If one more person shits in my cornflakes, I will tear every last human being I encounter apart. I have fucking had it with people. Absolutely fucking had it. The human race deserves to rot.
Gonna go punch holes in the wall now.
January 31st. (2ndentry)
That’s a complete lie. I am not “better now.” I am calmer now. Definitely not better.
At about 9pm last night I was getting settled for bed, and I heard a loud boom from outside. It sounded very far off though, and I thought it was another one of those trees we pre-cut for the ambush falling down again. I went to a window facing the bridge to see if I could see anything, but when I went past a window facing north-ish, I saw light on the horizon. I did the geographic math in my head, and realized it was somewhere near the gas station. Just as I was putting two and two together there was a huge flare of light, another booming noise shortly after that, and then I KNEW it was the gas station.
First, there was rage. Then some worry. I got my ass dressed as fast as possible and headed over to Hall A, weapons in hand, expecting a full on assault. Of course I didn’t get there fast enough, and Patty came over the radio asking if I heard that explosion. A few seconds after that Jason over at STIG came over the radio and was asking if we were okay, and if we needed assistance. I was happy to hear that they were keeping an ‘eye’ on us, but I was pissed that it got to them that something bad had happened. I didn’t want them to think our survivability was damaged. Then I started to think that they answered so fast because they were awake, and about to hit us, having just been here to campus. Made sense, right?
I radioed back to him that we had heard some kind of explosion in the distance, and that we were checking it out. He said to let them know what was up, and that they were able to head over if we needed help. By the time I got to Hall A, I could hear a snowmobile moving in the woods nearby. I made sure the M15 was ready to rock, and I hoped to God it was Gilbert coming and not the Westfield people. I took cover in the snow bank and watched the machine pull in. It was Gilbert.
He hopped off the machine and I hollered out to freeze. He stopped immediately. I don’t know why I did it. I was so pissed, and sick of all the bullshit. I called his ass out immediately.
“Gilbert, what were you and Brian talking about on the radio the other night?” I leveled the M15 at his chest. My heart was pounding in the cold moonlight.
Gilbert slowly lifted his hands and extended them out to the sides. He didn’t want to get shot, and I didn’t want to shoot him. He said this back to me; “I’ve known Brian for years Adrian. I was friends with his father. He and I have been talking for months now on the radio I have in my basement.” His voice was laced with concern. He must’ve known I was in a bad place mentally. I literally could just pull the trigger.
I said this back, and arguably, it was not my finest moment as a human being, “You fucking asshole. Why didn’t you tell me this from the start? We could’ve been talking to them weeks ago, a month ago, or more you fucking dink! And I turn on the radio in the middle of the night and lo and behold I hear you two talking about me? What the fuck man? You have any idea how fucking betrayed I feel?! Why the fucking game?”
“Son you lied to him too. You told him we had more people here than we did. You told him you have less food than you actually have. You were smart, and you told him just as much as you had to. The only difference between you and me is that your feelings are hurt that I protected myself, and mine aren’t.” Man he could stare. I felt my soul shrivel.
“Fuck Gilbert, you’re like the first person I’ve met that didn’t try and fucking kill me. I thought we’d be on the level man. You know, you gotta trust someone sometime right?” Not gonna lie. Started to cry. Not cry like a bitch, but my voice was breaking a little, and my eyes were watering. I’m gonna blame the cold air.
He shook his head, “Adrian, I have never lied to you. I have not told you things a few times that made my situation better son, but at no point have I bald faced lied to you.”
God help me, but I believed him. I lowered the rifle a little and he lowered his hands. He spoke again, “Look son. This world is fucked. There’s food, ammunition, fuel, and trust. Anything else doesn’t matter, and off that list, trust is the hardest to find, and worth the most. Now if your feelings are hurt because I don’t trust nobody, then tough shit son. But I can tell you this: I coulda thrown in with Brian’s men long before I met you, and I didn’t. I’m right here, right now, and you gotta trust that when it gets thick, I am here for you son.”
The damn cold really started to irritate my eyes again. I was still angry over the explosion, but I wasn’t angry at him anymore. I realized then that Abby and Randy were on the porch of Hall A beside us watching and listening. They had no idea about any of this, and Abby’s face spoke volumes. She was practically scowling at Gilbert.
