Am I the law?
Are we the authority here now?
I suppose we are a jury, but are we the judge and executioner as well?
This is a question that we discussed today. We don’t have an answer yet. The only thing that we did agree on was that campus was ours, and we had every right to make sure that we were safe here, and that anyone here was either a guest or a trespasser. Guests get greeted, trespassers get warned, and if that fails, they get shot. Twice if necessary.
But what about when we’re out clearing houses in town? Or if we’re patrolling to thin the herds of the undead? Should the morals and rules we’ve established for ourselves be the law and order for the whole town now? Who will challenge us?
Why did these questions come up today? Well, we met Blake again earlier, and he had some intriguing news that did more to disturb us than encourage us.
I’ll cut to the short of it. Blake said some cars came into town yesterday and this morning. Not many. He said he saw two yesterday, and two more today. He recognized a couple of the cars from last summer, when everyone left for the north. He said they were locals. Based on what he said, that means people are coming home.
I’m not gonna lie, and I’m not gonna act like this doesn’t completely fucking horrify me. This is so bad for us on every level. In fact, I can’t think of a single realistic scenario where this is good for us. The only one that comes to mind that could be good for me is if an entire busload of busty, whorish models pulls into town with a convoy of tractor trailers filled with food.
Seems like a stretch for that. I’m holding out hope, but I’m not holding my breath.
Fuck me. This blows big time. More living movers in town mean more competition for the remaining resources. More vehicles mean more drain on gas supplies, as well as home heating oil, and remaining diesel. More people means more loose guns in town, and I’d bet dollars to donuts whoever these people are, they don’t have adequate heads on their shoulders to be wandering in my town armed. At the same time, it’s fucking insanity to expect people to survive now without being armed. I can’t even imagine going across campus without a handgun at the very least on me. It’s silly to expect someone else to not do the same. The right to bear arms and all.
This changes everything. Everything. We need to move through town so much more carefully now. I’m glad we got a spare vest at Walt’s place, because we desperately need it. We had one good vest from the original Westfield assault, one bad one from then as well, and two more from Mike, plus Gavin had his own. Gavin’s also the other person here with a ballistics rated helmet. I’m wondering where the ballistics helmets went from the police station. I bet they were incinerated when STIG ate shit. Motherfucker.
So that’s a grand total of four and a half vests for Gilbert, Abby, Patty, Gavin, and me. I’m operating under the assumption that Melissa isn’t moving anywhere off campus unless entirely fucking necessary, and there’s no sense in leaving behind alone, so that means Ollie is here with her 24/7. Do the math on that Mr. Journal. We’re a vest short. That means I’m headed to Westfield to twist Mike’s arm to try and get another IOTV off him so we’re all vested up.
Of course I go into this talk about vests, but the simple fact of the matter, is a high powered hunting rifle WILL penetrate a vest. Luckily we have ballistics plates for the IOTVs, but the simple fact is, we got shit all to protect us against head shots, or high powered rifles shot at close proximity.
I am as nervous as an epileptic in a disco. Fixing to have a seizure here.
We talked about this for hours tonight. It dominated the discussion while we were making dinner, eating dinner, digesting dinner, and figuring out what the fuck we’re doing tomorrow. I am shocked by the fact that after all our discussion regarding it, and all our different personalities, we pretty much came to the same conclusions.
Town is not ours. Sadly, might makes right, and we are not strong enough to enforce our will, whether or not it is needed, or appropriate and justified. If someone attacks us, or presents a clear and present danger to us, then we should do the thing that is best for us. That means if necessary, we will kill other people to protect our people. Gotta take care of our own.
As for resources… That’s a whole different can of worms. Do we simply assume that if we get to it first, it’s ours to keep? Seems fair right? But morally should we share the things we find with any survivors we come across? I mean, survival of humanity as a species needs to be some kind of priority, right? Or do we sit back, make ourselves as safe and comfortable as possible, and then worry about rescuing others in a year, two years or what? Furthermore, WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GOVERNMENT?
You’d think by now things would’ve started to get rebuilt. National Guard troops moving through communities, planes and helicopters flying overhead looking for survivors, or maybe the fucking radio stations would be working again. Something should be happening, and it isn’t.
