“Well, it’s not there, so I was just wondering, ya know…where did it go?” Will asked. “Or I guess I should rephrase, what did you do with it?” Will’s tone of voice made it seem that he was nervous.
Suddenly, and without any warning, the stranger lowered his firearm. A grin stretched across his face. The outsider’s demeanor changed from one of violence and anger to one of giggles and lighthearted conversation.
“You, uh,” he spoke softly, suddenly short of breath, “you want some?” The outsider motioned toward the stall and took a step back. I stood there in awe after realizing Will’s tactic. He knew the man was high and was attempting to change the conversation. The man was giddy like a child and practically skipped inside the bathroom stall.
“Can’t let it go to waste! You’re lucky you’re my friend!”
I heard paper slide across the floor, presumably the adult magazine he had just been perusing. Dana muttered to himself something along the lines that we wouldn’t want to see it. A second later, he came out of the stall with a plastic sack that he opened to show the contents. It was full of syringes.
“Now don’t go too crazy, just a little,” he said.
What made this man even more peculiar were his quirks. He looked about the room like he was checking to make sure we were the only ones in the room. The man babbled to himself as he began searching through the sack. He yelped and removed his hand from the sack and began sucking on one of his fingers. He must have gotten pricked by one of the needles. Sanitary.
I leaned closer to Will and whispered in his ear, “He’s fucking out of his mind.” Will and I looked at one another with wide bulging eyes that screamed the unanimous feeling of let’s get out of here.
By this time, the stranger had repeated “just a little” multiple times. Considering that and his sudden mood change, we all knew that this was not a safe time to be with the man. He seemed like he was straight out of a horror movie, psychotic or bipolar behaviors or whatever you would label his actions. All I knew was that he was crazy.
With one syringe held between his teeth, the stranger said, “Name’s Dana, by the way.” We all nodded, but none of us shared our own names.
Dana pulled his missing shoelace from his pocket and presented it to us. We came to find out he was using it as a tourniquet as he showed us the ‘proper’ way.
Will cut him off at that point. “Hey, well, we do have to get going, and I’m not quite sure if this is a safe place to do it.” Will tried to finagle our way out of there as harmlessly as possible. Most of our caution was probably unnecessary, as he was only one person compared to the four of us, not to mention his current state. At the same time, though, we didn’t want him to suddenly snap back into ‘angry Dana’ and shoot one of us.
“Oh,” Dana replied, realizing his surroundings. “Well then, let’s go somewhere else.” One word immediately ran through my mind: trapped. Dana was going to play the ‘lost little puppy dog’ card and try to follow us back. My mind raced for polite ways to tell him to go find a bridge to crawl under.
I looked over to Will and the rest of the guys as I spoke, “I don’t think we really have the room.” Obviously a lie. “And um…” Still can’t believe I said this straight up, but I couldn’t help it. It just came out. “…I don’t think it’s a very good thing to have drugs with you. Makes you a target to anyone who wants them,” I said.
Dana chuckled at my comment. He looked at me, and I saw the depravity in him. I saw his general lack of care for his own health and safety.
“What they don’t realize, though, is that this,” he motioned toward the bag in his hand, “is all I have left to lose. So, no one will get it easily.”
“I don’t know about that, man. I’m sure you have something else to live for,” I said.
Dana laughed. “Not when you’re more than a thousand miles from home.” His eyes watered, and he sniffled.
I didn’t know if I could take a third personality of this man without shooting him.
He looked up at the ceiling, “Oh… little Jack. Hope you’re all right.”
“That your kid?” Branden asked.
“Yeah…” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes.
I didn’t care at the time and still don’t. As the five of us kept conversing for another ten minutes, no progress was made in the Squad’s favor. His intentions were clear; he had no place to stay and little to no food. It seemed that either he was going to follow us like a lost dog or follow us like a lost dog. The only thing that seemed obvious to me was to shoot the man and leave him, or he would find a way to tag along.
“Here’s the deal,” Branden spoke, attempting to seem in charge, make us look a little more unified than just a hodgepodge group of survivors wandering around aimlessly. “You destroy the drugs. That’s the only way I’m going to let you come with us.”
Dana pointed his gun at Branden and yelled, “Now why in hell would I do that? This stuff’s valuable! I’m not leaving it anywhere, and I am not going to just burn it or something.”
Branden responded to this in likewise action by raising his own gun to his shoulder in retaliation. “If you wanna sleep in a safe place, our place, you will drop the fucking drugs right here. We know that’s what you want. It’s obvious.” Branden had enough tip-toeing around it. He had headed straight to the point.
Branden’s and Dana’s eyes were locked onto each other. Both of them studied one another, waiting for the other to make a move or say something.
“Half,” Dana said. “I’ll give you half of what I have, for you to trade or use.” Branden’s face relaxed a little as he considered it. “When I run out, I’m out. That’s it, no more.” Dana looked over all of us, analyzing our expressions. “You look like you could use another gun anyways.”
