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

by Joshua Guess

  On to the second question, now that I've frolicked through the happy thoughts that are my new godchild. Will Jess and I try again?

  Many of you know what happened before, and to be honest if you don't know the story I don't want to dwell enough to go into detail. We lost our first child because of violence. And whether or not I showed it much on here over time, it messed me up. Maybe permanently.

  My mom used to tell a story about a doctor she worked with, who carried a list of questions he liked to ask people to gain perspective on our culture. He was from India, I think, and one of the questions was, "You're in a boat with your wife, your son, and your mother. Which one do you save?"

  My mom answered that she'd save her child, because children are the future. The doctor was used to that reply, but he said he'd save his mother. You can remarry, he said, and have other children. But you only have one mother.

  It's not wrong, just different. I've come to realize that the zombie plague has created a new culture and forced a shift in the way a lot of us think. When Jess and I lost our unborn child, I was devastated. In the world that was, couples losing a child often meant the couple would split apart under the immense emotional strain of that loss. We didn't. We found solace in each other and in our duty to the people around us. So my answer isn't a simple one.

  If it happens, and we're not taking a lot of precautions against it, then fine. We'll be nervous and terrified and worried to the end of our wits. That might have to do with a world that's fallen apart, though I'm equally sure parents since the dawn o civilization have felt those same things when they realized they were going to be responsible for a new life. Shaping a whole person and keeping them safe until they can care for themselves is a huge responsibility.

  But, honestly? If it doesn't happen I don't know that I'll have tons of regrets about it later. Jess and I serve our people with a dedication that takes up most of our time and energy. There's a lot of personal satisfaction in that. A part of me wants to see my name continue, my features (and my need for glasses along with it) passed on to a new generation of human beings.

  It's complicated, but I admit that my ambivalence has a lot to do with fear. I know me well enough to realize that I might be okay with never having children simply because then I won't have to face that worry. It might make me a coward, I guess that's for you to decide. But I was asked, and that's the best and most honest answer I can give.

  Friday, April 13, 2012

  Laid Up

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Well. I'm a dumbass.

  I made the mistake of getting out of bed a little too quickly this morning, and I slipped a little. I didn't fall, but I did bang my side on the table next to the bed. Being as I'm still in the clinic, and Gabrielle was watching...I was busted. I'm stuck in bed and only allowed up with assistance. I know truly know how it was for all my patients at the nursing home. My incision hurts so much because of the nasty bump I gave it that I'm not arguing.

  As I write this, I'm carefully forking pieces of steak and eggs into my mouth. It's so very good. There's even milk to go with it. Granted, goat milk, but it's better than nothing.

  At the same time I'm hearing the sounds of battle outside. About twenty minutes ago two bells went off, signaling an attack force of zombies estimated between one and two hundred in size. I should be freaking out and worried, feeling like an utter bastard for eating this rare and delicious meal while other people fight for my safety, but I'm not.

  Two reasons.

  First, hitting my side and feeling that sweeping pain like getting kicked between the legs was a reality check. I'm not just hurt, I'm seriously compromised. Out there I'd be a liability to anyone I tried to protect. Long-term thinking has always been our main advantage over the zombie swarms, and that means getting better. Which means I need protein to heal. Which means eating what I'm given. That the meal is tasty and fulfilling isn't my fault. I'd be an ungrateful asshole not to enjoy what I have.

  After all, we have so little here at times. We don't live lives of luxury and ease. In a way that's a blessing, because it makes us appreciate the good moments so much more.

  The second reason I'm not losing my shit? I'm drugged the hell up.

  I don't know what it is, and I don't much care. It's relaxing me without dulling my senses. I feel calm. Concerned about everyone out fighting at the moment, but not anxious with worry over what's happening. No amount of hand-wringing is going to change what happens. Letting my food get cold or skipping a post here today won't either.

  Being in the clinic means that I'm not totally out of the loop since medical staff come and go with casualty reports and the occasional new patient. Triage teams have popped in for supplies once or twice, and they know me well enough to rattle off what details they know without being asked.

  It's a group of New Breed, but they didn't come from any direction we expected. They hit us from the south, which has been abnormally sparse of them when our scouts and Beaters head that way. We assumed it was because we operate south of New Haven more than most places, and they avoided gathering in large groups there.

  But another detail makes me wonder. These New Breed appear to be more ragged and disorganized than the ones we usually deal with. Makes me think they might have come from a long way off with few meals, and we were too tempting a target to pass by. Says something about their self-control that they'd lose cohesion at a certain point. Hunger is one of our deepest primal urges. Even living people will go nuts when they starve long enough. Can't expect better from the undead.

