Okay, it's been a few weeks and I'm really worried now. Is anyone else still there?
Please, if anyone is still alive and reading, please say something. We've lost a lot of people recently and...
If anyone's there, just drop a word or two. Let me know that you're still alive.
I'll be here.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Concerning thoughts
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Upon further review, I probably hit about 110/148, and maybe eighty of those were kills. It doesn't matter, in the long run, but I like to keep facts closer to straight.
Dr. Stamper had a cool-down session with us all yesterday evening. I'd already typed to y'all and given a debrief to a Captain, so it wasn't too bad for me. I won't be sleeping well for a while, but it'll get better.
I spent most of the night thinking over what Dan said about us being selected and stuff, as well as the powers-that-be having such a stiff resistance to our ability. I don't usually jump into those sorts of things but...yesterday I got some evidence.
When we got dispatched to the crash site yesterday, we weren't the closest group in comms range. There was another group--in reinforced motor vehicles, no less--north of Jonesboro, that could have cut across much faster than us to the site. The repeater wasn't out when the crash happened, either, they should have been able to receive instructions. Why weren't they sent instead of us?
More disturbing: the repeater was discovered by the fix-up crew to be in perfect working order, but no one heard us on Thursday night.
Most disturbing: I listened to the comms of Thursday afternoon. The request was made by the QZ's exec, Maj Majai, not by any of the people I know in the radio shack, and he specifically ordered that I go.
"...Leave minimum security behind for the Ar-tick, this plane is top priority. Collins goes, too."
No one else was mentioned by name or their call-sign. Names aren't ever used on radios anyway, for security reasons. So why me, Major?
I'm going to be a lot more wary about things from now on. Stay safe.
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Upon further review, I probably hit about 110/148, and maybe eighty of those were kills. It doesn't matter, in the long run, but I like to keep facts closer to straight.
Dr. Stamper had a cool-down session with us all yesterday evening. I'd already typed to y'all and given a debrief to a Captain, so it wasn't too bad for me. I won't be sleeping well for a while, but it'll get better.
I spent most of the night thinking over what Dan said about us being selected and stuff, as well as the powers-that-be having such a stiff resistance to our ability. I don't usually jump into those sorts of things but...yesterday I got some evidence.
When we got dispatched to the crash site yesterday, we weren't the closest group in comms range. There was another group--in reinforced motor vehicles, no less--north of Jonesboro, that could have cut across much faster than us to the site. The repeater wasn't out when the crash happened, either, they should have been able to receive instructions. Why weren't they sent instead of us?
More disturbing: the repeater was discovered by the fix-up crew to be in perfect working order, but no one heard us on Thursday night.
Most disturbing: I listened to the comms of Thursday afternoon. The request was made by the QZ's exec, Maj Majai, not by any of the people I know in the radio shack, and he specifically ordered that I go.
"...Leave minimum security behind for the Ar-tick, this plane is top priority. Collins goes, too."
No one else was mentioned by name or their call-sign. Names aren't ever used on radios anyway, for security reasons. So why me, Major?
I'm going to be a lot more wary about things from now on. Stay safe.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Update: 30 Jun, 1055
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Just got back. I have an hour or so, so here's an update.
After notification of the crash, myself and five of the eight Nat Guard guys packed up on the bikes and headed north to search for the wreck. It was easy with a large plume of smoke, but I confirmed using a radio tuned to 243.0MHz (the plane was using an old ELT that still transmitted on this freq, not 406MHz, which I couldn't catch with my type of radio). The plane went down in a pair of softball fields in Duncan Park northwest of here. It was maybe twenty-five miles by bicycle to get there, and the way was jammed with groaners. Most of 'em we just outran, but there were plenty of roadblocks and to get through we'd set up a small perimeter, sterilize a crossing point, lift our equipment over, and continue on. It was incredibly taxing, especially since the most direct path was through some hefty suburban areas.
We didn't reach the crash site until sundown, and that made things a lot worse. It looks like the plane was aiming for the farther field and fell short, instead plowing into the fields after skimming the trees of the forest to the north. The fuselage was intact, more or less, with the tail still on. The nose was bent underneath the front of the aircraft and the cockpit bulkhead was split.