I nodded slowly at Gilbert. He started walking into Hall A, and I followed him after wiping my face. Abby patted me on the back, and I thanked her. Inside, Chuck was on the couch trying to keep his arm elevated and Patty was stalking up and down the hallway with her 9mm, waiting for an impending assault. Once inside I calmed myself, and told them I was going to head down on the snow machine to see what happened. Gilbert said he could show me a trail that dumped out down the road from the station. I agreed, and we were off. The ladies stayed behind and held down the fort.
Gilbert watched as I ran back to here and snagged up my Kevlar and the Savage. I wanted the scope for vision purposes. I slung that and the M15 across my back, and I trotted over to our snowmobile. I met Gilbert on his machine and together we dragged two of the plywood sheets with nails back out into the road. It was a bitch to get them past the bridge, but we did it, and pretty fast too. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing. After that he took me to his place. He pointed out how to get to Route 18 near the piss and lemons house, and he said he’d take a route that came out on the other side. I shook his hand, and we zipped off.
It was maybe 15 minutes before I got to the road. I drove very slow as I got closer to the road so the machine was quieter. I actually wound up parking the machine right near the garage that Gilbert took cover behind the day we were attacked by the cabin folk. I ran down the road towards the gas station about three or four football fields then dropped low and slow crawled until I got a reasonably good view via scope of the flames coming from the gas station. It was roaring on fire. Like.. raging. It had been torched, and not only that, but there was a large truck parked in the road that had been set on fire as well. The wreck was just on the east side of the garage, so we couldn’t drive downtown without letting it burn out.
Now through the scope on the ground I could make out two people moving, backlit by the fire. I knew right then and there they’d die where they stood. It was a long shot, I guessed it at 700 yards solid. I prioritized targets, estimated the range, guessed windage, adjusted the scope, slowed my breathing, thanked McGreevy for his excellent choice in hunting rifles and optics, and killed the man facing in my direction. I threw the bolt to reload as the other dork started spinning, looking for the shooter who’d just killed their friend. They were about to dive for cover when I killed him too. Both were dropped with shots to the chest. Easily the best combat kills I’ve ever made. And I’ve made some good ones.
I displaced on foot about 75 yards ahead in the road as fast as I could smash my way through the two feet of snow and low brush. I was moving in solid cover, and even in the decent moonlight there was no way they’d see me. I dropped to the ground again and watched the scene through the scope. Rushing to the aid of the assholes I’d just dropped was another figure. I readjusted my scope with a twist, and sent one more round downrange with a swift kick to the shoulder. Whoever it was went ass over teakettle and managed to fall on the burning truck. I could hear them screaming for a few seconds while they bled out. I waited there for two solid minutes before I saw the flash of headlights, then the vague light of vehicle tail lights moving away from me from the other side of the fire.
I sat there for another minute, and then started to slink slowly through the snow and brush to get closer. I switched to the M15 when I was a hundred yards out, and I started to jog to the wrecked truck in the road. By the time I got there, all three dead bodies were sitting back up as zombies. Pisses me off that every time I kill one of these assholes, I wind up having to do it twice unless I can shoot them in the head the first time. I dropped to a knee in the middle of the road and snapped off two shots. One killed the zombie that was on fire from falling on the truck, and the second shot killed the male zombie that I’d killed first. I got closer and went to draw my sword, but once again, I forgot the fucking thing at home. I drew the Glock and blew the dead woman’s head apart. I vaguely remember hearing her body sizzling as it burnt. Incidentally, after seeing a zombie actually on fire, I find myself emotionally detached.
I checked around the area and found no one left alive. The gas station was a flat out raging inferno. There were tire tracks in the snow heading west. I stood there, watching the flames gout up from the underground storage tanks for at least five minutes before Gilbert rode up on his machine. He ushered me to fuck off out of there, and after I grabbed their guns and searched them for ammo, he gave me a ride to my machine. We then rode back to the campus.
Hall A’s inhabitants were walking on pins and needles. Chuck was fucking furious about this, and Patty was stressing big time. Abby, as usual, was keeping it together and keeping Randy surprisingly calm. They had heard the gunshots, and knew something bad had happened. I told them we killed three more people at the station, and I showed them the lone wallet I’d collected off the bodies. It had a Westfield driver’s licenses.
I radioed to Jason at STIG and Brian answered. I told them we were alright, and that there had been an attack on the gas station near here that we used. I told them that we had been attacked weeks ago by people from Westfield and that we fought them off. This was apparently their attempt at revenge.
Brian immediately asked if it was “Sean’s group of people.”
