I have completely glossed over my carb addiction. I think it’s funny that this is the first time I’ve even thought about carbs in probably a year. When this all started I counted every calorie, every gram of fat and protein to get the most nutrition out of my shitty ass diet, but now, I don’t. I just eat what I need to eat to feel full and have energy, and everything seems to be sorting itself out.
I am in nearly the best shape of my life, and physically, I feel great. My arm is still really sore some days where I got those three gashes at the gas station, but honestly, that’s peanuts. My boy Blake is still with Doc Lindsey, slowly getting better. He’s still out cold, but at least for the moment, he’s stable and getting better. Lindsey obtained some good info the other day as well some medical trinkets when a team of our folks hit the downtown clinic and pharmacy.
Late last night she inserted a small tube into Blake’s nose and all the way down into his stomach so he could eat. She says the tube will work for a few weeks, but after that we need to reassess his situation again. I don’t like that thought at all. Reassessing a friend’s life bothers me. I don’t like that one bit. In fact, I’m not sleeping well at all as a result. I had to pay a small visit to my friend Ambien last night to get to sleep, and that also irritates me.
If you hadn’t caught the drift yet, I am feeling irritated.
I am happy the tube bought us a couple weeks. I just hope Blake wakes up in time before we reassess him, and give up hope on him. If for any reason, for Kimberly and Adrian. Kim will be a wreck, and I don’t want one more kid to grow up without a parent. The world has plenty of those kinds of kids running around it in I’m sure.
So as I said, we hit the clinic downtown as well as the pharmacy to get some left behind medical supplies. Mainly blood type test kits, which are OTC kits you can buy. I didn’t know that. Kind of cool. We wound up getting I think eight kits from the pharmacy back room, and another ten or so kits from the clinic. Lindsey is trying to find out who knows their blood type already, who can donate blood, and then figure out who needs to take the test so we can get a good idea of what our blood situation is. I’m just pleased as fuck Caleb and I are O neg.
Celebrate the little things I suppose.
Downtown here had a small smattering of undead, but nothing of note. I’m starting to think we’ve finally cleared the fucking town out. I realize that’s inviting a huge stick in my eye courtesy of that winged whore, but really, I am starting to think that way. Mike is reporting that MGR can’t see much of anything moving around, and we haven’t seen anything up Auburn Lake road in over a month. I think we might’ve turned the corner.
Speaking of MGR, Patty has come down with a terrible cold. I’m guessing it’s from face time with twenty new folks. Mike says he still feels okay, but we’ll see. MGR is also doing well. While we were down at the clinic we swung by and restocked their water and food supplies, and they’re doing very well. Ryan has also built some sunlight powered hydro banks for them, which we delivered as well. They won’t be as efficient as the ones we’ve got here on campus, but it means MGR will have tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and some herbs all winter, and I am very happy about that.
Dwayne is doing well. I guess he and, what’s her name? Renee, right, are fucking now, which I think we all saw coming. Mike and Patty say they are a, “Cute couple,” but I don’t buy it. I think that’s just them okaying another strange relationship to make their relationship seem awesome by comparison. Not that Mike and Patty aren’t great mind you. I just don’t feel the Dwayne/Renee connection. I don’t see it. Of course they have spent a lot of time alone together at the top of that tower, so who knows. Maybe they’re soul mates by now.
That sounded mighty grumpy. I’m not even in a bad mood. Pensive perhaps over the Blake thing. Maybe even a little sad. Definitely scared of losing a friend. Generally irritated. I’m sure that’s affecting my overall demeanor here in a negative way.
What else is new here on campus, at Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy, aka Bastion?
Ollie took a small crew of folks with some trucks to his dad’s farm in Westfield earlier today. He just got back in late with a fairly large supply of fresh food. Some squash, some more ears of corn, more cukes, tomatoes, some turnips, blueberries, peaches, and a bunch of other shit I haven’t been able to sniff over yet.
