Blog Entries
May 17th Tags: 130th entry

May 17th.

                What’s the expression Mr. Journal?  When it rains, it pours?

                Yeah that’s the one.  I think just to keep things fresh I’m going to invent my own one.  When Adrian gets fucked, he gets royally fucked.

                Things are messy.  Like, really messy.  I don’t know how else to describe it.  I’ll guess I’ll jot it all down in the order the mess came in, that way it makes some sense.  Structured bullshit.

                Yesterday Abby and I went out on a recon of The Farm together.  Her finger is much improved, and it was a good way for her to get out and get some action without really stressing the digit.  If something did happen, she was well enough to put lead downrange accurately, and honestly, if anything happened we’d be retreating and not engaging.  Plus it was nice to spend time with her.  She got some good basic observation experience yesterday, and anything I can teach anyone is good.  That’s not me tooting my own horn, I think the more we can teach each other in general, the better off we all are.

                This Farm place is starting to irritate me.  We haven’t seen shit.  Sitting in the fucking dirt for ten solid hours or more is really boring, and the black flies are murderous right now.  We actually found some old mosquito netting, and we’re covering ourselves in it while we’re out there to avoid the damn things.  I hate those flies.  They are God’s favorite way of irritating the living.  That and the zombies.  Fucking things.

                Anyway, the only thing that happened yesterday was sweat and bug bites.  We saw shit-all that was useful, and it was a total waste of time, yet again.  I’m dangerously close to either moving on the place with force, or throwing in the towel and saying fuck it.  Blake can deal with it however he chooses.  We have too much to do to sit here all day doing nothing.  It’s nearly time to shit or get off the pot.

                Yes I realize I’m being an impatient shithead, but I’ve only got so much patience.  Like our gasoline, it’s a resource I am running out of.  I want desperately to do the right thing, but I am not perfect, and I am sick of watching nothing happen all day while other things (important things) sit idle.  I’m pissy.

While Abby and I had our collective thumbs lodged securely in our assholes yesterday Gavin, Patty, Blake, and Ollie worked together to set up a special filtration system so we can clean our gasoline and diesel.  I’m not sure what the hell they tried to build, but it required several trips around town, and apparently that was a little dicey.  I guess the undead presence was inflamed by something, and they had to stop the trucks at one point to lay down fire to clean the road out.  It hasn’t been that densely populated since STIG was around.  That can’t be a good sign.  Is something dragging that legion of dead in the city this way?  I’m feeling guilt now over not being around on these off campus trips.  Thoughts like these will keep me up at night.

No one was hurt, and apparently they figured out a way to get it done.  Gilbert was adamant the system be set up here on campus and not at the garage.  Blake was sort of pissy about it, but when Gilbert pointed out how silly it was to set up a complicated system not where our fuel was stored, it made sense to him.  I mean shit, why drive multiple 55 gallon barrels miles away, only to process them, then drive them back?  I refer back to my comment about pissing with a condom on.  Doesn’t make sense.  We set up the filtration dealio here, and we move the fuel by hand, not wasting time, gas, or risking attacks by the living, or the dead.  Durrr.

The rest of last night was meh.

Today Mike and company arrived for their trade meeting.  No Mallory.  Not sure what to make of that.  Also not sure what to make of the fact that I was indifferent about her not showing.  I could’ve gone for sex today (shocking revelation that is, right?), and yet I’m not really broken up that she didn’t make the trip.  Shrug.  I’m in a shitty mood I guess.  Probably best she didn’t make the trip anyway, I would’ve been an asshole, or inattentive and wound up making things worse.

Relationships.  I tell ya.

Westfield is in a bad way, and officially Mike said they are potentially a few days away from asking for our help. This is not good.  This is really not good.  Worst case scenario not good.  I probably don’t need to tell you that. 

We saw the writing on the wall already about this, and the Westfield folks are apparently now about to pay the price for Sean’s pre winter bullshit.  I guess the folks who have returned to town over there are now realizing there is no food, and the majority of the available water is typically bad.  They have also figured out that Lenny’s farm is still operating, and there have been multiple daily “drive by” incidents where cars will creep down the length of the farm’s fence, and the occupants of the vehicles will peer out the windows with gaunt faces, and hungry eyes. 

