Blog Entries
December 10th Tags: 38th entry

December 10th.

                I made it.

                Paid a high price Mr. Journal, but I am here, and I am still alive.  Let it never be said that I was not a little lucky here and there.  Even if it was my own mind numbingly powerful ignorance that imbues me with said luck.  Both good luck and bad I guess.

                Yesterday I went downtown to the pharmacy.  What a trip Mr. Journal.  Just like I suspected it took me almost until noon yesterday to get my shit together for the trip down.  I had to gear myself up after wrapping the leg tightly in bandages. Speaking of my leg, it was ugly yesterday morning.  The redness was a solid inch and a half out from the edges of the wounds on all sides.  There was a faint red line starting to form near the deepest and most angry looking hole in my thigh.  That’s not good at all, right?

                I already know the answer Mr. Journal.  It’s bad news.  So I cleaned it, bandaged it, got my shit together, and worked my way out the front door despite having the Tundra parked about 8 inches in front of it.  I have no idea how I got inside the dorm the other day.  I must’ve thought very thin thoughts and squeezed my way in.  I think I scraped a frigging rib off on the way out yesterday.  Gotta cut back on the desserts I think.

                Geared up, ready to rock and roll.  When I left campus I realized I hadn’t done a patrol in some time, and vowed to do one when I got back, but I forgot.  I also had forgotten to move the two school vans into the normal V formation on the bridge, which was a huge lapse in security.  Anyone could’ve driven across and onto campus while I was laid up.  Bad badness Mr. Journal.  I hopped out and got the vans moved so they were set up while I was gone.  Did I mention it fucking freezing out?  What a miserable time to get my leg mauled.  As if there were better times for that to happen.

                The drive downtown was clear.  I saw nothing out of the ordinary on Route 18, which is normal I suppose.  No shambling undead, no people walking around, nothing.  I drove really slowly as well so I could look around and see if there was anything of value I could come back for after I was healed up enough.

                I saw some cool shit, but nothing really outrageous.  I made my way down to the Main Street area near the grocery store.  Remember when I went down there before and I said I saw a couple of houses on fire? Or burnt down or something?  There were quite a few more burnt down this trip.  I’m guessing here, but if there were people holed up in them, they probably started fires in their houses to stay warm, and I’m betting they set their own damn houses on fire.  That or idiots using gas generators and electric heaters.  Might as well throw a match on your fucking couch.  Dangerous shit right there.

                Just as before the more urban-ish, retail-ish areas were loosely populated with shamblers.  I think I ran over about 10 of them heading down to the pharmacy.  I was most definitely a little less careful about the Tundra, I’ll admit that.  The windshield is all fucked now, one of the headlights is busted, and the grill is cracked.  Don’t even get me started on the paintjob.  Good thing insurance isn’t really an issue anymore.  So I carefully lined up my zombie speed bumps and made sure to hit them with the tires.  I wasn’t worried about killing them I just wanted to make sure all they could do was crawl, instead of walk.  That’d buy me the time to get in, and get out.

                I noticed a few things that were eyebrow rising.  The small metal caps that go on the tops of gas station storage tanks were removed at the gas station I stopped at when I was heading up to the school.  Someone has been getting gas out of there manually.  I guess that makes sense.  It means there are, or were survivors in the area.  That’s scary and encouraging at the same time.

                There were also several new car wrecks along the main drag.  I remember seeing a few small ones, but there were a LOT now.  So many in fact that at one point I had to slalom the wrecks in the truck to get through.  A couple of the cars were flipped over on their sides, complete with zombies still seat-belted in.  It was almost funny when I drove by the wrecks and the zombies reach out, trying to grab me as I drove by.  Creepy more than anything.

                The good news right off the bat was that the pharmacy parking lot was pretty clear.  There were maybe 5 or 6 undead wandering about, and as soon as they saw me they started heading my way.  The cars in the lot were spaced out nicely, and when I did a loop around the building, the drive through was unobstructed.  The bad news was the front door of the pharmacy was destroyed.  Someone had obviously driven some kind of vehicle through the sliding doors to get inside.  I was hoping they’d left something for me. 

                I swung back around again and checked the surrounding areas.  The only thing I could see for threats were about eight undead wandering in a small plaza across the street.  They were heading over my way, but I figured I had enough time to get inside.  On my third trip around the building I swung into the drive through so the passenger side window was nearest the building, and climbed over to smash out the drive through window.

