Once again Blake was edgy, and he was a little hyper about getting as much info as we could possibly give him. Basically I told him I spent twelve hours yesterday with eyes on The Farm. I told him I confirmed everything he’d shown us, and I told him that I felt that there was something clearly off about the farm.
God he literally danced for joy. Right there in the living room of the safe house fifteen feet from where I blew Doug Manning’s kidney out his asshole. What a world Mr. Journal.
He was not pleased when I told him we were not ready to do anything about the farm. Gilbert and Gavin were both outside when I told him, and Gilbert came inside when he heard Blake screaming at me, asking me what the hell was wrong with us.
I was telling him as calmly as I could that we needed more time to meet with our other allies, and that we needed more time with eyes on the farm to get some perspective, but all he was hearing was, “Adrian saw shady business, and was unwilling to do shit about it.”
Gilbert walked in there, watched me trying to handle him with the sympathetic kid gloves, and cleared his throat loudly.
Blake stopped yelling at me, and looked over at Gilbert. He said, “Stay out of this old man. You don’t know shit. Either you’re helping me, or you’re in my way.”
Now, I am not a man known for an excess of intelligence. I’ve done a lot of dumb in my years, and I’ve paid the price for it. I can safely say, that in my dumbest moments, I never would’ve talked to Gilbert like that. Not without a lot better relationship than the two of them have.
Without missing a beat, as fast as a mongoose, Gilbert drew his 1911, thumbed the hammer back and dropped the safety, and he put that barrel snug under Blake’s fucking chin. Blake froze solid, and looked down at Gilbert’s eyes, which as you’d imagine were as cold as ice.
“Tell me what I don’t know one more time son. Just one more time.” The world stopped. “Say it to my face you ignorant little prick.”
I drew my handgun as well. We stood like that for a solid fifteen seconds before Gilbert spoke again, and like he always has, he put it all out there, unvarnished. Raw. “Blake, you are yelling at a man that you have pointed a gun at. You have snuck onto our property with a weapon, lied to our faces about months of your activity, issued demands, taken our food and water, and now you have the goddamn gall to tell us to risk our lives over a mistake you made months ago? I don’t fucking think your head is screwed on straight if you think you can get away with this shit. Not with me here son. You keep this shit up, and I’ll squeeze this trigger and your baby will have a stranger for a daddy, you understand me?”
By that point Blake was shitting himself. His cheeks were streaming with tears, he was shaking but he mustered a nod, and a string of rambling apologies. Gilbert kept the gun under Blake’s jaw until he was satisfied he’d put the fear of God in the kid. As soon as he took the big .45 away, Blake went down in a heap on the dirty carpet, sobbing.
I won’t recant what he said precisely, but Blake let it all out. I mean all of it. He sobbed like I had sobbed earlier when I saw those little girls. He was so afraid for the woman he loved, and absolutely petrified for the baby inside her belly that he knew to his core was his. He’s young, he’s been alone for months, trying to survive amongst the horror that’s out there, and all the while he’s watched other people dominate his sole remaining loved one.
I cannot even fathom how fucked up that kid is. I hope the next person we find is a therapist because he desperately needs one. Once he’d gotten it all out, Gilbert got him up, and the two of them embraced. It might sound strange, but the two of them instantly bonded like you can’t imagine. Gilbert has this aura, this energy of wisdom that people gravitate to. Maybe it’s his balding head, or his snow white hair, or his wrinkles, or something I can’t describe, but the man can connect with people. The whole nastiness with the Colt was forgotten, and Blake had seen our light.
We all agreed that Blake would return with us. He can’t be alone anymore, and with Westfield arriving tomorrow for a trade and a meeting, we felt it was important that he be there to tell his side of the story firsthand to them.
We drove home to the campus right after we heard Gavin call out contact outside the safe house. He had dropped a couple zombies about fifty yards away from us with a halligan. He’s getting damn good with that thing.