After dismounting and carving through a ring of groaners, we came upon the crash from its port side wing root. The wing was maybe twenty meters away, wedged into the ground, spilling a bunch of fuel that was burning rather brightly. The crash had attracted a whole lot of groaners, and they were flooding the aircraft. We didn't have enough people to handle them quietly and floods of them were closing in behind us anyway, so we went ahead and used our firearms. It was difficult in the dark, but there was a large fuel fire nearby around so we managed to get the outside clear in about two minutes.
The inside was more troublesome, since a number had squeezed inside through the split fuselage. We dropped the rear door with an emergency lever and let Shawn take out each of the groaners as they came. Two were trapped in cargo netting and were difficult to get rid of. The worst part, however, was the crew chief.
He was likely the only survivor of the crash, since the pilots were both dead in their seats. It's also likely that he was bitten shortly after the crash, because we arrived just as he was turning.
The guy heard us and started pleading for help immediately. We almost got to him before Shawn yelled a warning, seeing the ragged bite on his hand. The guy was pleading for help and then started getting louder and more upset until it devolved into incoherent screaming. Shawn shot him shortly after that.
The pleads weren't for help for his condition, but for us to kill him. It was everything we could do to....I haven't slept a whole lot since then.
With the craft secured, there were a whole lot of groaners still closing in on the light and the sounds. Under normal circumstances, we would have just abandoned the crash until morning and let a bigger group sterilize it to get the supplies. That night, though, we had far too many groaners all around us to make it out without help. Instead we settled in for a long night.
Because of the crash location, we were able to set up some great choke points with the softball fences and the entrances. At one point, they had me sprint out to a tree with a hatchet and chop it down over a fence breach--I ended up chopping it down in what felt like ten seconds and sprinting back before the thing even toppled. The hatchet broke on my sprint back when I used it to stop a groaner.
Because we were able to funnel them into basically two points, four of us could cover both points while five and six took care of the leaks. It also meant that none of us got any rest. I wondered why we hadn't gotten any help by the time the sun came up. Turns out that the radio repeater was out and no one had heard us until about noon on Friday.
By that point, we were nearly out of ammo. I carry an M4A1 that I took from a dead National Guard guy on my way out of Atlanta. I held onto it since any civilian AR-15s are as hoarded by their owners as the military-grade weapons are by the higher-ups. The convenient thing is mostly because of ammunition: everyone around me keeps .223/5.56mm NATO so we can exchange in an instant. I have two packs that I usually grab: the first is a light pack with two spare magazines that I use for our transits back and forth between ARTCC and the QZ. I have a "heavy" load with a bunch of camping gear and some longer hand weapons, and five magazines. Each magazine is underloaded with 23 or 25 rounds. I also always carry an off-brand modified Beretta 92 with one spare magazine.
On Thursday, I took my heavy load and thus had 122 rounds spare, plus 25 in the rifle and one in the chamber. I spent every single round that night and morning, and darn if I didn't drop 125 zombies with 148 rounds. I also spent a magazine of pistol ammo, 16 rounds, for double-tapping. I never claim to be a great shot; I did barely well enough to qualify in training, but even if I'm inflating the numbers I feel really proud of that. At midday I was down to my pistol and the hand weapons, of which I had broken my two favorites. The Wal-Mart grade machetes and hatchets fell apart after maybe fifteen or so groaners, so they became the throw-aways that we only used in a rush. Our mainstays were the ones from sports stores. Gerber ones held up the best, but got dull rather quickly. You can still kill with blunt force, though.
Anyways, it was Friday night before five vehicles from the South Atlanta QZ showed up like the cavalry. The passenger, maybe ten or fifteen, sprinted out and started mauling their way through the small crowd of uglies around the fences. It was like something out of Braveheart, and frankly rather hilarious at first. Two of our rescuers got bitten in the process, though and...
We loaded the supplies onto a flatbed and headed out post haste, going straight to the QZ. As soon as we got there, they let the flatbed through and then put the six of us in quarantine through to Monday morning. None of us talked and we all tried to sleep. None of us succeeded for very long.
