Living With the Dead: The Hungry Land (Book 3) Page 18
It's a thought to make your skin crawl. Though I know I won't be able to help it, I'm trying not to think about it. Right now all I want is a hot shower (which I can't get), a warm meal (which I won't get), and about twenty hours of sleep (which so laughable it makes me want to cry).
Damn zombies just kept on coming, wave after wave. They even gave us breaks, long enough that a few times we thought they'd finished.
Ugh. I can't write. My brain is numb with exhaustion, and that's not half of what my body is going through. Five hours of archery is too much for anyone. My fingers are bleeding.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
A Bounty of Calm
Posted by Josh Guess
In a bit of good news, our hunters and scouts brought in a truly massive haul of game this morning. They had to go pretty far north along the river, but what they brought in today will feed a lot of people. This was the first overnight trip they've taken, and the lack of zombies in the area they staked out was either a stroke of luck or a frightening sign. I haven't decided which.
Our other endeavors food-wise seem to be holding up. Our fishermen are doing well in the creeks and rivers, and while egg collection out on the farms is difficult, Aaron had the idea to set the kids to it. Some of the younger kids have made a game of finding all the places the chickens like to hide them. I watched for a few minutes on my round out to the farm this morning.
Children laughing and playing together, running around with not a care in the world. It was wonderful to hear their voices trill with happiness as they dug in piles of hay and twigs. When one of the sentries walking the trenches that mark the boundaries of the farm gave warning that a zombie had been spotted, those kids immediately stopped what they were doing and moved into defensive positions. No whining, no hesitation. It was just one zombie, but I was proud of them even more for that. They didn't brush off the threat because it was minimal.
It's a good sign for the future, knowing that the young ones are learning the right habits and reactions early on.
I'm still pretty exhausted from the marathon archery session the other night, but I'm feeling better. We ran through a huge number of arrows, and it's going to take a while to make enough to replace all the ones that were lost or broken. Aaron has kids helping with that as well. He's taking their education very seriously.
Part of why I'm feeling more upbeat despite my still-aching muscles is because of the incredible resilience of the kids. Things suck, sure, but I just can't stay down when I see the bright defiance in their eyes. They don't have a sense of doom about the world we live in. They don't see the odds against us. For them, there isn't a question of failing. We adults see how difficult the road ahead will be and find ourselves grim with the thought of facing those trials.
The kids just see it as a challenge to be faced. And you know? It's sort of an infectious attitude. I can't help but think about how far we've come and all we've survived and feel that maybe things aren't as bad as they could be.
I know it doesn't make everything suddenly perfect and lovely here at the compound, but I think everyone could benefit from trying to take a step back from how angry and scared they are. Try watching some children toss a baseball. It might give you some perspective.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Lucky
Posted by Josh Guess
This has been an eventful few days for me. I didn't post yesterday as is my habit, but believe me when I say that even if I had wanted to, there was little to no chance that I could have.
After I posted Saturday, I decided to spend a little time with Les. He's someone I don't think I've ever talked about, but is vitally important to the compound. He's this little short guy, skinny as a rail but stronger than he looks. Has this bushy mustache and thick brown hair that always looks nicely taken care of. Les is the guy who works on our cars and other vehicles on a full-time basis. He's the one who makes sure they are all in good working order. Given how few of them are used on a daily basis, he manages a maintenance schedule that would have been unreal in the old world.
I know a little bit about cars, but nowhere near what I would like to. I understand the basic functions of the systems and some specifics on how they work, but Les lets me sit in and watch sometimes to learn more. Some days, like Saturday, he lets me help.
Which was how, late Saturday evening, I was almost electrocuted and set on fire.
There's no thrilling tale of adventure here. Les was trying to repair a wiring harness inside one of our flex-fuel trucks and he asked me to help since I was already there and eager. I did, spending a few minutes holding the flashlight, then tracing wires. I helped make sure all the connections were secure. When he finally got finished, I was the one leaning over the engine compartment as Les tried to turn it over. my hands were resting on the edge right next to the battery. So, when one of the big wire clusters right next to me burst into flaming sparks just as the battery started spitting out sparks of its own, you can understand why I was a little freaked out. Six or seven more inches and I would have been seriously hurt. My leg is still on the bad side of healing, making my morning walks hellish at the least. I don't need any more injuries.
On top of that--this part is gross and personal, you might want to skip ahead. I'll wait.
OK, if you're reading this then you don't mind the potentially gross functions of the human body. Less than four hours after I was almost shocked and burned, I woke up around midnight with horrible stomach cramps. I scampered to the bathroom thinking I was about to have an episode of diarrhea, but I didn't. At least, not exactly. It was like I felt this immense pressure inside my guts, but could barely get anything out. I've taken everything I can think of, but almost a day and a half later I'm still getting these horrible cramps every ten to forty minutes. I still run, thinking I'm about to explode. Then virtually nothing.