I veered off after I got the semi back into position in the road and visited Lindsey and the girls to ensure that they were safe and sound. I invited them back to the campus for dinner, and they came. The girls had a blast with us. Friendly people, fresh kool-aid, a hot shower, and a hot meal? It’s like paradise for these people. Watching them play in the living room of Hall E while the girls sat around and talked about us men and Melissa’s baby, and the men talked about guns and ammo, and how pretty the girls looked made me think that maybe, just maybe there was hope for us. Maybe us all.
Westfield comes tomorrow. We’re going to bring up The Farm, and try to figure out how to handle it.
-Adrian
May 8th
I’m not going to write about what I want to write about. Not yet at least. Priorities.
Long exhale. I can’t believe how much went down today. It’s astonishing how much we can accomplish when we work together and nothing bad happens. We had a lot of extra hands here to help too.
Blake was here all day, Lindsey was here with the girls, and instead of going out and clearing houses or trying to find fencing, we all stayed put, and got shit done here. At about noon we got the radio from Mike that he was incoming, and shortly after he, Chris, Mallory, and Hector rolled in with the water truck and a humvee.
What did we get done? (In no particular order, btw) We got the water pump at the Jones Road farm fixed so there is fresh water for the girls, as well as for the garden. While there, we planted the beginning of a substantial garden. Ollie dug out his “farming genius” skills, and we got cucumbers, green beans, squash, tomatoes, beets, and a handful of hot pepper variants in the ground. Apparently these are easy to grow, and require very little work comparatively. The other thing that he is trying to be mindful of, is what his dad is planting. We need to rotate crops annually to ensure our fields don’t go fallow, and we also don’t want to be growing the same shit Lenny is. No sense trading sacks of potatoes back and forth.
We procured a better truck for Lindsey and the girls from one of the yards on Route 18 near the burnt out gas station. It’s a small Chevy that will work well for them for some time. Of course it shit the bed on the way back up Auburn Lake Road, but Blake got it running again after he douched the fuel lines and did whatever it is he does to make it all work. Btw, Blake is also the one who fixed the water pump at the farm. He’s a useful one when he’s not loopy. We also fortified the Manning farm windows and doors to ensure that if they were attacked by the undead, they could hold out long enough for us to arrive and assist.
We got about 60 feet of fence up along the edge of the water near admissions. We started the fence right where we’ll be building a gate, according to Ollie. Ollie’s plan is to encircle campus with the fence so we can let the cows roam and eat grass as needed. We just need cows now.
Once team Westfield arrived we put them to work on the above mentioned projects, filled their water tank, made some profitable trades for both groups (really nothing special other than bread for us, which will be fucking awesome. We have so much peanut butter and jelly kicking around here), and we sat down and had our meeting. Because there were so many of us, we actually sat on the Hall A porch so we could get some fresh air. Half of us were on the benches on the porch, some on the railings, and a few of us just plopped down in the grass. It was a nice day today.
Things went… downhill sharply there.
I did most of the talking for the presentation or conversation, whatever the hell you want to call it. I seem to have inherited the role of spokesperson, which I guess I brought on myself. I put all the information out about The Farm. I omitted everything about the dream
I had. I didn’t feel that needed to be a part of the discussion just yet.
Blake interrupted me at least six times to put his two cents in where he felt I was leaving some crucial fact out. The first couple times I was appreciative of his assistance, but after a bit I started to get irritated, and finally told him to calm the fuck down until I was done. He made an ugly face at me, but he shut up long enough for me to get the whole story out. Once I was done, he filled in a few more blanks, and the questions came in.
I didn’t have the answers to everything. In fact, I didn’t have the answers to much of anything. All the questions Mike and them had were the questions we still had. Military guys that we are (were) we obsess over logistics. Avenues of attack, numbers of opposition, armament, infiltration routes, escape plans, what ifs, etc.
It got ugly when the morality issue was brought up. Mike was the one to open the can of worms, and within minutes, I knew he was regretting ever opening his mouth.
