Speaking of people shitting out babies… Kim and Blake followed Mike and friends back to Westfield this evening when they left. Kim has had zero prenatal care, and when Lisa found that out, she shat an enormous brick. She immediately demanded Kim make the trip, and likely stay there in Westfield until the kid was born, which based on the size of her belly, could be moments away. It looks like she’s going to give birth to a Peterbuilt.
Blake, ever the nervous father-to-be, has elected to go with the mother of his child, and that means we are without our backhoe operator, and our mechanic. You should’ve seen Blake pack up his shit. It was like they were on their way to the ER right then and there and she was having her contractions. Had to get his ass to relax.
Buuuuuut… like a goddamn Mexican rock star, Hector has elected to stay here for a few days while they sort out Kim’s birth. With any luck, they’ll have the kid soon, and things will be back to “normal” within a week or so. I’m also happy to report that Mallory has also elected to stay here while Hector does, which means my access to fresh, mostly willing vagina has been turned back on for the time being. Well, as long as I step up my game up over tonight’s performance. Kinda mailed it in after too much to drink. One more night of that and she’ll start thinking that she’s better off doing it herself.
And we can’t have that, can we Mr. Journal?
So yeah, that’s about it. Not a whole lot else to say or add. The deer I killed the other day fed us during the trade/relaxation day, and that bitch was delicious. Mike nearly shit his pants when he smelled it on the grill. Too funny. I don’t know why they haven’t dropped more deer out their way. Maybe it’s because Westfield is a bigger town and more urban? Who knows? Although the whole time we were cooking I kept thinking about the day those motherfuckers at The Farm hit us. That might've been half the reason I drank as much as I did.
Mike officially said they needed more protein in their diets according to Lisa, so if we got ANY spare meats, they were in need. Of course they don’t have much to trade that we need now, so we’re reaching that null point where we’re not trading between organizations for economic purposes, but allocating resources between two allied locations. I think I’m okay with that.
Tomorrow I’m going to try and slip away to give Danny some shooting lessons. Before and after that we are back to the grind of building our giant fucking wall. I am really starting to get the itch to check out that damn apartment building downtown. I have a feeling we NEED to check that out sooner rather than later. I can’t explain why I feel that way, I just know deep down inside we’ve got to figure that puzzle out.
I’m hoping all is well with it. I’d hate to spend the time clearing a five story building only to find out it’s been stripped of good shit, and left filled with the fucking undead. What a buzzkill that’d be right Mr. Journal? Apartment Building of the Living Dead. Great movie title.
I’ll update more as I can think of shit to say. As of now, I’ve managed to think far too much about Mallory’s ass under the sheets, and as a generous nightcap gift, I’m going to attempt to undo the sexual disaster I laid on her earlier. Hopefully, I don’t fuck it up and make my situation worse.
If you have fingers Mr. Journal, cross them and think of my sexual abilities in a positive manner.
-Adrian
June 14th
Harro!
That’s racially insensitive.
I should feel bad about that, but… I don’t. I guess some of my sensibility has shat the bad since the world was overrun by the dead. It’s a natural consequence as I see it. Undead appear: Adrian becomes entirely insensitive and makes shitty decisions.
I am happy to report that Mallory received a thorough fucking the other night at the hands of yours truly. She seemed quite pleased, and I feel vindicated after my recent, poor half in the bag sexual showing. I have a strong feeling she’ll be back in my sack tonight, just like she was last night. Of course she’s staying here for a few days, so that’s likely to happen whether or not I’m putting the boots to her.
Go me. Seriously. Just… go me.
What’s new here? Otis is good, hot as hell in the heat we’re dealing with, but all in all, he’s good. I sense a smidge of jealousy coming off him of late though. With Mallory here in bed with me the past few days he’s been relegated to sleeping in other rooms or on the floor. I think he’s actually been sleeping with Abby, which makes him a little bit of a cat adulterer. Two timing bastard. However, she can use the company, and honestly when he’s on the bed and I’m trying to get laid he winds up getting cat punted with a shriek across the room anyway. Maybe this is just him protecting himself. Smart cat if that’s the case.
