Mallory felt her head swim as she steadied herself. Her jaw had snapped shut on her tongue and she felt the hot, coppery blood invade her mouth. She reached up and wiped her wet forehead, revealing a dark bloody smear on her fingers. Her neck was stiff. It hurt. Mallory looked up immediately at the man she’d just ran into, and realized he was dead on his feet.
The zombie had been walking across the street in her general direction when they’d collided. Now that Mallory fully saw him, she took a step back when she realized his face had been eaten away, exposing his yellowing teeth, and wet, pink tongue. Parts of his jaw shone through as well. His white tee shirt was covered with slimy red blood and ropes of saliva from his facial wounds. As Mallory stifled a sudden recurrence of spasms in her stomach, he leaned towards her and started to charge. Mallory blinked once and hefted the short spear she’d made earlier.
The news had said the best way to kill the things was the hit them in the brain. She took a single step forward, meeting the zombie halfway, and driving the silver point of the shears attached to the end of the broom stick directly into his eye socket.
"Two for two!" she exclaimed loudly, happy she'd hit him in the eye the same as Mrs. Dawkins.
It was as if his lights had been turned out. In a single moment his essence disappeared, and the dead, faceless body crumpled to the ground like the puppeteer had dropped the strings of his puppet. The spear wrenched out of her hand, stuck in his head, and she was forced to let it go. Mallory took a step back away from the body and looked around as the sound of gunfire down the street she’d ran from got louder and louder. Suddenly she felt stupid for yelling. From her back she produced the second spear, and stood her ground, searching around for any additional danger.
It didn’t take long to find it. From beyond the fallen man she’d just killed there were two more female dead coming her way. They were young, perhaps high school age or college freshman, and they stumbled forward, their ashen skin pale in the moonlight, white eyes gleaming like luminescent marbles made of distilled fear. Mallory reached out and yanked the spear free of the dead man’s head and took a few steps backward toward the street where the gunfire was. She had little choice of where to go; walk into the approaching guns, or stand her ground and fight the two dead girls with some busted scissors.
Mallory spat a thick wad of blood on the dark pavement and hefted a short scissor-spear in each clenched fist, and made her stand. The girls would die. The two shuffling corpses came at her simultaneously, and Mallory was not quite prepared. She took a long step back and thrust one spear up into the throat of one of the girls, piercing straight through the meat of the neck and sliding out the back, narrowly missing the spine. It was a deathblow to any living person. The force stopped the girl momentarily, which bought Mal enough time to swing the other spear sidearm at the other girl, smashing the bridge of her nose and sending her sideways.
Mallory spun the spear still in her hand like a baton and regained the step she’d taken backwards, plunging the spike into the busted nose of the dead girl she’d just struck. The finger-long shard of metal sank in like a knife into butter. The girl didn’t drop. Mallory brought a foot up into the stomach of the young girl with the spear still in her neck, sending her backwards, and buying a moment’s time. She let go of the spear as the girl reeled away. With that dead girl dealt with for a moment, Mallory yanked the spike out of the face of her current problem, switched it to her off hand, and freed the hammer from her waist. One more side armed swing later the claw end of the hammer was embedded in the girl’s temple, and she was flat on the sidewalk, dead as she should’ve been.
The corpse girl with the spear stuck in her neck had finally steadied herself, and was walking back towards Mallory, grinding her teeth. Mal was not going to have any of that. She strode out into the street and snatched the end of the spear still stuck in the throat of the girl. Using it like a rudder, she pushed the girl firmly out into the middle of Main Street, and kicked her feet out from under her. The girl went down on her back like she’d been hit by a car, smashing her skull against the pavement. Mallory leaned hard on the broom stick stuck in her throat, pinning the girl on her back. She held her still for a few moments, and then slid another long shear from her pants pocket.
“Sorry babe, but it’s you or me.” Mal dropped the shears down straight into the eye socket of the girl, and finally her body went still. She gave the scissors a good twist just for the sake of being thorough, and stood up, removing both her gore encrusted weapons from the girl. It bothered her how easily this was all coming to her. Immediately Mallory realized the gunfire had gone silent, and she turned to look down the street she’d heard it from.