None of that has happened. I don’t know why. I suspect it has a lot to do with the lack of power and food. Never mind the fuel issue. If the military shared any of its fuel stores, then they’ll be running on E soon enough. Probably already are. How long could their planes fly before they ran out of fuel? I highly doubt the refineries are still running.
Maybe this is much worse than I realize. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I’ve got to work with for the rest of my life. Maybe this isn’t a “survive until it passes over” situation, and more of a “survive as long as you can, because this is it Adrian.”
This is a giant bag of douche. Enormous, and vinegary.
So obviously, this new information changes plans slightly. It pushes some things forward, and pushes some things back. I suck balls at organizing life. I want to point that out. I don’t want you to get this false impression that I am good leader or anything. Fuck that noise. I figure this shit out as I go, the best I can.
Whew, my head hurts. Runny nose or headaches, is pretty much the norm right now. Abby was nice enough to point out to me all these now grey hairs I have earlier.
She points them out again I might put icy hot in her underwear.
Lol. That actually cheered me up considerably. Just the thought of the expression on her face as she ran around the Hall here holding onto her crotch trying to figure out if Gavin gave her the Clap or not would be worth the inevitable beating I’d suffer. Definitely need to source a helmet, and a cup before I pull that stunt.
Alright, so, a fucking agenda. We desperately need to figure out how and when we are going to get this shit all done, and done in a fast enough manner. Safety is important mind you. Too fast and we get hurt, too slow, and we get hurt. Sweet deal eh? The whole rock and a hard place.
Ollie needs more supplies for a fence for the crops and the campus security. We have no local lumber yards or Home Depot or Lowes, so we need to look specifically for supplies of lumber that might be at construction sites, or contracting businesses, or things of the like. Pressure treated or gtfo too. Ollie suggested we shamble our dumb asses to any building with a chain link fence around it, and straight up rip the fucking stuff right out of the ground. He assures us it might be easier to do that than find enough homogenous lumber to build a fence.
Ollie’s got the tractor here now due to Gilbert’s assistance, and he’s working the field into a plant-able surface, but he says there’s little sense in planting anything significant until we can fence it off to protect against skunks, raccoons etc. He says they are around, he’s seen them. They’ll dig the shit up and eat it. I guess it’s cool that he is seeing them though. I haven’t seen those kinds of animals anywhere since… June, and I was worried they were all dead.
We NEED to establish a safe house in the area near downtown that we’ve cleared. Preferably one right near the road so it’s visible to folks in vehicles. That might be a fast, easy fix. I think we can get it set up in maybe half a day. Less if we have our shit together.
We NEED to clear houses, and gather food and supplies. I’ve got a bad, bad feeling that this summer is going to fly by, and the last thing I need (read: we need) is to have us not make it through this coming winter because we didn’t gather up the food that’s frigging sitting all over the place, ripe for the taking.
I’ve got to get in touch with Mike and get some IOTVs off him pronto. I’m betting he’s got a few spare stashed away in the basement of that school over there, and I hope he won’t bend me over and do me dry for them. I guess I could pull an asshole move and tell him NO WATER! But that seems prickish. I guess we’ll see how he reacts. I am seriously debating trading him something for labor. Any labor will work. I just need more hands to put to work to get what needs to be done, done.
I need to insert my penis into a woman. Any orifice will suffice. Any woman will suffice. (God my standards have plummeted. My brothers would string me up.)
We MUST fortify campus. The sooner the better. At the very least, we desperately need to make it hard for someone to drive up to campus. In some respects, being at the end of a dead end country road is good. It’s heavily forested, very hilly, and we’ve got the water more or less cutting off avenues of ground (foot) approach, so the road is an excellent choke point. I think our current plan is take a page from Romero’s book, and jack a semi to park across the road at the Jones Road turn. We can back the truck up Jones Road when we come and go easily. Prospect Circle (where Gilbert’s home is) is on this side of Jones Road as well, so his house will fall inside that “gate.”
We need to keep Blake’s eyes on that farm. His report today on the farm was that he saw more adults working outside there, but none of the kids he mentioned before. He says they’re prepping the farmland inside their fence for planting. Judging by the description, they’ve got an area maybe 6-8 acres in size inside the fence, and then maybe as much as 50 or 60 acres outside. Not sure how much food that’ll make, but it sounds like a lot.
