American Recovery

by Joshua Guess

  For now the plan is to buckle down here and worry about the things we can change. New Haven is shaping up quickly since we don't have to defend from the zombies at present. The Box is increasing its capacity for new stuff, forging metals and producing basic technologies with shocking speed. All over the place--at least, when it's not ten degrees out--sections of wall are being fixed and reinforced, new weapons mounted, houses upgraded. There are so many people here to do the work that what would have been impossible a few years ago is now becoming commonplace.

  New Haven won't be Eden anytime soon, I know. I'm just impressed with how much ingenuity and passion our people have. Give them a project or the freedom to think up their own and they'll come back with a plan that saves lives, makes something more efficient, you name it. I'm jazzed about it.

  One nice thing about the Box becoming more productive is that Patrick doesn't have to be. He still wants to work metal, but the actual demand on him is much less now. He can focus on pet projects or take time off. His apprentices can handle most of the ordinary work from day to day. He has spent the last two days over at my house, helping me with a few of my own projects. I hadn't realized how long it had been since Pat and I just hung out. No personal dramas, no big events, just two friends spending time together.

  And, yes, he still tried to catch me off guard with silent but deadly attacks. I am wary of his tricks now.

  Pat is already looking for the next thing he wants to do. Working a forge was a dream of his for a long time, and I'm sure if he still had both hands he'd be thrilled to do it the rest of his days. But the joy of the work seems to have receded somewhat, or at least he's ready for something challenging and new. All yesterday he talked about learning to bake. He said he almost opened a bakery once but didn't want to farm the work out to someone else. He wanted to do it himself, from making wedding cakes to mass-producing bread for hundreds of people.

  I told him he should be working with the folks who run our mess halls rather than dig through paperwork with me. He told me he was hoping I'd tell him to go do it, like he needed my approval or something. I get that some people around here have a higher opinion of me than they should, but I never expected it of him. I told Pat so, naturally, and he explained that he didn't feel right leaving the forge behind when I was the one who helped set him up with that job. He didn't want me to think...I dunno, that he resented it or wasn't grateful or some other asinine thing. I told him to do what he pleased, it was his life and my opinion there didn't matter at all.

  Hell, I wouldn't care if he decided to spend his days talking to squirrels as long as it made him happy.

  Happiness might be in short supply when the weather breaks toward spring. We should grab what we can, while we can.

  Thursday, January 24, 2013

  Resistance

  Posted by Josh Guess

  A funny thing happened yesterday: the UAS learned what happens when you mess with a group of people that A) don't want to be messed with and B) have plenty of experience dealing with larger numbers of enemies.

  The report came in the evening. UAS forces--small in number but heavily armed and armored--moved in on a little isolated settlement called Newcastle. The UAS believed Newcastle contained less than a hundred adults and maybe half that number of children. Easy pickings for a force of two hundred people driving armored vehicles and carrying the kind of gear that pacified entire towns before The Fall.

  Problem is, the western groups are fast learners. They don't take the theft of people, property, or land with much grace. Individually most of the communities not close to the coast really would be little trouble to take if they acted alone. But man, the end of the world teaches you some important lessons about the spirit of working together.

  Basically, going it alone? Fuck that.

  Most of the settlements out that way have contributed a number of citizens to a set of flying companies whose only job is to patrol large sections of land, defending against the UAS incursion. Those two hundred men and women in their pretty vehicles and with their heavy guns didn't know what to do when the road dropped out from under them.

  Pit traps are just one small part of guerrilla warfare. The UAS seems to think people are going to give in to fear and submit. That or fight it out in the open.

  No. Afraid not. Pit traps, attacks from the trees, dirty tricks of every conceivable variety. You can bring a fifty-cal machine gun to a fight, but when someone pelts you and your fellow warriors with rotten eggs and human waste it's pretty hard to concentrate. Your big heavy armored truck matters not at all when it can't move; spike strips and holes in the road will do that.

  Explosives tied to trees to block your way when they blow, packs of dogs chasing you down in the woods when you get out, molotov cocktails thrown right in your way when you do manage to get away. The problem with putting ordinary people in safe little boxes and then expecting them to do the job of soldier is that they need order and routine to even have a chance at it. Without training and experience, they're screwed.

  Survivors--and by that I mean those of us out in the world during The Fall and after, and the UAS doesn't qualify--have the experience and we've had to learn the hard way. I'm told that scaring off those two hundred fighters--while only injuring a few of them and killing none--was actually pretty easy.

  No one expects the next encounter to be as simple. The UAS are many things, but stupid isn't one of them. They'll adapt and learn and probably won't give the next group a chance to prepare.

  But the UAS are aware now that they aren't getting the west without a fight. Nothing in this world is free, and resistance is most harsh when people are defending their home, the people they love. For the part of the westerners, I doubt they'll be as nice the next time. They won't frighten and dazzle; they'll kill.

