God where to begin.
So much has gone on at the Factory since I last wrote an entry. It seems like that was forever ago. Like, a week or more. Pissing me off that I can’t find the time to write more. I feel like the longer I go between journal entries, the more likely I am to miss details, or forget things. I’m getting too old for this shit.
We rolled out to the Factory in another large group ready to hit the place like a sledgehammer. If you remember Mr. Journal, we’d heard reports that the place had been surrounded yet again by a large number of the undead, and we wanted to clear them the hell out. As the reports indicated, the place was indeed surrounded. This was really creepy to see too I should add. The area of the town they are in is pretty urban and industrial, and seeing the tighter city streets packed up pretty good with the walking dead did nothing for the quality of my fucking sleep. I’ll be dreaming of those dead for a good long while.
We radioed ahead to the Factory folks we were inbound, and our people there went to the rooftops to start picking off as many of the dead as they could. While they were shooting, the entire population of the factory went up to observe us work.
We’re pretty surgical now. I swept in driving the HRT in the lead after calling for a cease fire. I mowed down two large swathes of undead, once in each direction on the street, and that gave us enough breathing room to move around on foot, and make some serious headway with halligans. With a nice over watch team of Patty Mike and Abby picking off the adds coming around the corners and down the street, we were able to take out well over a hundred undead in just over an hour. All in all, it was one of the safest clear situations we’ve ever had. Pretty crazy to be perfectly honest. I was expecting a much larger shit festival. I think it went so well because we had three elevated shooters. The whole situational awareness thing allowing us to remain safe and whatnot. Best of all, it allowed us to conserve ammo after the triggerfest the other day. I should’ve yelled at the girls for that. We really do need to conserve ammo.
Once everything was clear, we pushed all the bodies down the street with the HRT about two hundred yards or so, and we made plans for the Factory people to start a pyre to clean up the mess. That’s their problem though. I’ve already got enough to do.
Meetings. Lots of meetings. I introduced myself to all the folks who live there, and all of them seemed really nice, and very grateful to be alive, and fully freed of their “bondage.” I don’t know why I put that in quotes. They were pretty seriously bonded up, and it blows that they were in the situation they were in.
Mike and Patty made MAJOR headway on establishing a new, capable leadership. Andy, the tech guy was almost unanimously installed as one of the people to make decisions. The consensus, Mike and Patty included say that he’s basically brilliant. Like, cure cancer smart when it comes to electronics, and gizmos and whatnot. He’s just a bright fucking guy.
Jason was also asked to share in a portion of the leadership. He’s a very social, likeable guy, and he was involved fairly heavily in the sister’s management plans, but made sure to toe the line with the workforce, and maintain respectability. He was a good guy from what I heard the entire time, using his muscles and such to good effect to clear buildings, get gas and food etc. He didn’t do any enforcing on the people inside the Factory, which I think would’ve been a deal killer for all of us involved.
The third person voted into a leadership role was one of the dancers who worked at the club. She was pushed into the role of sex slave as I understand it, and she looked like she’d been ridden hard for a long time. I’m not talking about “veteran down on her luck stripper” ridden hard. I’m talking “lived in a cardboard box after getting raped and stabbed” ridden hard. She was introduced to me as “Lulu, the stripper with a heart of gold, who used to make really good enchiladas.” (last name not provided) Lulu is a holdover from the club’s days before the fall of mankind. She’s streetwise and smart, and has the support of the remainder of the survivors. It’s nice to see her rise to the top after dealing with what she’s dealt with. Heartwarming even.
Mike and crew did a more full assessment of the Factory as a place to live while they had time. The building has a nearly brand new diesel powered generator as well as a central heating system that is equally new. Both systems are powered by diesel/heating oil, and in the basement of the Factory they have about 1,500 gallons of diesel on hand. Down the street at the diesel dealership in one of the garages they have an additional 2,500 gallons in a small heating oil delivery truck. According to Jason and Andy, that amount of fuel will last them perhaps to March, and that’s assuming they use a minimal amount of fuel to run gadgets, and they shut down parts of the building they aren’t using.
This was the reason they were pushing into our area. They’ve exhausted all the local diesel and gasoline supplies, and they have been too concerned about pushing into the city. That all makes sense. One good thing to note is that the dramatic loss of bodies at the Factory means they will consume far less electricity regularly, and they can shut the heat down to multiple areas they previously had to use. Jason and Andy credited the March out of fuel date to that. If they were still at capacity, Andy thought they’d perhaps make it to the end of January, maybe into February. And if you’ve ever lived in this neck of the woods… you know that’s a shitty time to run out of heat.
Weaponry on site is a serious concern. If you remember, I said they had a of scatter guns, and lever action rifles. The majority of the gun inventory there was bolt action rifles. I’m slightly sickened, and also slightly amazed at how they came to be where they are in terms of weapons. In storage there they had about ten AR style police rifles, and plenty of spare magazines. Not one round of 5.56 anywhere to be found. Nor did they have any 7.62 or .308, or 9mm, or .45, or even .38 or 12 gauge. All of the core calibers and their weapons were out of use because they had long since run dry. They were using 16 and 20 gauge shotguns, and lots of rifles in more obscure calibers. Stuff like .45-70, .303, .30-30, .30-06, and the such. The kinds of guns hunters would own, and have a box or two of ammo next to.