Speaking of Blake, we need to hit that fucking auto parts store to get him geared up so he can reopen Mike’s Automotive. If we can manage that, then we can get him up to snuff on diesel work, and before you know it, we might actually be able to fix a fucking vehicle when one breaks. We told him we’d meet him at Mike’s auto on the 23rd for our next update. If that meeting goes well, I think we’re going to get him a walkie so he can contact us in an emergency. Of course now I’m scared that the people at that fucking farm might have walkies too… and they’ll hear everything. Maybe we need to start rotating frequencies for communication security. SOP.
Tactically we need to up our game when we’re out. I guess shame on us for not being as attentive all along, but frankly, we can only pay so much attention for so long before our brains either go on autopilot, or we need a break. From now on, we are making more noise as we move, periodically honking our horns so folks know we’re moving, and we’re not dangerous. I’d hate to roll up on some paranoid guy new to the neighborhood, and have him open up on us. Sigh.
Fuck clearing houses. Gilbert says he’ll go without a vest for the meantime. That does make some sense, because most of the time he’s prone on the roof of the HRT, and in the event we do take hostile fire, he’ll draw a lot less fire than the rest of us moving around. (insert jinx joke here)
Fuck me. I’ve also got to train the girls on basic squad level tactics. Suppressing fire, Australian peels, blah blah blah. They’ve never had to think about what to do when someone’s shooting at them.
I’m pushing so much shit right now my toe is caught in the drain. Fuck that, I’m up to my knee in pushed shit.
This is the moment when something will go wrong. I can feel it. I’m gonna make a mistake soon, or overlook some important detail, and someone is going to pay the price. As sure as shit, you mark my words Mr. Journal.
Tomorrow we are driving directly to the industrial complex where STIG was, and we are finding a semi, and bringing it back here. That’ll address the road issue and add some security to the campus. If we have time, we’re going to try and rip up chainlink fencing where we see it so Ollie and whothefuckeverhasfreetime can get it into the ground up here so we can have some kind of overland security that doesn’t involve us just crossing our fingers and praying to the God of ironic ass rape to not corn hole us with a sneaky butthole assault in the meantime.
After that, I’ll find a hole somewhere in the schedule to head over to STIG to get an IOTV off Mike. I think I’ll also try and get another crate of ammo while I’m there. And also, while I’m feeling like a hopeless schmuck, I’ll ask him if he has any spare hands he can send our way to help get all this shit done. See how far I can stretch his goodwill. If I get laid too, awesome. Frankly, I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.
We are now in “fortify campus” mode. With folks moving around town that actually have functioning brains inside their skulls, we need to be cognizant that we don’t draw them back up to campus, and if we do, we need to make sure we can keep what we’ve claimed.
Oh. Yeah. Yesterday we hit some houses, cleaned them out, and did okay for loot. Main thing of note is we hit the HVAC place, and Yarn Heaven by Doris or whatever it’s called. The HVAC place had furnace filters, cleaning supplies, maintenance instructions, tools, parts, and a bunch of ducting and related crap. All in all, awesome stuff for the future. Yarn Heaven was a score because we can use the stuff there to make hats, mittens, sweaters, etc. Doesn’t sound like much, but in case you missed the memo Mr. Journal…
The mall is closed.
I’m a little messed up over that letter I found yesterday too. The face of the wife in the picture looked familiar to me, but I can’t quite place her face. I’m sure I saw her downtown somewhere, somehow before all this shit happened.
I felt flippant about all this “getting laid” talk lately. Every house has a story. Every empty home is the carcass of a life, the bloated corpse of a rancid family. The end of someone’s entire livelihood, and we pick over it like human vultures. I can’t forget that we are treading on the graves of neighbors and friends here. I know I joke, and jest about how ‘awesome” the loot was here, or how we “put down ten zombies today” and whatnot. But we, (I, at least), can’t forget that we’re stealing from the dead. Finding that letter left me feeling sad, and not just a little filthy over what we’re doing to survive now.
This is all gonna get ugly soon. I can feel it in my bones.