Blog Entries
June 14th Tags: 145th entry

June 14th.


                That’s racially insensitive.

                I should feel bad about that, but… I don’t.  I guess some of my sensibility has shat the bad since the world was overrun by the dead.  It’s a natural consequence as I see it.  Undead appear: Adrian becomes entirely insensitive.

                I am happy to report that Mallory received a thorough fucking the other night at the hands of yours truly.  She seemed quite pleased, and I feel vindicated after my recent, poor half in the bag sexual showing.  I have a strong feeling she’ll be back in my sack tonight, just like she was last night.  Of course she’s staying here for a few days, so that’s likely to happen whether or not I’m putting the boots to her.

                Go me.  Seriously.  Just.. go me.

                What’s new here?  Otis is good, hot as hell in the heat we’re dealing with, but all in all, he’s good.  I sense a smidge of jealousy coming off him of late though.  With Mallory here in bed with me the past few days he’s been relegated to sleeping in other rooms or on the floor.  I think he’s actually been sleeping with Abby, which makes him a little bit of a cat adulterer.  Two timing bastard.  However, she can use the company, and honestly when he’s on the bed and I’m trying to get laid he winds up getting cat punted with a shriek across the room anyway.  Maybe this is just him protecting himself.  Smart cat if that’s the case.

                Um, we did a lot of fence work the past two days, but the weather hasn’t been terribly cooperative, despite us wishing a lot that it’d be nice.  Mixtures of drizzle, and overcast, with downpours added in for color.  I miss the damn weatherman.  Despite them almost never being right, it felt good to at least think that the weather prediction would be reliable.  Plus it also gave us something benign to bitch about.  Now on a day to day basis we have no fucking idea what’s coming.  Tomorrow tampons and goldfish could fall from the sky, and we’d have no idea it was coming.  That scenario wouldn’t surprise me in the least, incidentally.

                Because it was rainy yesterday, we took a long lunch break to get in from the soaking downpour.  We grilled up some more of the venison on Hall A’s porch, and just as we were about to start our bitch session about getting soaked again, the skies cleared, and the sun came out.  I decided that’d be a great time to sneak away with Danny to the back end of campus for an hour of gun practice.  He was excited, and so was I to be honest.  I offered a free lesson to anyone who wanted to tag along, but all declined, and he and made it into a quasi “uncle-nephew” thing.  This may sound strange, but I do feel inclined to be extra affectionate towards him.

                I was there when his father died, and I’ve got his father’s rifle in my bedroom.  I’m not sure how I’ll handle that in the future.  In reality, that rifle is Danny’s, and I should give it up for him to use.  At the moment though, that might be too much for the teenager to handle.  I don’t quite know where his head is about his dad’s death.  As a teenager, he’s got to be very hurt, scared, and confused, and I don’t want to muddle the mixture.

                So I knew I wanted to get Danny trained on a 20 gauge pump, as well as a 9mm handgun, and we’ve got both spare.  I wanted to give him my old Sig, but I realized it’s still sitting in a safe house halfway to Westfield.  Remember that Mr. Journal?  I left it there in case I had to evac during the whole Sean bullshit.

                Instead, I gave him the Ruger P95, which is a fine handgun for him to use for the meantime.  Maybe he can step  up to something more robust at a later date, but in reality, 9mm is more than enough gun for killing zombies, and getting living assholes to duck. 

                Cutting to the short of it, we spent two hours out shooting at colored paper the size of zombie heads, and within fifteen minutes it was clear the kid was a natural.  His dad put some serious hobby time in with the kid getting him some gun safety and shooting experience, and it shows.  He was dead nuts with the Ruger at less than 15 feet, and pretty consistent out to about 30 feet.  That’s more than I would’ve asked for, even after a few days of range practice.

                The shotgun was a slightly different story.  He’d only shot 12 gauges, and he hadn’t done that all that much, and had difficulty being comfortable with the lighter shotgun.  Almost like he was over-steering it.  He sent many a shell down low until I got him to relax, and let it fly.  Once he did that, he was in business, and pretty clearly good to go.  In fact, I may step him up to 12 gauge after a bit, because he seems like such a natural.

                I set him up with a holster that fit the Ruger, and with Angela’s blessing, he is now a full time weapon carrier.  I am pretty sure that when she saw her son strap on the handgun she stifled some serious emotion.  Maybe she saw her husband in her son, or maybe she was realizing that in the world we live in, teenagers carry loaded guns.  I can’t say why she showed the emotion, but she did.  I think it was a good emotion too, but who knows?  I suck at the whole feelings part of life.  I blame my penis.

                After that, we rejoined the work force, and put in a few more hours in the post rain summer warmth, which was actually kind of nice.  We made decent progress yesterday, but the real advancements we made were at dinner that night.

                We were all inside Hall B enjoying a large spaghetti feast when I turned to Gilbert and brought up the subject of the apartment building with the giant pile of garbage around it, as well as the few undead meandering about at the base.  Instantly he was curious, and within just a minute or two, he decided that a recon mission was a good idea.  At the very least, we should get out on foot and check to see if the building is barricaded from the inside, or if there is anything of note on the sides of the building we haven’t seen yet.

                He also pointed out the sense in controlling the tallest structure in town.  If we could set up an outpost there as an observation point, we’d be able to see for miles in all directions, as well as be able to drop some pretty accurate fire down on the heads of undead milling about town.  It just makes sense to at least find the time to check the place out.

                A few other folks overheard the conversation, and within a half hour’s time, we had folks on board with the idea of hitting the apartment building.  We figured a simple recon in a day or so would be a great idea.  Worst case, we turn it into a drive by, and likely wind up thinning the undead herd by a few rotting heads.  Recon to contact, so to speak.

                We’re thinking we roll out in a decently heavy force, similar to the one we went out with for the auto parts run the other day, and we leave on the 16th.  Tomorrow we’ll work a half day here to get some fence put up, and after that we’ll take the time to go over how things will go down, maybe do some more firearms training, and gun maintenance.  Turn it into a really professional operation.  Lol.  Us, professional.


                So our plan as it stands is to roll out the day after tomorrow, pick up the few remaining things we left behind at the auto parts store, then move around the apartment building down the street and check it out.  We are not intending to breach the place, simply check it out, and clear the undead around it away. 

                Going door to door in a building that large is a serious undertaking, and is dangerous as all hell.  Especially when you think about the idea that there is a high possibility of living, breathing people inside that certainly might want us to fuck the hell off.  We don’t want to be perceived purely as aggressive raiders or looters, and it might be hard to not come off as such when we’ve been literally right down the street… aggressively raiding and looting.

                If we see people on the upper floors, we will wave, act friendly, appear to be ambassadors of good will and security (which we are, so that should be easy for us), and attempt to speak with them as cordially as possible.  We want to make friends here.  Preferably ones that aren’t having fucked up dreams about The Lacuna like that asshat Pastor from The Farm.

                Move slow, handle with kid gloves, ask about weird dreams as soon as possible, and we’ll be just fine.  (famous last words, and fuck you Jinx Fairy)

                Not a whole lot else to chit chat about.  There’s a certain buzz in the air now.  Everyone is feeling good about another run downtown, and we’re all pretty excited about the idea of finding or meeting more people.  Anyone who has managed to survive up to now right in the center of town in a five story apartment building must have a pretty damn good story to share.

                Maybe, just frigging maybe, this one will go right for us.  I’d like to think we can skip the toe pushing at least once.


                You listening Jinx Fairy?  If so, you can kiss my ass you winged bitch.









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