  Friday, January 25, 2013

  Dragoon Company

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Today's post is by Ketill, but I wanted to give a bit of introduction. I know a lot of you like the consistency of reading my own posts, but I think it's very important to have other voices sound off from time to time. Since the UAS are licking their wounds and no major events are going on, I asked Ketill to fill us in on what he and his group have been up to.

  That said, here's his post:

  Josh asked me to write a post letting y'all know what was going on with me and my group, so here it is.

  First off, we have finally all agreed on a name. We are simply calling ourselves The Dragoons. We came up with that name simply because, well, we needed one. Here's a bit of history for you if you're not familiar with the term.

  The word dragoon originally meant mounted infantry, who were trained in horseback riding as well as infantry combat skills. However, usage altered over time and during the 18th century dragoons evolved into conventional light cavalry units and personnel. Dragoon regiments were established in most European armies during the late 17th and early 18th centuries. The title has been retained in modern times by a number of armored or ceremonial mounted regiments. The word also means to subjugate or persecute by the imposition of troops; and by extension to compel by any violent measures or threats.

  In this world, the threats are many. Zombies, marauders, hunters and now the UAS. We have been doing this "protection" thing long enough that our group has embraced the ideals of the dragoon wholeheartedly. We will persecute any and all threats to us and those we know to the fullest extent. With all that being said, I would like to tell you what we're up to now.

  I have permission from the leaders of the Union to tell you this basically because there is no threat of anyone getting hurt by sharing this information. We are going to head to the northern parts of the country and try to help clear some roads while the zombie threat is low. We'll be gone for a bit, so I've been asked to leave a few of my Dragoons in New Haven to help with some projects that they've got going on there. I'm also leaving one of my explosive experts at New Haven to work with Becky on a few tricks she has come up with.
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  Hopefully the weather up north will hold and not dump tons of snow on us while we're working, but I'm doubtful. With all the help we've got going up there, the roads should be cleared for safe travel during the next couple of weeks. We're all doing what we can to help create something new out of the remnants of the old and my hope is that, eventually, we can make this land great and fertile once again without sliding backwards into the politics of the old world.

  Anyway, wish us luck on our trip as wish you luck and safe nights.

  Saturday, January 26, 2013

  Two Man Job

  Posted by Josh Guess

  In a surprising and happy twist, Big K--you remember, the guy I was talking about the other day who worked the honey wagon--has asked to be reassigned. To me. As my assistant.

  Look, I don't think I rate an assistant these days. Sure, back when I was helping manage New Haven I had a bunch of them, but now I'm just working at my own speed. What I do is important for posterity, but I don't know that it's worth pulling another able body away from the community to do it.

  Will agrees with me, but on this one the council outvoted him. That's pretty rare. Will is thinking in terms of defense and strength, as well as the fact that once one person gets a cushy reassignment, others may want to do the same. The council's position is that my work is potentially life-saving in the long run. They want the survival manual worked on, as well as the rest of what I do with record-keeping and collation. The manual is the bit they're keen on; they want me to expand it as much as humanly possible to cover every angle I can imagine.

  Well, every angle we can imagine, now. K starts with me today and he should be here around nine. He came over yesterday evening to ask my thoughts on this before the council made their decision. He was willing to accept my saying no, though I'm sure he knew there wasn't much chance of that. K is a funny guy, and I don't mean that in the humorous way, though he jokes as much as anyone.

  There's something sad about him. All of us carry scars--it would be impossible not to considering all we've gone through--but K acts like it all just happened a few days ago. I don't know much about him, to be honest, but it's not a stretch to assume he lost people. There's always a distance in his eyes, as if he's remembering the horrors he lived through. It's nonstop. I can't imagine how bad it must have been to continue haunting him for so long.

  I've met people who deal with bouts of depression, most often when I look in the mirror every morning, and this doesn't strike me as being the same. Big K gets along like everyone else, but every time I talk to him I can see it in his body language, in the spaces between words; he has lost hope. What other people sometimes feel, the tragic loss of all that was, he seems to know on a deep level. He sees the world as it is and can't allow the possibilities for the future outweigh the tragedies of the past.

  I've been there, but during my time with him yesterday I watched him. This isn't a fluctuation in mood brought on by a chemical imbalance. It's ingrained in him, shaped to him. A habit so deeply embedded that the rest of his personality is molded to fit. He's a man who continues on even though (I believe) he feels no hope.

  Aside from the fact that I'm glad for the help, that's the reason I took him on. I'm fascinated by the guy, and I think I might be able to help him see some bright edges. When I was at my worst, there were people who held me up and stood by my side as I worked through my own darkness. I might fail, be rejected, be hated. But I have to try. The world is a sad place, it's true, but there is hope and beauty and life.

  Faced with the zombie threat, the UAS and their sudden move toward innocent communities, and all the other trials the world sees fit to put us through, it's more important than ever to remember those good things. I can't help but remind people like Big K that they exist.