Well, we're back now, and the supply load turned out to be food and meds heading to somewhere in South Carolina. If you're reading this, SC residents, know that two men and one woman sacrificed their lives to try and deliver several tons of antibiotics and MREs. Dozens more succeed every day, but the dangers are real.
If you see a Hercules flying over, thank them.
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Just got back. I have an hour or so, so here's an update.
After notification of the crash, myself and five of the eight Nat Guard guys packed up on the bikes and headed north to search for the wreck. It was easy with a large plume of smoke, but I confirmed using a radio tuned to 243.0MHz (the plane was using an old ELT that still transmitted on this freq, not 406MHz, which I couldn't catch with my type of radio). The plane went down in a pair of softball fields in Duncan Park northwest of here. It was maybe twenty-five miles by bicycle to get there, and the way was jammed with groaners. Most of 'em we just outran, but there were plenty of roadblocks and to get through we'd set up a small perimeter, sterilize a crossing point, lift our equipment over, and continue on. It was incredibly taxing, especially since the most direct path was through some hefty suburban areas.
We didn't reach the crash site until sundown, and that made things a lot worse. It looks like the plane was aiming for the farther field and fell short, instead plowing into the fields after skimming the trees of the forest to the north. The fuselage was intact, more or less, with the tail still on. The nose was bent underneath the front of the aircraft and the cockpit bulkhead was split.
After dismounting and carving through a ring of groaners, we came upon the crash from its port side wing root. The wing was maybe twenty meters away, wedged into the ground, spilling a bunch of fuel that was burning rather brightly. The crash had attracted a whole lot of groaners, and they were flooding the aircraft. We didn't have enough people to handle them quietly and floods of them were closing in behind us anyway, so we went ahead and used our firearms. It was difficult in the dark, but there was a large fuel fire nearby around so we managed to get the outside clear in about two minutes.
The inside was more troublesome, since a number had squeezed inside through the split fuselage. We dropped the rear door with an emergency lever and let Shawn take out each of the groaners as they came. Two were trapped in cargo netting and were difficult to get rid of. The worst part, however, was the crew chief.
He was likely the only survivor of the crash, since the pilots were both dead in their seats. It's also likely that he was bitten shortly after the crash, because we arrived just as he was turning.
The guy heard us and started pleading for help immediately. We almost got to him before Shawn yelled a warning, seeing the ragged bite on his hand. The guy was pleading for help and then started getting louder and more upset until it devolved into incoherent screaming. Shawn shot him shortly after that.
The pleads weren't for help for his condition, but for us to kill him. It was everything we could do to....I haven't slept a whole lot since then.
With the craft secured, there were a whole lot of groaners still closing in on the light and the sounds. Under normal circumstances, we would have just abandoned the crash until morning and let a bigger group sterilize it to get the supplies. That night, though, we had far too many groaners all around us to make it out without help. Instead we settled in for a long night.
Because of the crash location, we were able to set up some great choke points with the softball fences and the entrances. At one point, they had me sprint out to a tree with a hatchet and chop it down over a fence breach--I ended up chopping it down in what felt like ten seconds and sprinting back before the thing even toppled. The hatchet broke on my sprint back when I used it to stop a groaner.
Because we were able to funnel them into basically two points, four of us could cover both points while five and six took care of the leaks. It also meant that none of us got any rest. I wondered why we hadn't gotten any help by the time the sun came up. Turns out that the radio repeater was out and no one had heard us until about noon on Friday.
By that point, we were nearly out of ammo. I carry an M4A1 that I took from a dead National Guard guy on my way out of Atlanta. I held onto it since any civilian AR-15s are as hoarded by their owners as the military-grade weapons are by the higher-ups. The convenient thing is mostly because of ammunition: everyone around me keeps .223/5.56mm NATO so we can exchange in an instant. I have two packs that I usually grab: the first is a light pack with two spare magazines that I use for our transits back and forth between ARTCC and the QZ. I have a "heavy" load with a bunch of camping gear and some longer hand weapons, and five magazines. Each magazine is underloaded with 23 or 25 rounds. I also always carry an off-brand modified Beretta 92 with one spare magazine.