I’m so stoked to see that much food show up here. I know maybe three or four folks helped us unload it and get it stored in our various food storage areas, and just the looks on their faces makes me smile. It’s like hope given physical form. Every time someone husks an ear of corn, they know they’re gonna eat. Every time they bite into one of those peaches, it’s another full belly. So many of us went a damn long time without a good meal, or cutting corners that anything we get to eat is a real blessing. Even now, when things are still pretty damn good.
We haven’t returned to the Factory yet. I’ve been in daily radio contact with the three folks who are running the place, and by all signs we’ve gotten from them, things are settling nicely. They’ve mentioned that the undead presence around the building has been a little heavier than they have been used to, but again I think we can credit the huge gun battle for that. So much loud ass gunfire had to attract something. Undead moths to the proverbial flame. To deal with the undead menace, they’ve gone back to one of their tried and true killing methods: concrete blocks off the roof. Apparently, they have gotten quite good at dropping the blocks on the heads of roaming undead.
No deaths there as of yet, though Lulu said a few folks have colds now, which I think is falling right into lockstep with my Patty cold theory. I’m not a doctor Jim, but I think we’ve had our first sharing of germs across cultures. Congratulations people, now we’re all going to be sick. Granted, as long as it isn’t too bad, we’ll come out of it fully stocked up with brand new antibodies, and that’s just cause for a massive celebration. I might masturbate.
Mike took the weapons from the Factory back to MGR where he’s got an armorer’s bench set up. He’s taking the broken ARs apart and sorting them into what we can use for spare parts. He’s also been taking the time to do more robust maintenance on the high volume weapons. I can clean them and do basic shit, but I’m not an armorer, nor do I profess to be. Mike on the other hand is far more skilled in that regard than any of the rest of us. He’s doing weapons upgrades and repairs all this week and next week for M4/AR users. We’re also seriously considering putting two or three more of the ten ARs we got from the Factory into rotation here with the better shooters, but frankly, I’m sort of apprehensive about that.
I don’t want to repeat here what happened at the Factory with their 5.56 supplies. Too many weapons firing the same ammunition means we’ll go through it that much faster. If we force other users to eat away at less used calibers, we’ll preserve our high volume ammunition for more critical incidents, and we can slowly chip away at the less used ammunitions. For example, our strangely large supply of .270 Winchester. Nothing wrong with that caliber, or the weapons that fire it, but if we’re going to shoot a zombie at distance, or go deer hunting, I’d rather use one .270 Win round, than one 5.56 round out of an AR. Less wear and tear on our more important weapons, and it conserves the ammo we use in the really dangerous situations.
Mike is making either scenario happen for us by getting those guns back into the fight. Go Mike. Once again I should take the time to profess my clearly hetero love for that guy. If it weren’t for him, I think things would be much more difficult. While I’m sucking dick here, thanks to everyone who has made my life and the lives of the others here easier, safer and better. Ollie, Melissa, Mallory, Blake, Kim, Martin, Julie, Alex, George, Renee, Dwayne, Lindsey, Doc Lindsey, Abby, Angela, Amanda, Danny Junior, James, Chris, Jeanette, Jenna, and all the kids who run around and get into frigging trouble and keep smiles on all our faces.
It’s awesome. It’s like we’re a real community, pulling together to make this happen. Speaking of making things happen, we are very near
the end for the barn’s construction. I forget where I said we were building it, and I know Ollie changed his mind, so I might’ve even said where we were going to build it, but where we didn’t actually build it. Anyway, rambling and misinformation aside, we finally threw the damn thing onto the ground near the athletics fields that had been converted into our farm land. The barn is near Hall B so Ollie and Melissa are close to it. It faces due south, and can hold about eighteen head of cattle, as well as the chickens, though the chickens will be good and cramped up for the winter. We need to find a way to heat that barn too, otherwise they’ll freeze to death. We’re thinking a good old scouring of areas we haven’t been to yet might yield a few more woodstoves, and that’d be perfect.
In fact, the Factory could use a few woodstoves of their own. It’d cut down on their diesel consumption something fierce over the colder weather months. Even just one or two over there would go a long way towards alleviating their demand.