On the one hand it sucks not being able to concentrate on any one thing for very long. Having to work with the knowledge that I will certainly have to run to the bathroom at least once in any given hour. On the other it's good that I'm not actually passing liquids, because even something as simple as diarrhea can be dangerous as hell in our current conditions. Your mom probably told you to drink plenty of water when you're stricken with it, right? Well, we're not short on good old h2o right now thanks to all the recent rains, but water safe to drink? We've got to boil it after we filter it. Most houses are set up with a basic system for filtration and retention, but the stock of drinkable water any of us keeps on hand isn't really all that large. We tend to do it in batches.
Of course in the event that someone does get sick, others will help by offering their water. It isn't much of a problem for healthy people to do the extra work to make up the difference, but that's why we're so lucky to live in a place like the compound. If it happened to someone who was living out alone or in the wild, they'd be forced to drink unboiled and unfiltered water. That's a recipe for getting even sicker, more dehydrated, and eventually very dead.
This weekend hasn't been a good one for me, but I recognize how lucky I am. I live somewhere wonderful, where people take care of each other. Where we have access to resources. The zombie plague has taken much from us, and these last few days have shown me just how subtle some of those changes have been. I'm really hoping to feel better soon. I hate feeling like a burden.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Southern Bound
Posted by Josh Guess
Well, I'm starting to feel a little better. I hate being sick, but the first half of this year seems to have been the time for me to get that way.
Part of why it's so annoying to me is that I hate feeling helpless. I've always liked knowing that if all else fails, I can take care of myself. That's especially important to me now with zombies a constant threat outside the walls of the compound. I hate knowing that I can't do my part because of illness.
I'm not quite up to going out for walks yet, and my innards are still on shaky ground so I'm not getting a full meas
ure of sleep. That's why I'm up so early, and since nothing important or dramatic happened overnight I don't have anything new to tell you.
Oh, maybe that's not true. There are a few little things going on around here that may be of interest...
Yesterday it got to almost 90 degrees outside. This is hotter than it's gotten so far this year by a wide margin, and it had the interesting effect of slowing down the zombies outside. Not in the same way that the cold did at first, which was physical. The rapid changes the undead seem to go through seem to have made them less tolerant to the heat. Their physical movements don't seem hindered in and of themselves, but their mental acuity (such as it is) appears to be blunted by high temperatures. They seemed listless and confused yesterday, which is a far cry from the vicious if uncoordinated zombie behavior in Winter.
The good news there is that while the zombies seem very physically able, the loss of what little mental edge they have means they're easy pickings for our archers on the wall. Not to mention that they have been stumbling into and scrambling up the berms outside the walls and then falling into the pits. We tend to just keep a few people in hidey holes outside the walls for when this happens, so they can quickly kill the zombies that do fall in with a hand held weapon. As much as I detest the heat since glorious central air is now a thing of the past, I'm pleased that for at least a little while we'll have some measure of advantage over the undead.
I'm probably going to go out hunting for a laptop before very long. Mine is elderly and not working as well as it used to, and the cord is fraying to the point that I'm beginning to seriously worry about shocking my genitals every time I use it as it was intended. Random, I know, but true.
I guess that's a good lead-in to the only other bit of news I have to share. I'm going to be taking a run outside the compound with Jess and a few others (there has been discussion of allowing Will Price to come with us) to look into a small group of survivors down in Tennessee. They have been in touch with us off and on for several months, and they aren't actually all that far away if the roads are clear. They want to join us, and when we told them that our food supplies are low and fluctuating, they told us that they've got a big stock of food to share. So, I will be going to assess the food and other supplies they'd be bringing in. Jess is going to help with that as well as do the whole bodyguard things since I'm still weak. Courtney is coming since she's our diplomat, Steve will join her since I don't think those two can handle being apart for more than a few days. Steve is one of my best friends, almost a brother, yet it still wigs me out to see him as such an efficient and scary fighter. I still look at him as my little nerdy friend. We still play D&D together, which doesn't help that set of contrasting mental images...
Will may be going simply because Dodger can't spare anyone else who has Will's knowledge of defenses and weaponry. I don't have a problem with it, really, and neither does Jess. I'm not certain how Courtney and Steve feel about it but I know that if they agree to let him come they'll treat him like a member of the team. Out there, to do otherwise would be suicide.
I'll let you know if we end up having anyone else join us. It's all up to the council, and I think the only reason I'm getting to go is because with my fellow coordinators working like busy bees, I can be spared. Not to mention I've got the most experience judging these sorts of things.
