by J. L. Bourne
He took his battery powered alarm clock radio and the wire, and a simple light switch (that we cannibalized from his house), and made a sort of remote alarm. Our thinking was that if those things got the jump on us in the night, and there were too many of them, we could flip the switch, turn on the radio and use the noise to draw them to the mail box across the street and a few doors down.
John wired it so that the radio/alarm would fit inside the mailbox, thus using the metal box as an amplifier. We tried it out for a second, and it was definitely loud enough, although we had to use the alarm function, as there were no more stations broadcasting. We wrapped the wire around the pillar of the box, and tucked it along the curb out of sight. The problem came when we had to get it across the street and into my wall for easy access. We brought the wire across the street and john and I took shovels and piled dirt over it so that those things would have a hard time tripping over it and yanking the connection loose. All in all, it was over 100 yards of wire.
I mounted the light switch for the alarm to a junction box using a kitchen magnet.
I will be spending most of the night figuring out where to go next. We might end up staying here for a while, but then again, the mood I was in yesterday might take over.
After our little invention was complete, I used my binoculars to check on the Hummer. From my vantage point, I could only see from the side view mirrors to the front. I could see 3-4 of them curiously wandering around it. I made sure to take a mental note of this.
January 28th
2039
While monitoring the citizen band today, I made a startling discovery. I intercepted a recording being transmitted out on CB channel nine for survivor volunteers to be members of the new military. The broadcast was a recorded loop dated yesterday. The recording was calling for responses at the top of every hour. Something didnt sound right. If this was a band of left over military and they were calling out for replacements, what happened to the original members? Slain? Executed? No chances. I turned it off until about ten minutes shy of 1800 hours. I then listened in for any others out there that might volunteer.
**static**, Shane Stahl here, Concord, Texas. Anyone there?
Yes, this is Captain Thomas Beverly formerly of the 24th
special tactics squadron, its good to hear your voice.
The conversation went on, and the two exchanged information and decided upon an extraction point not far from Shanes house, near a water tower off the interstate. John and I discussed this new development, and decided it best to continue monitoring and gathering information, until it could be discerned that this rogue group was in fact a benign group of left over volunteers.
Spent much of this morning reading over the aircraft manuals and emergency procedures. I wanted to be knowledgeable of this aircrafts systems the next time I took her up, just in case.
John and I discussed numerous destinations for our next outing. We had one of two options. Continue to stay here, and hope we dont get overrun, or take the bird and what we can fit inside and head southeast to the islands off the coast of Corpus Christi. There is a Naval air station in Corpus, and Im sure there is plenty of fuel, and maybe even a better aircraft.
If we chose the bug out option, careful consideration would have to be given as to what equipment stays and what goes with us in the plane. John and I have a combined weight of 360 lbs. Add fuel and luggage to that, and we can only afford to fly with four hundred pounds of supplies. That was also pushing it, and that wasnt much when you added it all up. We began to make a list of things we absolutely could not leave. John listed, dog, 20 lbs. I told John, not to worry, Annabelle was coming with us.
We wouldnt be leaving today, or tomorrow for that matter. I told John that I did not wish to die on my birthday.
January 29th
1250 hrs
A group of bikers came roaring through our neighborhood thirty minutes ago. John had to put the muzzle on Annabelle to keep her from barking. I doubt they would hear the bark over the roar of their engines, but my motto is no chances. I counted 70-80 bikes as the convoy rolled past. Many bikes had passengers. Most bikes had long rifle/shotgun holsters mounted on them complete with weapon.
I noticed something that I dont think you would have seen before this epidemic. There werent just cruisers, there were also racing bikes (crotch rockets) in the convoy. I bet they used the racers as recon scouts. Again this group looked rough and I didnt see it necessary to alert them of our presence.
1847 hrs
The sound of moaning, shuffling dead is almost unbearable. Three hours after the bike convoy came through, the creatures that were no doubt following them began their slow parade into the neighborhood. John and I are maintaining our silence. In the fading light there are too many of them to count. This could easily turn into the worst-case scenario. I do not think that they are alerted to our presence, but I cannot be sure. I can see them periodically looking in this direction, and walking into my wall, but I do not know if they are trying to get in, because of the noise.
I went to my gun cabinet and pulled out two sets of yellow foam earplugs and handed one to John. I told John that if we had to make a break for it tomorrow, we were going to need our rest. John stuck them in his pocket and nodded.
