Blog Entries
January 31st, 2012 Tags: 253rd entry

January 31st.

                We almost lost it all this morning.  All of it. 

                Every last person here could have died, and it’s only by some profoundly good graces we still have as many people living here as we do.

                Late in the night last night, the sickness that had incapacitated thirteen of our residents became fatal.  We don’t know who died first.  We haven’t pieced that together yet, but we know who is dead now.  Looking at the bright side, our food problems just became much more manageable.

                God I’m an asshole.

                I was woken up by the sounds of gunshots this morning just as the sun was turning the sky that faint shade of dawn blue.  Just enough light so you know the day is coming, but still dark enough to know that it isn’t quite morning yet.  I sat up immediately with the Kimber and grabbed the walkie.  I asked what was happening.

                I pulled my pants on, and my shirt on, and over the radio I heard Abby’s voice, “something happened inside the clinic, some of them died, and now they’re out.  They’re moving around towards the dorms.”

                Undead inside the walls again.  Moving about as they wished.  It was like a fucking bad dream.  I had an immediately flashback to the night on the roof of admissions, and the afternoon in the classroom building where I shot round after round into the mob of undead, trying to scratch out a safe place to live in this fucked up world.  It seems we (I) came a little full circle this morning.

                I dressed as I heard more and more folks wake up to the single gunshot and the radio traffic.  The Factory and MGR joined in, asking if we were okay, and collectively we asked them to clear the air, and let us figure out what we had on our hands.  I had the tactical guys get their comms online, and we got off the wide band radios.

                We made a quick plan, and via the various comms gear we got a headcount on the people who were NOT put in the quarantine in the clinic.  Everyone was accounted for, and the only variables were the folks from the clinic.  We had no radio traffic from them, which meant Roger’s walkie was never used.  We’re still putting together what went down in there, and it’s hard.

                Our initial plan was to open windows and fire using rifles at anything on foot that didn’t respond to verbal commands.  Least amount of risk that way.  I saw nothing from my window.  I would’ve thought something would’ve crossed in front of Hall E or the cafeteria, but nope.  Angela over in Hall A, which is right next to the old admin building the clinic is in, shot four times, killing four of our own.  Well to be fair, she wasn’t killing them.  She was putting their animated bodies to rest. 

                From Hall B Blake took a single shot with his Enfield, putting someone else down, and after that we saw no one and nothing from our windows.  From there we formed into small teams that were dorm based, and we moved out and into the campus to scour every inch for the remaining undead or survivors.  From Hall E I formed up with Caleb and Abby.  Our plan was to sweep the campus in a rough circle shape so we weren’t converging and firing on the same spaces.  Last thing we wanted was to meet in the middle, and be firing at each other.  We swung south towards the clinic itself.  Hall A put no team out because there just weren’t enough bodies.  We crossed in front of them and immediately saw George clawing at the door that led to the apartment he shared with Alex.  Angela had no window or angle to see him to shoot him.

                He’d been bitten three or four times in the chest and neck, and he was covered with fresh, sticky blood.  He hadn’t been dead for long.  When we rounded the corner I was the one facing him, and once I was sure he was dead (look for the whites of their eyes, as the old saying goes), I put that red dot on his face, and sent him back to oblivion where he belonged.  I hope these people are getting rest wherever they are.

                We moved down the road to the clinic and prepared for the worst.  We swung around the building to the entrance that I went in through back when I was clearing the building originally.  It was the door facing the admissions building, near the bridge and campus exit.  The door was ajar, and after a quick plan, we breached.

                I am not sure how much detail I can even go into here.  It was fucking carnage inside.  Blood and gore all over.  I hollered out for anyone alive to reply, and from the upstairs we heard a woman yell that she was in an office.  The same office Abby holed herself up in that day.  Funny how things come full circle.