A tall form was only a few feet away, and without thinking Mallory launched out with the spear, sending the sharp tip into the person’s ribs. The blade skipped sideways though, turned aside by something strong.
“Oh fuck you!” The man gasped as his air was knocked out of him.
Mallory realized she’d stabbed a man wearing an Army uniform, and her stomach flip flopped, “Holy shit I’m so sorry!” She took a few steps back to make sure the armed man didn’t shoot her.
“Christ lady. Look before you leap. What were you? A Roman centurion in a past life?” The tall uniformed soldier clutched at his side and winced. His helmet covered most of his head, but Mallory saw his small nametag. In the dim moonlight she saw the name Daniels.
“Mr. Daniels? I’m sorry, I thought you were one of them. It’s been a long day. I’m so sorry.” She put on her best innocent face and tried to look as apologetic as she could.
“Lieutenant Daniels, thanks. Jesus lady you hit me like Albert Pujols.” He leaned over and grabbed his knees, trying to catch his breath from the impact. Mallory noticed when he bent over there were other men behind him in the street. She had been captivated by this Daniels fellow the entire time and overlooked them. She heard the heavy thrum of a truck come down the street as she looked around. The military humvee parked itself behind the Lieutenant and a small Latino man hopped out, hefting his weapon casually, confidently.
“Street’s clear Lieutenant. Mike says he has the High School clear, and he’s with the state senator and his people too. We can hole up until first light if you want to, sir,” the small Latino soldier explained.
The tall Lieutenant nodded thoughtfully after straightening himself out. “Mike said it’s pretty secure?”
“Roger that. Doors and windows secure, and the inside is clear of these fucking things as well.”
“Alrighty Hector. Gather everyone up, we’ll roll to the school and call it a night. Hopefully we’ll get word on what to do tomorrow. I imagine it’ll be more driving around and putting these things down again. Maybe I can get my family out of the house finally.” Daniels surveyed the street and Mallory’s handiwork on the three dead zombies. A look of appreciation crossed his face. “You need a place to stay tonight? We’re headed to the high school for the night, you’re more than welcome to come with us. I suspect we could use your… talents.” Daniels pointed the barrel of his rifle at the dead bodies.
Mallory thought about it and after running through what she could remember she had in her fridge back at her apartment, she concluded there would probably at least be something to eat at the school. “I’m game. I’ll go with you guys. Will there be food? I haven’t eaten since lunch. I could eat the pussy out of a dead skunk right now.”
Daniels smirked at her remark. “We’ve got some MREs and water in the truck. I don’t think dead skunk pussy is on the menu right now but we can look into it.”
“That’s a relief. You can never get that taste out of your mouth.” Mallory cleaned the bloody shears she was holding off on the clothes of the girl she’d just killed and slid them in her pants pocket.
“What’s your name Miss?” Daniels asked her.
“Mallory Malone. Hairdresser to the upper class of Westfield, and now wielder of scissors, shears, and a now broken hammer.” She did a bit of a fl
ourish followed by a deep bow.
“Well Mallory Malone, I think you’ll fit in just fine with us until we can figure this whole end of the world bullshit out. Don’t forget all your scissors.” Daniels smiled at her and walked away to get into the passenger side of the humvee.
“Sir, yes sir.” Mallory gave him a half assed salute and followed him to the truck.
She may not have made it the three blocks to her apartment that night, but Mallory Malone certainly made it out alive.
And alive meant she still had a chance to find that decent guy, and a way to keep him around.
June 6th
God it’s miserably hot and humid right now. What the fuck? I have no balls left. They are now gone. I have sweat them in their entirety right out of my nut sack. I am a sweaty, ball-less heathen.
Fucking tired. Ha, seeing a trend here Mr. Journal? One where every entry I write starts with me talking about how hot it is, how tired I am, and how much work we’re doing around here. At least we’re getting shit done with the work. Not a ton new to report to be honest.