On Thursday, I took my heavy load and thus had 122 rounds spare, plus 25 in the rifle and one in the chamber. I spent every single round that night and morning, and darn if I didn't drop 125 zombies with 148 rounds. I also spent a magazine of pistol ammo, 16 rounds, for double-tapping. I never claim to be a great shot; I did barely well enough to qualify in training, but even if I'm inflating the numbers I feel really proud of that. At midday I was down to my pistol and the hand weapons, of which I had broken my two favorites. The Wal-Mart grade machetes and hatchets fell apart after maybe fifteen or so groaners, so they became the throw-aways that we only used in a rush. Our mainstays were the ones from sports stores. Gerber ones held up the best, but got dull rather quickly. You can still kill with blunt force, though.
Anyways, it was Friday night before five vehicles from the South Atlanta QZ showed up like the cavalry. The passenger, maybe ten or fifteen, sprinted out and started mauling their way through the small crowd of uglies around the fences. It was like something out of Braveheart, and frankly rather hilarious at first. Two of our rescuers got bitten in the process, though and...
We loaded the supplies onto a flatbed and headed out post haste, going straight to the QZ. As soon as we got there, they let the flatbed through and then put the six of us in quarantine through to Monday morning. None of us talked and we all tried to sleep. None of us succeeded for very long.
Well, we're back now, and the supply load turned out to be food and meds heading to somewhere in South Carolina. If you're reading this, SC residents, know that two men and one woman sacrificed their lives to try and deliver several tons of antibiotics and MREs. Dozens more succeed every day, but the dangers are real.
If you see a Hercules flying over, thank them.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Weird stuff
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
I should get some tin foil. I've never made a hat out of one before. Seriously--I'm the type of person that goes to the greatest lengths to throw out conspiracy theories and hoaxes. It comes with being a scientist, I guess.
There have been a few new faces around the officers at the QZ in the last couple of weeks. I thought about it before and wondered where they'd come from, but I didn't really chew through it until now. They look different because they wear heavy work pants, military-style boots, and black button-down shirts, and always some form of dark sunglasses
Red flags:
1) Black. Shirts. Georgia. Summer. Long sleeves are good but black just soaks in the heat.
2) They're always armed. Sometimes its concealed (you can see them bump elbows with the handles, or favor a leg if it's an ankle holster), but often it's an open-carry. They use belts that are similar to law enforcement utility belts, minus the flashlights.
3) Their shirts always appear pressed. Nobody does any ironing out here.
They remind me a lot of something like a private military company that
Shit C-130 went down north, maybe twenty miles will update
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
I should get some tin foil. I've never made a hat out of one before. Seriously--I'm the type of person that goes to the greatest lengths to throw out conspiracy theories and hoaxes. It comes with being a scientist, I guess.
There have been a few new faces around the officers at the QZ in the last couple of weeks. I thought about it before and wondered where they'd come from, but I didn't really chew through it until now. They look different because they wear heavy work pants, military-style boots, and black button-down shirts, and always some form of dark sunglasses
Red flags:
1) Black. Shirts. Georgia. Summer. Long sleeves are good but black just soaks in the heat.
2) They're always armed. Sometimes its concealed (you can see them bump elbows with the handles, or favor a leg if it's an ankle holster), but often it's an open-carry. They use belts that are similar to law enforcement utility belts, minus the flashlights.
3) Their shirts always appear pressed. Nobody does any ironing out here.
They remind me a lot of something like a private military company that
Shit C-130 went down north, maybe twenty miles will update
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Still Cooling My Feet
Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
It's been a little while since I posted. I am being watched, and as I type this, several very serious looking men with some SERIOUS equipment are monitoring the wifi signal. I think they are going to try to triangulate it, to find the source. It's the only reason they allowed me to log on.
It has been... interesting... the past couple of days. There were a couple of log on attempts under my name over that time and none worked. The first time when they used my old Google password it wasn't accepted. That got me into some trouble, and when I tried, I found it had been changed, with a clue I was able to decipher in order to find the new password.
