Living With the Dead: The Hungry Land

by Joshua Guess

  I just hate these places now. Ever since Jess and I got trapped in that one up in Michigan, I've gotten the creeps just passing them on the road. I remember being a kid, traveling from Illinois to Kentucky with my mom. They seemed so neat and unique to me, little islands of temperature-controlled civilization right in the middle of endless miles of empty road. Now they just remind me of getting trapped by my own stupidity.

  Not this time, though. we've parked our vehicles very close to the building (one of them right up against it) and have taken precautions to make escape simple and easy. The glass in the windows and doors is thick and strong, just like most of these places. Built for durability and limited maintenance. That thick glass might leave us exposed, but it also gives us visibility. I'm sitting on a stone bench right now, looking outside. I can see the undead moving toward us even though we've been here less than half an hour. They tend to clump near places where people used to gather.

  Given the near torrential rains last month and the clear signs of terrible flooding, it's up in the air what kind of condition we'll find the roads ahead of us in. There aren't any road crews out there to clear fallen trees or patch potholes. We'll take it easy and minimize risks.

  I'm just really glad the council let us take one of the smaller portable cell transmitters with us. I'm jazzed about having guaranteed communications wherever we go.

  Now, to figure out how to cook food in here.

  Friday, June 3, 2011

  Rolling With Heat

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Not too long a post here since our group is getting ready to head out, but I wanted to leave something on the blog so everyone knows we're OK and survived the night without incident. Maybe that's just my discomfort at being stuck in a rest stop again showing through.

  I spent the night on the floor snuggled up between Jess and Becky. It got surprisingly cold in here after dark, much more so than I would have expected. The others won the draw for couches and chairs, but I was happy to zip our sleeping bags together and keep warm with my two favorite ladies. It's kind of funny how both of them are similar in that way: Jess and Becky both like to get close and tangle up with someone when they sleep. I'm the opposite in that I'm used to having my own little space to curl up in. As chilly as the rest stop got last night, I broke that habit.

  Will ended up coming with us, I don't know if I mentioned that before. For his safety and with hasty escapes in mind, Will isn't being cuffed or shackled on this trip. I only speak for myself here, but I don't think it's very likely that he'd do anything to harm any of us. I don't discount the very slim possibility that he might try to escape, but I doubt it. Even if he did get past all of us or managed to sneak out without waking anyone, where would he go? All the keys to all the vehicles are kept safely in our pockets while we sleep, so that option is out. He probably wouldn't make it very far on foot if he got desperate enough to try.

  Not that I think most groups of survivors would take him in. While our own people are split on the morality of Will's actions because we know him and understand his dilemma, outside of the compound the story is very different. For all the help he gave the people of North Jackson, they'd probably just capture him and send him back here if he made it all the way to Michigan. Most other groups consider him a traitor or too large a risk, which I'm told in almost every email I get from them...

  Bah, kind of got of topic there. Wasted what little time I had. OK, on the road again. Wish us luck and safe roads.

  Oh, and it's already over 80 degrees down here. I can't imagine how hot it's gonna be further south and later in the day.

  Saturday, June 4, 2011

  Shredded

  Posted by Josh Guess

  We're still not to our destination. Right now we're taking a break from travel because frankly we have no idea how to bypass the obstruction in our way.

  That obstruction being the debris let behind from what I have to assume was one hell of a flood. For the last several miles as we've tried to make our way south, we've run into piles of shattered trees and other assorted rubble that block every road we can find. Becky is looking over maps to see if she can figure out a way around that doesn't cost us another day.

  It looks like what we encountered in Frankfort during the weeks of hard rain last month is nothing compared to what Tennessee got. I imagine this area must be something of a convergence point for the flood waters to the north. The huge mass of trees, limbs, cars, parts of houses, and other bits of junk seems to go on forever. It looks like the majority of the solids being swept along by the flood got stopped up somewhere and just started accumulate. Then everything dried out, and this miles-long snaking roadblock is left.

  We've had enough to slow us down that we really didn't need this too. The roads are worse here than we could have imagined, and last night we all caught some sleep in the vehicles since we couldn't find a safe place to camp. If we can't make it to the group we're headed toward by tonight, we'll have to turn around and chalk it up to a loss.

  Damn, I see some zombies coming out of the woods about five hundred feet away. This might get ugly.

  Monday, June 6, 2011

  Broken Land

  Posted by Josh Guess

  We made it to the group of survivors in Tennessee that we were trying to reach. I had intended on writing yesterday, but the sheer amount of help these people needed took pretty much all of our free after getting here.

