Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5)

by Joshua Guess

  Credit is due to our watchers for not taking the shot they surely wanted to take. It would have been easy to react to cold murder with one of their own, a few ounces of pressure on a trigger. A moment of rage that would have taken one terrible person out of the human race even as it reignited a war.

  God help me, I almost wish they'd done it.

  Which is idiotic on an intellectual level. We've got crops to grow, projects to build, zombies of all types to defend against, and a hundred other things to worry about. I know that. But what I feel is totally different.

  And I'll leave it there before I start a war myself.

  Saturday, April 7, 2012

  The Pack

  Posted by Josh Guess

  The mood in New Haven in the last day has been tense. Not overtly angry, but as if every person is clenching their fists in concert. We never lost sight of the things the Exiles have done to us, but it was jarring to have them give such a stark reminder. That guard dying like that, as an example to others.

  Well, that just pisses me off. But I have been asked not to focus on that. Which only means that cooler heads than mine realize pushing the issue, considering how it upsets people who are already high-strung, is probably a bad idea.

  One thing that probably helped people relax a little yesterday was Jess's solution to the massive flocks of birds going after our crops and seeds. At first she sent people out among the rows to bang together pie pans (which work a lot better than pieces of firewood) but that was still inefficient and a waste of manpower. It left the walls low on sentries and guards, so we put our brains to coming up with something else.

  Again, Jess was the one that came up with it. We've spent a lot of time and effort to gather and slowly breed dogs. We have to be careful of how many we have due to food concerns, but when it comes to early-warning systems for zombies, you don't get better than a dog's sense of smell. My own two, Bigby and Riley, have saved my life a couple of times.

  Riley was already fixed before The Fall came, which is a real shame. For all the destruction his over-energetic ass caused back when my biggest concern was paying the mortgage, he's turned into a first-rate guard dog since. He has the nearly unlimited vigor of a growing puppy, and he fucking hates birds. If he had hands instead of paws, I'd give him a fist-bump.

  Bigby, on the other hand, was not fixed. We've bred him once already, and the puppies were awesome. Riley is half Golden Retriever and half Great Pyrenees, and it makes me sad to know that he won't pass those beautiful looks on. But he's also lanky and somewhat awkward, so not ideal for what we need.

  Bigby is half Chow, half Norwegian Elkhound. He's massive and built low to the ground. Hit mate was abandoned by one of my neighbors early in The Fall, a pure Malamute. The puppies have grown to be meaty, strong adults.

  So Riley, Bigby, and his progeny (six of them) are spending their days under the supervision of two people scaring the living crap out of birds. I can't help smiling when I think about it. Watching them gambol and play even as they put the fear of god into their prey makes my heart a bit less heavy. It's another example of how we have to utilize every resource we can. My ferrets and cats are great for controlling vermin from bugs on up to rats. Our large pack of dogs are good for a lot of tasks from guard duty to scaring birds, even acting as pack animals from time to time.

  Of course, my boys and their pack out in the annex do have to be watched. All of them are prone to digging, and that wouldn't be a very good thing. Still, with so many targets to keep their attention, it's not a bad situation. Plus we can let some of the kids out with them. Makes the kids happy, which makes the adults happy, which we all need.

  Zombies still wander around outside the annex walls, but the dogs seem to be keeping any New Breed among them from risking a climb. That's a lot easier to do in that part of New Haven given how bad the damage is to parts of it, but apparently it's more than birds my boys can keep in line.

  Maybe not the most important or moving thing to talk about, but it's better than the alternative. Some days you have to force yourself to avoid the bad, no matter how much you want to dwell on it. So I think I'll had over to the annex and let my pups knock me over and give doggy kisses. That kind of loyalty and love can do wonders.

  Sunday, April 8, 2012

  Eastbound

  Posted by Aaron

  Hello everyone. Aaron here. Miss me? Josh is being kind enough to let me post my little update on the actual blog here today for those that have been worried or concerned about me. As he mentioned, I left New Haven awhile ago. Now, it wasn't because there's anything wrong with New Haven. Quite the contrary. I miss New Haven greatly and love it so much. I left because I wanted to find a few people. See, before the Fall I was one of those people who did long distance dating via the internet. At the time of the fall, I was with a girl from New Jersey. We actually had been together for about two years and spent a great deal of time traveling back and forth to visit each other and what not. Heck, she even planned on eventually moving to Kentucky. However, the Fall had a funny way of ruining plans. I lost touch with her. I sent her a few messages but never got anything back. So I assumed the worst. She was one of the casualties of the Fall.

  So imagine my surprise when I received an e-mail from her, not only telling me that she was fine, but had heard about New Haven and wanted to come down here. The only real problem was that she didn't really know how to get here, nor did she feel safe to try to on her own. So I packed what I could and with the permission of the (now defunct) council grabbed one of the trucks and began to make my way toward New Jersey. This was back in the beginning of November.