The run downtown to the clinic and pharmacy went reasonably well. We visited MGR for a brief restock and weapons swap out as well. The pharmacy had a couple of undead in the vicinity, and we were able to dispatch them with brute force as opposed to gunfire. The clinic had a couple as well, but not anything nearly like what we experienced the first time we went there. That was straight up horrifying.
What’s on the horizon for us? Lots. Lots and lots.
Lindsey, (not Doc Lindsey, just plain old Lindsey) pointed out that there is an apple orchard on the far north side of town that more than likely has apples. The apple trees there should have naturally produced a reasonable amount of fruit all by themselves, so we are planning a trip there tomorrow to pick apples. I’ve been there before, and it’s fairly rural. As I recall, there’s maybe a hundred trees, and with that kind of potential, we might be leaving there with a lot of apples. Earlier today we discussed how to store them, and what to do with them once they were here, and fortunately, we have enough canning supplies and know how to make jams and jellies, as well as preserve them in jars. We can also just plain old eat them. Yay for more fresh fruit. I’m also thinking we should straight up rip about fifteen of the trees out of the ground there, and plant them here so we have apples here. If we plant some apple seeds where we take the trees, then we might be in business for having apple trees everywhere. The more food that’s readily available for us, the better off we are.
What else is on the agenda? We’re making another return trip to the Factory to see how things are going in a few days. I’m hoping that all is well, and I finally get a chance to talk to Jason about things. Like I said, I don’t want weirdness lingering if at all possible. Last thing I want is an awkward conversation at the wrong time. No one wants awkwardness. Especially when it involves two large people who use weapons rather proficiently. Tends to end in bloodshed.
We’ve also got the health issue of the folks at the Factory. None of those folks have received any healthcare to speak of, and despite Doc Lindsey being a medical noob, she did receive a lot of hands-on first rate training from Lisa before the fire, and a ten minute physical with her will be more than welcome, and is definitely needed. How we exactly make that happen I haven’t figured out yet, but we’ll work out the details.
Finish the damn barn. Finish the work on the campus wall. It is done and roughed out well, but we need to add to the tops of the berms so we have safe firing positions, as well as a level place to walk the perimeter. Right now it can be treacherous walking the wall at night, and we can’t have folks losing their footing, and falling off the damn berm over the wood front, and marooning themselves outside the damn wall. God only knows what could happen. They might be sprayed by a skunk.
Speaking of stinky animals, Otis has been a fucking weirdo the past couple of days. Every time I try and leave the damn dorm he’s rubbing up on my leg, or scratching at something to get my attention. Sometimes that cat is so fucking needy.
We need to get back on the hunting. James professes to be an excellent hunter, and he’s done nothing but prove himself right. He’s acquired a 20 gauge bird shotgun from our stores, as well as a few boxes of birdshot, and by golly, it’s been the best investment I’ve made in years. James has managed to bring in six turkeys in just the past few days. He says early in the AM before the morning mist clears, they are gathering in some of the yards of the houses on Auburn Lake Road. It’s apparently as if they were in a barrel for him. One or two shots and he bags one or two turkeys. We’re figuring we can take two to four a week, and based on what he’s seeing, we can do that for a few months without really hitting the population hard.
We must be surrounded by turkeys.
We should ask for reinforcements.
So yeah. Food seems to be a huge issue right now, which makes sense, as the weather has gotten noticeably more cool the past ten days. Instead of the 70s and warm, it’s in the 60s and chilly. Very damp. Makes sleeping nice, but moving about in the afternoons and mornings is kind of icky.
Oh well. Layer, and drink hot fluids. Which reminds me… eventually, we are going to run out of coffee unless we find a way to grow the shit.
Damn.
-Adrian
October 7th
I have no idea what I am doing.
I don’t even know where to begin here, it’s not like he gave me fricking instructions here. I suppose I should stop writing, and go back and read what he’s already written, so I have a better idea of what I should be writing here.
Alright so if you haven’t figured it out, I am not Adrian.
