Blog Entries
August 13th Tags: 177th entry

August 13th.

                Well.  That went well.

                Since yesterday all I’ve had on my mind was the fiasco at the clinic downtown.  I say it went well, but I’m really being sarcastic.  It went fucking awful.  We overlooked a few really small details and it damn near cost us quite a few lives.  Not cool Mr. Journal. 

                It’s always a little thing that gets someone killed it seems.  I mean maybe I’m wrong, but it’s like I cover the big details really well, but some tiny little fact escapes me, and it winds up spiraling out of control into an event that gets someone dead.  It sucks balls.

                We rolled out early in force after getting ahold of Mike.  Mike said the Outsiders came near the clinic in the middle of night, observed the mess from afar for maybe ten minutes, and then left in a hurry.  He said the two wagons were back, and he saw four adults, all male.  One was really tall and thin, one kind of short and rotund, and two who were generic.  They booked it pretty fast due to what Mike described as an ‘untenable amount of the dead” that had flocked to the clinic again.  I guess setting a huge fire in the middle of an abandoned town that’s still filled with undead tends to draw those undead in.  Should’ve thought of that.

                Once Mike gave us the all clear to roll downtown, and the heads up that the clinic had been surrounded by undead yet again, we packed up for a long day out on the town with that in mind, and we headed out.

                We didn’t roll into the place like our warehouse breach plan would’ve had us.  We set up a firing line in the street about 120 yards out yet again, and opened up on the massive crowd that had reformed in the street and parking lot of the clinic.  It was a fucking mess.

                Instead of a good straight line we were too staggered, and not ten minutes into the shooting it became fucking apparent we were going to get surrounded.  Abby and I were firing out from the flanks and dropping undead as fast as we could move our sights, but it wasn’t enough.  I don’t know where all these motherfuckers came from, but there had to be two hundred and fifty of the bastards.  Abby hollered out she needed support, and I was already pot committed my side, and it was about to totally shit the bed on us, so I ordered a fall back in the vehicles. 

                Abby and I went cyclic just trying to drop bodies to turn them into shit for the undead to stumble over, and that bought us enough time to regroup the vehicles a couple hundred yards away in the intersection near the pharmacy.  It was weird to set up a circled wagons last stand deal in the middle of Main Street.  Fucking surreal.

                Now that we were that far away from the herd heading from the clinic, and we’d broken the line of the undead coming at us from the rear, we had enough time to reload magazines, encourage the new folks that everything was indeed very much still under control, and then get our nerves steadied to deal with the remnants still heading our way. 

                The slaughter began in earnest, and it was a tide of dead.  Fucking A that felt good after nearly losing our shit.  We pissed through so many rounds in the ten minutes following our displacement the streets were covered in brass.  We couldn’t walk around with nearly slipping and falling.  I made sure we focused on using the .22 rifles as much as possible because we’ve still got a ton of that ammo around, and frankly, we had the time and ability to do so.

                What a rush though.  I really felt great afterwards.  Of course more bullshit was headed our way, but for the moment, I felt like a goddamn rock star.  We had weathered the storm, and I was happy with how it went.  I mean it was also a rush to see the other folks proud that we had survived.  It’s a bond you only get in a really bad situation like this.  I remember some of the horrible ambushes and IED attacks Kevin and I were in back on Route Irish, and I tell you what, there’s little that’ll build a bond faster than surviving what you feel is the time God has chosen for you to go.

                The camaraderie is something special.

                We moved on the clinic a few minutes after.  As I said our plan was to set up a choke point at the front doors using loud noises (read: Lady Gaga) to draw them out and through the door setting up a kill zone that we could control.  We’d keep the HRT parked slightly behind us, and if the door became overrun, we’d simply drive it forward, using the plow blade to block the exit, and then restart at a different door, or shoot over the plow blade as best we could to clear the passage.

                All that went like fucking clockwork right up until the point the undead came spilling out of a side access door around the corner of the building.  I have no idea why twenty odd zombies would’ve gone to a door that wasn’t even facing our way, but they did, and lo and motherfucking behold, one of the dumb bastards leaned on the plunger bar, and the door sprung right the fuck open.  After that they simple went to the noise we were making, and we had major fucking issues.