  Now on top of my own personal mission, I had been asked to make contact with a few known groups of survivors to set up possible trade arrangements. Probably why I was allowed to go at all. Not that they would've genuinely stopped me, but there would've been many more attempts to persuade me to stay and it was already difficult for me to do so. Plus they wouldn't have let me have the truck.

  So my first stop was a group of survivors who had decided to hole up in one of the old coal mining towns in West Virginia. The first thing that really surprised the heck out of me was that they had electricity. Like street lights and stuff. It made everything seem so...bright. This was greatly offset by the thin layer of coal dust that seemed to cover most of everything. So in the end I chose the name Soot for it. I don't know. It seemed appropriate.

  The people there seemed genuinely pleased to see me when I got there. I got the feeling I was expected. They were all a hardy lot, about hundred and fifty of them in all. They worked the mine in shifts and those not working in mine usually worked on other projects. Like the massive electrified fence that surrounded the entire town. It's their main means of defense. A large 15 foot tall metal fence they can keep electrified for when the zombies (or marauders back when they were more plentiful) attacked. It was a site to behold. I got to see it in action a few times. Seemed to even keep this New Breed at bay for the most part.

  I ended up staying there until about the middle of March, for a number of reasons. The first was the chaotic weather. Not that it was overly cold there (though colder than how it was in Kentucky apparently) or there was a whole lot of snow, but it was enough. Plus it took awhile to work out the arrangement between New Haven and Soot. More so cause of the political turmoil in New Haven. That and communication was really tough. Despite having a more or less regular source electricity they did not have very consistent internet connection. In fact, it was downright impossible to stay on the net for more than an hour or so at a time. I'm amazed they were able to get in touch with the outside world at all. But they're a resourceful bunch.

  So anyways, I took my leave a couple of weeks ago to head toward my next stop in Virginia and had the most damning of things happen. I let myself run out of gas. So I've been hoofing it ever since. I just finished crossing the Appalachians a couple of days ago and finally got signal today. I'm hoping to hit my destination sometime in the next week or
so and assuming all goes well there, I might be able to check out D.C. area. I guess we'll see what happens.

  I miss you guys back and New Haven and I look forward to when I can see you all again. Stay safe back there and I'll try to send more regular messages through Josh when I can.

  Tuesday, April 10, 2012

  A Little Extra

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Now that I'm out of serious danger I can tell you what's been going on with me the last several days. It's almost funny that with the Exiles letting their true colors shine again, the New Breed ramping up the rate at which they gather together even as we try to keep their numbers down, and the other threats we face, the simplest ones are what catch us off guard.

  I had Aaron post the other day because I was incapable of it. It was a lucky thing I managed to get in touch with him, communications being what they are. His ability to check in here at home has been spotty at best, but I was terrified that if anyone knew that our medical staff were pretty much all busy during that day, we'd be at risk for an attack. The Exiles aren't the only opportunists out there, after all.

  See, my appendix almost burst.

  In the old world that would have been cause for concern but not all that dangerous compared to most other health problems. I woke up Saturday morning with a sharp pain in my side and decided after a few hours that it wasn't gonna go away on its own. So I went to the clinic. Evans and Phil asked me a lot of questions, but what it boiled down to was guesswork. Damned well-informed guesswork, but still. No tests to confirm, no scans to make sure. They (and Gabby) both thought I had appendicitis, so they did what all good surgeons do and convinced me to let them cut my belly open.

  Phil decided to pepper his conversation with explanations about how easy this surgery would have been before The Fall. How he could have done laparoscopic surgery, minimally invasive, and had me up and about in no time.

  Instead, I have this gaping wound on my tummy, and a lot of pain, and I'm down for a while. I'm told the surgery went as well as could be expected, but given our circumstances that's not saying great things. I've refused pain medicine (which I regret every time I breathe) for the sake of those who may need it in a much worse way later. That's about half altruism and half practicality--I might be the one who breaks an arm or something, which hurts a lot more than this does.

  I'm here in the clinic until further notice. I can work on stuff from my bed, but no duties that involve me having to move around much. With luck I won't develop any infections, though the antibiotics we have at hand are much appreciated.

  Okay, I'm not making much sense at the moment. I think Evans might have slipped me some pain medicine, that tricky fucker. I'll be back (and hopefully more coherent) tomorrow.

  Weird to think that little extra bit inside me caused so much trouble. An organ I didn't even need almost killed me. I wonder what they did with it?

  Ugh, there are hungry zombies penned up not far away. I've decided I just don't want to know.

  Wednesday, April 11, 2012

  Freeloader

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm not gonna get into how much I hate being stuck in this bed unable to do anything physical. I would actually be allowed up more by now, but I'm running a low-grade fever and Gabby is insistent that I rest and use my strength to heal. I still do some walking and sitting to keep my lungs expanding so as to avoid pneumonia, but it's never for very long. I always come back to this bed.