                I think I sat there staring at the steel shutter in the window for about thirty seconds.  I had totally forgotten about the steel shutters.  I think I’ve seen them a hundred times in the past few years.  When they close up shop, down they come.  Matte steel, just like a garage door, only reinforced.  I think I cried a little.  I man enough to admit that.  I mean by that point my leg was in excruciating pain contorted in the cab of the truck, and I felt totally fucked.  I mean serious anal pillaging fucked.

                I was bending myself to get back behind the wheel when I saw into the bed of the truck and gave myself a mental high five.  The chainsaw.  I had left the chainsaw I found at the barn the day I was bitten in the bed of the truck.  Fucking A!  I slid the back glass window open, reached out and grabbed it.  My leg protested in pain hardcore, but it had to be done.  The saw was heavy, but I got it in the cab and shut the back slider.  Now it can’t be a particularly bright idea to start a chainsaw in a car Mr. Journal, so I really don’t recommend it per se, but I was in improv mode.  The saw started on the first pull.  I gave it some gas, and like a fucking champ the chain moved perfectly.  I leaned out the window of the truck and brought the chainsaw down into the glass.  It shattered and went everywhere.  Luckily it was safety glass, so it wasn’t too sharp or anything.

                One I got the glass removed I started to lean on the saw as best I could, pressing it against the joint where the shutter and the frame met.  It took about thirty seconds, but eventually the whizzing teeth ate their way into the locking mechanism, and with a giant shudder everything broke loose.  I grabbed the metal shutter and lifted it, and smooth as silk it slid upwards into its hiding spot.  I’m a fortunate motherfucker Mr. Journal.

                I left the saw in the truck, double checked that I still had my handguns, and threw the big black gym bag through the window into the pitch black pharmacy.  I could see inside enough to tell the gate to the rest of the store was still closed, so unless there were zombies inside, I was good to go.  The darkness was a worry, but I was pretty confidant

                I worked my way up and out of the truck, onto the drive through window’s edge, and I toppled over onto the counter, then somersaulted onto the floor with a painful thud.  My back was killing me from the fall, but to be frank, getting my leg straightened out was such a relief I hardly noticed it.  I laughed for a second, then opened my eyes.  And you know it, there was a form coming down on top me in the dark. 

                I couldn’t tell at the time if it was a person, or a zombie, so I just reacted on gut instinct.  I punched the motherfucker in the side of the head.  The female body went sideways like a mule kicked it and I crawled backwards, further into the pharmacy.  It was then that I noticed the smell.  That God awful smell.  So here I was, crawling backwards to get away from the zombie that had just tried diving on top of me, and I come to sudden halt.  I had backed into the shins of another one.  I looked up just as the zombie of the pharmacist, white lab coat and all was leaning over to rip into my guts.  I got lucky and punched kinda upwards at his right knee just as he started his plunge and it threw off his aim.  He went from savage plunge to face plant right between my frigging legs.  I actually heard his nose and teeth break on the tile, and could hear the scraping sound of his jagged teeth scratching the floor as his body stretched out on top of me. 

                Worst.

                Sound.

                Ever.

                I was so horrified by the sound of his teeth scratching and breaking on the tile I hardly noticed one of his hands had smashed into the bandage on my wound.  Holy shit the burning agony.  Using my good leg (the one with the bad foot) I kicked the shit out of him mostly to get him off of me.  In the background the female pharmacist zombie was already up and coming back at me.  Once I got my hip free I pulled the Sig and double tapped at the chick.  First shot must’ve sailed high, but the second hit home.  She went down backwards and I used my hips to escape from under the guy on top of me. I went with his motion as he tried to turn into me to bite me, and wound up bringing the barrel of the Sig right into his shattered face.  I bucked the pistol twice and he fell back on top of me, really dead this time.

                 I think it was about then I realized I had shit myself.  I forgot to mention that Mr. Journal.  The uh, stomach issues I had the other day have been making cameo appearances in my underwear.  Sort of a wet fart problem I’m trying to shake.  It’s embarrassing, yes, but I’ve no dignity left anyway.  This diarrhea has been so sneaky I’ve taken to calling my ninja shits.  I never know when they’re coming, and they always kill me when they show up.  It’s a good thing there aren’t any women around me.  Even if I was the dead last guy on Earth I’m pretty sure I’d never get my dick wet at the rate I’m going.  I am so fucking unsavory lately.  I was letting out a stream of curses when I realized the zombies from outside had reached the window, and were reaching in to get me.  I was a good six feet away though, and I’ve never seen them get past an obstacle that high, so I felt safe.

