapping away.
What we didn’t count on was the six undead that were attracted by the motorbike noise and happened to pass by our position. Albert unloaded almost a full magazine of .22 (thirty rounds) and only managed to take down four of them. I had to stop what I was doing and dispatch the other two.
When the bikers finally roared out of the compound I was still not finished. Fortunately, I had started from the top and worked my way down. We covered the last links with cloth to muffle the snapping sound. Opening the cut section was difficult as the makeshift door we made was top heavy and leaned awkwardly outward. When we pulled on it, it scraped against the sidewalk. We waited and listened for five minutes, and when nobody came to investigate, we cautiously entered the compound.
We picked a good spot to breach. There were piles of wrecked cars stacked five to eight high, forming a metal maze around us. We zip tied the fence back in place and made our way toward the front of the compound. I was nervous and sweating, despite the cool afternoon air.
Pouring rain and fog would have helped us, but of course, the skies were clear and the sun was bright. We encountered another fence amongst the scrapped cars, this one just chain link. We tried to get around it but couldn’t find a way. Someone was playing heavy metal music but it wasn’t very loud. Albert pulled a ratty seat cover out of one of the cars and we used it to wrap each link we cut. Although it wasn’t very loud, we cringed each time the bolt cutters snapped shut.
To get to the building we wanted to access we had to cross almost thirty yards of open ground. There were a few obstacles we could use as islands of cover, like a discarded washer and dryer, and a tow truck, but we’d look pretty silly if someone spotted us hiding behind a washer.
We had discussed this be
forehand and decided it would be best to hide in plain sight as much as possible. I was wearing dirty jeans, combat boots, and a dark green hoodie under my beat-up leather bomber jacket. I pulled the hood up to hide my features. I kept my carbine on its single- point sling away from the direction anyone might be looking from.
Albert wore a ratty jean jacket (at least it was after I made him roll around in the dirt with it first), torn black jeans, boots, and a bandana, worn Aunt Jemima-style over his bald head. We found a pair of Elvis sunglasses that fit over his coke bottles. His weapon was carried the same as mine.
We looked around carefully for a few minutes and then as casually as possible, strolled out across the grounds. We were almost to the main building when someone came out of a nearby trailer. It was a fat biker chick, obviously drunk or high.
She looked across the lot at us, shielding her eyes from the sun. We ignored her and I started a conversation with Albert. She lost interest and crossed to one of the other buildings. From the smoke coming out of the chimney of the building and the smell, I assumed that she was headed for the commissary.
As soon as she was gone we went around to the far side of the main building. The back of the building was about fifteen feet from the perimeter fence, but there were cars and junk densely packed there, leaving only a narrow four-foot wide alley along the building. Several palm trees were fighting for space amongst the debris, forming a shaded canopy overhead.
We found a door and several blacked out and barred windows along the building, but none were unlocked. I told Albert to keep a look out and as quietly as possible, scaled up a pile of stacked cars. The top of the car pile was still four four feet shorter than the top of the building and the distance was about five feet from the roof. It didn’t seem that tough until I attempted to jump the gap.
I hadn’t counted on the car pile shifting when I leapt, or the fact that I was weighted down with about forty pounds of weapons and gear. I almost missed, hitting the building with my body and just barely managing to catch the roof with my arms. I hung there like a spider for a minute, trying not to panic.
I got some traction with my boot on the stucco wall and slowly and painfully pulled myself up. I laid on my back catching my breath, and then rolled to a crouch and checked out my surroundings. No one was on the guard tower and, other than a man and a woman working on a car in the repair garage across the compound, there was no one in sight.
I looked over the edge of the roof down at Albert. He had removed his Elvis specs and blinked at me nervously. When he shook his head vigorously to let me know he couldn’t do what I had just done, I almost laughed. I held up my finger motioning him to wait and then made my way to the air conditioning unit where the trap door was located. It was locked from the inside, but after less than a minute I had pried it open with my pry bar.
I went down the stairs into the building, shutting the door as I descended. The stairs took me to a loft loaded with boxes and crates. I sat for a minute to listen and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I climbed down the ladder from the loft to the first floor of a storage room. I exited the room and found myself in a pitch-black hallway that bisected the entire building.
To my right was the main front door and all the way down the hall to my left was (what I hoped) the door leading out to where Albert was waiting. Along the hall were three doors on the left side (including the door I had just come out of) and five doors on the right.
When I reached the back door my heart almost stopped. As I shined my weapon mounted Surefire light on the door, I discovered that the deadbolt was locked and keyed on both sides. I closed my eyes and forced myself to slow my breath. I put the light on the hinges and breathed easier when I saw that they were open pin style. I used my pry tool to lift the pins out one by one, the whole time worrying about the noise I was making.
I pried against the edge of the door just under one of the hinges and was rewarded with a shaft of daylight. The door was heavy but I managed to lift and shift it out of its frame. I leaned it against the wall and stepped out to find Albert cowering behind one of the palm trees. When he saw it was me he stepped out, looking at me sheepishly.