2213 hrs
We got our things ready just in case we had to make the great escape. Many of the ghouls have continued on their path in the direction of the bikers. Many more undead are seemingly lost and confused and have camped out here on our street, just walking around bumping each other and changing directions. It reminds me of my college physics class years ago. The molecules were bumping into each other in unpredictable patterns and just milling about on the slide. I would say a safe estimate puts the count at 85 walking dead. I can only go off the moon and starlight for my estimations.
Note to self: Find some NVGs most ricky-tick.
If today were a normal day, my fellow squadron officers and I would be getting shit faced at a random bar on the river walk. It was my birthday and I know they wouldnt allow me to stay inside like this. Well, I guess the celebration would have to wait. I had a shot of whiskey with John and toasted to survival. Goodnight.
Proverbial Beans
January 30th
1534 hrs
Bad news. While monitoring the television, and radio, John and I came across the first government broadcast in weeks. It was being transmitted over every available TV channel as well as over the AM bands. I think this might be because AM carries further than FM. It was the First Lady. In a solemn voice she relayed to what was left of the United States that the President had perished in an undead attack and died a week earlier. The armed forces were now in the control of the Vice President. She went on to say that the VP was in a secure location and that she hoped the best for America and the world.
She warned of rogue military factions that had deserted over the past weeks, and hoped that they would come to their senses and return to fight for their fallen Commander-In-Chief.
She saved the best for last.
She asked that anyone able to hear the following announcement, to do their best to spread the word, as she was sure that not many survivors had electricity, or access to a TV or radio.
She then spilled the proverbial beans.
The President has authorized the use of tactical nuclear warheads on all major cities. On February the first at approximately 10:00 AM Central Standard Time, a strike force consisting of Joint Navy/Air force bombers will deploy high yield tactical nuclear warheads on major urban centers. We believe that this retaliation strike will give us the advantage we so desperately need to take back our country and eventually our world. The use of our Global Hawk and Predator UAV drones has revealed major populations of the undead in and around the targeted cities. If you are able to travel, and can hear this message, I urge you to make preparations to evacuate. We will now broadcast the list of designated target areas. Please look closely at t
he bottom of the television screen.
I could now see tears rolling down her face.
Nope, she wasnt bullshitting. They were going to do it. I watched and crossed my fingers. I knew my city was the 8th largest in the United States. I didnt kid myself. As the letter R cities rolled by, John and I held our breath. There it was San Antonio. John and I have been designated as a nuclear target. I live eighteen miles from the Alamo. The Alamo is in the center of San Antonio. The blast radius would be at least twenty miles, depending on the warhead. I bet they werent taking any chances, meaning the blast radius would probably be more like fifty miles.
The instant that thought crossed my mind; I watched as the doomed cities rolled by on the bottom of the screen, a precautionary tutorial was being displayed. Minimum safe distance is 150 miles from ground zero. This would mean that the government is using their mountain buster nukes and are pulling all stops.
I looked over at John and said, I think it is time we thought about leaving this place.
January 31st
2341 hrs
Situation is not improving. John and I loaded up the Hummer for our trip to the racetrack. We will be flying out tonight. The moon is out so visibility will be great for flying. The text on the emergency broadcast is warning survivors that bombers will be dropping electronic sound decoys in the center of the designated cities to draw the undead in so that they will maximize the effectiveness of the explosion. The warning also made sure to mention that this would cause much more activity within the dead ranks. The jets flew overhead today at around noon and dropped their payload. I know it must be loud if I can here it from this far. It is sort of a high-pitched, oscillating whine. Annabelle doesnt like it but she is getting used to it, despite her hackles being perpetually raised.
Its hard to believe January will be over in a few minutes. John and I had to use our mailbox sound device today while loading the H2. This was a couple hours after the military dropped the sound decoy. The things were coming out of the woodwork and many of them were milling around our street. We made four trips until the things destroyed Johns noisy invention. One of them finally yanked it out of the mailbox and used it as a bludgeon, denting the mailbox top. We loaded everything up and its almost time to leave. Its dark outside and I have turned the lights off so that when we leave, our natural night vision will be already adjusted. John and I will be flying east in our small aircraft. I have studied the manuals over and over. Not much else to do besides count down hours.
I think we may be a little overweight on the bird. Oh well. I will get her in the air. Ten hours until the end of the world.
Nuclear winter
February 1st
0430
The three of us (including Annabelle) slipped out the back last night and made for the Hummer. Our eyes were adjusted. Apparently Annabelles were also as she warned us of a ghoul lurking in the shadows. John told me he felt the hair stand up on her back (he was carrying her) and we could both hear her quiet barks through the muzzle. I dispatched the creature with an aluminum bat and continued on to our vehicle. There were a few lurking around behind the vehicle, but they were a safe distance away and we were able to make it inside. Even through the window we could hear the oscillating whine of sound decoys. The unearthly moans of the dead in the distance seamed to rise over even the decoys.
