Blog Entries
December 24th, 2011 Tags: 236th entry


December 24th.

                Oh the weather outside is…  mediocre.  We’ve had a bit of a warm streak here.  He days have been right around 45 or 50, and the nights are staying at about 30.  Feels like early November, not almost January.  Not almost Christmas.

                Officially, we are shut down for the next few days.  All we are doing is preparing food for tomorrow, performing basic security tasks, basic maintenance tasks, and being human beings.  I’m sick of us being human “doings.”  We never relax anymore.  We push, we work, we slave, and reap the meager benefits of that massive amount of labor.  I’ve said this several times already, but it is SO MUCH work to just exist right now.  I’d like to do the math sometime on how many labor hours go into each calorie we consume.  I bet the ratio sucks. 

                Despite my ranting and raving, I am in a very good mood, and I have precious little to actually talk about.  Our young guest Sylvia has dramatically reduced her violence against us when she sees us.  We post a guard at her closed and locked door, and when we go in to feed her, or talk to her, she used to attack quite literally on sight.  Now she sits patiently on the bed, clearly in fear of us.  Michelle has taken the lead in trying to make contact with her, and she has stopped attacking her entirely.  Every once in awhile she will try and bite or scratch the guard, but if we recoil, she’s been dropping her attack and calming down.

                I guess that’s progress.  Michelle and I have had lengthy conversations about her, and whether or not she’s a project worth working on.  She maintains there’s no choice in the matter.  We HAVE to help her.  I maintain that she is a lot of work, and she is taking away from the greater good.  Most of the people guarding her want to break her jaw.  Hell, I already tried.

                Michelle is back to teaching, which is funny, because we gave the kids a few days off for the holiday.  I think it’s Hanukah right now too, so we decided to give the kids a week off.  So yeah, she’s back to teaching, and yeah, she just sent the kids on break.  Two steps forward, and all that jazz.

                We are planning some light festivities for Christmas.  A breakfast and early dinner spread for everyone.  Some of the folks went out and cut down a few trees to decorate for the different dorms, and a really big tree for the cafeteria where we are gathering for the actual day.  We got some toys and age appropriate gifts that the youngins should appreciate, so it should be fairly normal.  Well, what passes for normal now. 

Should be fun for the kids.

                No violence to speak of on or off campus.  The Factory is doing okay.  With all this rain they have plenty of water in storage, and despite their relative proximity to the city, there have been precious few undead.  So few undead in fact, that they are actually reporting it as being “creepy.”

                MGR has been the same.  We’re rotating staff regularly now to give people breaks.  The only people living there permanently are Renee and Mallory.  They’ve chosen the tower as the home they want to stay at permanently.  Mike and Patty, previously in charge of MGR have essentially relocated back here since I got shot.  I think they wanted a fresh start away from all of this, and once they were gone realized they actually want to stay here.  A lot more resources here I suppose, as well as real estate.

                We haven’t seen a single undead near campus or on any of the video feeds in days.  We are all thinking about how Sylvia may have been leading undead to us all this time.  It makes sense.  If she was coming and going, and not putting any undead that saw her down, then she was likely just leading them to us the entire time.  I think we were lucky that she didn’t lead more to us prior to when the walls went up.  Although, it does make sense that she was leading them to us all along.  How else were they getting up here?

                Well, I guess the whole “led and powered by evil” argument could be thrown into the mix.

                But that’s depressing as shit.  I don’t want to think about that just hours from Christmas, on the first Christmas eve in some time that seems even remotely normal.  I didn’t get anyone any gifts.  I feel weird about that.  I feel like this year, there are people I should’ve done something for.  I can’t really hit the mall or anything, but I guess I could’ve gone old school and drawn a cute sleigh on some construction paper and made some cards for people.  Ghetto gifts, courtesy of Adrian Ring.

                I’ll wish people some Merry Christmas tomorrow, thank them for all they’ve done for me, and do my level best to show them how much I appreciate them.  Maybe that’s what this is all about after all.  Less about gifts, and more about showing people you care.  I’m like Bob fucking Ross, only for wisdom.  Getting back to basics, with Adrian Ring.  Public access channels, and hopefully, if I go big, I could make it onto the PBS stations too.  Maybe even the BBC.