                The main doorway of the clinic was a glass double door that swung outward.  It was also one of two double doors, creating a small dead space to catch the cold air for winter.  Basically a place to put your mats to wipe the folk’s feet on.  We had to deal with some undead inside the innermost door, but we were happy to see someone had the presence of mind to lock that inner door, keeping them in.  We wound up busting it with a halligan to get it open to set up our kill zone.

                The undead started coming out one or two at a time, and that was easy work.  Plinking away with the .22, or waiting until they were outside and them braining them with the point of the halligans was tit.  When it got to three or four at a time, we had to focus, and we started having three people on the door, two to shoot, and one to stay on point with a halligan to get anything that crept too close.

                When the largest burst of undead came at us, I want to say a group of maybe ten or twelve at the same time, all rushing forward, I heard Martin yell out from our rear, “holy fuck more form the side!”

                At the time I was standing next to the HRT’s driver’s side door, which was opposite the side of the building the undead were coming through.  I took off at a run, HRT still running, and wrapped around the ass end of the building as gunfire just exploded at the two locations.  The three folks at the door, one of which was Blake, just opened up as that crowd started to rush the opening, and Martin whipped out one of Gilbert’s AKs and went to town.  The sound of the AK chattering sent chills up my spine.  Not a sound I like at all.  Even if it’s friendly, it makes my blood run cold for a split second.  I had too many experiences with that noise meaning someone I cared about was getting lit up for it to sit well with me.

                I hate that fucking rifle.  I don’t care how reliable it is.

                I rounded the back of the HRT, cleared my lane of fire, checked for anything past the undead I might hit with any over shots, shit my pants a little when I realized how many were there so fast, and I started shooting.  I dropped three or four right off the bat in the first few seconds.  Once the lead line of zombies went down and Martin had finally gotten himself under control, I looked over my shoulder and saw that the front door was going to get overrun.  Immediately I screamed to no one in particular to drive the HRT into the breach of the door and seal it shut.  If another door opened right then, we’d lose the whole operation.  Better to plug the hole we knew we had, and deal with any other leaks first.

                I think it was Angela who drove the HRT into the doorway once the three folks moved out of her way.  It had to be her, because I think she’s the only woman who can drive stick.  I don’t think Abby can.  It might’ve been Amanda, but I can’t say for sure.  Some blonde woman.  Did a good job. Blah blah.

                Great job actually.  Saying that does whoever did do it a disservice.  Without that kind of clutch reaction, we might’ve had dead folks on our hands yesterday.  The HRT slammed into the opening with a crunch of glass and steel, shutting it completely, and allowing us to focus on the dozen or so undead still coming at us from our right side.  Once that initial threat of the main door was sealed, we dropped the other undead in just seconds.  Overwhelming fire I guess.

                Fuck my life.  Wow what a shit moment.

                I can’t believe none of us thought to shut the fucking side doors, or check to make sure they didn’t or couldn’t open easily.  It blows.  If we’d just put a fucking concrete block or two in front of that side door we might’ve avoided all that bullshit.  We are so fucking lucky.  Unreal.  Note to self:  At Gilbert’s Warehouse, please take a moment to investigate and secure exterior doors.

                After my profanity laced tirade directed mostly at myself, I had everyone clear the parking lot once again, seal off any exterior doors, and check all the ground floor windows to make sure no rooms were being overwhelmed by zombies.  Last thing we wanted was to have a few of them smash a window and come spilling out.  There’s little we could’ve done to plug a window broken in that way.

                Fortunately, we were able to push a few cars in the parking lot against the doors we wanted sealed, and then we were clear to back the HRT away.  Once it lurched out of the way with Martin at the wheel, a few of us just lit the fucking doorway up at head height, and mowed the plug of undead standing there down.  After that, we were able to enter the building with our breach team, and go room to room, putting them down.

                The breach team as we discussed it was Hector, Patty, Angela, and I.  Outside we went to our blocking positions as they would be at the warehouse job, and we did it as close as we could to the real deal.  The inside of the clinic was a goddamn mess.  Gore everywhere.  I don’t know what happened in there, but the entire place looked like it was crusted over in blood and bits of people.  Granted, it was all dried and desiccated and rotting from having sat there for a year or more, but the impact wasn’t lost on us.  The place looked and smelled like a slaughterhouse.