The drive to the racetrack was pretty much uneventful. I drove slowly and kept my headlights off. Other than the occasional thump, of one of those things off my fender, there was nothing. The moonlight showed me the way.
We pulled up to the chain link gate that led to the track. I turned on my headlights and the c-clamp was still there just as I left it. My rifle and me exited the Hummer and went over to the gate and unlatched the clamp. Although I didnt see any of them around, I could smell them and sense their presence in the distance.
After pulling the Hummer in, I reattached the c-clamp. A hundred yards off I could faintly see the outline of one of the undead. No matter. It would take at least a hundred of them to breach the fence.
John and I unloaded the Hummer and packed up the Cessna. I performed the preflight checklist and got her ready to take to the air. I got in the cockpit and performed the engine start checklist. She started with no difficulty. Checked the fuel pressure and quantity and it was all in the green. John and I both latched our exterior doors and I turned on my landing/takeoff lights. It was then that I had remembered my gruesome discovery a few days before, the poor mechanic that been crushed under a lift and dined upon.
I also remembered my encounter with one of them, and how I killed it and put a 55 gallon oil drum in front of the door to keep whatever else was in there from getting out.
My landing lights were pointing at the garage door. The door was wide open; the barrel was tipped over on its side. It was at that time the garages mystery resident showed itself. A loud thump on the pilots side window and then the thing was there drooling and pressing its lips to the cockpit glass like one of those algae suckers in a fish tank. It scared the shit out of me. I cant believe I forgot about the garage until I was in the plane. That could have been my demise. I started to taxi to my takeoff area; The thing was shuffling after the plane. I tried to avoid hitting it with my propeller, as I didnt want to risk any damage.
I pushed the throttle to full power, and fed a rich mixture of fuel to the engine. We started to lurch forward. My anti-collision strobes were making the stadium look like it was in a thunderstorm. I looked in my rear view mirror and could see two ghouls inside the perimeter shuffling toward me.
50 knots 60 knots 75 knots I pulled the controls back and started to climb. It was going to be close. The engine strained as I put her at max blast. I could almost swear that I felt my main landing gear touch one of the bleachers as I cleared the top row of seats.
We were airborne, and flying SSE in the direction of Corpus. Earlier, before we left for the Hummer, John and I checked the TV/Radio and checked it twice to make sure that there wasnt a nuke on its way there with our names on it. The same cities were scrolling across the bottom of the screen. I guess Corpus just wasnt big enough. Damn, I know they have enough nukes but somehow I bet they were running low on pilots to drop them.
En route, we could make out the faint signs of headlights on the interstate. I wondered if it were other survivors evacuating. I could do no good and would probably get both John and I killed if we attempted to land on or near the interstate.
I was flying at 7,000 feet in accordance with Visual Flight Rules (VFR) out of habit. Somehow, I dont think an airborne collision is likely since Im probably the only manned prop plane in the air in all of North America. Im certain that there were probably several Predator drones patrolling the skies, giving status reports on the multiplying dead below. Half way to Corpus I saw something I didnt expect Lights, actual electric lights. Yes, fires were commonplace since we took off, but not electricity.
According to my charts we were approaching Beeville, TX. There was a small municipal airstrip there. I checked my fuel, and knew it would be close, so John and I decided to buzz the airport, since it had lights and see if we could land safely. I was flying southeast above I-37 when I broke off for Beeville municipal airport. Miraculously, the GPS satellites were still working and I keyed the coordinates into the GPS (28-21.42N / 097-47.27W). The green LCD was pointing in the same direction that I was headed so I knew I was on course.
We arrived at the airstrip about eight minutes later, just like the GPS indicated and I lowered my altitude to 800 feet, to check the runways. The runways ran NW to SE. I decided to flyby runway 12, since the wind would favor my landing there. The directional beacons were still on, so I knew I could make the landing as long as there wasnt something parked on the tarmac. After one flyby, I brought her around for a landing. On my first pass, I saw a fuel truck sitting next to the taxiway.
I landed the plane, and taxied over to the fuel truck. I left t
he plane running and walked around the back toward the truck. My rifle was at the ready in case anything was to go wrong. I turned my LED light on and its bright beam illuminated the area around the truck. I forgot to turn off the anti-collision strobes when I got out of the plane, so they were flashing brightly, giving me snapshots of the area every two seconds.