Ooh, not true.
We got a backhoe yesterday. So exciting. Amanda and Angela know the area around here really well, and when they were out on perimeter watch yesterday, Angela radioed that she had an idea where one was, and when it was dead early in the morning, the two of them slipped away for an hour, and found it in the backyard of house on a street we hadn’t been anywhere near.
As soon as we heard from them that it was there, we dropped everything, and mounted a mission. It was a nice change of pace. We hadn’t been out in a few days, and it was the big fat rush of adrenaline we needed to give us a boost. We geared up heavy even though the sisters said it was pretty clear. I think we all have had enough of showing up light for the party, if you know what I mean.
Once the sisters returned, we rolled out in the Tundra, Gavin’s Dodge, and the sister’s Deuce and a Half. Having them roll in with that big truck was a find and a half. (pun intended) We left the HRT behind because Blake has been doing some welding on it to mount a plow blade on the front. He’s tankifying that bad bitch for us.
The house the backhoe was at is a small engine repair shop in someone’s garage on a dirt road off the beaten path in town. The kind of place you'd take your lawnmower to when it shit the bed. The house itself was a tiny red colored ranch set deep in a large yard. The grass was tall, easily knee height on me, and it looked like the place was completely abandoned. Some of the windows had been smashed or shot out, and the garage was half burnt down from some kind of explosion or fire.
We parked in the driveway, and performed a clear on the house and garage remnants. There were two undead inside the house, but I dropped them with the M4 through a window before they were an issue. It was an older man, and what appeared to be his wife. They were very thin, damn near wasted away. I wonder if they either starved to death, or got really ill with something like dysentery or e. coli. Who knows? Two older dead people, two less zombies trying to bite one of us and finish us off.
Blake checked the backhoe, and predictably, it didn’t start. He needed to work on it for a few hours, which conveniently gave us enough time to ransack the house for usable shit. Sadly, there wasn’t much left behind of use. We took what we could. Curtains, clothes, towels, some cleaning shit, a box of 12 gauge (when it rains it pours), no shotgun to go with it though, oddly enough. Mostly it was crap. However, Blake pointed out a bunch of shit in the garage that would be great to take, and we cleaned it out as best we could. Small engine parts, valves, bolts, pipes, fans blah blah blah.
While he was getting the backhoe started, we had about fifteen undead creep in on us from the surroundings. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that our gunfire drew them in. Noise. It’s either our saving grace, or it’ll be the end of us. No middle ground on the shit. Luckily they came in very slowly over the course of the hour, as well as being spread out, and we were able to drop them using the halligans. As always, saving ammo is good. Granted, we’re risking injury by getting close to the bastards, but we’re good enough at it now that we don’t need to be too afraid. Abby’s a goddamn pro with the halligan head crack now. Quick sidestep to confuse, and kapow, right up side the fucking gourd. She’s little, but she has SO MUCH ANGER in her.
It took Blake four or five hours to get the backhoe started, and then we were in business. It had no fuel in it, but we always bring a canister of diesel and gasoline with us, so we were good to go. Unfortunately, the damn thing doesn’t drive fast, and we had to creep back across the back roads to the school at about ten miles an hour. The trip back was the better part of an hour too, which turned into a complete pain in the ass for us.
We drove by at least fifteen undead that were walking just fast enough that they had plenty of opportunity to bang on the windows and sides of the trucks as we went. After the first few attempts to slalom them with the backhoe, we just drove ahead in the Deuce and dropped them manually or ran over them so we didn’t have to deal with it. Incidentally, that Deuce is pretty much the worst riding truck I have ever been in. Every bump feels like a giant dagger into your asshole.
So yeah. Backhoe is now onsite, and in use for the moment. It does need work though. We dug a huge length of trench last night for the log wall, and I tell you what Mr. Journal, it easily shaved a day’s labor off in an hour. Of course now we’ll have to switch our emphasis to cutting down trees faster and getting them cut to length. Which weirdly enough... leads me into today’s activities.