  As you might have expected, the storms that ravaged Frankfort last month had an even more profound effect here. The flood waters hit this part of Tennessee like a hammer. In fact, part of the reason these folks contacted us is because they've been desperately trying to repair all of the damage to their homestead, but they've finally given up. There's just too much that needs fixing and not enough of them to do it, nor enough supplies to make it happen.

  The last day and a half has been a whirlwind of activity mostly due to the smattering of medical knowledge we brought with us, bolstered by the medical supplies we tucked away just in case we needed them.

  Good thing we did. There are some people here that were severely injured by the damage caused by the storms and floods. Some have been nursing wounds for weeks, others getting injured while working furiously to repair their home.

  About half the work we've done since coming here has been canning and preserving food. They weren't kidding when they said there was a huge trove of edibles here. The whole place is a giant farm, far larger than what we utilize at the compound. There are all kinds of veggies and fruits growing, but the really important part is the preserved foods. The people here spent a tremendous amount of time and effort over the last year trying to can and jar every scrap of food they could get. Though the season is still early, there are enough peas and other early vegetables to feed hundreds of people.

  The trick is to get them sealed up and preserved while they're still good.

  In addition to that, there are animals here. Lots of them. The survivors have been killing them in ones and twos and drying the meat. They hate to waste good livestock, but it has to be done, because there's just no way they can stay here much longer.

  See, when they first made it here, this place was ideal. The land itself is situated in a huge tract between some very large and nearly vertical hills. It's screened in on three sides thanks to a sheer cliff face that sits at the end of the valley. The open area between the hills is relatively small, maybe about fifty feet of flatland before the hills jut up from the ground. The trees on the hills have provided ample firewood and lumber to make walls from. It's as defensible against zombies as a place can be.

  Weather is a different species of threat, however.

  When the rain came to Frankfort, we thought we had it bad. What we got there was even worse here, gusts of wind so strong that it started snapping trees in half after they bent almost in two. Water rushing down the hills, carrying loose rock and parts of trees, whole sections of zombie barricades. About a quarter of the arable land here is cov
ered with sediment and junk.

  But now there's nothing keeping the zombies from coming over the hills except for how steep they are. The undead have been rebuffed from this place for a long time now, but eventually a smarty or some lucky dumb zombie will make it up the hill again, and this time they're gonna see a defenseless all-you-can-eat buffet of people.

  I guess it's pretty clear what our job is now. We've got to figure out how in the hell we transport these folks and their supplies, and in a short enough time frame that we don't all die in the process.

  We've got a few trucks, a bunch of extra E85, and a landscape tattered by wind and water. Piece of cake, except for the part where it's impossible.

  Tuesday, June 7, 2011

  Valley Girls

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I don't think I mentioned it yesterday, but the population of people here in the valley is surprising in that the women outnumber the men. A lot. Like, three to one.

  I could take this a lot of funny and possibly offensive places, but I won't.

  On the one hand you might expect the men here to be excited about the prospect of being surrounded by so many women. I mean, it does get boring sometimes after the work is done and there isn't any television to watch or video games to play. You'd think that those fellas would be sitting pretty with a bunch of women with little else to do but think about ways to overcome that boredom...

  Of course, I haven't asked. I don't know how people here manage their personal affairs, and I don't care. Not that I'm not curious, of course, just that in the end it has no bearing on why we're here.

  Then again...I kind of feel sorry for these guys. I love women, all women, to one degree or another. I think women are amazing and wonderful creatures. That being said, I've also spent a frightening amount of my life being under the thumb of them. At the nursing home where I worked right up until the zombie plague broke out, I felt like the most henpecked son of a bitch on the face of the Earth. I know what those guys are dealing with.

  That's bound to be taken the wrong way. Look, I'm truly not sexist. Well, I might be but only because I generally consider women to be superior to men. Women tend toward being smarter, more levelheaded, more meticulous and pragmatic. Also, women can have babies which pretty much gives them the win over guys even if all that other stuff wasn't true. I'm just saying that men, who usually think in straighter lines and with singular purpose, get annoyed with being told what to do even when it's the right thing to do. You feel me?

  OK, so I got a bit off topic there. Sorry. I'm feeling unusually relaxed by the weird fact that I haven't seen a zombie since I got here. We've been extraordinarily lucky as far as I'm concerned, and we've used that freedom to work on some ideas for getting these folks and their food out of here.

