Living With the Dead: The Wild Country

by Joshua Guess

  "Hold them for a few minutes," she said. "I've got an idea."

  She grabbed Rachel on her way, and I had no idea what was coming. My mind focused on two things: she had a plan. And we had to survive long enough to let her get it done.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her helping Rachel into a set of the heavier armor we bring with us. It's the stuff we use when we have to wade into a group of zombies. Hard as hell to move in, but virtually invincible to zombie attacks.

  It was, of course, untested against the new breed.

  A minute or so later, I saw Rachel helping Becky into her armor. At no point did I consider they'd actually head out into the swarm, thinking only that Becky's plan meant she had to get close to the edge and needed the extra protection to ensure she didn't fall before she was finished. I was very wrong.

  About two minutes after she and Rachel vanished from my sight, I heard the first explosion. Hell, more than heard it--I felt it. A great wave passed under my feet, the rock beneath us surging with the power of the blast. I saw about a dozen zombies on the edge of the mesa simply drop, and a few seconds later another blast sounded from the opposite side with the same results.

  There were five large explosions, ones close enough to the edge of the mesa to cause small collapses. Becky and Rachel hit every one of the logs, blowing them to splinters and killing every zombie within twenty feet of them. They'd run through the front gate, which had been left mostly alone by the zombies at that point, and thrown their dynamite from a distance, as most of the undead were clustered around the logs. Each cratered section of ground helped clear a path close enough to the next log for a hard throw.

  The last log fell, but we'd realized what the girls were doing well before that. When the final explosion came, Mason and Will screamed for everyone to lower what shields they had and push. PUSH! With everything we could muster.

  We shoved the majority of our attackers over the edge. With improved strength and coordination comes the instinct to dance backwards when shoved. If they'd have been slow, shambling zombies that tactic wouldn't have worked for us. By the time we'd gotten the majority of them shoved over the edge, Becky and Rachel had made their way back through the gate. Mason had ordered a few people to start lobbing dynamite over the edge. By then the stone throwers had joined the rest of the mob, and the explosions falling at random were enough to break whatever willpower the horde had. They ran. We'd become too costly a target.

  It was a victory. Survival is always a victory. But it cost us too many irreplaceable lives, their potential contributions to the world eradicated in a fight that took less than half an hour, start to finish.

  We're almost done with the evacuation now. We pushed as hard and fast as possible, and everyone is eager to get away from here. The new breed of zombies is spreading, and Black Mesa taught us a lesson about our future none of us are likely to forget. Ever.

  Things change, and not always for the better. Threats can and do get worse. We can be brave, and strong, and practiced, and in the end it still might not be enough to save us.

  Tuesday, October 25, 2011

  Primal Fear

  Posted by Josh Guess

  My team and I are on the road again, or we will be in a few minutes as we pack up camp. We left Black Mesa last night and put as much distance between us and it as possible. Call it a hundred and fifty miles. We were the last ones to leave, not long after the last caravan went through the gates. Whatever happens to those kids and their teachers now is in god's hands. I hope he's gentle with them.

  Reports are being shared among every survivor who can get them about the widening spread of the new strain of zombie mutation. From what I've read, it looks like the second generation of the mutations have all mixed together into one. People in Sparta report that tagged zombies, ones they marked with spray paint to observe, have been infected by the new strain. Worse, they have infected others, and the transmission rate is...total. The tagged zombies have passed on the improved intelligence, toughness, and the rest to every other they've come in contact with.

  The good news is that for now, the zombie population is thinning itself, and aren't attacking us in large numbers. Us as in human beings, by the way. The bad news is that the ones eating the others are getting crazy strong and better fed than they've been pretty much ever, which means we're potentially fucked to a degree the English language doesn't have a scale for.

  Still, my team and I had some fun with the zombies at Black Mesa before we left.

  We made sure the fuckers could see my team. They learned their lesson about attacking high ground with a large number of people on it, but when it was just the six of us, they decided we were easy prey. God knows we tried to make it obvious enough. They might be smart and are probably getting smarter, but the undead have yet to learn to be properly suspicious of human beings. We're grudge-bearing assholes toward things that kill us.

  There we were, sitting around a camp fire. Pretty much every structure and piece of equipment was gone except our truck and trailer, broken down for parts and taken with the caravans. Black Mesa's gate was still up, but left ever so slightly open.

  The six people on my team, including me, sat around the fire in our heavy armor. It took about half an hour for the zombies to come for us. That whole thing where they work together meant that more than a hundred of them eventually walked through the front gate to get us, one huge mass to tear us apart. They surrounded us as we watched them, staying back about thirty feet until they completed their circle.

  That was when Steve very casually threw a bunch of magnesium dust into the fire. The flare of light blinded the undead, and we piled into the back of the truck as Will jumped in the cab. Good thing he'd already started it. We plowed through them, heading toward the gate.

  Just as we went through it, as the horde began to sweep closer to us, Mason made a call on my cell phone. Our portable cell transmitter was running.