  Apparently they're not as spry or strong as their well-fed cousins, either. Our people aren't having too hard a time scything them down, especially since we've got so many new defenses here. There aren't many new patients here at present, and only one so far with a bite. That guy got hit high on his shoulder, almost his neck. He's probably not going to make it. Can't really cut that off, you know?

  What's scary is that he was on the wall when it happened. Even weak and disorganized, these New Breed managed to work together. Two of them lifting with interlocked hands as a third sprang onto them, shooting up to grab the top of the wall. How so many of them avoided being annihilated by the air cannons and spear-throwers I don't know. Those defenses should have chewed up at least a hundred of them if they came at us all at once.

  Come to think of it, I haven't heard many of the loud hisses that ring out when the air cannons are fired. Almost none at the start of the fight. That's curious.

  Ah. Phil just brought me a long roll of raw gauze. He wants me to cut and fold it in case we need it soon. Need to sterilize my hands and go. I'll report in later if possible.

  Sunday, April 15, 2012

  Valkyrie

  Posted by Josh Guess

  The last few days have been busy ones. I can't get out of bed, both because I'm still not allowed without help and because the clinic is pretty full at the moment and moving around is hard. It's not that we have an overwhelming number of injuries (though there were a fair number from the zombie attack the other day) but because people are coming to visit Jess in a steady stream, pretty much nonstop since she was brought in.

  Yeah, Jess is in here with me now. Her injuries aren't severe but at least the doctors won't have to worry about us trying to engage in painful post-surgical sexy times.

  The reason the cannons didn't fire immediately when the swarm came for the walls is because Jess was outside New Haven with a group of kids. They were accompanied by a small contingent of guards and were being watched by the sentries and guards on the wall, but it was still dangerous. Jess and the kids were pulling up clover we'd planted last year, staying inside a designated safe zone where traps hadn't been laid. An escape ladder was thrown over the wall as a precaution so the people outside could shimmy up to escape any incoming zombies. Damn good thing they were prepared.

  Things can always go wrong, though.

  Jess wasn't carrying her rifle when she went out. She's been practicing with other
weapons for a long while now, and working the earth has given her more muscle than at any point in our marriage so far. So, she was carrying a staff. Yeah, maybe not the best weapon with which to actually killa zombie, but the wife made a show out of holding off several of them with it.

  She didn't have a lot of choice there. One of the kids spooked when the sentries shouted their warning and ran outside the safe zone. Poor kid stepped right on one of the spear traps, sent the shaft of wood up out of the ground and right through his calf. Jess ran to him straight away, pulled him back as far as she could until she had no choice but to fight.

  According to her, that part of the battle lasted for an hour. According to the guards who moved in to rescue her and the boy she fought like hell for maybe sixty seconds. An impressive minute, make no mistake, as Jess managed to fend off half a dozen undead while protecting a child and using only a long stick. Desperation is a powerful tool.

  She took some nasty scratches to her upper arms and shoulders, and she's gonna be here for observation and treatment for another day or two. The wounds look good so far. She's got stitches that look incredibly uncomfortable, so now we're a matched set.

  I'm still doing what I can to help by preparing medical supplies and the like while I'm here. Today was a lazy day for me, the staff didn't wake me up until an hour ago. When I came to, Jess and I were holding hands. Had been doing so in our sleep, arms dangling in the space between our cots.

  I wish I could have seen it. My wife out there, savaging the hungry enemy for the sake of a wounded child. There was a time when I would have questioned her willingness to do that for anyone, even me, much less a person essentially a stranger to her. In my mind I see her as an unstoppable force, flowing between attacks and striking with perfect grace, a warrior woman of the highest caliber.

  Then again, I've seen her trip over her own feet and stab herself in the hand with a steak knife she was carrying in the same hand so my imagination is probably getting a little ahead of reality. I'm sure she had to struggle in the fight and made mistakes. The wounds winding up her arms and across her shoulders are testament to that. Like everyone, she's only human.

  That's what makes it so awesome. We're imperfect in many ways, but capable of moments that defy every expectation. My wife, the hero.

  Monday, April 16, 2012

  Going Dark

  Posted by Josh Guess

  One of the folks from Louisville died in the night. I'm in a different part of the clinic, so I wasn't aware of it until I woke up a few minutes ago. Evans is going to do an autopsy, which as you can imagine is unusual.

  Somehow, whoever was on duty missed the death at first. I've been a nurse's aide, I know it's not hard to do. Sometimes when people are sleeping soundly and you pop your head in to check on them, you can just make the assumption they're still breathing. After all, they'd been breathing for years without stopping.

  In a nutshell, that means the guy on duty didn't know he had a dead body on one of his cots for nearly four hours. A body that had begun to mortify, which is again something unusual. The departed in question is currently strapped to a table just in case, but it's been at least six hours and so far has shown no signs of reanimating into a zombie.