We did a lot of fence work the past two days, but the weather hasn’t been terribly cooperative, despite us wishing a lot that it’d be nice. Mixtures of drizzle, and always overcast, with downpours added in for color. I miss the damn weatherman. Despite them almost never being right when it mattered most, it felt good to at least think that the weather prediction would be reliable. Plus it also gave us something benign to bitch about. Now on a day to day basis we have no fucking idea what’s coming. Tomorrow tampons and goldfish could fall from the sky, and we’d have no idea it was coming. That scenario wouldn’t surprise me in the least, incidentally.
Because it was rainy yesterday, we took a long lunch break to get in from the soaking downpour. We grilled up some more of the venison on Hall A’s porch, and just as we were about to start our bitch session about getting soaked again, the skies cleared, and the sun came out. I decided that’d be a great time to sneak away with Danny to the back end of campus for an hour of gun practice. He was excited, and so was I to be honest. I offered a free lesson to anyone who wanted to tag along, but all declined, and he and I made it into a quasi “uncle-nephew” thing. This may sound strange, but I do feel inclined to be extra affectionate towards him.
I was there when his father died, and I’ve got his father’s rifle in my bedroom. I’m not sure how I’ll handle that in the future. In reality, that rifle is Danny’s, and I should give it up for him to use. At the moment though, that might be too much for the teenager to handle. I don’t quite know where his head is about his dad’s death. As a teenager, he’s got to be very hurt, scared, and confused, and I don’t want to muddle the mixture.
So I knew I wanted to get Danny trained on a 20 gauge pump, as well as a 9mm handgun, and we’ve got both spare. I wanted to give him my old Sig, but I realized it’s still sitting in a safe house halfway to Westfield. Remember that Mr. Journal? I left it there in case I had to evac during the whole Sean bullshit.
Instead, I gave him the Ruger P95, which is a fine handgun for him to use for the meantime. Maybe he can step up to something more robust at a later date, but in reality, 9mm is more than enough gun for killing zombies, and getting living assholes to duck.
Cutting to the short of it, we spent two hours out shooting at colored paper the size of zombie heads, and within fifteen minutes it was clear the kid was a natural. His dad put some serious hobby time in with the kid getting him some gun safety and shooting experience, and it shows. He was dead nuts with the Ruger at less than 15 feet, and pretty consistent out to about 30 feet. That’s more than I would’ve asked for, even after a few days of range practice.
The shotgun was a slightly different story. He’d only shot 12 gauges, and he hadn’t done that all that much, and had difficulty being comfortable with the lighter shotgun. Almost like he was over-steering it. He sent many a shell down low until I got him to relax, and let it fly. Once he did that, he was in business, and pretty clearly good to go. In fact, I may step him up to 12 gauge after a bit, because he seems like such a natural.
I set him up with a holster that fit the Ruger and with Angela’s blessing, he is now a full time weapon carrier. I am pretty sure that when she saw her son strap on the handgun she stifled some serious emotion. Maybe she saw her husband in her son, or maybe she was realizing that in the world we live in, teenagers
carry loaded guns. I can’t say why she showed the emotion, but she did. I think it was a good emotion too, but who knows? I suck at the whole feelings part of life. I blame my penis.
After that, we rejoined the work force, and put in a few more hours in the post rain summer warmth, which was actually kind of nice. We made decent progress yesterday, but the real advancements we made were at dinner that night.
We were all inside Hall B enjoying a large spaghetti feast when I turned to Gilbert and brought up the subject of the apartment building with the giant pile of garbage around it, as well as the few undead meandering about at the base. Instantly he was curious, and within just a minute or two, he decided that a recon mission was a good idea. At the very least, we should get out on foot and check to see if the building is barricaded from the inside, or if there is anything of note on the sides of the building we haven’t seen yet.