                I could be famous.

                I want to write more.  Nothing is stirring, except for some mice, and I am not quite tired yet.  I saw a few kids running around in head to toe snowsuits the other day when we had an inch of snow, and it made me think of the last time I ever wore a snowsuit.  It’s a funny and horrible story.

                I think I was in third grade, and the weather had gone south during the winter.  It was the last day before Christmas break, and it had been raining and sleeting all day while we were in class.  My entire family was home sick except for me, so I had to walk home from school on my own, without my brothers and sister.  I don’t think Becca was in school then either, so I think she would’ve been at home already.  When the weather was crappy my mom made we wear an old snowsuit that had been passed down to me.  The feet had been worn out from years of sledding, so my mom cut them off, and I wore classy black moon boots instead.  Those were also hand me downs, and had some pretty sweet duct tape patching.

                Anyway, the elementary school I went to at the time was at the top of a hill, and with the cold temperatures, and sleet, walking down the hill all alone in my head to almost toe snowsuit complete with moon boots was a real motherfucker.  I remember taking inch steps for the entire mile long walk trying to stay upright.

                When I was about two thirds of the way home I suddenly felt my stomach lurch, and I knew instantly I had a case of the ninja shits coming on, and in a hurry.  I was puckering like a fucking Olympian trying to keep back the brown tide while still making forward progress on the sidewalk that was more skating rink than anything.

                Our house was on main street, across the road from the school geographically, and when traffic stopped to let me go I booked it as best I could across the way.  Of course Mr. Journal if you have ever tried to run while squinching up to keep from shitting yourself, you know it’s a stiff legged process.  You’re more or less walking on stilts while keeping every muscle below your nose taut as hell to prevent slippage into your fucking drawers.

                Anyhoo, as I cross the street and start up the walk way to the front door I see that the entire walk way is covered in solid ice.  It was smooth, and glassy, and the snow on both sides in the yard was far too deep to trudge through while I was so close to shitting myself.  Just as I take the first the step onto the surface, my mother opened the front door, and waved to me.

                It was a tease and I knew it.  I was so close to the safety of wooden, ice free floors, and yet the final twenty feet were clearly the most treacherous of them all.  I slid my moon boots inch by inch on the glassy ice all the while yelling to my mom.

                “Open the screen door!  Open the screen door!  Get out of the way mom, I gotta GO!”

                Of course my mom had no damn idea what I was yelling through the storm door, and when I finally made it to that door, she opened it for me, and I started through it, trying to get past her to the blessed bathroom where I could purge the pressure that was still building behind my asshole.

                But by now Mr. Journal… you already know something goes horribly wrong.

                As I stepped over the threshold of the house past my mom, both of my feet slipped on the last few inches of ice.  I remember distinctly the sensation of soaring up into the air, my legs straight out in front of me as my sphincter gave in to the poop.  As I dropped down onto my back I felt the shit squirt powerfully into my snowsuit, past the back of my thighs, down my calves, and all the way down into the torn feet into my moon boots.  Right after that wonderful sensation I slammed my snow hat covered skull into the icy walkway, and the tears came.

                I bawled like a bitch.

                I stood up, completely ignoring my mother’s attempts to pick me up and find out what was wrong.  I pushed her out of the way, still screaming and crying and ran directly into the shower, where I stripped out of the snowsuit, and revealed my shit covered lower half.  My mom saw the wreckage, and pulled the bathroom door shut so I could clean myself off.

                Yeah so I don’t like snowsuits anymore.  Or moon boots for that matter. 

                Funny story now.  Not as funny back then.  Especially when all my brothers and dad made fun of me for shitting myself in a snowsuit. 





December 22nd, 2011 Tags: 235th entry

December 22nd.

                Well some things have come into focus here since I last had time to write.  Not a ton of things, but a few bits that have made life make a little more sense.

                I forget which day and when.  I think it was the 20th?  Maybe the 19th?  Anyway, we mounted a pretty intense search of the woods in the back of campus to try and find out where what when why and how the fuck that little girl was able to move about so easily.  The first few items discovered were key.  We found a twenty foot length of rope with a small anchor attached to it.  It must’ve been taken from one of the rowboats down on the waterfront.  The anchor and rope combination were being used by the girl as a makeshift grappling hook to get over the rear gate.