They’d depleted their core ammunitions long ago, and they were using what they had left. I credit that to living closer to the city and needing to shoot guns a shitload more than I did. Well, we did. I live in a much smaller town, and thus have had far less undead to kill. The good news is we are up about 20 magazines for our rifles, and we’re now hood rich when it comes to spare parts for the ARs. I’m sure Mike will go through them and give them the eagle eye to upgrade/repair what he can.
We are also rich a SHITLOAD of handguns. Some of them need some serious tender loving care to get back to snuff, but that’s easy peasy, just elbow grease. They had 1911s, Glocks, Berettas, Sigs, Smith and Wessons, Taurus’, you name it. We have a ton of spare parts and magazines now. Mike is taking a full inventory of everything so we can assess where our needs are, and what we can do about them.
Patty made good inroads meeting people, as did Abby. I also want to share that the time they spent together as a quasi family at the Factory did them good. It was the first stretch of time where all three were together since the Patty/Mike relationship reveal, and it seemed to me that they were slightly repaired. Abby was being much more civil to her mom, and Mike seemed genuinely more comfortable around Abby as well. I hope they did some bonding.
Anyway, Patty met a lot of people, made some friends, and shared lots of good tidbits. Well, many of the tidbits were straight up horrifying. I will say this: I am very, very glad we hit that place. The sisters were wretched women, rotten to the core. They ignored and even encouraged terrible practices all in the name of survival.
I will say this Mr. Journal: if I sacrifice my humanity to survive, kill me. I don’t want to be a monster just to prolong my life. I’d rather starve, freeze, or be eaten than put people through what they did. Some of the folks at the Factory will never be the same.
Vehicles! They have them. We didn’t destroy any of theirs in the hit, so they have plenty, and we are now rich an additional 10-12 diesel vehicles in various sizes. One of the men at the factory has some experience with diesel engines and all that jazz, but the shame is that one of the dudes we shot the other day was a savant when it came to mechanical work. Blake is still on his deathbed, and if he goes, we’re back to damn near square one when it comes to mechanical expertise.
On our trip we brought about a hundred gallons of water in some of the jugs and containers we had leftover from the slower Westfield days. Luckily it rained the other day, and the Factory is flush with drinking and bathing water. I’m still very concerned about their water though. I’ve said it before, clean water means hygiene, and hygiene means no sickness. The last thing we need to do is get sick.
When we left, we left the water, as well as about twenty five pounds of various veggies from our garden, as well as two gallons of milk, and two dozen eggs for them to do with as they see fit. Eventually, I’d like to get them about ten chickens so they can start their own chicken… hatchery farm thing or whatever you call it. Their own eggs and occasional chicken will go a long way towards boosting their morale.
We left them with their usable weapons, and all their ammunition for those guns. We didn’t give them any ammo for their unusable weapons, and further, we confiscated all of it in the name of inventory’s sake. I don’t think that went over well, but we did leave them with plenty of weapons and ammo to defend themselves. We also gave them one of our radios, and told them that if they needed help, we’d be there for them. Lulu seemed appeased by that notion.
Oh… I forgot to talk to Jason about the Cassie thing. We never had time to sit down one on one. Too much to do otherwise. I will say that he was pretty friendly to me while I was there, but it did feel a little awkward. Sort of like when you see a friend you haven’t seen in a really long time, and you just don’t have anything to talk to them about. You have that awkward, “so, how’s the girlfriend? Yeah? That’s great. I’m good. How about them Knicks?” kind of conversations.
All in all, I think it went well. Obviously, there is more to it than just what I wrote here, but you get the idea. The place is pretty safe, and should last against all but the most overwhelming of undead attacks. Now as for the attacks from the living… well, it didn’t do all that well. Of course we had a man on the inside, which was the defining difference, but still. I think we could’ve gotten in with minimal losses. If they had better weaponry and shooters though, we’d have been bent and left sore.
But they didn’t, and we aren’t. So nyah.
Blake is still alive, though he is still blacked out. His need for blood has abated for the moment, and he seems to have stabilized. He is breathing on his own, but he isn’t eating due to being out. We’ve got him hooked up to an IV right now, but we can’t sustain that for long. We can’t give him all of our IV bags. We simply can’t. Eventually we’ll need to pull him off of it, or… I dunno. Stick a feeding tube in him. Lindsey wants to make a run to the clinic downtown to see what she can do. We don’t want to let the man starve while he heals in a coma he could come out of.
I don’t want my friend to starve to death, and I don’t want to put him down either. I want him to heal up, stand up, and go back to being a dad to his son, and a husband to his wife. Whoa. They aren’t even married. Maybe I’m just filling in the blanks or something. Dunno. I just want him to sit up.
Otherwise things are well here. Ollie, Melissa, Martin and Julie are doing an amazing job of keeping everything moving here on campus. Everyone else is working hard on getting the barn done, which is now another week away from completion with the delays we’ve experienced. No rush really yet. When the snow comes… we’ve got issues though.
I think we’ll beat the snow. Oh, and kiss my ass Fairy. I’ll shove you right down the drain with the rest of the shit.
I’m drained. Oh.. plans. We are sending a crew to the pharmacy to collect blood type tests. I remember seeing about ten of them there, and we also left a bunch at the clinic, which we are going to gather as well. If we can get some blood types documented, we’ll be far better off when it comes to donating blood for transfusions. Plus, Lindsey is going to get more info on feeding tubes and the such. Hopefully we can sustain Blake until he can fully recover from the coma.