He also pointed out the sense in controlling the tallest structure in town. If we could set up an outpost on the top floor or the roof there as an observation point, we’d be able to see for miles in all directions, as well as be able to drop some pretty accurate fire down on the heads of undead milling about town. It just makes sense to at least find the time to check the place out.
A few other folks overheard the conversation, and within a half hour’s time, we had folks on board with the idea of hitting the apartment building. We figured a simple recon in a day or so would be a great idea. Worst case, we turn it into a drive by, and likely wind up thinning the undead herd by a few rotting heads. Recon to contact, so to speak.
We’re thinking we roll out in a decently heavy force, similar to the one we went out with for the auto parts run the other day, and we leave on the 16th. Tomorrow we’ll work a half day here to get some fence put up, and after that we’ll take the time to go over how things will go down, maybe do some more firearms training, and gun maintenance. Turn it into a really professional operation. Lol. Us, professional.
Hilarious.
So our plan as it stands is to roll out the day after tomorrow, pick up the few remaining things we left behind at the auto parts store, then move around the apartment building down the street and check it out. We are not intending to breach the place, simply check it out, and clear the undead around it away.
Going door to door in a building that large is a serious undertaking, and is dangerous as all hell. Especially when you think about the idea that there is a high possibility of living, breathing people inside that certainly might want us to fuck the hell off. We don’t want to be perceived purely as aggressive raiders or looters, and it might be hard to not come off as such when we’ve been literally right down the street… aggressively raiding and looting. Reap what you sow, right?
If we see people on the upper floors, we will wave, act friendly, appear to be ambassadors of good will and security (which we are, so that should be easy for us), and attempt to speak with them as cordially as possible. We want to make friends here. Preferably ones that aren’t having fucked up dreams about The Lacuna like that asshat Pastor Adams from The Farm.
Move slow, handle with kid gloves, ask about weird dreams as soon as possible, and we’ll be just fine. (famous last words, and fuck you Jinx Fairy)
Not a whole lot else to chit chat about. There’s a certain buzz in the air now. Everyone is feeling good about another run downtown, and we’re all pretty excited about the idea of finding or meeting more people. Anyone who has managed to survive up to now right in the center of town in a five story apartment building must have a pretty damn good story to share.
Maybe, just frigging maybe, this one will go right for us. I’d like to think we can skip the toe pushing at least once.
You listening Jinx Fairy? If so, you can kiss my ass you winged bitch.
-Adrian
June 16th
Well. I’m not sure where to go from here. We’ve gotten some decent intelligence on that apartment building now, but we’re sort of at an impasse as to what exactly to do with it. Gilbert is wracking his little brain trying to work out a reasonable, executable plan based on what we know, but so far, everything we’ve thought of has been flawed in one or more ways.
Let me explain where I’m coming from here so you can think along with us on this. I could use the assist, that’s for sure. Speak up if you get any ideas Mr. Journal.
Yesterday we pulled a half day here on campus doing defensive work and farming bullshit. Ollie started work on cutting lumber into a suitable gate yesterday, which was pretty much the biggest thing that happened all day. Ollie’s gate idea looks like a fucking castle fortification on paper, and if he can manage to assemble it like he drew it, it’ll take Moses to part that bitch open once it’s shut.
He’s guessing it’ll take a solid week of work for two people to get the thing assembled and mounted. We’ve dedicated Danny and Angela as his assistants, and hopefully that’ll shave some time off the project. The good news is that once that gate is up, there is almost no way to get onto campus without going over the river on the far edge past where we’ve built fence, which is really treacherous. It’s either high water and fast, or low water, and exceedingly rocky and impassible. Just revisit my little trip down the river the other day when we were surrounded, and the frigging beating I took from the current and rocks.