  The phone he called was wired up to ten gallons of propane and a stick of dynamite. Wrapped up in about a hundred pounds of gravel.

  Boom.

  The explosion leveled the zombies our truck hadn't yet pulverized, and set off the low piles of alcohol-soaked wood and fabric we'd left around the edge of the plateau. Rachel noted as she was blowing up the logs the other day that even smart zombies still have a deep aversion to fire. They're still terrified of it. The flaming ring on the plateau drove the few remaining undead toward us, and we didn't give them a fair fight as we stopped the truck. Becky hit the fleeing zombies as they bunched up at the gate with the last few sticks of dynamite.

  We may not have killed all of them. We're okay with that. If this new breed can learn things, then I think the experience has given them a new piece of information to assimilate.

  Human beings are just as dangerous as fire.

  Wednesday, October 26, 2011

  Weaves

  Posted by Josh Guess

  We're at our last stop before a very extended drive out west. The community we're in right now is far enough away from the epicenter of the new wave of mutations that there are no reported sightings here yet.

  We're in a little town called Greenville, and the community here is pretty big. It's the largest I've seen aside from North Jackson, which has more than eleven hundred people in it at last count. Greenville has somewhere north of eight hundred, and the place is prosperous. It sits in a wooded span of hills, the centerpiece of the town a very large textile mill that used to employ (and now houses) many of the people here. There's a lot of farm land being worked, but the folks here have a lot of other resources.

  The woods are good for hunting. The lake is huge and teeming with fish, frogs, turtles, and all the other things you'd expect. The mill itself contains a massive amount of materials, which Jane, the elected leader here, directs her people to work in a variety of ways.

  Jane's the woman who really runs the place. Sure, she has a staff to manage the details, but she's the idea lady. To look at her, you wouldn
't expect a survivor. She's a bizarre sort of throwback to the world that was. She dresses with stylish professionalism, pant suits or conservative skirt combos. Her nails are manicured but not pampered. She wears makeup that smooths her features but isn't gaudy. Hell, she wears perfume of all things.

  And on her, all that makes sense. When Greenville was hit, she was the one that came up with solution after solution where others couldn't. She's a brilliant woman who understands that appearance and confidence are vital to being a successful leader. I'm not even from here, and I'm impressed as hell with her and the projects she's put into motion.

  Take this, for example: when news reached her that the new breed of zombies would almost certainly be spreading this way, Jane ordered traps put into place all over the perimeter of their holdings. Traps the zombies (and most people) couldn't see. Pit traps. Tripwires. Nets. Lots of nets.

  She didn't hesitate, instead pulling forty people from other details just to make those nets. Way more than any reasonable estimate said they would need. Jane wanted every person to be able to slow down and tangle up a zombie if need be. She designed them herself. They're lightweight, compact when folded properly, and strong.

  I know it may not sound like much, but it's a pretty brilliant idea. Especially given how lightly Greenville has had it since The Fall. The large number of survivors hereabouts can be attributed to light and infrequent zombie attacks, and a low overall population of undead.

  Think about every time you've been chased by a zombie, too afraid to turn around to get a proper aim with your gun. Or maybe the thing was too close behind for you to stop and smack it in the head with your hammer or hatchet. If you'd had a net, you could have glanced over your shoulder for a split second while throwing, and the tangle that ensued would give you time to put the monster down without undue worry.

  I'm pretty impressed with how the people here work together, and how well-managed the defenses, food, and other resources are. Jane is a tough person to negotiate with, but she's fair. And I think reasonably compassionate. I think we'll have a good time staying here.

  If the preparations they're making are any sign of how well they work together in a fight, the new breed won't have a chance. There's not a bit of grumbling or complaining about the extra work, nor disbelief at the capabilities of the mutated zombies. Just rugged determination, a lot of hard work, and a coordinated effort from the leadership on down the chain that should make my military friends blush.

  Oh, that's funny. Because Jane invited Mason to dinner almost as soon as she laid eyes on him. I've never seen the big guy go red for anyone. He's always so cool and collected, so "I'm the scary Navy Seal that saves your ass with a snarky comment". Yeah. He got asked out on a date, and he looked freaking worried about it. It was such a...human reaction, and it caught all of us off guard.

  Naturally, we will never let his royal badassedness forget about it. We'll probably give him hell about it every ten minutes, pretty much for the rest of his life. I'm glad Mason is finding some enjoyment out on this trip. Maybe we all just need a small break and to relax for a bit.

  Thursday, October 27, 2011

  Common Good

  Posted by Josh Guess

  For all of the horrible events since my team and I left home, we still manage to find small pieces of surprising goodness here and there.

  Greenville doesn't really need to trade with anyone. They're in a resource heavy area, with a social structure designed to make the best and most efficient use of those resources. Don't get me wrong, there are things they can use--raw and worked metal goods, pieces of technology, weaponry they don't have to make themselves, medical supplies--but none of it vital. All things they can live without.