“So let me get this straight, there’s a farm growing food, making babies, and keeping people safe out there somewhere, and you all want to go over, and rock the boat to make sure everything is kosher?”
We all agreed with him. I mean basically that was the deal.
“You realize they’re already doing what we’re aiming to do, right? I mean, it sounds like jealousy if you look at it under a microscope.” Mike shrugged. He was kind of pointing out the obvious.
That didn’t really… please the women. The rape card came out, courtesy of Patty.
“Mike, those women look terrified. They can’t go anywhere without a gun toting guard watching their every move, and do the math. They all got knocked up after this started? What sane person would’ve started to have that many children months ago, in this world? You’d have to rape me for that to happen. Mike, there are SIX OF THESE WOMEN. Six. In the middle of nowhere. That’s not a coincidence, that’s something very wrong.” Patty was just below a yell there in the middle. She restrained herself a little bit when she saw Abby’s face.
Mike replied to her, “Patricia I know what you’re saying. I’m just wanting to go on record and say we need to be careful that we know as much as we can before we do anything with a gun. The last thing we need to do is roll in there like a bunch of fucking cowboys, and get one or more of those girls shot over nothing. If we’re gonna risk our asses, and their asses, and put people down in the process, we need to make damn well sure we’re doing it for the right reasons. You can't unshoot a bullet.” At that point you could see that Mike was sorry he opened his mouth.
Blake chimed in, “Look, all of you have been great to me, and I can’t say thank you enough, but one way or the other, I am getting in there to get my Kimberly, and my baby out of there. I have a say in the life of my unborn child, and I don’t care what you think about that. I don’t want to drag you all into this, and I’m sorry I did already, but time’s short. My baby is about to be born. I need to do something with or without you.”
Hector next. “Blake man, you’ll get shot up. They know you man. Second they see you come round, if they’re like the way you say they are, they’ll light your fucking ass up hermano.”
Blake’s response was a shrug. In his mind, he had no choice. It was get it done or die trying. As dumb as it is to say this, I can totally see where he’s coming from.
It was awkwardly silent for a few minutes. All we could hear was the river running behind campus, and the birds chirping. No one knew quite what to say next.
Mallory spoke, “Look. I don’t think anyone here can honestly say that after looking at those pictures, and listening to Adrian, and Blake that whatever is going on at that Farm is normal, or acceptable, right?”
Everyone agreed. We were all on the same page in that regard.
She continued, “And Mike isn’t an idiot, and neither is Blake, and neither is Adrian, and neither is Patty. We’re all adults, and we weren’t born yesterday. So that means we don’t want to hurt anyone that doesn’t deserve it, and we don’t want to risk dying unless it’s really fucking important.”
Again, everyone agreed with her.
“Blake, all Mike is saying is that we need to watch that place some more, and maybe try and find some information somehow that absolutely proves that bullshit is happening. Am I right Mike?” She looked to the burly sergeant and he nodded, and gave a 'yeah' back to her.
“I think we can spare a few days for that. If that baby, yours or not, is born in the meantime, then that just means we’re rescuing six women and a baby, which isn’t much different, right Blake?” She looked at Blake long and hard. Blake looked down at the porch floor from his spot on the railing and wound up nodding at her.
“Then we spend a few days checking the joint out, see what we can see, and then make a better plan with more information. Shit for all we know, they’re scared shitless and waiting for us to come help them.” Mallory grinned, clearly trying to alleviate the tension.
For a hairdresser, that bitch can talk. Though I suppose half of what you pay a stylist for is the conversation.
“I’ll organize a meeting back home to see what support we can dredge up for this, should it get violent. We’re going to want Lisa here if you move on them, especially if there are that many pregnant women. We’ll come back on the 9th with word. With any luck it’ll end like Mallory says.” Mike tipped his can of beer up and took a swig. I tipped mine up too in celebration of that idea.
Abby hit the nail on the head then. “And what if it doesn’t end like that? I for one will not allow those women to be used like cattle at that farm. I’d rather get killed trying to rescue them than let that shit go on.”