                In the open clinic area on one of the beds was Jenna.  Jenna was hooked up to an IV bag that Roger must’ve gotten on her.  She sat up when we came into the room, and got off the bed, dragging her IV hangar behind her, slowly opening and closing her mouth, her face twisting into that same silent rage I’ve seen so fucking much.  I liked Jenna.  She helped me so much, and she was a real asset for us here.  I didn’t have the heart to hit her in the head, so I simply lined that red dot up one more time, and sent the back of her head all over the bed she died on.  She’d been bitten several times.

                I hate my life sometimes.  A lot.

                Here’s a list of the confirmed dead, all from inside the clinic.  Our locked doors and reinforced windows held all across campus, protecting everyone that stayed inside thankfully:


                Julie, Martin’s wife.                                                                                      Deceased.

                George, Alex’s partner.                                                                                Deceased.

                Andrea, Lindsey’s daughter, age 6.                                                          Deceased.

                Jeffrey Daniel Langston, not quite 1 year old.                                        Deceased.

                Doc Lindsey.                                                                                                 Deceased.

                Veronica of no last name, age 5.                                                               Deceased.

                Diane                                                                                                              Deceased.

                Sgt. Roger Halliday                                                                                      Deceased.

                Kyle Fishman                                                                                                Deceased.


                I could cry.  A lot.  The heartbreak here right now is motherfucking epic.  Everyone has been touched by this, and it will take a long time to shake off the aftereffects of this.  Things we could’ve done differently, finger pointing, all that jazz I’m sure is not far off.  Anger and rage will be right after, and we need to keep emotions in check as best as possible.  Michelle is soothing nerves as best she can, and Kevin is putting everyone straight to task with Fitz.  If people are busy, they are less likely to shut down, or freak out.

                In the upstairs office we found Becky, Shelby, Ryan and Chester.  They are the lone survivors of the clinic.  Right now they are in Joel’s care, and Ethan will be returning from MGR tomorrow morning to assist.  We are going to lose them too if we don’t get some serious fluids into them.  They are fading fast, and we are dangerously low on IV bags.  We can’t get fluids into them fast enough.  They can’t keep them down.

                I know there was an ambulance on the side of the road between here and Westfield.  It’s off the road in fact, down an embankment on a side road.  I saw it when I was walking around on the other side.  With any luck, the ambulance will have enough IV bags to get us through the sickness here, and buy us enough time to formulate a serious plan on how to get more medical supplies for the future. 

                I talked to Joel and Ethan about whether or not we could make our own IV bags and they looked at me like I’d grown a third eye.  We have no sterile environments to make any in, and without very specific raw materials, we would essentially be making germ and bacteria bags for direct injection.  We’d kill people faster by giving them homemade IVs.  I figured it was worth asking.

                We’re leaving first thing in the morning.  The weather has been clear for a day now, and the roads are probably good.  We’re going in just the two humvees as soon as Ethan gets back here to beef up our numbers.  I’m hoping we find the ambulance with no trouble, and it is still filled with usable medical supplies.

                And hope.  We could seriously use a huge bucket of hope right now.  We’re running on E at the moment and could use it.

                I’m very much out of sorts right now.




January 28th, 2012 Tags: 252nd entry

January 28th.

                When it rains, it pours.  That’s the expression.

                We are dealing with three enormous problems right now, all sort of working in concert to bend us the fuck over.  It seems as if our good intentions and good will has brought serious problems upon us.  We are paying the price it seems for doing the right thing.

                Some kind of miserable flu bug has taken strong root here.  Ethan and Roger both think that the new people brought it in with them, and that does make a lot of sense.  Diane has been hacking and wheezing for days since she arrived, and it appears that whatever she had has spread.

                Ethan and Roger aren’t sure exactly what it is, but seeing as how it’s pretty catchy, they’re thinking it’s viral.  Pneumonia hasn’t been ruled out yet, but we haven’t done a lot of testing as of yet.  It starts as a headache, aches, and runny nose.  Within maybe five hours of that, your temperature skyrockets, and your sinuses go haywire, filling your chest with thick mucus and phlegm.  Vomiting seems to be frequent when it really sets in.   A couple of our sick folks also have sore throats, but that doesn’t seem to be the case across the board.