Then they tried to log on with THAT password... and it had changed again.
Then I tried. And here I am. Writing what I want because the moment I step away from the screen, everything stops, and the commandant isn't desperate enough to go straight to threatening my life yet... especially as the QZ needs ME to log on at all. The reason they're letting me write any of this is, I think, to see if others are having similar difficulties.
It's funny. I haven't spared a thought for the groaners for days. Government guys with guns, though...
I am so worried about you all. We could handle the undead, no problem. But this... it has made targets of us, and a bunch of you didn't need that. None of us needed this... except maybe, maybe we did. Maybe being able to talk, to share,
Hell, I'll say it. I needed it.
Their machines are beeping and I think that means they're gonna pull the plug. I'll keep typing, though, and maybe the blog will save what I ty
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
It's been a little while since I posted. I am being watched, and as I type this, several very serious looking men with some SERIOUS equipment are monitoring the wifi signal. I think they are going to try to triangulate it, to find the source. It's the only reason they allowed me to log on.
It has been... interesting... the past couple of days. There were a couple of log on attempts under my name over that time and none worked. The first time when they used my old Google password it wasn't accepted. That got me into some trouble, and when I tried, I found it had been changed, with a clue I was able to decipher in order to find the new password.
Then they tried to log on with THAT password... and it had changed again.
Then I tried. And here I am. Writing what I want because the moment I step away from the screen, everything stops, and the commandant isn't desperate enough to go straight to threatening my life yet... especially as the QZ needs ME to log on at all. The reason they're letting me write any of this is, I think, to see if others are having similar difficulties.
It's funny. I haven't spared a thought for the groaners for days. Government guys with guns, though...
I am so worried about you all. We could handle the undead, no problem. But this... it has made targets of us, and a bunch of you didn't need that. None of us needed this... except maybe, maybe we did. Maybe being able to talk, to share,
Hell, I'll say it. I needed it.
Their machines are beeping and I think that means they're gonna pull the plug. I'll keep typing, though, and maybe the blog will save what I ty
Thursday, June 18, 2015
There are a lot of ways to go...
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Sorry about the lack of an update last week. Heat stroke sucks.
After doing tons of field exercises and training stuff with CAP and the Air Force, you'd think I'd remember something I harped on so much when I was in charge. Alas, I did not, and I got far too dehydrated on Wednesday of last week.
All those water tests made me super-conscious of the water I was drinking, so I was being exceptionally careful with what I consumed. Apparently, too careful, because I wasn't drinking enough. In the middle of the QZ, while I was helping plant some stakes for a new tent, I suddenly got really nauseous and collapsed. Some Army people helped me into the shade and got an IV in and some ice packs on my neck. My body temp was way high and I wasn't sweating at all. I didn't even notice.
Be careful about the water, but remember what will kill you faster. Don't get dehydrated!
In other news, I did not go to the ARTCC last week due to the heat stroke and Steve had a really bad flashback. I wasn't there so I don't know what triggered it, but it was bad. They had to turn back a few flights because he was out of commission. The big Thursday lift still happened, thank goodness, but I wasn't there when I needed to be and it was my own stupid fault. Real people suffered for it.
Just a reminder that everything you do matters to someone and continues to have real world effects. Stay safe and stay vigilant!
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Sorry about the lack of an update last week. Heat stroke sucks.
After doing tons of field exercises and training stuff with CAP and the Air Force, you'd think I'd remember something I harped on so much when I was in charge. Alas, I did not, and I got far too dehydrated on Wednesday of last week.
All those water tests made me super-conscious of the water I was drinking, so I was being exceptionally careful with what I consumed. Apparently, too careful, because I wasn't drinking enough. In the middle of the QZ, while I was helping plant some stakes for a new tent, I suddenly got really nauseous and collapsed. Some Army people helped me into the shade and got an IV in and some ice packs on my neck. My body temp was way high and I wasn't sweating at all. I didn't even notice.
Be careful about the water, but remember what will kill you faster. Don't get dehydrated!