I nodded, and said the last thing. “Abby, Blake, you guys know me, some better than others, and you know damn well that I’ll be putting boot to door if that’s the case. The world needs babies, but not like that.”
Dinner was served shortly after. Ollie has been a sniper with his .22 all day as he goes about his business outside, and managed to take down two raccoons right around dusk the past couple days. Have you ever had raccoon Mr. Journal? It’s surprisingly good. It requires brining, and must cook slowly for a long time, but Ollie and Melissa worked ahead to make it happen.
I can’t quite describe the taste, other than it doesn’t taste like chicken so fuck you Matrix. We had both of them, and combined with some of the fresh herbs and tomatoes we’ve got in the pots, and a few cans of vegetables mixed in for color, it was a feast for the ages. We were all stuffed to the gills, and everyone managed to forget about the bullshit.
The kids were frolicking carefree in the grass in the middle of campus, and the couples had paired off to watch, or talk, or chat. Patty and Mike were talking with Lindsey on the porch, watching the kids all the while, and Blake and Hector disappeared off to the wayside to give the vehicles a once over. Gearheads, right? Ha.
I felt a little like a bump on a log. Everyone seemed to have their special someone, and I didn’t. Now of course Mallory was there, and as you’ve already been informed Mr. Journal, I am pretty sure she and I have a little thing developing. She was picking up some of the dishes from dinner, and I went over to help her. Strictly because I am a nice guy, of course.
“Intense shit huh?” I asked her as I walked up.
“Yeah, you seem to find it. You’re like a bullshit magnet.” She grinned at me.
“Woman, you have no idea. If I had a dollar for every time I got into trouble, I’d... well, I guess I’d have a huge pile of useless dollar bills.”
She nodded and laughed. “I know the feeling. How’s the hangover? My cure work?” She asked me.
I laughed. “That and a lot of water, and some Advil. I was up and about in a few hours. Still useless, but you know, what’s new?”
Her turn to laugh. “Itchy?” She mischievously hiked up her eyebrows and stared at my crotch.
I gave her a dirty look and grinned. “Yeah about that. Close trim. Where did you find the time to do that with all these people here
?”
“I’m very sneaky. Plus folks were having a good time. Not quite as good a time as you had, but you probably don’t remember much now eh?” She put some dishes into the tub we were using to carry the mess back to the Hall in.
“How good a time did I have? I mean, you’re not walking funny or anything, so I can’t imagine I had that great a time.” I winked at her.
“Oh. Yeah. Funny guy. You forget I’ve seen your junk? Unless that thing gets a shitload larger when you’re excited, keep fucking dreaming mister.” She grinned and gave me that mischievous look again.
I dropped my next line dead serious. “How sneaky are you? I could show you exactly how big it can get.”
She looked up at me with wide, sober eyes, and analytically panned around to see where everyone was. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I grabbed my M4 off the porch, she grabbed the tub of dishes and we walked off towards Hall E to drop it off. We went inside the Hall, tossed the tub on the counter in the kitchen, and I motioned for her to follow me. I walked down to the other side of the Hall, went out the side double doors onto the deck that I tore the stairs off of down near the river, and I leapt over the edge. I helped her down, and it that was all it took.
When she landed in my arms we were face to face, and I just pressed her against the wooden beam holding up the deck. She wrapped her legs around my midsection, and we got hot and heavy.
I am quite out of practice. Judging by her abilities and overall performance, she was too. The kissing lasted for a few minutes, and by the time I sat her down my dick was ripping my khaki pants right down the middle. I am pleased to announce that I had a very substantial erection, and judging by how she dropped to her knees it front of it, she was pretty fucking pleased about it too.
I had to pull her off me after just a bit of head. Not gonna lie, I was far, far too close to chucking a nut in her face, and I would’ve felt like a giant bag of douche if I’d blown my wad like that. I pulled her to her feet, and undressed her lower half as we kept kissing. God it was hot.
Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath Page 8