  Still, Jane and the committee that runs Greenville are happy to trade. They know that helping to build a strong network of survivors will be key to keeping humanity going. Jane and her people see the long term. That sounds pretty cold and calculating, pragmatic to the nth degree, and it is.

  But that's not the only reason. I've talked to her quite a bit, as have the members of my team. Jane is remarkably compassionate for someone who has a job as hard as hers. When I ran New Haven, it had about a quarter the people that Greenville does, and that was a nightmare of biblical proportions. She offered fair trades, if ones that leaned more toward benefiting her people, without us having to pull the sympathy card for all the hungry people out there in need.

  Things here are pretty standard for the trip. I'm glad Courtney and Steve laid so much groundwork last year. It has made things a lot easier for us. Most places we've traveled to have been pretty receptive.

  Tomorrow, we head out for parts unknown. People we've been in contact with but never met. Roads we've never gone down.

  Motherfucker. Why do I say things about how well it's going? There's some kind of alarm going. Damn it.

  Friday, October 28, 2011

  Stowaways

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Thank god, the alarm yesterday wasn't an attack. Which isn't saying there weren't zombies. There were. But slow, old school ones chasing one of Jane's scouts.

  The bad news the scout brought in is that the new breed is spreading faster and farther than we thought. It's good he found out, because the sneaky fuckers are using a means to travel we can actually do something about. They're stowing away with marauders. The scout, while in hiding, saw three zombies manage to either sneak up undetected to latch onto the bottom of a vehicle, or fall from a tree onto trucks.

  I've suggested we spread the word for everyone to redouble their efforts to check their vehicles at every opportunity.

  Jane sent out scouts to try to warn groups of marauders. Kincaid, whose group made it to New Haven safely, has been helpful with contacting them. We'll see how that works out.

  There's not much else I can say today. We're on a tight schedule, and we've got to make a rendezvous to top off our fuel supplies in about two hours. The road into the unknown is bound to be full of surprises, and we want to carry all the extra fuel we can manage. It's really too bad we couldn't have just rigged up something with horses, but then the zombies would eat them in an instant and we'd be screwed.

  I've never been farther west than St. Louis before. Despite the crazy mess the USA has become, I find myself excited to see areas of the country I've only read about before. I don't know how many stops we'll be making for sure, but between here and Mountain View, there are at least a dozen settlements of survivors we're to see. Whatever else happens between is in god's hands.

  I'll try to do a more comprehensive post tomorrow or the day after. We've been running so hard for so long that the weariness is getting bone-deep, and it's hard for me to concentrate. Where we're going, lack of focus could be more fatal than normal.

  Sunday, October 30, 2011

  Long View

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I talk about what's going on around me a lot, and who important this trip is. I yammer about the things that have happened and how brutal some of them have been. I was going to focus today on the nearly herculean effort of Sparta to set up fuel depots all over the landscape. I'll still give it some time, because it's worthy, but after I want to tell you something simple.

  We carry enough fuel to go a VERY long distance without running dry. The bed of our truck is stuffed with homemade tanks that give us the mobility to go somewhere between seven and nine hundred miles without refueling. That's ignoring idle time and the like, but it's a lot of backup gas to have. We've topped off a few times, and the folks from Sparta have done their part to make sure the convoys of supplies have enough go juice to make trades happen. It isn't just the massive stockpile they're sitting on, either--the whole area of the country Sparta sits in is chock full of fuel supplies. Enough to probably keep trade in operation for years if the gas doesn't go flat and useless. Enough time to breed horses to take over when the gas runs out. Slow, very slow, but maybe the only option down the road.

  That's just one small speck of t
he larger economy we're trying to build. Thinking about the challenges we face as a species to survive and thrive in the months and years ahead is enough to take the focus away from anyone. Do communities try to move from less than ideal locations and merge together? Maybe, but that comes with the risk of putting too many eggs in one basket, endangering more lives in a given area if there's a zombie attack. Also, the strain on local resources is always something to consider.

  A million thoughts like this fill my head pretty much all the time. So, today, I'm taking a break from it. There's been so much going on during this trip that some very basic truths about it are overlooked. I write once a day, four out of five days, and maybe I give the impression that I'm always slammed with things to do. When we're at a community, that's usually true. On the road in between, there's a lot of down time to think about all the stuff I wrote above. It can become overwhelming to the point of insanity.

  So I'm doing something simple and fun today. I'm reading books. My little solar charger still works despite the weakening sunlight from winter coming, and I've charged up my Kindle. Kind of a funny thing, really, me buying such an expensive piece of consumer electronics when I couldn't really afford it. I've used it on and off since The Fall, as it has copies of probably three hundred books I bought on it. I'm a bibliophile, and a nifty device that holds hundreds of books is like hard drugs to an addict. It's a good thing The Fall happened when it did, as I was spending WAY too much money on books before the world ended.