  Not that I'm not doing work, of course. I am. Will has me as his assistant all the time now since I can't do anything other than use my brain. Will is going easy on me with the work, though I wish he wouldn't. I'm weak, not dead. Dave doesn't have that problem. He's taking up my extra time (roughly equivalent to most of my time) helping him rework and improve the designs for the expansion. It's a lot of number crunching and managing supplies. Familiar territory.

  No, what's really bothering me is feeling like a freeloader. I know, I know. We take care of our own. That's the point. But I've spent too long working my ass off to feel okay with the notion that I should just be doing paperwork. There's a healthy dollop of rational fear in there, as well: I can't hop up and grab a weapon if there's any kind of attack.

  I'm not allowed to go hang out with the sick people from Louisville, who are still here but getting a little better. That they've struggled against whatever is in their lungs says something about their toughness. I don't feel as though they should be putting any effort in (the little voice in the back of my head is quiet now) because they risked their lives to safeguard ours. I just got an infection.

  Yes, I know I've risked my own. I'm too hard on myself. I'm a hypocrite with a double standard. Shut up. I'm ranting here.

  The captive zombies are all dead. It was decided while I was being operated on that no one else should risk dealing with them, in accordance with my desires. Dodger did the job himself. Those rooms are filled with relatively comfortable cots now, ready for anyone who may need a place to crash near the clinic. I haven't discussed resuming our experiments with Gabby or the others yet. That's too far into the future, and I've just begun the recovery process.

  One good thing about having so much time to sit around and think is that the analytically skilled part of my brain is getting a great workout. I can't miss the parallels between us starting the bare bones of our own expansion and what the Exiles are starting to do.

  That's the most disturbing thing about being stuck here, knowing the enemy is still the enemy and not being able to observe for myself. Until now they've been content to do their own thing across the river, knowing we're watching them and feeling safe within the walls of the fallback point. Now, they've started raising these huge posts into the air around their stolen home. Tall spears of wood that must have been taken from somewhere else, maybe from downed power lines. They've got long homemade extensions built onto them, with attachments that carry steel cable between each one. Just last night the first three of the posts went up as our watchers observed.

  Between them, two huge pieces of fabric flew high. One of them seemed to be an old parachute cut and stitched into a new shape. The other was a patchwork of material. The Exiles are blocking themselves off from our sight, and that's probably a bad sign.

  Says something about the basic differences between us, doesn't it? New Haven expands to bring others in, to grow. The Exiles build to hide from us. Not that I blame them considering how coldly our folks view them at present.

  I'd love to see it with my own eyes. Sometime soon, I hope. I'll be a good boy and heal up as I'm told. I just don't have to like being apart from everyone. Jess has been too busy to visit me in the last day with all the work being done in the annex farm. Pat is shaping metal for twelve hours a day, his girls apprenticing with him. Courtney and Steve are managing much of the trade operations, Becky in her makeshift lab...

  Yeah, I'm going. I really don't want to start a pity party here, especially since I'm the only attendee.

  Thursday, April 12, 2012

  Generation Gap

  Posted by Josh Guess

  A reader asked a question of me yesterday that was both personal and simply curious. The reader must be a loyal one, because they were curious about things that don't have a lot to do with survival. That's a thing that I sometimes forget: some of you out there genuinely care about what's going on here in ways that can be surprising. A lot of folks just read the blog to keep in touch or to get tips on how to deal with the worsening zombie plague, but a few seem to enjoy when I ramble about the place I love.

  The question was actually two: What happened with all the pregnant women all those months back, and are Jess and I going to try again ourselves. Let's do this one at a time.

  I've touched on this a little, but many of the ladies from Tennessee were pregnant back when. Then they left, took over the abandoned strip mall in Shelbyville, and had their babies. There were a fair number of pregnant women who are natives to New Haven (if that term applies) and they've giv
en birth for the most part.

  Not that people are having babies in waves or anything. There are other folks carrying children in various stages, and the ladies from Tennessee are living here again so there are a fair number of kids all around the same age. If it seems as if I ignored this, I guess that's because it doesn't seem newsworthy to me anymore.

  Wait. I'm not trying to knock the importance of kids. I'm just saying that over time we've all acclimated to the fact that there are a bunch of them around now. Initially there was a lot of fear that the attention small children would require might be a risk or cause people to be less productive. That's a bit cold-hearted but remember when that speculation was happening. Things were really bad, really desperate. We weren't holding together well.

  I guess the short answer is that the babies were born, which just became something of a non-issue for most of us. I think that's a great thing. We should see new life being brought into the world as simply the way things ought to be.

  Oh, and on that note, Patrick's daughter was born. I never mentioned how far along his...I can't say girlfriend or whatever, because they aren't really seeing each other any more. It was an equal split, no drama or anything, just one that came with the lifelong prize that is a child. She's an adorable little bit, I have to say. I hope Pat settles down with someone eventually, though I know his little girl will be fine with having a single dad if that dad is him. He deserves happiness.