                There were so many dead.  I know I had two magazine changes, and everyone else had at least one each, which puts our headcount somewhere around 150 dead inside the building.  I can’t even fathom that number today.  I don’t remember shooting that many targets in that building, and I certainly didn’t think there would be that many dead in there.  I shudder right now thinking about how all those dead folks were just meandering inside that building this whole time.  Gross.

                The breach went like clockwork.  We had some minor technical issues, mostly due to the reloaded ammunition Gilbert made for us.  I don’t think he put enough powder in them, because we’re occasionally getting jams in the M4s.  The ARs are fine with it though.  New rule is that we aren’t using any reloads in CQB situations.  Only when shooting at range, and only when it isn’t intense like that was.

                No injuries of note.  No deaths.  A few minor heart attacks, but frankly, those come with the territory nowadays.  Also, I should make note that the Outsiders didn’t show up, which was sort of disappointing.  I was secretly hoping that they’d show up and make another pass at us and we’d be able to lay into them again.

                No dice.

                Once we had the place clear, we decided to EMPTY the clinic.  Leave nothing we could remove behind.  The breach and clear was finished up at something like 1pm or so, and we had the place emptied of goodies by 7pm.  Just as the sky was starting to show signs of dusk we wrapped up, and headed home.

                I won’t chronicle all of what we got there yesterday, but sufficed to say, it was a nice haul.  More than what we got from the Westfield clinic, but that stands to reason because Westfield had been using the clinic’s supplies for some time, and this place hadn’t been touched in over a year.  More medical supplies, medicine, gear, blah blah.  We left the dead inside the clinic because we didn’t bring wood like last time to restart the pyre.  Plus we didn’t want to make it look like the clinic was safe to enter now, for fear someone else might enter and either take or destroy equipment we might need down the line.

                In the basement they had a HUGE backup generator powered by diesel.  We debated trying to get the damn thing out somehow down the line, but Abby pointed out that was probably going to be necessary to power the heavier medical gear should we need the clinic down the line.  It also makes me think we could turn the clinic into a more robust shelter to live in later.  I guess we’ll see.

                The smashed open front entrance was barricaded with a van from the parking lot.  We sort of forgot to come up with a way to lock the place down after the ramming tactic, so that’s my failing again.  I gotta get better at this planning shit or else.

                Incidentally, there was a Toyota Prius in the clinic’s parking lot with the keys still in it.  Blake bled the tank dry, got some fresh gasoline in it, and wouldn’t you know it, the fucking thing started right up.  I tell you what man, Toyotas.  The Prius actually makes part of my life much easier.  More on that another day.  We brought the Prius back here to campus so Hector and Blake could give it a once over to make sure it was in decent working order.

                The trip home was fine.  Later that night Mike radioed into us saying the Outsiders were on the move something fierce again.  He said it was just the two wagons once more, but they were hauling ass around the east side of town near the STIG area.  Lots of driving, lots of gunfire  I think they are attempting to clear out undead that way.  Makes me wonder how much ammunition they have on hand if they can just drive around like fucking morons shooting willy-nilly like that.  Either they idiots, or they’re swimming in ammo.

                Time will tell.

                Today on campus we worked on the wall, sorting out and storing all the medical gear across campus so it isn’t all in one place, and also beginning the installation of a heavy duty rear exit for the wall.  Ollie, Martin and Blake spent the entire morning scouting the area near staff housing for a good spot to build it.  Over there it’ll still be near the water should we need to make a water exit, and plus it’s as far away from any kind of civilization as you can get.  Should be safe.

                They came up with a plan for it, and they’ve got the crew working on it.  I took the day off today and more or less just helped move med gear around.  I don’t feel all that well today.  Either something I ate, or maybe allergies.  Just lightheaded and I can feel some ninja shits just around the corner.  I wonder if I caught something at the clinic yesterday.  I’m avoiding Mallory as best I can so as to avoid getting her sick with whatever I might have.  I’m sleeping in self imposed exile on the couch in the living room tonight, which is where I’m typing this.  Otis is avoiding me too.  He seems skittish again, which strikes me as a bad sign.  Maybe I really am getting sick.

                Tomorrow we’re hitting MGR.  They need a restock, plus I want to touch base with Mike to go over the clinic clear, and what our final plans are for hitting the warehouse.

                If that goes well, we will hit Gilbert’s place on the 15th.

 

                -Adrian

               

 

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