MMmm. Not cool Mr. Journal.
I told him yeah, and waited for him to tell me they were coming to kill me because I’d just attacked their allies or something. Surprisingly, he laughed. Apparently this Sean asshole was a state senator before the world shit the bed, and was well known as an asshole. According to what Brian said I guess back when they were still in radio contact before the state signal repeaters shit the bed, Sean had all these grandiose plans to re-launch the state under his guidance. Brian said they broke off contact before the repeaters died because he was a Grade-A giant bag of douche.
Hearing that pleased me a great deal. Brian said if we needed support, he and a few of his men could get there in less than an hour, and to call. He said they had men on the radio 24/7 monitoring in the event something went wrong, so just holler. I thanked him. Gilbert spoke up then too. All he said was this:
“Brian this is Gilbert. I told Adrian that we been talking, so he knows everything. Don’t feel like you have to hold back anymore.”
Brian was silent for a good thirty seconds. His single response was this, “Adrian, we need you more than you need us. And you need to know that. Shit I think you probably already know that. We’re low on food something fierce, but we’re in the safest place you can imagine. After all this bullshit, you really need to consider coming to us and staying here until it all blows over.”
I looked at the faces of the people around me. Chuck was nodding in agreement, and Patty had her head hung low, clearly thinking about it. Randy was tearing up, and Abby was looking at me, wondering what I was thinking. She looked so skinny and tiny to me in that moment, and I felt a little bit of my heart break off for her. Such a young girl and in such a scary world to finish growing up in. Gilbert was looking at me too, but I could fucking tell he was looking to me to show support, and strength.
“Brian, those of us here are free to make whatever decision they want. If anyone wants to join you, they are free to do so. However, this is my home now, and I plan on staying here. I am more than happy to help you as much as I can though. Give us some time to figure out what we’re doing please.”
He said no problem, and wished us safety and good luck.
Chuck immediately said “we’re fucking gone tomorrow.” He rationalized it, and it made sense. A lot of sense. If Westfield was willing to destroy an entire gas station to get revenge on us, then they were willing to burn the campus down, building by building to get at me. Not at them mind you, me. This shit was personal, and everyone knew it. Sean wanted ME dead, and if the others died too, well that was just fine to him.
I said we should sleep on it, and we’d discuss it tomorrow. That’s when I put my small entry in last night. I had to say something to someone, so I chose you Mr. Journal.
No one slept. Gilbert moved his truck to the end of Prospect Circle and sat in it all night long, waiting for more Westfield assholes to show. I wandered campus almost all night, stopping only to piss and shit inside. I grabbed a few of the leftover granola bars we’d accumulated, and I kept at it. I wound up blacking out from exhaustion sitting at the kitchen table sometime around 9am this morning. I slept for three or four hours before Abby woke me up banging on the outside door. She was red eyed from crying. My radio had died. I forgot to charge it.
We gathered in Hall A again for a meeting I wish I could forget now. Chuck and Patty had discussed it all night, and they were leaving. I said that was fine. They were bringing Randy and Abby with them. Abby had waited for me to tell them no. She wanted me awake to support her assertion to stay here.
I didn’t support her. She should not be near me right now. I’m dangerous to her, and the Westfield assholes are dangerous to her as well. If she stays here, she’ll get killed, I can fucking tell. She actually hit me in the face when I told her to leave, she said some horrible things too, but she had a right to say them.
“You liar! You said I could stay with you! I don’t want to leave, this is my home now, I can take care of myself. We’ll be fine, everything will be fine!”
Lots of stuff like that. I let her hit me a few times before Patty intervened and grabbed her. She felt betrayed by me, and I can’t blame her. I told her why she should leave, and she argued until she collapsed from exhaustion. I don’t think she slept at all last night.
I sat at the table and waited for Patty to get her down and asleep on the couch. Charles was crying, and Gilbert was rubbing his face, showing his frustration and sadness over everything. I sat silent until Patty returned.
This is all I said to them, “You need to leave. Tomorrow if we can them to come get you. You can take some food, some medicine, a few guns and some ammo, and a vehicle if you want one. I will deal with this on my terms, and believe me, you don’t want that much blood on your hands.”
They had no answer, so I stood up and asked them straight up, “Are we making the call or what? Make your decision, stay or leave?”
Chuck and Patty looked at each other painfully for a minute, and then reached for the radio.
I walked out of Hall A.