by Joshua Guess
The homesteaders have done some bad things, but part of why they did it was out of concern for one another. I would find it hard to fault that reason were it not for the fact that they put their group's needs over the overall needs of the compound.
I visited Katy today. She's doing better, although she's still very weak. She's putting on a little weight now that she has food to eat. She was thrilled to learn that we are, for the moment, without further conflict. She's excited to get well enough to work along with her peers, and to do her part to make sure the crops we have are cared for, and the ones not planted get their chance.
Her enthusiasm is infectious. I can't bring myself to tell her it might not be enough.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Hunger Pains
Posted by Josh Guess
This morning I walked house to house, trying to get an accurate count of the number of people left in the compound. I wish I could tell you that I got that job done.
In the southeast corner, there is a section of wall that has several small houses built right next to it. "Houses" may be too generous a term, as they were built quick and dirty by my brother when our original population began to overflow from the homes in this neighborhood.
They're small things, the largest only about twenty feet on a side. I hadn't been there in a long time, but I knew that there were people living in them because we're over capacity for living space.
I talked to several people and took their information for my census. At the fifth of these houses, I got no answer. That shouldn't have alarmed me, but something was out of place to me. The door was locked, which was very odd. There was a faint metallic scent in the air.
I broke the lock and went in. The house was only two rooms, divided by a thin wall made of plywood and curtains. In the main room was a dead man, head impaled on a long steel nail driven through a scrap piece of wood. There were bite marks on his arms. The bites looked human.
In the second room were three dead children with their skulls caved in. I could see the filmy eyes and vacant expression that is the hallmark of the undead on one of their faces. Only one had a face left to see.
The worst part was that the bodies of the children were so ragged and thin that I had to imagine that starvation killed them. It wouldn't have been obvious to a casual observer, as the kids wore baggy clothing that helped hide their condition, but I wasn't casually observing. I was looking at their frail, thin bodies to learn what had happened to them. It wasn't hard to figure out.
My guess is that all three of this man’s children had been starving themselves by giving most of their food to their dad. Too many of our young have done this, and I hate myself for not investigating further before now. One of them must have caught some virus or something, and with their immune system weakened by malnutrition, died in their sleep. I'm guessing the oldest one, a girl of about twelve, only because she didn't have any bites on her but the other two kids did. She likely attacked them in their sleep and killed them quickly.
The scene must have been unimaginably terrible. The man, whose name I can't seem to learn from anyone, wakes up to his children moving into the main room. He only realizes what's wrong when they attack him, and he does the only thing possible: he defends himself. The wounds on his arms looked defensive to me, anyway. I'm not an ideal investigator, but I think it's pretty logical.
He had to kill his own flesh and blood to try to save himself, driving them back into their room and bludgeoning them to death. He knew his time was short, as he'd been bitten many times and the bites nearly always kill. He took the only option left, and drove his head right onto that nail, piercing his brain to make certain he wouldn't come back.
I can't imagine the heartache he endured as he took his own life. After having to do such awful things to his own children, I doubt anyone would have the will to live. I wonder how this post would differ if he hadn't been bitten.
In the end, it was almost lucky he was. It saved him the choice of living with the pain or dying alone.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
The Last Crumb
Posted by Josh Guess
Thanks in part to the large pyres we're constantly feeding with zombie remains, we've still yet to see a "living" zombie since the North Jackson soldiers saved our asses.
That's where the good news ends.
We've run out of food. Not totally, since we still have vegetables and fruits growing all over the compound, but our stores are now completely used up. We're doing alright with hunting, but that's a relative statement not to be taken as a positive. Our hunters bring in as many kills as they can every day, and we have a LOT of people out there doing it almost to the exclusion of all else, but we're still running a deficit.
I am happy to report, however, that all children in the compound are getting full rations. Actually, most of them are getting extra to make up for the starvation they put themselves through. I haven't heard of even one adult complaining about that, which is a sign of sanity if nothing else is.
It's harder and harder for our hunting parties to find game. We've got a lot of people out there, and they've been killing all they can for a long time now, not just in the last few days. There's talk of sending some people out to search for food in places we haven't been since The Fall came, but that's pretty risky. Starvation is worse, though, so we'll see what we can do.
Even as we shed pounds and grow a fraction weaker every day, the compound as a community gets stronger. The ravages of the zombie invasion are slowly being healed as my brother takes volunteers to help him repair the walls and raze most of the houses in the annex. He's not making anyone in his usual construction crew work given the current situation, but that hasn't stopped most of them from offering. Many others have joined in as well, and what they lack in carpentry know how they make up for with enthusiasm and willingness to learn.