“Who the hell did you think it was?” I whispered to him.
I looked around at the trash on the ground, found what I was looking for, and then went back down the hallway to the front door at the other end. I wedged the angled chunk of wood I had retrieved under the bottom edge of the door, forming a crude doorstop. It wouldn’t hold someone back forever but it would give us a moment of warning if someone tried to open it.
Albert and I examined the first door we came to. It had a padlock hasp with a lock on it. I put my bolt cutters to the lock but could not get enough leverage to snap it. I stared at the lock, frustrated. I was starting to worry that we were taking too much time.
Albert suggested prying the hasp off with my pry tool. Although it made more noise than I wanted, once I managed to dig under the edge of the hasp, it pulled off without too much resistance. Thankfully, whoever had installed the hasp used nails instead of screws.
I opened the door and just about jumped out of my skin as I heard a loud moan erupt from the chained-up occupant sitting in the broom closet. It was an infected man. I stood there dumbly because he looked familiar. Then I realized it was the man who had been dragged behind the bulldozer and attacked the other day. He glared at me with milky eyes, extending his open jaw toward me.
I jumped again at the muffled whap sound of Albert’s rifle discharging right next to me. The man’s body slumped, his head lolling to the side, dead at last. It took me a second to compose myself. We listened for a moment, but heard no sounds from outside.
I looked at the man, a bullet hole in his forehead. I looked at Albert, impressed. “I’m surprised you managed to hit him at this distance.” I whispered.
Albert flipped me off and we moved on to the next door across the hall. This time after I pried the hasp off the door, I stepped back, my weapon at the ready. Albert opened the door and stepped back out of the way.
The room was an 8 x 8 foot step down room with a concrete floor. The smell of human waste assaulted my nose. My light fell on an older Hispanic couple in ragged clothes huddled in the back of the room, human. The man hugged the woman protectively and rattled off a string of pleas in Spanish.
“Hey! Quiet!” I hissed at him. “We’re not with these biker assholes. If you want to get out of here, shut up and come with us.”
The man stopped speaking and put his hand up, shielding the light from his eyes. I lowered the barrel and motioned them toward me. I put my finger to my mouth to remind them to be quiet. They emerged from the room and Albert motioned them to stand by the back doorway and wait.
We crossed the hall to the next door and repeated the process. This time when I opened the door, I saw a body lying in an identical room with its back to us. I was just about to close the door when the body moved. I readied myself to fire when the person rolled over, revealing a woman in her mid-twenties, wearing only panties, and definitely human. Her blond hair was plastered to her face and her body was bruised and grimy, but even so, she was very attractive.
She blinked at the light on her and then glared defiantly, not even bothering to cover herself. I lowered the light and repeated what I had said to the Hispanic couple. She stood up and took a tentative step toward me. I stepped out of the way and she joined us in the hall.
“There are others like me here.” She croaked.
I pointed to the couple at the end of the hall and nodded, telling her to go wait with them. The next room was unlocked and empty.
We crossed the hall again and pried off the padlock hasp. As we opened the door we saw a middle-aged black man huddled in the corner and chained to a ring in the wall. He pulled against his chain and yelled at me to stay away from him. I repeated what was quickly becoming my trademark speech and he stopped and stared at me. I stepp
ed down and entered his cell, let my carbine hang on its sling, and pulled out my bolt cutters.
As I snapped one of the links of his chain away I felt a sudden explosion of pain to my nose and face. I staggered back and covered up as the man rained blows down on my head and shoulders.
I regained my balance and slammed into him, firing the open web of my hand up into his throat. He gagged and started coughing. I drove my knee up into his groin, doubling him over. I retreated backwards, putting my hand on the wall for balance.
I reached around and brought up my carbine, training it on the man as he started to rise. He shielded his eyes from my light and I backed out into the hallway. I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my coat sleeve, leaving a greasy bloodstain on it.
“We’re leaving this dickhead.” I growled.
“No!” He cried, between choking coughs. “Please don’t leave me here. I’m sorry. I’m just scared, man. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Albert and I both hissed at him to shut up and he finally did. Pathetic asshole. My nose was pouring blood and I was seeing spots from one of his fists connecting with my temple.
“You try that shit again and I’ll kick your ass into the ceiling.” I snarled.
He nodded and lowered his head submissively. I stepped back and he emerged from his room. I nudged him in the ribs with the barrel of my weapon and told him to stand at the other end of the hall away from the others. He started to protest but complied when I aimed my carbine at his face. I whispered to Albert to keep an eye on him.
We went across the hall and pried open the last locked door. By this time I was wired so tight that I was tempted to bail out before even opening the door. As the door opened I trained the weapon and light into the room, but kept my peripheral sight on the Mike Tyson wannabe down the hall.
Albert stepped down into the room so fast it startled me. My attention was torn between Mr. Punchy and what was in the room. Albert’s light played across the room, revealing two girls, one in her teens, and the other a young girl. Albert’s weapon dropped to his side and he starred at the girls, not saying anything.
100 Days of Death Page 10