by Joshua Guess
Posted by Josh Guess
I've been a little worried lately that my constant anger at the people trying to wage war against us was doing almost as much damage to me as my depression did. Years of seeing zombies kill and maim people I care about and having to kill myself wore me down. In just the last month I've been able to move from that fragile state to where I am now, but I'm not blind to the facts. I've always had a bad temper, and it's emotionally exhausting to stay as angry as I have these last few weeks.
But it provides a sort of mental shield, you know? When you're furious enough the details don't sink in. You don't let the natural empathy creep in. It makes you burn hot but make decisions cold. I've needed that. Being forced to push myself out of the funk I was in meant doing what was needed to get by. I began to worry that I was cutting myself off from all the good parts of myself as well. Jess has pointed out fairly often lately how distant I've been. More than one of my friends have seen that as well. I haven't been interested in the stories that matter. People and their lives.
They aren't wrong. The problem I've had is that we have to strike a delicate balance between the hard hearts to deal with the challenges at hand and remembering the reason we make those choices in the first place.
I went to the hospital yesterday to help get our newest arrivals settled in, and it helped me remember. Before, that place was a mess. An empty shell that once served as a haven for those who needed help. Funny that before The Fall most of us disliked hospitals, maybe found them cold and sterile or even frightening. Now I look back and realize in amazement that there was an entire sector of our civilization dedicated to healing people. Maybe not out of altruism, but it was there.
The lifeless husk that had been the hospital was filled with people. Mostly young to middle-aged, but a few older folks were there. And kids. So many kids. I spent a lot of time on what used to be the pediatric floor playing with children. Safe, inside a building strong enough to withstand a small aircraft flying into it, we were carefree for a time. I laughed and got to be myself without any layers or barriers. Just me and those boys and girls reading together or playing with trucks and dolls. It was so great.
Some of you out there aren't in the situation we've been dealing with. God bless you for that. You're lucky. I hope you never make yourselves a target as we have, never have to fight a war on three fronts. But because you aren't waging those battles, it can be hard to understand exactly what drives us. What drives me.
I was depressed and almost gave in to the worst urges. I've always been mentally resilient, and dealing with bouts of depression most of my adult life has given me a lot of practice bouncing back. This time around, the shock of the violence around me helped, and I clung to the rage it gave me. It was a lifeline I climbed to reach a place of relative balance.
But let me be clear. I'm not angry right now. I'm perfectly calm. I say this with sincerity and clear conscience.
If a person or a group or a town full of people were to threaten those children--or anyone else in my community--I would kill them. Without hesitation. I wouldn't give warning or try to be 'honorable' or 'fair' about it. In that situation those words have no meaning at all. I would do it in whatever way I could, through any means that would be safe for me and effective.
It's that simple. No matter how many times I've said it over the years, and I will keep saying it though the words fall on deaf ears, it remains true. If you leave us alone, we're no threat to you. Move against us, against what we're building here, and I will murder you and anyone who might take revenge for that murder. I'm not just speaking for myself, you should know. This is New Haven's position. As far as the council and the population are concerned, uninvited aggression from outsiders can only be met with as much force in return as possible. There are no rules after that. Bullets, knives, traps, poison, weapons of mass destruction. They're all fair game.
Because doing those same old deeply stupid things means you aren't fit to survive in this world. There's enough land to go around. Farm on it. Build things you need. Eke out a living. Do it in peace and you might get help. But attack, try to take what isn't yours and endanger our people?
You're worse than the zombies after that. The undead don't have a choice. You do. Once you cross that line there is no going back. I say this without malice or spite. You don't kill a rabid dog because you hate it. I do hate many of our enemies, but allowing them to retreat and live in peace would be an option...except that the Exiles taught us how foolish that choice is. No, you kill that rabid dog because even if all you feel is sadness and love for it, eventually it'll bite you. Or your child. It will do damage that might be irreversible.
And that's not acceptable. Not in the least. We will burn out the enemies who want to harm us, excise them from the Earth root and branch. To do any less would be a crime against our people old and new. We will do this not despite our humanity, but because of it.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Cataclysmic
Posted by Josh Guess
There aren't a lot of survivor communities on the east coast. Too many big population centers, too many zombies moving restlessly through the area. We're in contact with two, and one of them is in New York state. Not that far from the Big Apple itself, which always surprises me. But then, most of the undead in Manhattan are stuck there. The bridges are all destroyed or blocked.
So now we know part of why the weather here is so insane. What appears to be a hurricane made landfall last night, a huge storm that filled the entire horizon as far as our allies there could see. They've felt the wind coming off the storm for days.
Our friends are holding out for now. The buildings they live in are remote and durable, but only time will tell if it will be enough. The community isn't small--four hundred people and growing--and they've got a setup that provides safety from zombie swarms and allows them to farm extensively. Because they're so close to NYC itself, they don't lack for raw materials to recycle and turn into more useful things. That little community is rugged and self-sufficient. They, like New Haven, have made tremendous leaps forward in the last few years.