Dave has decided that he will be build several large communal houses in the annex, all of them to butt up against the main compound's wall. Each will be built very sturdily and with their own defenses. They'll be able to house a lot of people, if not with much privacy. Not that most people get any privacy as it is.
It's a lot of effort, obviously. It seems a little silly on the surface to tear down homes just to build new ones, but Dave argues that custom-built living quarters will hold a lot more people and be zombie-proof from the start. Plus they'll have access to the main portion of the compound through doors cut into the wall. A big part of this decision is due to our need to maximize agricultural space inside the annex, which is going to be almost all farmland.
Which reminds me: I have to head out to the farms with a few of our more experienced farmers to see what we can salvage from there. I'm hoping some of the equipment will still be usable, and with luck we might find a few of our animals alive. That'd be a nice surprise.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Hope and Tragedy
Posted by Josh Guess
My trip out to the farms was interesting and productive. Also, AWESOME.
Though the zombies managed to trample most of our crops, there were a fair number of potatoes undamaged beneath the soil. Enough to feed us for a few days, anyway. Most of the farm equipment was in good shape, so we've got tools to use as we begin the process of converting the annex over to farmland.
What made the trip truly great was the chickens. I guess zombies have a hard time catching them, which really shouldn't come as a surprise. We found about sixty, and teams are still looking for more. Chickens mean eggs. I know that sounds a little third grade, but I'm ecstatic.
Huh. I guess it took zombies destroying society to get me excited about farm animals. Strange world we live in.
We've also been trying to find the group of Latino people we saw in Shelbyville quite a while back. They didn't seem to want much to do with us even though they saved the lives of we who were on the ill-fated trip into their territory, so we haven't tried. We've been avoiding that area for the most part, not wanting to c
ome into conflict with people who helped us and clearly wanted to be left alone.
We're at a desperate point now, so polite indifference is no longer an option. Yes, we've had a little luck in the last few days, but we need to explore every possible avenue. I'm hoping we'll be able to find them today, as I'm about to go out with a few small hunting parties to search Shelbyville. If we can establish communication (we've got a few people that speak Spanish) then we'll work on figuring out if trade is anything close to possible. I'm hoping so. Anything we could bring in would help stabilize our dwindling resources.
I'm in a good mood, but there are dark happenings going on around here as well. I'm trying to stay positive, but there have been two suicides in the last three days. Both of them were homesteaders that chose to work with us and give up on the larger, more intractable group of homesteaders that were exiled.
The notes they left cited the constant and worsening hunger as the reason. One of them, a woman, wrote that the pains in her stomach brought back nightmares of living under the Richmond soldiers, some of whom would make her do awful things just to get rations. Dancing nude in the snow was the least offensive thing she mentioned.
Two dead for fear of reliving the hell that was the winter. I see determination to survive in the eyes of the people around me, but there is suffering there as well. It's impossible to know who will finally give up in the face of all the hardships in the here and now, much less the ones we're sure to face down the road.
If we're very lucky, we can make things easier. I'm going out now. I try to make my own luck.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Quiet
Posted by Josh Guess
Sometimes it's so hard to write the words I need to say that I shake. There are moments now and then, events and sights that deeply affect me, which take the thoughts right out of my head.
We searched Shelbyville carefully yesterday, looking for signs of the group of Hispanic people we knew lived there, or at least they did many months ago. Our hope was to establish trade if possible, cooperative effort at a minimum.
First we checked the rural areas around the town itself. We found some crops growing in what had obviously been carefully tended enclosed areas. They had grown wild and dense, many vegetables fallen from their plants to rot on the ground.
We followed tracks as far as they would take us, but they always led to roads. Dead ends.
We searched the town itself, and it didn't take long to find them. A department store, windows carefully blocked but with firing holes left open, surrounded by defenses. It was in this little shopping center, tucked back off the main road a bit and hard to see through the verdant growth that has taken over much of Shelbyville.
We threaded our way through the barriers and traps cleverly arranged around the front of the place. The windows were very secure, the door locked and barricaded. We searched all around the building until we found an obviously hand-made mechanism, a rough but complicated crank that required both hands to use. It took two of us to figure out how to operate it. We got it in the end, and a rope ladder rolled down the back of the building when we turned it.