Hi, I’m Abigail.
Adrian was shot in the head, and I think he is dying, and he asked me to take over for him before he slipped into unconsciousness. Well, he didn’t specifically ask me to, but I figured it out with Mallory’s help.
I’ll write more as soon as I can.
God this is fucked up. I feel like a thief looking at this stuff.
Abby
October 9th
I cannot believe he has written this much shit. It is unfrickingbelievable. There are reams and reams of files on this fricking POS laptop that he’s written all by himself. It’s astounding the meathead did all of this.
Reams. Legit. Like, fricking reams and stuff. I read all day yesterday, all night last night, and all day today, and I am less than halfway through what he’s written. I can’t believe he’s been doing this the whole damn time.
Unbelievable!
I still feel like a bit of a skank for reading it all though. Although I must admit, it is kind of fun to read through someone’s diary like this. It’s dirty. Fun.
Of course, if Adrian dies, this all stops in a rush. This becomes the last words of a dead man trying to atone for his past mistakes, and trying to do the right thing when so many of us choose over and over to do the wrong thing. This epitaph won’t fit on any headstone. From what Doc Lindsey says, he does not look good.
I wasn’t sure what to say, or where to start, but based on how Adrian has been writing in this diary, I am going to start with what just happened, and fill it in from there.
Chris Sunderman shot Adrian in the head in the apple orchard the other day. It was four days ago I think. Maybe five. To be completely honest, I don’t remember. Things have been such a whirlwind here trying to make everything happen with Adrian down. I haven’t been sleeping good when I do sleep, and it is getting harder and harder to distinguish when I’m awake from when I’m asleep. I need to string maybe 5 or 6 fricking hours of sleep together to get my fricking brain back in one piece again.
Here’s the story as I can remember it from the orchard:
We’d arrived with a huge crew of dudes and chicks to pick apples and make the place safe. I remember Adrian saying the place would be safe because it was out in the middle of nowhere, and he said that the majority of the folks we’d brought were just going to be picking apples all day. I don’t think he had any idea what was going to happen. I don’t see how he could’ve known.
There was fruit everywhere. Apple
s on the ground, in the trees, you name it. Fruit everywhere. It was like the Garden of Eden 2k11. Sweetness everywhere. I nearly ate myself sick on sweet little red apples that were as yummy as could be.
A few hours into our visit after we’d dropped a few zeds that were wandering in the area, Adrian was off on his own on the fringe of the orchard pulling security as he says when I realized I had a question for him. I needed to ask him how we wanted to sort the storage of the fruit on the trucks and stuff. I came around the end of a row of trees and saw Chris walking towards Adrian, calm as can be. Normal. Adrian had his back turned to the two of us, and before I could do anything about it, Chris raised his rifle, and shot Adrian in the back. Adrian went face down in the tall grass far too hard for my comfort. I remember screaming bloody murder at Chris.
At first I thought he shot Adrian by mistake. I thought holy shit, he thought Adrian was a zombie. That had to be it, right? Only way it could’ve happened.
But Chris turned towards me, and when I saw the look in his eyes, I knew something was wrong. He was vacant. His eyes were like, not focused on the real world or something. Not quite there, like he was sleepwalking or something. I know he lifted his gun towards me, and I just did what Adrian always told me to do. It was like, total reflex. I know I dropped down low, on one knee, and flicked the safety to fire. I think I yelled one more time for him to either like, drop his gun, or maybe freeze or something. He didn’t do whatever it was I asked him to, and I pulled the trigger. I fricked up though, because I thought I flicked the switch once, and instead did it twice. That’s the three round burst option, which I know Adrian hates most of the time. I guess it worked out, because I hit him in the guts with all three shots. Well, two in the guts, and one went into his ribs.
Chris went down, and I grabbed my radio and freaked my shit for help. I don’t think I even said words. Just screaming over and over as I knelt in the grass next to Adrian. The next hour or two was a blur. I can only remember a few things to be perfectly honest.
Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 7): The Trinity Page 13