In other news, I did not go to the ARTCC last week due to the heat stroke and Steve had a really bad flashback. I wasn't there so I don't know what triggered it, but it was bad. They had to turn back a few flights because he was out of commission. The big Thursday lift still happened, thank goodness, but I wasn't there when I needed to be and it was my own stupid fault. Real people suffered for it.
Just a reminder that everything you do matters to someone and continues to have real world effects. Stay safe and stay vigilant!
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Daniel
Name: Daniel Esteban Zapata
Date of Birth: January 12th 1993
Date of Death: May 11th 2015
Place of Death: Santa Bárbara, Antioquia - Colombia, South America
Cause of Death: Head trauma due to penetrating firearm projectile. Evidence suggest the lesion was self inflicted.
State: Deceased, not infected.
AAR FILE CLOSED.
CODE GRAY.
Date of Birth: January 12th 1993
Date of Death: May 11th 2015
Place of Death: Santa Bárbara, Antioquia - Colombia, South America
Cause of Death: Head trauma due to penetrating firearm projectile. Evidence suggest the lesion was self inflicted.
State: Deceased, not infected.
AAR FILE CLOSED.
CODE GRAY.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Something has Changed
Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
I'm not entirely sure what is going on out there, but one thing is for sure... our writers are going quiet. I hope, hope, HOPE you all are still okay but aside from the waves of the dead beating at our various safe houses and quarantine zones, something or someone out there has become aware of this archive and isn't entirely sure that they like it, and I am not precisely sure why.
I came back from another run about a week ago and was met by soldiers who ordered me into confinement with no word as to why. At the time I assumed it had something to do with the Commandant's fear of religion, but Rose let me know that the other preachers, though still watched, are still out and about doing their thing. No one told her why I was being imprisoned, and we strongly suspected the only reason they even let her visit was so she could reassure those who still listened to me that I wasn't dead to avoid unrest.
Then, just yesterday, the Commandant came down and talked to me. About the archive.
He asked who you all were. WHERE you all were. How I had managed to reactivate this particular bit of the internet, and how I made it impervious to government interference. Apparently they've been trying to shut us down for months, to commandeer the archive as a form of inter-QZ communication, and it doesn't let them even log on.
So finally he asked, how was I doing it, and would I stop doing it in return for a better position within the command structure. I told him I wasn't doing it, that I didn't know how it was working.
So a word out there to ALL of you, to anyone who is left reading and writing. Something has, apparently, chosen us, and whatever that something is, it is making our governments nervous. I am writing this with oversight. In the future I might not be. I don't know what they'll do, or who it is who lets us write these words.
Who else is there?
Is anyone else still listening, or have your own oversight groups decided to shut you down?
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
I'm not entirely sure what is going on out there, but one thing is for sure... our writers are going quiet. I hope, hope, HOPE you all are still okay but aside from the waves of the dead beating at our various safe houses and quarantine zones, something or someone out there has become aware of this archive and isn't entirely sure that they like it, and I am not precisely sure why.
I came back from another run about a week ago and was met by soldiers who ordered me into confinement with no word as to why. At the time I assumed it had something to do with the Commandant's fear of religion, but Rose let me know that the other preachers, though still watched, are still out and about doing their thing. No one told her why I was being imprisoned, and we strongly suspected the only reason they even let her visit was so she could reassure those who still listened to me that I wasn't dead to avoid unrest.
Then, just yesterday, the Commandant came down and talked to me. About the archive.
He asked who you all were. WHERE you all were. How I had managed to reactivate this particular bit of the internet, and how I made it impervious to government interference. Apparently they've been trying to shut us down for months, to commandeer the archive as a form of inter-QZ communication, and it doesn't let them even log on.
So finally he asked, how was I doing it, and would I stop doing it in return for a better position within the command structure. I told him I wasn't doing it, that I didn't know how it was working.
So a word out there to ALL of you, to anyone who is left reading and writing. Something has, apparently, chosen us, and whatever that something is, it is making our governments nervous. I am writing this with oversight. In the future I might not be. I don't know what they'll do, or who it is who lets us write these words.
Who else is there?
Is anyone else still listening, or have your own oversight groups decided to shut you down?
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Behold, a rider on a dirtbike, and hell rides with him.