                This makes her strange appearance much more sensible you see.  If she scaled the gate, which really isn’t all that much of a feat with some rope, when she dropped down on the outside, her body would literally just “appear” on the camera, as if she materialized.  Two of the guys tested the trick the other night, and it’s spot on.  She could free the rope with a fairly good tug, and she slipped away to stash the rope in that batch of rocks where we found her.

                From there, the team found a path worn through the woods that ran for about three miles.  Littered along the way they found wrappers and boxes of the food we were missing.  They didn’t collect all the trash, but from what Joel and Blake were saying, it was a dead match for what I felt we were missing.  Jenna was very pleased to hear that.  Turns out our own people were not thieves, just some random little girl from the woods.

                So anyhoo, we tracked the string of garbage back to a hunting cabin on a road to nowhere.  It’s apparently an access road that leads to some power lines.  Probably a road used by hunters and the utility people to get into the area where the large power lines are.  They found the cabin, and breached it.

                Inside were the bodies of two adults, one male, one female.  Spread around the corpses were dried up flowers, and pictures of a family that the girl was a member of.  I haven’t visited the cabin yet, but they say the girl is in all the pictures.  Blake said the bodies were mostly skeletal, but still had some juicy bits, which means that cabin was ripe.  He also said that the mother appeared to have bite marks on her, and the father had a large wound to the head that was probably done with an axe or shovel.  Mom looked to have been hit in the head with same weapon.

                I never worked as a CSI, but I’d say somehow dad went ape shit, bit mom, and mom put him down with a garden weasel or something.  That leaves our poor girl twisting in the wind after she has to brain her own fucking mom to stay alive.

                The cabin did not look recently lived in.  There was no available heat, though there was a woodstove (which we will be removing and transporting back here immediately) and there was no food stored there.  It appeared that the girl had been visiting there, like it was some kind of memorial for her parents.  The guys grabbed a few changes of clothes for the girl (which was a waste, because they are all ripped and torn to crap) and they headed out.  At the cabin on exit they engaged two zombies that had shambled into the area.  Drawn by noise or perhaps movement.

                What that tells me is the girl was living here on campus.  I wonder where?  We searched the FUCK out of this place the other day looking for food, and found nothing.  We are planning a search of outlying areas on campus where she might’ve been able to hide a tent or something.  I think she was living inside the walls.  I wonder if we trapped her inside with us when we were building?

                Hard to say.  Operating on some theory here.

                Something that I am also wondering, is that if she is connected to the small groups of undead that we keep finding in random spots on the wall?  Remember the other day Mr. Journal when I had to engage what?  Five at the rear gate?  I wonder if she had made noise outside the wall, and led them back here where they would just stand like dumb shits and wait for her.  We see them first, take them down, and the girl is free to come and go as she pleases again.  It makes a LOT of sense to me.

                I don’t know if it explains the group of undead Abby found near Hall E fully, but if Abby did really see this chick round the corner of the dorm, and saw some undead at the wall at the same spot, then there is a damn good chance the two facts are connected.

                Sigh.  More questions I suppose.

                School is up and running.  Michelle has been preoccupied with dealing with our new guest, and as a result, despite her being in charge of the school, she’s spending less time there than she should.  She’s handed much of the teaching off to the aides, Melissa and Kim.  They’re teaching basics that are age appropriate, and they’ve enlisted the kids in fun teaching activities like cooking, and making bracelets and stuff out of the endless fucking craft supplies here on campus.  I was given three bracelets today, and Melissa told me to expect much more.  I’m wearing all three.  I think it’s important to validate the work these kids did, and frankly, they’re pretty cool.  Very colorful.

                We’ve already begun the work on constructing the towers.  Waiting for a few days was a good idea as it let the wood we’d been cutting down cure and dry.  We were out of the good stuff anyway, and the few days of rest was nice.  Good on the carpenter’s blisters, and it saved some backs from some sore nights.

                We are clear cutting a dirt road/path down to the water front.  We’ll need to yank up  some large rocks in the woods to make it clean and smooth, but the path is a necessity.  We are building a tower that overlooks the lake so we have less of a blindspot there, and we need a path/road to get to the tower easily.  In addition, there is a lot of land that is going to be converted before long to farmland, and we might as well start clearing some of it now.  I’m thinking there will be enough wood to build the tower at the end of the road by the time we clear the way.  Of course, we need a few days for that wood to cure, so giving us a respite from building is a good thing.