Still, I don't like the idea of leaving during such a rough time. But it this can help us in the long term, I guess it's the right thing to do...
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Hamburgers
Posted by Josh Guess
Yes. This post is about hamburgers. You have no idea how much I've missed them.
One of our scout teams (now my favorite scout team EVER) went about twenty miles away late last night looking for game. Somewhere in the rural area between here and Georgetown, they found a whole bunch of cows grazing in a herd. The team had taken a few of the heavy duty pickups. Cue maniacal laugh at the thought of delicious beef.
It wasn't hunting, really. The cows didn't even try to run. I kind of feel bad about that, being the animal fanatic that I am. All told, more than a dozen of them were killed using some of our precious bullets. The scout team butchered the cattle as well as they could in the field and loaded them up.
So today, there were lots of cuts of meat for people. I surprised myself by not really caring about steaks or anything fancy--I just wanted a burger. With cheese. We keep dairy cows, and some of the farmers make cheese. So that's what I got. I almost cried when I took my first bite, though it was sans condiments except for a few early tomato slices and some pickles that Jess brined herself. Delicious doesn't even begin to describe it.
Funny how a day spent eating fatty beef to fill the stomach seems to put smiles on a lot of faces. I can't remember the last time I saw so many people looking happy at one time. It's a fitting way for things to be on the eve of our trip to Tennessee.
I was hoping to have longer before we needed to go, but the council has been talking with the group that is asking to join us pretty much nonstop for the last two days. The consensus is that our mutual best interests would be served by going sooner rather than later. I can see the logic in it, since more people means more security, more hands to plant foodstuffs, etc. Then again, if the food stores and seed plants that the Tennessee group claims they have aren't accurate, taking them on could end up being a burden that the compound won't be able to bear.
I've heard some news in the last day that several of the groups of survivors we've been in touch with further south have been in talks to decide whether they should combine their numbers and try to expand the land they can cultivate. From what I've been able to gather, it seems like what we've been dealing with here at the compound is actually pretty typical for most of the large groups. With the easily acquired canned food running out or expiring and winter stores starting to thin out, many people all over are facing difficulties providing enough food. Of course, there are levels of survival to consider in that equation. People can live off very few calories, even to the point of severe malnutrition.
You don't want the guy guarding your perimeter weak from hunger, though. Nor do you want him to have to patrol it for twelve hours at a time because you can only provide solid meals for a limited number of people. There are a hundred little issues to consider when you ration meals, and a thousand more that matter when you throw in the immense danger we face. Making sure that dozens of people have enough to eat is hard. Ten times as hard when the numbers are in the hundreds.
North Jackson is a little over a thousand strong now. Maybe I should shoot them an email and see how they're doing with that...
At any rate, I had a lovely early lunch with my wife and a few friends. We talked about the trip, planned for it as best we could, and generally just enjoyed each others company. Tomorrow, our path forward will get murky again, going down highways that none of us have driven since The Fall began. We'll probably go nuts trying to maneuver through abandoned cars. We'll almost certainly encounter swarms of zombies. We may face marauders, or natural disasters, or any number of other threats that we haven't thought of.
That's tomorrow, though. Right this second I intend on seeing if there are any burgers left. Then I might say goodbye to some folks I've spent too little time with, and make sure Pat will watch my animals while I'm away.
My poor baby chicken will miss us so much.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Deja Vu
Posted by Josh Guess
We left the compound a little later than planned this morning due to an unfortunate case of forgetting to pack my clothes. The zombie apocalypse might have come, but some things never change.
We're camped out right now about twenty miles into Tennessee. The going through Kentucky was clear for the first few hours, though we had to drive slowly. It's funny, but I don't even think about going highway speeds anymore. There's too much risk involved in that--zombies and animals dashing in front of your car, unnoticed debris tha
t can shred tires, even trapped sections of road meant to halt aggressors. Even when the roads are perfectly clear, we take it slow and careful. Actually, we're especially cautious when things are going well.
Paranoia is a way of life.
We had to take a few detours when we got a good pace south, though. The main road was washed out in places by what looks to have been pretty severe flooding. That took a while to navigate, and we were super careful after that. You never know when erosion has reared its ugly head and swept away 90% of the dirt supporting a road where you can't see it. I've got no desire to spend my last few seconds fervently wishing I'd driven five miles an hour slower and saved my spine from being sheared in half.
Ugh, that's gruesome. I guess I'm in a gruesome mood.
The reason for that is simple. We've decided to make camp in one of the safest places we could find: one of the many, many rest areas that dot the US interstate highway system. This one is pretty big and has couches and chairs in it, so at least some of us will be able to get comfy tonight. I'm pretty beat so I don't feel too guilty about wasting most of an evening of driving. I don't know that we could have found anything nearly as secure between here and nightfall.