They are a model for what the surviving members of the human race can do. And because of mother nature they could be wiped out tomorrow. Fate can be hateful and cruel, with a sense of humor that makes your teeth hurt.
It's probably a blessing that more communities aren't located in the eastern states. Some do exist, of course, but they're away from the coast and the usual spots where this kind of thing happens. Funny how settlers from other countries came here and chose to live in the north, in some of the most inhospitable areas of the country during winter time. When New York got those first few feet of snow many decades ago, you'd imagine the people would leave to find a warmer, safer place to live.
No. They stayed and fought it out. Built the greatest city on the planet. New Yorkers--hell, most people in that area of the country--were some of the most tenacious humans to ever walk. Pride and pure grit kept them in the place they'd chosen, and you can't ask for more than that.
Now, without the modern conveniences, things have changed. If the area is prone to tropical storms or worse, you leave. If it gets pounded by blizzards, you leave. If a huge set of population centers is nearby (with some exceptions, like our friends up that way), you leave. History was on the side of immigrants and pioneers once the initial plunge of coming to America was done. Populations were growing, technology was evolving, and every day more was being done to tame the forces that threatened.
We've got less people walking around than ever. The Fall has seen to that, as well as the idiotic drive to fight even in the face of basically infinite free land. We don't have the resources to manage the way those old-timers did. We are a species dwindling, pushed away from threats until we get backed into a corner. It's at that last moment when no other options exist that we turn and lash out. When all else is lost we fight for our lives and freedom, for the right to exist at its most basic.
That's a good thing. It was a lesson
our allies in New York learned early on. They retreated from the city and the suburbs to isolated places. They scraped by and planned, worked their fingers to the bone to prepare a place for themselves. Months of effort and sacrifice gave them the rewards they sought: a community built entirely by them. Carved out by sheer willpower and at the cost of lives and leaving thousands of dead zombies in their wake.
We're in that corner, now. Not because our resources are running dry or we've lost everything, but because we have too much to lose now to take risks. Like a mother defending her child, New Haven can't take any more chances. There's only one way to keep people safe.
Tomorrow you'll understand.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Half Measures
Posted by Josh Guess
I've mentioned Ender's Game before, but for those who haven't read it or missed the post I wrote about it, I'm going to reiterate. Because it matters.
The scene in the book that matters concerns Ender as a young boy, constantly bullied. He is attacked by an older child, and Ender beats the other kid and leaves him on the ground. Then Ender kicks the bully over and over again until the child is a mass of blood and bruises. Ender points out later that his reason for doing so wasn't that he was vicious--he hated what he'd done--but because he didn't just need to win that one fight. He needed to win all the ones after it.
Fear is a powerful motivator, but it only works if the enemy knows you're serious. It's a huge reason the Japanese surrendered only after the second atomic bomb was dropped. Once wasn't enough fear. Anyone can act out once. But when the second bomb fell, every person in that nation knew that the United States was not in the business of dicking around.
Neither is New Haven. We've compromised and used half-measures for too long. No more. We're in a position to remove threats permanently, and we've got the allies to help us do it.
I would be lying if I said it doesn't still irk me to be left out of the loop about some things, but yesterday morning I was told the full details of an operation to stop the Hunters from moving against us or anyone else. I was asked to wait until today to explain in detail, but I'm going to give the full rundown on it tomorrow. Today I have to sort through all the reports about the attack along with all the records given to me concerning the planning and coordination of it.
It's a lot of stuff to sort through. I know this post is short and wonky, but I needed to give you all some kind of introduction to what I'll be writing tomorrow. Context is crucial in this case. We've been the victims of systematic attacks by the Hunters, a few of which I've mentioned but there were others I've just learned about, and we are fully justified in our actions. And remember as you read tomorrow's post that these people coldly destroyed community after community. Decisive action was required.
It's not going to be easy for you to read. I'm not looking forward to writing it. There are limits to what kinds of terrible discoveries we can deal with as human beings, and some of the stuff in the file I was handed about this attack...stays with you. Not for the squeamish.
So consider this post a big disclaimer. Tomorrow you get the full Monty. It'll be bad. But we didn't have much choice. Keep that in mind, please.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
The Full Measure
Posted by Josh Guess
For weeks there have been secret meetings and communications among a large coalition of allied survivor groups. I won't name them, though you know that we and North Jackson took part. There were others. Every one of them donated resources, people, and time to the effort.
Scouts with broad and deep military training went out into the wild and tracked down the Hunters, following them home. Since finding them initially, there have been no less than three sets of eyes on their compound. This was not a smash-and-grab operation. Careful observations were recorded and shared, plans were formulated and discarded and the whole strategy started over again. The average citizen, myself included, was kept totally in the dark about the existence of this ongoing campaign.
The green light was given on the day our runaways asked the council for permission to leave. Those people were not actually giving up on New Haven. Turns out we were being observed ourselves, and Will knew that. I was passed false information to give those people a reason to leave with provisions. They were part of the assault team that would strike at the Hunters where they live.