                That was an incorrect assumption.  I think there was something on the ground they could step on.  A tall curb maybe? Plus their clustering action in between the truck and the building apparently was enough to get a few of them lifted up high enough to start falling into the building.  I crawled backwards some more, leaving a nice fat brown streak on the floor and started firing at the silhouettes in the window.  It felt like I was at the bottom of a fucking barrel with the fish being thrown in on top of me.  I shot and shot and shot but the zombies kept falling through the little hole into the dark and on top of me.  Figuratively of course.  Although their pile inside the crowded pharmacy eventually was at my feet when they stopped coming through.

                I fired the Sig until the first clip was empty.  I dropped it and slapped in the second, and aimed as carefully as I could.  When that went empty I put my final clip in, and fired the last two rounds in that.  That was all she wrote.  I’m out of 9mm.  Dry as a nana’s vagina.  I holstered it and grabbed the .45 that I’d stuck in my waistband.  In the small of my back.  Right where the poop was.  I only had to use it twice before the stream of zombies finally dried up, but let me give you this public service message Mr. Journal:

                Guns covered in poop smell terrible when they’re fired.  You’re welcome.

                My ears are still ringing loud as can be from all the gunfire.  Guns are so fucking lound inside enclosed spaces.  You’ve no idea what the hammering does to your eardrums.  I guarantee in a few days when the ringing finally stops, I’ll have permanent hearing loss.  I’d put money on it.

                I shook the poop off the pistol and reloaded the clip from the spare shells in my vest.  When I finally got to my feet I think I did a one legged dance for joy.  Then I shut the window shutter to make sure nothing else got in with me.  Everything was still there.  I mean everything inside the drug section of the pharmacy.  Everything.  All shelves stocked as full as normal.  Apparently these two dropped the gate to hold up and no one since had gotten in.  Unfortunately they’d died in here.  Made me wonder right then why whoever had driven in the front didn’t just drive into the shutters inside the store?  I found out, I’ll get there Mr. Journal.  Patience.  Incidentally with the window closed it may have been much warmer, but all those fucking zombie bodies were capital R RIPE.  Btw I’m about to be all fucked up on vicodin Mr. Journal.  Might get a little wiggy up in here shortly.

                I had no idea what to grab, so I grabbed everything.  Just in pill bottles alone I filled the entire duffel bag.  I knew I couldn’t leave after having gotten this far with just the one bag, so I knew I needed to transport more shit somehow.  I had to get into the store to get more bags or something.  I slid the shutter open, checked to make sure it was clear, and then tossed the gym bag into the truck.  I couldn’t reach the chainsaw, so I wasn’t sure how the hell I was going to open the inside gate to get out. 

                Then, like the epic jelly dong I am, I realized the pharmacist probably had the key in his pocket.  Once I yanked his corpse out from under the pile of zombie and searched him, I found the keys.  God what a bitch that was.  Bodies are frigging heavy Mr. Journal.  The lock was right at floor level, so I got the .45 ready, and got down on my belly.  I tried to be as silent as I could turning the key, and was largely successful.  My fear was that I’d slide the shutter up, and see nothing but feet.  Bloody undead feet pressing against the shutter, trying to get inside to me.

               I said a little prayer, and hefted the shutter upwards slightly.  It went up much easier than I thought it would.  So easy in fact the thing flew wide open.  I watched it sink into the ceiling from my stomach, neck bent all the way back to get a good angle.

                Then I looked into the store and saw the handful of zombies standing right there looking up like retards at the shutter going up, just like me.  As fast as I could I dropped them.  I break-danced myself into a better shooting position on my back and got three of them dead as a doornail before the other three realized what was going on.  Fascinating fucking door for zombies.  If it were portable I’d consider it a potential replacement for Lady Gaga.

                 I managed to squeeze off accurate shots and dropped the last three before they got to me.  It took me a few minutes to get back to my feet, but once I did I realized why the driver of the vehicle hadn’t rammed the shutter.  Inside the store were row after row of shelves, just like any other store.  The idiot driving the SUV who rammed his way into the store flipped a few of them over and managed to drive up on top of a few of them.  The SUV’s wheels were totally off the floor, and it was smack dab against a support column in the middle of the store.  No way around it, and no way to push it out of the way without taking down the column.  The driver was history, so maybe he or she escaped.

                I scoured the store as fast as I could on my bad leg.  By that point I was in near agony just taking steps.  I kept an eye on the smashed out front doors, but nothing came inside.  I found a handful of backpacks which would do well for transporting stuff out.  I also found a few of those Sterilite plastic bins, which were pretty clutch too.  Exhausting walking around with my leg all fucked up.  My back is now sore as hell from favoring the one side so much. 