                As of right now, the following people are sick: Julie and Chester (Martin’s wife and son).  George (but not Alex yet), Andrea (Lindsey’s daughter), baby Jeffrey (the new kid named after the Lt from Westfield and Jeanette’s baby), Doc Lindsey, Jenna, Veronica (she of no last name), Roger the pj, Kyle (one of Kev’s guys), Becky, Shelby (Becky’s daughter), stoner Ryan, and Diane.  That’s a grand total of fourteen sick I count as of right this moment.  Jeanette is having a fit leaving her sick baby with Becky, but she understands the dangers of sickness. 

                We’ve got them in the clinic right now under quarantine.  We didn’t have enough beds there already, but in the basements of one of the dorms we had some cots for emergencies.  As of now, the clinic is looking a lot like a refuge camp.  They’re being cared for by the sick Roger and Doc Lindsey.  It makes some sense to have an ill medical professional deal with it, though I’m sure the care we’re giving them in this fashion is somewhat lacking.  Fresh fluids are in plenty right now though, and that’s a huge thing.  We put down three chickens this morning to make massive amounts of chicken soup for the sick people, and they’re doing their level best to consume it, although over the radio it sounds like they’re cleaning up a lot of vomit as well.

                We’re hoping the quarantine measures prevent it from spreading any further.

                Helping us in the quarantine department is royally shit weather.  Freezing rain, sleet, and wet, thick snow have brought everything to a horrible halt.  The freezing rain is a fine mist, and as soon as it hits any surface, it seems to freeze instantly.  The walkways and roads here are glassy smooth ice right now.  In order to get around, we have to smash our feet through the crust of ice over the wet snow.  It seems to be coming in cycles with wet snow too, which is miserable, chill you to the bone cold.

                We can’t really drive anywhere at the moment because of the ice.  We can’t sand or salt effectively to get around safely.  Hell, walking around campus at all has cost us a few spills just within the past three or four hours.  I was watching out the window of the common room in Hall E earlier as Angela tried to walk from Hall A to the cafeteria.  She ate shit three times after just trying to walk twenty feet.  Luckily she didn’t hit her head or anything, but she still turned her ass around and crawled back to the dorm.

                We aren’t staffing the gate or the towers tonight.  It’s a risk, but there’s just no way anyone with any sense would be willing or even able to attack us.  MGR and the Factory are reporting the same shit weather and icy conditions too, so I feel like the world has kind of ground to a halt for a bit. 

                Good times. 

                The third and most disturbing factor that we have on our plate is the food.  We are still chewing through it, and there has been precious little progress on our hydro production front.  Ryan had some stuff break on him, and he’s also sick, so there’s been shit happening for about three days.  Not that we’d miraculously have tomatoes and potatoes and green beans grown by now if we had the three or four days back, but it’s the frustration of there having been NO progress for any period of time.

                It just pisses me off.  This whole fucked up conspiracy of bullshit makes me wonder if the Jinx Fairy is a card toting Union member of the Jinx Fairy local 401.  That bitch might have backup.  Scary thought eh Mr. Journal?

                For the moment myself I’m sitting here in Hall E, fighting the small cold that I hope doesn’t turn south on me into the plague that’s ravaging the clinic.  Lucky fourteen is bad enough, I don’t want to be number fourteen.  I’m drinking an assload of water, and I’ve got a pretty large thermos of that soup we made earlier.  It’s really quite good.

                I’m very tired.  Kind of achy.  I’m the tired where I don’t even want to masturbate.  I just kind of want to lay down, and close my eyes, and let the sinus pressure drift away after I take one of these supposedly “non drowsy” sinus pills. That’s a damn joke.  I take one and no matter what…. I’m loopy.  The shit works though.  I always feel better after taking them.

                We’re in a holding pattern yet again for the moment.  I’m hoping I can check in after a day or two and happily report that we have people starting to feel better, the weather has gone, Ryan has built more hydro stations, and Ollie impregnated a few of our cows.

                Good news would be an awesome change of pace.