Branden still didn’t like it, and neither did Will. They both shook their heads in dismay.
A hand, followed by an arm, reached into my view and pushed Branden’s muzzle down toward the floor.
“Agreed,” Taylor said.
Branden stomped out of the room at that point and Taylor placed half of the heroin, the substance now known to me as I write this, inside a second plastic bag. Overall, I question the safety of all of us by striking a deal with Dana. Obviously we need to get rid of our half of the drugs before Dana extinguishes his own to avoid additional conflict. God knows what the man will be like when he runs out.
As we walked back to the Warehouse, our original goal unaccomplished due to the fact that there was no key to be found anywhere in the store, Taylor asked Dana a few questions. A more chipper version of Dana answered them. Of course the guy was happy. He just weaseled his way into a new haven. If he thinks that by buying his way in with his high value substances he immediately earns trust, he is in for a surprise. That surprise is Branden. Branden doesn’t trust much of anyone in the first place.
“How did you get all this stuff, Dana?” Taylor asked.
“Oh, you know,” Dana replied in a righteous tone. “I had been looking for some grub, the legitimate way, and when I couldn’t get enough to live off of, I resorted to theft. Which is probably the new normal, by the way. I broke into the emptiest, trashiest looking home I could find. Turns out it wasn’t empty—there was a man passed out on the couch next to this little bag of goodies.” He shook his sack. “I’d guess he took a shot and fell asleep. So, I just relieved him of his temptations.” Dana laughed.
Dana and Taylor continued with such small talk most of the way home, which I found unnerving. Taylor has been a personal friend of mine for quite some time, so I know his tendencies and his likes and dislikes. It’s obvious that he is trying to befriend Dana, but I don’t know the reasoning behind it. Maybe he feels bad for the guy being away from his family—it wouldn’t surprise me. I just hope it’s not to get his hands on the drugs.
When we arrived back at the Warehouse, we stopped and knocked on the door to the Nurse’s office.
“Lisa,” I said. “We’re back.”<
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The door clacked as it was unlocked, then opened. Lisa, whose eyes looked tired, said, “Hey. Find what you need—” She stopped talking when she noticed that we had brought someone home with us. “Who is this?”
I tightened my lips as I turned, trying to show Lisa my disdain. “This is Dana.”
“Oh. Nice to meet you, Dana.” She extended her hand to him and said, “I’m Lisa.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Lisa,” Dana said, shaking hands with her.
Just then, from back in the office, Joey yelled an undistinguishable blub of grunts. Dana raised an eyebrow and tried to glance over Lisa’s shoulder.
“And that’s Joey.” Lisa said.
“Wow, you certainly have more people than I thought you would,” Dana said, looking to Branden and me.
“Well, would you like to meet Joey?” Lisa asked.
Dana shrugged, saying, “Sure,” and walked past Lisa.
Once he had disappeared around a corner, Lisa turned to me and said, “New guy?”
I nodded and said, “Unfortunately,” in a hushed tone.
“Don’t like him?”
“He’s not the most exemplary person,” Branden said, jumping into the conversation.
“How?” Lisa asked.
Branden leaned in a little closer to Lisa and whispered, “He’s high right now.”
A look of shock struck Lisa. “Oh, I don’t want him around Joey then.”
“Yeah, probably the safest bet.”
Just then, Dana spoke loudly from the back room, “Why do you have this guy?”
The five of us walked into the office to see Dana standing just in front of Joey. With an open hand, Dana waved his fingers in front of Joey’s eyes. Joey then attempted to grab Dana’s hand but missed. Dana lightly tapped on Joey’s forehead and cheeks, trying to ‘snap’ him back to his senses.
“Please, don’t. He’s been rather moody today,” Lisa said, stepping up to stop Dana.
Dana stood up straight, sighing. “What? Is he gonna bite my fingers off?”
Lisa gave a fake laugh. “Only if you keep it up.”
Dana looked to Lisa, and by his facial expressions, I’d guess that he was uncertain if Lisa was being snooty with him. Seeming undecided, Dana turned back to Joey. “But really. He’s obviously retarded. Why feed him?”
Lisa glared and shook her head. “Hey, now. He’s still a person.”
“Uh-huh,” Dana vocalized. “Seems like a waste of food if you ask me.”
An awkward silence grew in the room for more than a moment, and when no one else said anything, I did. “Well. Would you like a tour, Dana?”
Dana turned to me and didn’t say anything for a moment while his mind was thinking. After his pause, he said, “Sure,” and we left Lisa in peace.
After that, Dana seemed to be relatively fine. Other than his sudden irritability and fatigue (probably from him coming down from his high), he was generally more stable. With his mood swings being a thing of the past, it seemed slightly easier and much less tense to talk with him. He followed us around as we walked around the Warehouse, and attentively listened to everything we told him.