Granted there is also the idea that someone could try and cross the Lake to get to us, but that’s not much of a reality. On the far side of the lake there is nothing but woods for miles. There are no houses or docks, or roads to get out to that end of the Lake. Anyone trying to cross the open water to get to us would need to carry their watercraft through heavy underbrush and forest to a spot on the far rocky shore, and then paddle or motor across to get to us.
It’d be easier to try and ram the gate down. Might be safer to come at us via water, and if we’re ever attacked by real military people that’s the way they’ll do it. However, once the wall is built around the entirety of campus, we’ll be largely cured of that risk. Well, unless they hit the wall with heavy duty breaching charges, or a few anti-tank missiles, but if that’s the case, we’re going to be fucked anyway. We are not equipped to deal with people with that kind of hardware and training.
Back to the topic at hand.
After our half day of labor, we prepped up for today, and had a nice team meal. The prep work was deliberate and used as a training opportunity for the new folks. I wanted to show Angela, Amanda, Hector and Mallory how we loaded up, geared up, and prepared for a run into town. If we are going to be growing as a community over the coming weeks, months or years, then we need to make sure everyone is trained and ready to go for just about anything. Granted, some folks have different strengths than others, but when it all comes down to it, we need the Marine mentality:
Everyone is a shooter first.
Last night I slept good, but I chalk that up to Mallory using me like a sex toy. I think that woman is starved for sexual affection. By the time she’d done whatever it was she needed to do with me, I was fucking beyond exhausted. (pun not intended, but pretty frigging funny) I’m also fairly sure we kept some other folks up late, which I honestly don’t feel all that guilty about. I have needs, and I’m an adult. I also fully realize I talk about my sex life far too much, but to be fair, you are reading a man's journal, and there are few things more important to a man than his sex life. Conveniently, you'll notice I also talk about guns a lot.
We rolled out early this morning. Well not that early actually. I think it was about 10am when we drove across the bridge to head downtown. The team was myself, Hector, Amanda, Angela, Mallory, Abigail, and Gilbert. Everyone else stayed behind to pull defense, and accomplish a quick food inventory. It’s been some time since we last counted our canned foods and whatnot, and we needed a good idea of how fast we’re pissing through everything. (As it turns out, we’re doing very good at the moment.)
The trip to downtown was decent. We left in three vehicles. The deuce and a half, the HRT, and the dualie.
Undead numbers were fairly mild, with one large pocket right near the pharmacy I raided back in what was it? December? Back when the damn dog bit my crotch. There was about ten of them in the intersection, and I couldn’t see any reason why they were standing there. No dead bodies on the ground, no signs of recent abnormal occurrence. Ironic statement that is, eh? What is abnormal about a bunch of undead milling about in the middle of the street? Sigh.
We haven’t gotten the full plow blade attached to the HRT yet, but that doesn’t mean it can’t ram the piss out of zombies. I hit them full bore after we’d come to a stop to observe them, and we took them all out with melee weapons once we got a little past them and it was clear they were unable to move. We dragged the bodies out of the road when we were done with them. No sense leaving unfinished business around.
The remainder of the trip to the parts place was uneventful. Almost creepy how clear it was. I am really starting to wonder if this is some form of manipulation by the powers that be. It seems every so often they either ramp up, or ramp down the undead around here to suit their whims. If they want us to struggle, then they wave their wand of evil, and a hundred zombies appear from their hiding places. If they want us to have an easy go of it, then they do the opposite. I can’t figure it out.
We parked the vehicles at the auto parts store and proceeded to ransack the remnants. We wound up completely filling the Deuce (is that a poop joke?), and putting the rest of the shit into the back of the dualie. (is that also a poop joke?) While we were packing the remains of the parts store, I stood guard, and engaged the undead milling about on the surface streets with my M4.
Now I could’ve beaten them to death. There was only ten or so, and they were spread out just about right, but I actually wanted to make noise. I wanted anyone up in that building to know that we were down here engaging hostiles, and taking them down. I know noise is generally bad, but in this instance, I felt it was worth it.
Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath Page 24