  Monday, January 28, 2013

  Paid Time Off

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm spending the day in bed. The weather was passably nice yesterday, by which I mean it wasn't cold enough to kill in half and hour, and the sun was out. I was reminded yet again why I've never been into sports. Give me a dojo and a martial art, and I have the coordination of a ballet dancer. Give me a zombie or a human threat and I'm as dangerous as the next guy, no mistakes or false moves.

  Just don't give me a goddamn football.

  My right knee is throbbing like hell and walking is more work than I care to admit. I don't even know what I did to hurt it, but any time it sits immobile for longer than five minutes the whole mechanism of my knee locks up and it hurts like crazy to get it moving again. The rest of me isn't exactly in mint condition, either, but none of my bruises or lumps (or even all of them together) come close to how much the knee is bothering me.

  So that means no real work for me. I could mention some things going on out in the world, but I do that far more than I'd like. I made a promise to myself when I resumed my duties on this blog that I would try to ignore as much of the world as possible and write down the human stories around me to share. The problem has always been that the world doesn't stop to worry about my promises or desires, and intrudes anyway no matter what I'm doing.

  In relaying the larger stories going on in New Haven and beyond I've missed out on so many small things that may not matter individually, but together paint a better picture of who we are as people than I can otherwise manage. Those little things matter.

  For example, you know Big K is assisting me now. You know he's a smart guy who seems to have lost more than most--or at least has a harder time dealing with it than many people do--and that's a big guy. Maybe you caught the fact that he's a black dude. Even that little bit of knowledge helps create an image of him, but at best it's filled with inaccuracies your mind inserts to fill the void. Maybe you think, being a black guy who worked as a professional, that he had a hard-luck upbringing but busted ass to make it through college. Hard to blame you for that assumption; before the zombies killed the world, it was full of inspirational movies with just that plot. Many, many of them. We do that with everyone and everything to some extent, but at least with K it's not true.

  His parents were postal workers, high in the organization and paid well. Lifers who saved and scrimped early and were still frugal when their kid was old enough to go to college. K also had scholarships, was a straight-A and honors student, and didn't hate any of his professors.

  Also, he fucking loves pickles. I mean like something crazy. When he came over here yesterday and saw the homemade ones Jess stocks up, I thought the guy was having a stroke. He hadn't eaten a pickle in more than two years, and I thought he might kiss me when I offered him one of our many, many jars. We grow everything we need to make them (except salt, of course, but then we've got access to enough of that to last forever anyway) and they're a treat for us, plentiful, so why not give them to someone who'll appreciate them?

  Did he ever appreciate them...

  It was the first time I've seen real, naked emotion on K. He always has that air of self-control around him, but not so much when faced with thirty ounces of Jessie's finest homemade kosher dills. Maybe there is some deeper connection for him, a comfort food that reminded him of happy times and sweet moments. Maybe not. It's possible he just has a serious jones for wee salty cucumbers. Either way it made me smile to see a grown man six inches taller than me fist-pump the air over a jar of food, right before picking me up in a bear hug.

  Small moments, ladies and gentlemen. None alone will do the trick, but they do add up.

  Tuesday, January 29, 2013

  Emphatic

  Posted by Josh Guess

  It was a warm night, but apparently not warm enough to allow the undead the energy to muster up and attack us. More than a few have been seen wandering around, but the New Breed are conspicuous by their absence. Probably off feeding on easier prey than the folks around here; they've learned to pick their battles with us.

  The UAS have taken another community in the west. This group was small and unknown to us, and from what we've heard so far
every man, woman, and child was taken alive. The place is apparently undamaged but empty as nearly every other town in the world, except for recent signs of habitation. I'm sure the visual of community completely devoid of the people who live there was intended to be intimidating. The UAS wants to project an aura of strength, and this...I hesitate to call it an attack...this action seems to have done the job. There are a lot of people in the west worried they'll be next. Can't blame them.

  They're fighting, the western groups, and many of them are asking us to join them. We explain again and again that we can't be drawn into a war, and they come back each time with new lists of reasons why we should. The sad fact is that we don't need a lot of convincing; we know we should. They're being attacked unjustly and for no other reason than someone seeking control over their land and people. Declaring war with the UAS and instigating open conflict would be the right thing to do. It's just not the best thing to do for the Union.

  Yeah, we should be doing something to help other than offering words of encouragement and advice, but ultimately our leadership is responsible for the safety and well-being of our citizens. Principles are great things, but stepping between a bully and a victim, while satisfying and maybe even self-serving to a degree, is a great way to end up bleeding. And it doesn't teach the victim to stand up for itself.

  I mean, look: the west has twice the people the Union has at the very least. They're are enough police stations, military bases, and gun shops in those states to arm every one of them so heavily that their soldiers couldn't walk under the weight of all the weapons. Hell, probably that three times over. They aren't defenseless or short in numbers.

  What they lack is driving cohesion. They've made a good start by forming unified groups of defenders, but there's a lot of territory to cover. They have to rely on themselves, because even if we did help, how could they know we'd be able to a second time?