                Most of the rest of the store was completely ransacked though.  I mean to the floor empty.  A few things here and there that were at best fringe useful.  However, there were plenty of goodies left inside the pharmacy.  For some reason condoms were in there, which was cool, as were the diabetic supplies.  I’m not diabetic, but someone somewhere might be.  I took everything.  Any by everything, I mean fucking everything.  I was tossing armloads of shit I couldn’t fit into the bags into the bed of the truck when I was wrapping up.  In amazingly awesome news, there was a desktop reference for drug uses and drug interactions on the shelf.  That’ll be REALLY good to have kicking around.

                By then my leg was bleeding badly, and I could barely walk.  It took everything I had left in me to get back through the window and into my truck.  Spinning my body around to get behind the wheel was like pulling teeth.  However, once I was situated, I peeled the hell out and blew that pop stand.

                Drive home was… quiet.  I drove in an aggressive fashion I should add.  I veered to and fro to hit the zombies on the ground I’d merely disabled on the way in.  I figured why  leave them half or three quarters dead when it was just a few seconds of driving to get rid of them.

                I made it home fine.  I stopped like a good doobie and reset both vans into their V formation to prevent anyone from just driving onto the campus.  The Tundra got parked near Hall E as normal, and I got everything inside and tossed into the kitchen with the rest of the shit from the farmhouse I still hadn’t sorted through.

                I took a breather for a few, then got into the shower to clean my leg and ass off.  I was covered in blood, gore and shit.  My leg looked like absolute hell too.  I’d managed to tear off the scabs that had formed already, and I am pretty sure I ripped the tears in my thigh a little bigger too.  When I do things Mr. Journal I do not half ass them.  If I’m gonna be fucked, I want to be totally fucked.

                 Cleaned it, got some bacitracin on it, and got sitting in the kitchen to go through the book I got about medications.  I found the names of a couple antibiotics recommended for wound infections and dug them out of the pile.  I have several bottles of the stuff, and the book said I need to take 2 a day for 7 days and I should be good to go. I started the first pill immediately

                Then I found the VICODIN!  Oh sweet blessed relief.  I spent the entirety of last night in a narcotic induced coma, and it was wonderful. 

                I woke up fairly early today when the pills wore off though.  I popped one more, stumbled my wounded ass to the basement and filled the gas tank on the generator, and then came back up here.

                The vike is finally kicking in here and there’s no pain at all anymore.  I can feel the wooziness coming on though, which means that’s fucking all for fucking today Mr. Journal.

                I am out of 9mm.  That’s pretty shitty news.  I’m also down to 10 .45 rounds.  I’ve got over a thousand rounds of .22 left, which is cool.  I’ve also got the .30-06 and the shotgun, but those are less than ideal to use as clearing devices.  If I weren’t hurt as fuck I could use the sword more, but I can’t risk melee combat.  Lol.  Says the guy who punched and kicked two zombies today.  One might successfully argue that I am intellectually challenged Mr. Journal.

                You know what has me thinking right now Mr. Journal?  Like, seriously thinking?  What the fuck is the middle of town like?  I blasted through how many rounds going to the fucking pharmacy?  What’s main street near the center of town like? What about the residential areas where Steve and I used to live?  I mean… shit...  What’re the big cities like?

                What a life.  I’m gonna go lay down in my recliner with a big fat glass of orange juice and hope the antibiotics start to work.  Today is a do nothing day, and I think I deserve it.

 

                I might just pull through this.  Cross your fingers Mr. Journal.

 

                -Adrian


Please read Exodus before progressing to the next entry

Exclusive Fiction: EXODUS

If you've already read Exodus.

NEXT ENTRY

RSS

Stupid polls found here
Spread the word of AUD easily!

Did you cast your weekly vote for us on Webfiction? 

CLICK HERE TO VOTE NOW!

Support AUD!  Buy book one on Amazon!

Like Chris on Facebook
 
We are poor, here you can give us some money!
Click here to send a donation securely via Paypal to us. This pays for bandwidth, hosting, our time, crayons, and Mountain Dew.

Who is reading the diary right now?
Recent Diary Discussion
"Great story!! Thanks so much for all of your hard work. I am going..."
In: March 19th, 2012
by: rva556
"Speaking as a mom to an 18 yo smartassed, often bright, often stupid teenage..."
In: October 14th, 2011
by: Melesse
"Good point, Roger. For example, I've been trying to restrain this one forever:AK..."
In: January 6th entry
by: subybaja
"Emma, I am so glad that I am not the only one who is..."
In: October 14th, 2011
by: Yukio
"Good! Welcome to the #Ringfamily rva."
In: August 16th
by: Chris Philbrook

This website is powered by Spruz