Lived. Past tense.
I've seen and done terrible things since The Fall. All of us live with the knowledge that when everything falls apart, unthinkable options become inevitable choices. We've faced the undead too many times to count. We have starved and will be hungry again, been ravaged by disease in what is certainly only the opening act to the pestilence we'll face over the coming years. We have been at war with someone or another nearly without fail for more than two and a half years.
Probably our greatest challenge is facing the truth of what we've done this week. When we're the ones with the power, not the ones outnumbered and desperate. True, the Hunters started this. We are justified in doing whatever it takes to protect ourselves. Still...there are levels.
The Hunter compound was huge. More than a thousand feet on a side, the walls stood strong. Made of many different components and materials, I'm told they looked like our own walls back in the early days. Buildings inside rose to two and three stories, most of them built from scraps and raw materials scavenged and stolen. The hill their compound sat atop was covered in empty rows of tilled dirt where food had been harvested not too long ago.
For a group that plans meticulously, the Hunters didn't seem much prepared for an attack. The coalition took out their sentries and scouts in the wild, removing the watchers capable of giving warning. The area they'd taken over wasn't heavy on zombies, either. Probably why they chose it in the first place.
Our people emerged as one from the trees framing the Hunter compound. The vehicles used were armored--heavily--to protect our drivers and troops from rifle fire. Not that we gave them much chance to shoot; a lot of resources went into this. Heavy guns from all sides sent a blizzard of lead into the enemy position, suppressing pretty much any resistance. A dense concentration of gunfire centered on the main gate and the narrow road that went up to it. The wall in that section actually started to come apart from the sheer force of so many bullets.
Under that covering fire, aimed high to prevent any accidents, came a truck modified with thick armor plates on its backside. Just another precaution, in case a bullet came too close.
When the gunfire started, the Hunters probably thought we would act in a manner consistent with other people, like marauders or the Hunters themselves. We've struggled too hard to waste food and trade goods. I imagine the white flag went up pretty fast when the gunfire started cutting their people in half. But when they saw that truck move to the gate, if any of them were in a position to see it, they had to know there wasn't going to be any orderly ransacking. No merciful reprieve from us, people known for giving second chances.
When two five-hundred gallon propane tanks get parked right next to your front door, you can be pretty sure it's not a gift. Any Hunters capable of seeing those tanks probably weren't able to see the forty pounds of dynamite strapped to the bottom of them.
A small chase vehicle followed the truck in, and as soon as the parking brake was thrown, the truck's driver dashed to the tiny armored car behind him and they took off at top speed. Less than thirty seconds later, every member of the strike teams pulled back into the treeline and backed away.
The explosion was enormous. Not as powerful as you might think, but the pressure wave was more than enough to knock a hole in the place you could drive a fleet of vehicles through. Most of the interior was wood and caught fire immediately, driving the Hunters away from the main gate.
Our people moved back in and unleashed a torrent of flammable material on the walls, even using a repurposed airport pump truck--a small firefighting truck built out of a Humvee--to fire a stream of homemade napal
m over the wall and into the compound itself. Shock and awe was more than enough to reduce resistance to zero. The attack was too coordinated and merciless. Estimates put the number of people killed in the explosion alone at nearly a hundred.
We burned that place to the ground. Our people moved in as the flames spread, shooting any that ran away and feeding every drop of fuel they'd brought for exactly that purpose into the fire. Smaller propane tanks were even used, hurtled into the flames by crude but effective catapults made from spare timbers and easily assembled as the Hunters retreated further inside.
All told it took about twenty minutes to reduce the place to a giant fire pit. Maybe an hour and a half to make sure every part of it was too hot for anyone to have survived. The cleanup afterward took nearly two full days, but the few survivors that were found, all tucked away in basements originally intended to be escape tunnels, were methodically questioned and then executed.
The final numbers took my breath away. One thousand, six hundred and fifteen people died in that inferno. Of that there were one thousand, four hundred and thirty-two adults. One hundred and eighty three of the dead were children. Some of them only infants.
That hurts. Those kids were innocent, their only crime being in the care of murderers who knew their actions would lead to no good end. I cried--hell, most everyone did--when I found out the real cost of this attack. Those kids shouldn't have died. We shouldn't have been put in a situation that required us to do it. We shouldn't live in a world where that necessity exists.
The Hunters were a threat not only to us, but to any and all communities they could reach. They've murdered countless people, attempting total annihilation of all community members in an attempt to remain uncaught. They failed in that. Because of their choice to be violent and aggressive first and to not even attempt cooperation with anyone else, they earned no pity.
I'm told the commanding members of the coalition didn't know children were present. I don't know if that's true, but even if none were sighted (reasonable given the terrain and difficulty seeing inside the place) it should have been assumed that kids lived there. Hard to avoid that nowadays unless you just murder children when they come along.