Jason Duncan
Central Florida Panhandle near Big Bend
My friend Travis and I made it to Port St. Joe a week ago. We made it by the skin of our teeth. Somewhere north of Highway 98 four guys riding double on a pair of heavy-duty dirt bikes came screaming down a small hill from out of nowhere. They crossed the road about two or three hundred yards ahead of us. The driver of the lead bike saw us driving towards them and stopped abruptly right in the middle of the road. His passenger was carrying some kind of wicked little sub-machine gun. They spoke a few words then the passenger fired a dozen rounds into the road between themselves and us.
The message was pretty clear. STOP! Needless to say, we did.
Just then, a massive herd of screamers and groaners crested the hill behind the riders. The other bike had stopped by this point. The passenger on this bike turned around, fired a few shots from an identical weapon into the ever-growing mob cresting and overtopping the hill. None of the dead fell to these shots. In fact they seemed to move faster, closing the distance to the stopped bikes. The first driver and passenger were yelling at each other. The herd was getting bigger and bigger. The bikes took off hell for leather, heading south away from the hill. Travis slapped me on the side of the head. I was in the driver's seat and wasn't driving. The weird scene had me mesmerized but the smack broke the spell. I stomped the accelerator pedal and cut the wheel to follow the bikes off of the road down a dirt track I'd have completely missed had the two wheeled road block not stopped in my path. The truck bounced through the roadside ditch and up into the dirt track. The front ranks of the herd were just yards behind us as I accelerated hard, trying in vain to keep up with the powerful bikes. I fucked up and looked in the mirror. The group of screamers following us was bigger than any other congregation of these fucking things I'd seen. I saw wave after wave of the dead marching on St. Pete before the QZ there fell beneath their numbers. This crowd dwarfed that massacre by an order of magnitude. It was still growing. I don't know where they came from. I don't know how the riders had managed to attract this much attention. But I knew we were well and truly fucked...just as fucked as the guys on the bikes. We'd never clear this. The end is nigh. I knew it.
Then something even more strange happened. We were hauling ass down this dirt road. I know dirt roads. I grew up on dirt roads. We were hauling ass. Way too fast for anything remotely resembling safety. The passenger of the bike closest to us reached into a small pack slung over his shoulder, pulled something out, played with it for a few seconds, then threw it over his shoulder. It was a little white cylinder and it spun into the wood line to the side of the dirt track. As we passed it, a strangely familiar sound screamed over the roaring of the truck's massive diesel engine. That guy threw an air horn into the woods. It was one of the medium sized ones you buy at Walmart....bought at Walmart.... to prank your friends and scare your girlfriend. The screamers were still behind us but not quite keeping up. We were going way too fast.
Just then the bikes split up, one to each side of the dirt track. They stopped. With these fucking things chasing us, the bikes stopped. I had no intention of stopping. As I drove past the bikes, the drivers both waved me on frantically, gesturing for me to continue down the track. I wasn't going to argue. A second or two later, I looked back, and the passengers were again firing their weapons into the not-distant-enough horde now filling the woods behind us.
The track ended in a clearing that broadened out into a beach beside a lake. A dune lake. We had reached the gulf. I could see the dunes just beyond the lake and the faint haze of salt in the air beyond. We had nowhere else to run. Definitely fucked. The bikes came screaming out of the woods and passed me. I had slowed the truck down trying to figure the path ahead around the lake that was most likely to keep Travis and me alive for another minute or two. Oh. Yeah. Somewhere after the air horn, Travis had jumped in the back seat, opened the rear window, and started pointing my rifle back towards the screamers. He wasn't firing but I think he was getting ready to do so. I sped back up to follow the bikes. The drivers seemed to have some kind of plan in mind. They raced around the shorter curve of the dune lake, the right side, and were flying up and over the dune at what I knew would be the edge of the beach. I quickly decided the truck could probably make that climb too. The horde was only about a hundred yards behind us when I stomped the pedal and raced after the bikes. We hit the dune like a ton of bricks and somehow bounced up and over it without destroying the front suspension. I hadn't even had time to engage the four wheel drive.