Lenny hasn’t fired on them, but he’s made a good show that he’s armed, and that if they fuck with him, he’ll blast them.  However, Lenny is just one man, and he can’t watch the farm 24/7.  As a result, Mike has split his forces, and now LaFrenz and that new security chick who came here before are at the farm all the time pulling security for Lenny.  One is always on duty, watching to make sure things are okay. 

Of course this leaves the school two people short for defensive purposes, and Mike is here today, which leaves them another person short.  Doesn’t take Sun Tzu to clearly see they’re begging for trouble.  It also explains why Mike came alone in the water truck by himself today.  Not SOP.  Hector can’t make the trip because he’s needed on the school roof to help keep watch.  Mike said they’re desperately trying to get some of the able women trained with weapons, but practice ammo doesn’t grow on trees, and they’re worried any shooting will draw unwanted attention from the living as well as the dead.  For the moment he’s training them in the gymnasium, but it’s work.  None of them are taking to it quickly, and the overall sense of morale is dipping.  I’m super thankful Abby and Patty are natural shooters by the way.  Lucked out big time on that.

He said they might dial 911 here soon, and if they do, we are the people who pick up that phone.  No hesitation, and no questions asked.  That’s the least we can do for them after everything that’s gone down between our groups, as well as everything that we’ve done for each other since.  I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say our fates are largely shared at this point. 

I’m scared something bad will happen.

The Farm thing has me worried, and so does this bullshit with Westfield.  I’m not angry like I was over the Sean thing.  This is different.  I feel less justified, I don’t know how to describe it.  Maybe it’s because no one I care about is dead yet.  Maybe I’m only able to react, and not able to be proactive?

Fucked if I know man. 

Mike and Lisa are putting signs up all across Westfield, and especially near the farm so that if folks are hungry and need food, they can contact the school peacefully, and get some.  Of course that’ll add some strain to their food consumption, but it’s better to lose a little weight than get shot and killed over a fucking potato. 

We all immediately agreed that if something were to happen, we go.  Furthermore, Ollie asked if it would be okay if he left here to go back and stay with his dad for a bit, at least during the day.  Melissa didn’t care for that one bit, but there’s a lot of sense in him doing that.  If Lenny’s farm is taken by someone, then almost all of the food they have goes kaput.  Then we’d need to retake it, or find another farm, or relocate the entire population of Westfield to here.  If Ollie helps his dad, they get their farm up and running faster, producing more, and Ollie’s a decent shot with his rifle, and should something happen, he’s another gun immediately in the fight.  It could buy them enough time to get the big guns responding, which could make a lot of difference.  Fire superiority, remember?  He who shoots most, usually wins the fight.

We figured it out that Ollie would go for two days, then return here for a day, and we’d reassess at that point.  When Ollie returns on the 20th, we’ll know when Mike and them need to meet again.  Ollie followed Mike back to Westfield earlier this evening.  I only sort of saw Melissa saying good bye, and she seemed quite distraught by him going.  I hope this doesn’t end badly.  Ollie’s such a good guy, and the two of them really deserve some frigging happiness together.  We don’t need another child growing up in this world without both of their loving parents.  It’s bad enough already.

Not sure what else to say.  After they all left the mood here was sullen to say the least.  Gavin kept wondering aloud about how he felt bad for having moved here.  He’s developing that wonderful guilt I’m so familiar with.  Abby took that personally, and the two of them were bickering upstairs about it for hours.  Moral dilemmas Mr. Journal.  At every turn we’re all filled with doubt, guilt, and fear.  Makes life so much harder.

Too little butter.  Too much toast.

I don’t know what fire needs to be put out first.  My guts tells me I need to deal with The Farm immediately.  We need to deal with The Farm.  We’ve got a meeting with the Edwards clan tomorrow, and if that goes well, I might approach them to give us an in to meet this Pastor Adams.  He sounds an awful lot like a Jesus freak to me, but I need to get someone I trust to see the look in his face, and hear the words out of his mouth.  Maybe Gilbert or Patty.  If we get the heebie jeebies, and things seem bad, then I’ll feel good about taking the door, and getting those women out.  If not, then I guess we’ll deal with Blake’s response and see where the cards land.

After that, maybe we can send an extra body or two back to Westfield and give them a hand putting down undead, and reintegrating the returning survivors, or putting them down, whichever becomes necessary.  I’d hate to think we have to kill folks over any of this shit, but the reality is life fucking blows, relationships get pwned, and people die.

All we need now is a massive influx of undead. 

That’d slap that icing on the cake pretty nicely.

 

-Adrian

 

 

 

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