We cut down trees all damn day. When we cut them down we cut them to length, trim the branches etc, and drag them back across the bridge using one of the trucks, and some chain. It takes two or three of us to get the logs into the ditch and upright while someone fills the trench to keep them straight. Once they’re standing where we need them, and there’s enough of them standing in a row, we push the earth against the back of them with the backhoe, and voila… we’re done.
It’s more work than that obviously, but you get the drift. The equipment makes it much easier, much faster, and allows us to focus on cutting down far more trees per day. I guess the moral of the story is that it’ll make shit a lot faster. I don’t know how many days it’ll cut off the process as a whole, but I’m sure it’ll be a dramatic improvement.
Let’s see. What else?
Well, I mentioned already that Blake is working on welding a plow blade to the HRT, which is great. He also has given the backhoe a huge once over, and apparently that thing is on borrowed time unless we get spare bits for it. He needs some supplies though from Mike’s Auto and the auto parts store to finish up the HRT as well as repair the backhoe, so at some point we’ll need to roll downtown to get those two tasks accomplished. With the level of undead wandering about town, I imagine it should be fairly easy for us. Granted that’s assuming more of the giant population in the city hasn’t wandered its way back here in the meantime. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if that were the case.
The crops are doing well, despite the heat. The plants are growing at a wonderful rate, and we’re at the point now where the kids can help and be productive. One thing that does worry me is Lindsey over on Jones Road. She’s still kind of out of it over losing her kid, and I made mention to Melissa to try and get the two of them back to the campus more often. I don't want her isolating and going stir crazy.
Melissa is doing well. She’s got a baby bump that’s kind of visible now. Well, it’s that or she’s porking up good and early on Ollie. She’s been laid up pretty steady in Hall B in the heat due to her wounds, but today she was up and moving around a smidge. She desperately wants to help around campus, but the more she moves, the more likely she’ll tear her wounds open, or fuck up the dressing. The wound in her leg is still packed a little and we can’t risk that bitch getting infected at all. Infection scares the hell out me ever since that cock biting dog had at me.
She’ll be a great mom. I can see it now. She’s very intelligent, warm, caring, and thoughtful. She’
s always putting everyone else ahead of her, even now when she’s laid up hurt. She’s the kind of person that’d rather take an hour to crawl to the sink to get a glass of water than bother one of us on the radio. She just doesn’t want to put herself in front of anyone else. I like her. Ollie loves her, and I’m glad she’s here. I just wish she’d be a little more willing to ask for help when she clearly needs it.
Patty’s good. Might as well talk about her seeing as how I’m apparently doing the ‘around the world of ALPA women’ tonight. She’s really worried about the change in Abby, just like Gilbert and I. Most of the rest of the folks here don’t know her as well as we do, so the change in her attitude and demeanor isn’t as apparent. Patty has stood next to me a few times while we watched her kill undead with a vengeance, or work her injured hand until it’s bleeding crimson through the bandage, and we just don’t know what to do. Abby seems perfectly sane. Just motivated in an unhealthy way. Well, maybe it is healthy. I just don’t know. It scares me.
I feel for Patty. Really I do. So much bullshit for her to live through, powerless to stop it, or change anything. I guess I should feel bad for everyone in that case. There isn’t a person here who hasn’t lost someone close to them recently, or watched horrible things happen to those we care about.
Oh fucking well.
Heading downtown the day after tomorrow to get Blake his parts for the HRT and other assorted automotive/mechanical issues. Tomorrow we are going to build as much log wall as possible. If we aren’t interrupted in a major way, I think we can do forty to fifty feet in a long day’s work, which would be awesome. At that rate, we can probably get the entirety of an exterior first wall done within fifty or sixty days. Maybe faster if we can borrow some of the Westfield bodies to help. Of course it isn’t like they don’t have their own problems to deal with.
Life, or what passes for it nowadays. Back to the grind tomorrow.
Mr. Journal, I say good day to you.
Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath Page 21