While I am uncertain how I feel about having a drug addict in the group, I won’t say that we don’t need him. The more people we have, the safer it will be, both outside the Warehouse and in. It’ll be nice to be able to have someone stay at the Warehouse with Lisa and still be able to have some of us venture outside.
Other than all of that, there really isn’t much else to write down today. Well, I guess the other scuffle we had is important. On our way back, we ran into a few infected. Branden was saying that something was different about a particular one. He said something along the lines that when he struck the zombie with the shaft of his axe, the bone snapped too easily. He then proceeded to show us, after the fight was done, that by applying a minimal amount of pressure on the zombie’s skull with the haft of his axe he could punch a hole into it. Assuredly, we all pondered for some time why that particular zombie was that way.
It was unusual, to say the least. While it isn’t impossible that, before the person had become infected, they had weak bones, we were thinking more along the lines that this zombie himself was different than the rest. Considering the young mid-twenties of the man, it was unlikely that he did suffer from any bone disease. This is certainly something we intend to bring up to the hospital.
Day Eight
It always seems like there is this never ending sense of balance between good and bad—in movies you’ve watched, books you’ve read, and one’s own life. Despite the circumstances of life, one bad thing always is followed by a good thing or vice versa, which makes me think that everything in the world is constantly teetering back and forth between ‘mostly good’ and ‘mostly bad.’ There are some lows and some highs on both sides, making it remain somewhat equal in the big picture. But what is to stop the scale from tipping toward bad luck rather than good luck? What if we’ve been really lucky so far living in the Warehouse? What if our good luck runs out? What if our good luck is all that is keeping us from falling into bad luck?
Anyways, this morning we informed our newest resident Dana that we should be having a group of doctors coming inside sometime today. We also told him that we would very much like to have the option of repeated ‘business’ with them. Therefore, we told him no drugs today, or he would be forced out of the group. We called it his ‘first 90 days’ kind of a thing. He wasn’t appreciative, but he agreed.
Dana also spent some time with the nurse, to my surprise. Will was telling me it seemed like they might have known each other before the Silence. I can’t imagine Lisa approving of Dana’s drug use, so I am going to assume that she doesn’t know.
Around mid-morning, we all went separate ways around the building to check all the rooms and offices to be sure that there were no intrusions during the night before. Dana and I were responsible for the entrance area of the building past the break room. Nothing was out of the ordinary, so we began to make our way back toward the innards of the Warehouse. But as we were leaving the previously known Human Resources offices, we heard a shout.
It was a man’s voice coming from outside the shattered main doors. The voice was not familiar, so I prepared myself by hiding behind cover. I crept down along the wall until I reached the T intersection of hallways in the entrance area. I raised a hand, halting our advance, and peeked around the corner toward the main doors.
A man had approached the first set of doors and stepped inside. By the looks of it, he was in his mid-thirties. His plaid shirt was torn, and his face unshaven. Blood was splattered across his pants, and he showed no immediate signs of being armed or injured. Uncertain of what to do, I called out over the radio to the others.
Will was the first to respond. He immediately asked where we were in the building and informed us that he was already on his way. Dana stepped out in the open shortly after instructing me as to what to do. He seemed to have a surprisingly well-thought plan that didn’t involve any danger to myself, so I decided to go with it. While Dana stepped up and played the greeter, I snuck back to the Human Resources office to provide him with a form of emergency backup.
As I passed the threshold into the office, the door loudly closed behind me. I froze, and cursed under my breath, worried that my stealth had been broken. I waited for a few moments to recollect myself, and then opened the door to the hallway a crack. I could hear Dana’s conversation ever so slightly.
“Alrighty then, Bruce,” Dana said, faintly from down the hall, “hands up and…” Dana’s voice became unheard for a moment, and then, “…slowly for me.”
A door opened and closed, and I assumed it was Will arriving.
“What happened to your leg, Bruce? You got a little limp, I see,” Dana said. I hadn’t noticed that the man, Bruce presumably, had an uneven gait.
“I went home yesterday afternoon, to find my family,” Bruce told Dana. “When I got there, I ran through the house yelling
for them. On my way up to the second floor, I twisted my ankle and fell. The dead heard me yell and surrounded me.”
“Did you find them? Your family?”
“The dead were my family,” Bruce said in a low tone.
Dana sighed. “I’m sorry, Bruce. We’ve all lost people, and I understand. But I need to know something: What do you want from us?"
“Food…” There was a pause in his speech. “Maybe a quiet room to sleep in?”
I poked my head out of the door and saw Dana nod his head, to my own amazement. I knew that I had missed a part of the conversation, but at the time I wondered: Why is Dana agreeing to help this stranger? Will didn’t seem to have any objections either.
Dana looked up from his thoughtful stare at the floor and said, “Alright. Follow me. But,” he held out a finger, “not too close, okay?”
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