  In fact, everything we can see indicates that our fallen ally is just...dead.

  I'm too groggy to speculate on what this may mean. The zombie plague is a complicated organism, but the human immune system is a powerful beast in its own right. Maybe after a long enough time some people will begin to build resistance to the infection, I don't know. That's going to be something Evans will try to determine through autopsy, I guess.

  The worrying thing is that the guy didn't even get worse. The Louisville crew that have been here for weeks have had peaks and valleys in their illness, but last night there were no changes. No ragged breath, no gasping for air or crackling in the lungs. Just sleeping soundly one minute, lights out the next.

  The medical team here is worried that the easy diagnosis for the Louisville group may have been the wrong one. Evans and Gabby sat with me a few minutes ago so I could listen to their thoughts and prepare notes for Will. They made some good points, though Gabby did most of the talking. Evans is a cranky old sawbones and very good at what he does, but Gabs spent the last few years before The Fall studying to be a Nurse Practitioner. Combine that with her love of medicine and endless curiosity, and you get one hell of a diagnostician. Evans isn't a slouch by any means, but he's just not up on the same things. His insight was extremely valuable anyway.

  While we don't know exactly what killed the poor guy last night, there are several important factors to keep in mind. Evans told me about how rampant disease was back in Vietnam. There were a lot of soldiers on our side who hadn't had vaccinations through one error or another. Many were exposed to diseases that there were no vaccines for.

  Which raises the alarming point that we're now operating in pretty much the same circumstances. Most of us have been vaccinated for various things, but that's the past. The passel of babies here haven't had that blessing, nor is it likely they ever will. All those crazy people who didn't give their kids vaccines and immunizations because of corporate greed or government microchips or whatever would just freaking love this situation.

  Too bad most of those folks never looked into mortality rates of communities without those treatments.

  Even that is a long-term worry. The immediate fear is that the Louisville people brought some unknown pathogen with them. If that's the case, it doesn't seem easily vectored to other people, because none of us are sick. I'd been working with these folks for weeks and living among them for nonstop for more than a week. Maybe not in the same room, but close. And I'm not sick yet.

  Injuries are something we can handle. They're quantifiable problems that have definite solutions. Illness on any scale larger than individual is a whole other beast. Not one easily slain, if at all.

  Tuesday, April 17, 2012

  Matched Set

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I only have a minute this morning. Things are in a mad rush right now. Will and Evans are trying to seal off the portion of the clinic the Louisville people are in. Another of them died last night, and it was caught quickly this time.

  No one is sure exactly what's going on with these folks, but the decision has been made to limit exposure as much as possible. The reason I don't have much time to write is because I'm being moved to another part of the clinic myself since I had a lot of contact with them. It's just damage control, no worries. They aren't going to put me to death or anything. Evans just wants to make sure that if we've caught whatever bug it is, we don't share it.

  Jess is still laid up, but she and I won't be together until Evans determines whether or not I'm sick. I don't feel sick, but then it might be hard to catch with my recent surgery.

  Ah. They're coming to move me. Time to close the laptop. No worries for now, okay? The zombies outside the walls are manageable, the Exiles aren't making any more noise. I'll write again as soon as I can.

  Wednesday, April 18, 2012

  Bubble Boy

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm in isolation along with a lucky group of other people. It's not fun. It's not terrible, but we don't have anything to do. For the time being I don't get to do any real work or interact with people other than they small number of clinic personnel. And those folks wear isolation gear when they come in. It's kind of difficult to have serious human interaction when the person you're talking to is wearing eye shields and a face mask.

  The concern is that I'm a carrier for whatever is killing the Louisville crew. There has been another death, the third. That leaves three of them alive, and their condition has basically remained the same. Time is the only way to know if they'll live or die.

  I'm charging my laptop with my solar charger through the window. It takes most of each day to do it, and that leaves me a total of about five hours of battery time to work. Writing this blog takes up a chunk of that,
and I spend the rest of the time communicating as best I can with the people I need to talk to. Luckily a lot of the work I was doing with my brother on the expansion is on this machine, so I can fiddle with that. Will has someone else covering my job with him. Boredom and worry are racing for first place in my brain.

  I'm told that Jess is doing well and so far showing no signs of whatever it is that's killing the Louisville people. I'm hopeful that the illness was beyond the transmissible stage by the time they got to the clinic. That's not really what I'm worried about, to be honest. I try to ration my fear for things that are happening rather than things that might, which is why I'm also not as concerned for me at the moment. I don't have any symptoms.

  What's rattling my cage is the zombie attacks. They're happening, and they're getting worse.