January 26th, 2012 Tags: 251st entry


January 26th.

                More conversations with our new people raise more and more concerns.  It’s funny how the scope of life now can change very quickly.  Danielle, Jackie and Diane have all given us absolute gold for intelligence about the north.  Sadly, when you get intel that seems really bad for you, it doesn’t seem much like a fucking gift, or a helpful fucking insight.  Sort of a, “yeah, you’ve got some shit coming down the pipe, and it’s shitty shit.  You should probably start masturbating now to make the pain go away before it gets too bad.”

                The discussions with the new folks here have been largely about their trip here.  Mostly in fact about the city itself being overrun with the dead, and the terrain traveled between here and there.  I really want to know what it is like in the area between the city, and town.  It could be a big deal down the line, especially as we travel more and more outside the city to gather supplies that are becoming more and more scarce.

                Yesterday and today however, with the one meal we could spend each day together due to other issues that consume time, I was able to hear more about the situation up north.  I tell you this Mr. Journal, I do not like what they told us.

                Remember the story that Lindsey told us when she arrived from the north with Doug?  Prior to Doug shooting me, and me shooting Doug?  That a batch of National Guardsman had taken over a ski resort and were taking all the supplies and forcing folks out?  Well I guess that group has absorbed a few others, and they are spreading across the more remote northern areas of the state.  They have a bio diesel plant at one of the resorts (if not more), and with a more or less continual supply of fuel, they are able to move far, move fast, and take what they want.  In war, we are taught to death that mobility and speed wins.  Out maneuver, out flank, and you win.  Pretty simple. 

                I guess their motives haven’t changed either.  They take whatever they want from whoever can’t defend it.  Diane and Danielle said they watched as less able people had their gardens “confiscated” to be relocated.  They also said that one “base” of these people was being far more generous, allowing folks to keep their animals and gardens, but they had to pay a tax to the base for “protection” that never really materialized.

                This creates a whole new set of problems.  Eventually these pricks are going to start moving south, especially when they really run the areas north dry.  I suspect with winter being as harsh as it is right now, they’ll be running dry of a lot of supplies in the coming month or two.  That means they’ll head to more urban areas, and that means they’ll be heading our way.

                Judging from what the women said about the size of the settlements these people have, and by their descriptions of vehicles and whatnot, they have at least 300-500 people in their collective communities, at the very least.  After talking to Kevin, he’s thinking there are as many as 800-1000.

                As of this writing, we have about fifty eight people here at Bastion and MGR, plus the what?  30 odd folks at the Factory?  That’s less than a hundred people using all my fingers and toes to count.  We’d be outnumbered at least 4 to 1 in any scenario. Now assuming of course that the vast majority of those people are not shooters, the numbers come back down to a far more acceptable 2 or 3 to 1, but that’s still fucking terrible.  If you factor in experience, and their military grade weaponry, and the fact that at least ten of our number are fucking kids, we’re pretty much done in any large scale engagement with these groups unless we start to train, arm, and expand to match them.  It’s classic escalation.  They build a better crossbow, we do the same.

                How do we do that?  How do we feed the potential army we might need to survive when we can barely feed the mouths we have as it is?

                Do we become predatory like them?  Or do we find another solution that allows us to maintain some semblance of the humanity that I so frigging desperately need?  Kevin is of course advocating for an aggressive spread out and absorb strategy, and Michelle wants us to do the same, only with hope, and food, and good wishes and such.  I suspect our solution will be somewhere in the middle.

                The people fleeing these groups in the north are struggling like our new additions did.  There are no gas stations with fuel left, food is no longer easily obtained on the move, and undead are clogging the roads where the navigation is already treacherous.  Where there were accidents on that day, there are still packs of undead, lingering, waiting for a flat tire, or an empty fuel tank.  Never mind the fact that they also said that the few times they ran into the living, they were violent, and wanted their shit.  No one wants to be a fucking hero, and do the right thing anymore it seems.

                In other news, we are working on finishing the tower, because we’re all paranoid as a mother fucker now.

                More news soon, hopefully.




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