There were no sentries. Not a single guard.
From the access ladder on the roof, we made our way inside. The total number of them was fifty-four. Thirty were children. All of them were dead.
Everywhere we looked we found bodies. What I have to assume was the entirety of their group died, but none of them alone. Adults were clutching children, older kids frozen in death holding the small, thin frames of toddlers. From what we can tell, all the older people there committed suicide. Guns next to bodies and bullet wounds to the skull made that obvious enough. The decay in the room made it hard to gather facts, but Gabrielle, who was with us on the trip, thinks the young ones caught something that made them very sick. A few of the bodies of the younger children were still partially intact, and though the adults had pierced their heads to prevent them from reanimating, that wasn't what killed them.
They were thin. So very small.
There was food there, rows of cans and what had once been fresh produce gone to rot. It surrounded them. They had plenty to eat.
Further inspection by Gabrielle led her to believe that whatever hit them, it caused severe gastrointestinal problems. She said there were signs of dehydration and terrible diarrhea, though I haven't had the nerve to ask what they were. It's bad enough that I have those images in my mind. I don't need to dwell on the agony that must have fallen on those poor souls before the end.
The one that forced me to my knees and brought me to tears was a woman sitting on the floor, her back to a heavy wooden chest. Her legs were splayed out before her as she cradled the remains of a small boy, hear head tilted back atop the chest. Her eyes would have been facing the sky, were she alive. Even though both of them were months gone and I could only identify their genders by the clothes they wore, I could see them clearly in my mind. I felt her despair as she looked to the heavens, begging to know why such terrible misfortune had been visited on them. On him. On her.
Even in death, her posture was unmistakable.
It was a tableau too horrible to really grasp. Still forms, wrapped around one another in the last throes of death, finding one last moment of comfort, one last touch of love. Even to the end, they were there for each other. It was a silent scene that said more without words than I will ever be able to express with them.
So many lives lost. So much potential gone. We've seen so much since The Fall, lost so many, that you'd think it would be easier to deal with things like this. It isn't.
Today I mourn friends I never knew. That's all.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Embers
Posted by Josh Guess
The last of the thousands of undead have been burned. Our trenches are rock-hard now, the clay in them fused by the constant fires over the last several days.
We buried the bodies of the poor souls in Shelbyville. It took a lot of effort, but it was the right thing to do. We found some edible canned goods in their home, and fresh veggies in patches. Not a lot, but every bit helps. Though we didn't know them, the people from Shelbyville helped us again, even in death. Burying them was the least we could do.
I'm on hunting detail this morning, so I'm heading out. Now that the smell of burning undead is starting to fade, we're worried that zombies will begin to show up again. At least now we know that burning enough of them will keep some of them away. Too bad we've run out of their corpses for fuel.
We could face a swarm at any time, so hunting and bringing in all we can is vital. We won't know when we'll be hemmed in again. We can't waste any chance to bring in food.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Faith No More
Posted by Josh Guess
I woke to shocking and disheartening news: a group of thirty people, most of them the folks from the valley we brought up from Tennessee, have decided to leave. They're planning on being gone by Monday, and there doesn't seem to be a lot we can do to convince them to stay.
I can't blame them, not really. Since they've been here they've seen the worst happen more than once, and they've been treated badly by many people in the compound. If they want to go, no one is going to try to stop them, but with the reappearance of at least some zombies outside the wall, it will be a more dangerous venture than it would have a week ago.
We've lost more than half the compound as livable area, so the loss in numbers isn't a terrible thing from that viewpoint. We're struggling to feed people and going hungrier than any of us is comfortable with, so it's not the end of the world from that vantage either. Hell, I could sit here all day and point out the many ways that losing more people will be beneficial to the group overall. I could do that, but I won't.
I refuse because I'm sick and fucking tired of it. I'm done with being the pragmatist who has to look at people as numbers for the greater good.
Look at the compound. Look at my home, and see how far it has fall
en. Less than a year ago we were a thriving community of people who cared deeply for one another. We fought, bled, and died for a common purpose. We were building things and moving forward. We were a small town unto ourselves, policing our own when needed and taking pains to make sure that every single one of us was fairly treated. There were entire weeks of time where it was almost possible to forget The Fall had happened, so comfortable and safe was our home.
I take small credit for that. I managed to see it coming, though at the time even I thought I was being stupid and acting crazy. Lucky for me, other people joined in the madness because without them the compound never would have been the haven it became.