  One thought was the most simple and obvious: bring in more vehicles. Thanks to the flex-fuel fleet we took from the state parking lots, we certainly have enough of them to run a huge convoy if we wanted to. Add to that the tens of thousands of gallons of alcohol we have on hand in Frankfort that can be distilled down for fuel, and it makes perfect sense. Of course the downside is that such a convoy would be too tempting a target and would risk a large number of people from the compound. Not to mention the rather large dent it would take out of our fuel supplies even mixing it with 85% alcohol.

  We've been looking at other options. Really, the hardest part is going to be keeping the people safe. We've thought about scouting the local areas for trailers to haul behind out trucks as well as harnessed onto some of the animals. The people here could walk if they had to, though how we would camp safely without drawing a swarm of zombies is beyond me.

  We've even considered trying to find a train and using that to get us as far north as possible, but that would likely mean having to leave the vehicles behind, which isn't an option. We'll keep on thinking about it, and meanwhile meat is being dehydrated, veggies canned, and belongings parsed into what needs to be taken and what can be abandoned.

  I'm sitting outside right now under a beautiful gazebo that looks older than me. The panels that make up the walls of it are single pieces of wood, each carved with different scenes. Some are of deer grazing in the woods, some of geese flying through the sky. There are holes all through them, in between the animals' legs and the ground. It's beautiful, and lets you see through the carvings like a screen. The valley beyond is idyllic and serene. It's a lovely place full of lovely people. I hate for them to have to leave.

  Oh, and they have one thing in common with the people of the compound, at least. Lots of pregnant women here, too.

  Wednesday, June 8, 2011

  The Bloody Hills

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Well, we got our first few zombies this morning. They came over the eastern hills right at dawn, which was fortunate for us since they were nicely outlined by the rising sun. There were only about twenty of them, a small group, and between three of us firing arrows at them and three of us using bladed weapons, they were a quick job.

  This does move our timetable up considerably. I've already sent messages to the compound requesting they send us a bus and whatever other transports they can to get these people out of here. We'll just have to preserve as much of the food as possible and try to haul what we can. I'm hoping to hear back from Patrick in the next few hours. I need to know what they're sending us so I can try to plan out our escape.

  It's a testament to these people that they aren't panicking or freaking out. Everywhere I look there are pregnant women working right alongside the men with feverish energy. Everyone, even the few children that are here, works with focused intent. I saw a kid no older than ten kill and begin plucking a chicken just a few minutes ago. He was crying while he did it in a way that makes me think he had treated that bird like pet.

  When he was told to kill it, he didn't hesitate a second.

  That's how everyone here is. It's by no means a perfect place. People argue and there aren't magical little butterflies floating around on tides of happiness. I suppose it's just that I'm seeing a group of people who haven't been fractured by division and conquest. There are less of them, and that means it takes a lot more teamwork to achieve their goals.

  Even though the problems at the compound are understandable given what we've had to endure on top of the zombie plague, I still feel envious of these people. This is how we were early on. It's just human nature for societies to stratify and grow new tensions when old ones fade.

  I've got a lot of work to do today, so this one will be short. If I have time to post something else later, I will. Though it seems like every time I say that I end up not having time.

  Now to go finish cleaning up the bodies of all these dead zombies.

  Thursday, June 9, 2011

  Denied

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm keeping this very short because we've got a lot to do today. My request to the council at the compound has been denied. There won't be any more vehicles or resources sent this way. Their reasoning for this decision is sound, but that doesn't really mean much to those of us that are here and trying to evacuate these people.

  The compound has been under light but continuous assault over the last few days. Not more than fifteen or twenty zombies at a time, but the attacks are spaced less than an hour apart. That's not too much for our people to handle, but they are hitting all sides and sections, so our people have no idea where the next one will come from. It makes for a tired group of people. The council doesn't want to risk sending out anyone since the compound will need as many able-bodied folks as possible.

  The mood here is fairly bitter. My group isn't happy that not even a few people with a bus could be sent, which I think is pretty reasonable. I mean, three people to drive it down here in shifts doesn't seem like too much of a stretch to me. There's no use getting angry about it since we can't change things, and the people that live in this valley see it that way, too.

  Well, to be fair they're angry as hell, but they aren't letti
ng it consume them. They keep on working and trying to get as much done as possible before we have to leave.

  Which will be soon. There have been more zombies intrepid enough to make it over the hills, though the groups have been smaller. Two or three at a time, which can easily be killed. It's making a lot of people nervous, though, so we're working on some alternate plans.

  Yesterday after I got the bad news my group decided to venture out and try to locate some vehicles to get these people out with. We got to the closest town and looked hard for fuel and trucks, but no luck. That means we'll have to go out again today and look somewhere not so close. If we have to cram these people into the backs of moving trucks and hope for the best, we will. We WILL get them out of here.