                Another problem that will crop up we are now kind of fucked over is the fact that we are not using pressure treated lumber.  These towers won’t last for shit without stain or paint, and now it’s too cold to paint.  It won’t dry, it’ll just fucking freeze.

                Soooo… in our infinite wisdom we may have built towers that are predestined to just fall over in the spring.  If they last until then, we’ll be stoked, and we’ll do something to make the wood last a hell of a lot longer.  Worst case scenario we will rebuild them with salvaged phone poles, which last forever.  They are toxic as fuck to handle though, and I’m sure we’ll be sacrificing some kind of health to do that.

                Breaking eggs to make omelets and such.

                Not much else.  Undead traffic at campus has been nil, and that’s nice.  Since we took our guest into custody there have been no zombies at strange points on the wall, and there have been no accounts of missing food, or strange phantoms on the video feeds.

                All seems to have settled.  Famous last words…

                Oh, and I forgot.  In the cabin on the dead bodies as well as on the tables the guys found some personal information.  The parents were Aaron and Charlene Shorey, and the girl we currently have in Hall C, periodically trying to bite everyone that comes near her is named Syliva.

                Now if we can just get her to remember her name, and act like the girl she was before the world took her parents from her…

                I think I’m going to saddle up for some outside the wall runs.  I need the adrenaline rush, and I need to shake the case of the pussies I’ve come down with.  The only reason we aren’t talking about a dead girl is because I didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger when I had her dead to rights.  I guess sometimes I’m lucky.  On a normal night, that kid would’ve been stitched head to toe with 5.56 and I’d be drinking myself into oblivion trying to stop hating myself for having done it.

                I’ve got a strange kind of luck.






December 19th, 2011 Tags: 234th entry

December 19th.

                My heart has never pounded so hard. 

                I can’t go into tremendous detail right now, because I am fucking exhausted, but last night we made contact with, and apprehended the wraith on the video.  Despite all the fucking weirdness, and visual shenanigans, it was just a young girl.  12 or 13 at most.

                She’s dirty, skinny, and straight up feral.  I left Hall C where we are keeping her about an hour ago.  Michelle is sitting with her.  She tried to bite a few of us, and was held as a result.  We’re trying to keep her safe.  Michelle wants to try and rehabilitate her, and I’m all for it.  I don’t know what the sense is though.  I mean shit, we’ll give it a few weeks, and if she isn’t better, we can’t keep devoting resources to a crazy little girl.

                But as Michelle said, maybe we HAVE to.  Maybe we HAVE to try and support this kid.  Maybe that’s the point in all of this.  Maybe showing compassion, and dedication is part of what we need to do to reclaim this shit filled world back from the hell that was vomited onto it?

                I don’t know.  I’m thinking I might just wash my hands of this, and let Michelle deal with it.  Maybe I should stick to things I understand, like firing pins, and bolts, and magazines.  And porn.

                Fitz nearly stitched the little girl last night when we were searching for her.  She showed up on camera and we mobilized fast.  Long story short, Fitz sees movement in the woods near some large rocks, and he just opens up.  Luckily nothing hit the girl, and like a goddamn acrobat she jumped over a rock, and more or less right on top of me.

                I had her dead to rights with my brand spanking new M4A1 too.  I couldn’t pull the trigger.  I froze.  It was like, too much to do.  I don’t know how I managed to recover, but I swung the butt of the rifle up, and caught the kid on the chin, sending her to la-la-land by the time she hit the ground.  Good luck I suppose.

                Fitz is beating himself up pretty hard over this though.  He almost killed a little girl, and it is sitting hard on him.  I just talked to him for a few minutes, and he’s putting his head back together again.  I’m worried he’s going to start suffering like I am.  Or have been.

                I need to rest.  I only got an hour of sleep this morning after all of last night’s hullabaloo.  I’ll try and write more in a day or two. Hopefully she starts talking, and we can figure out if she’s just a lost, dirty kid, and not some kind of spy for another group that’s new to the area.








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