Going to die. Going to die. That kept repeating in my brain.
We cleared the top of the dune and bounced over the other side. Travis hit his head pretty hard on the roof of the cab and landed in a fucked up heap in the back floorboard. The rifle flew from his hands and a round went off, punching a cute little hole through the roof. I started to take stock of the beach and my brain just went, NOPE. What I saw didn't register for a long time. The bikes had driven right to the water's edge and rolled up a ramp onto the front of some kind of small military boat, like a landing craft. I had seen videos of the bigger versions used in world war 2 so I recognized the concept. The boat was backing away from the beach as fast as it could. The really shocking thing in front of me was the three gray ships sitting parallel to the beach about a mile off shore.
With a few yards to spare I cut the wheel and sped off West down the beach trying to put some distance between us and the horde.
Then everything went nuts. I don't know what kind of ships they were, but they were armed. Heavily. The air split and thundered with whatever they were shooting. The shockwaves from the shells and explosions did their damndest to pick the truck up and throw it around like a fucking matchbox toy. I kept going. About a half mile from where I jumped the dune, I stopped and turned around in my seat. I could see the screamers pouring over the dune and flooding onto the beach. They were trying to flood onto the beach at least. The pounding coming from the ships was relentless. It was terrifying and beautiful all at the same time. Huge geysers of water, and sand, and blood, and bone were screaming up into the air with each round's impact. The bodies of the undead dead were torn apart like tissue paper. The firing continued for more than five minutes. I didn't even try to count the shots. They all blurred together in an unending, overlapping roar. The shells were so close to the water, I could see white lines of devastated turbulence racing from the ships to the beach with each shot. I've never seen anything so amazing in my life. After an eternity the firing stopped. Travis and I were just staring at the devastation in slack jawed amazement. You could have knocked me over with a feather.
I almost shit myself when someone knocked on the drivers window of the truck. The boat had pulled back up to the shore. One of the bike riders came up and decided to scare the life out of us.
We're on a ship now. I can't say where. I can't say much of anything. I have to show this to somebody before they'll "let" me post it. I'll find a way to fill you in as soon as I can.
We might be ok everybody.
Will advise.
Central Florida Panhandle near Big Bend
My friend Travis and I made it to Port St. Joe a week ago. We made it by the skin of our teeth. Somewhere north of Highway 98 four guys riding double on a pair of heavy-duty dirt bikes came screaming down a small hill from out of nowhere. They crossed the road about two or three hundred yards ahead of us. The driver of the lead bike saw us driving towards them and stopped abruptly right in the middle of the road. His passenger was carrying some kind of wicked little sub-machine gun. They spoke a few words then the passenger fired a dozen rounds into the road between themselves and us.
The message was pretty clear. STOP! Needless to say, we did.
Just then, a massive herd of screamers and groaners crested the hill behind the riders. The other bike had stopped by this point. The passenger on this bike turned around, fired a few shots from an identical weapon into the ever-growing mob cresting and overtopping the hill. None of the dead fell to these shots. In fact they seemed to move faster, closing the distance to the stopped bikes. The first driver and passenger were yelling at each other. The herd was getting bigger and bigger. The bikes took off hell for leather, heading south away from the hill. Travis slapped me on the side of the head. I was in the driver's seat and wasn't driving. The weird scene had me mesmerized but the smack broke the spell. I stomped the accelerator pedal and cut the wheel to follow the bikes off of the road down a dirt track I'd have completely missed had the two wheeled road block not stopped in my path. The truck bounced through the roadside ditch and up into the dirt track. The front ranks of the herd were just yards behind us as I accelerated hard, trying in vain to keep up with the powerful bikes. I fucked up and looked in the mirror. The group of screamers following us was bigger than any other congregation of these fucking things I'd seen. I saw wave after wave of the dead marching on St. Pete before the QZ there fell beneath their numbers. This crowd dwarfed that massacre by an order of magnitude. It was still growing. I don't know where they came from. I don't know how the riders had managed to attract this much attention. But I knew we were well and truly fucked...just as fucked as the guys on the bikes. We'd never clear this. The end is nigh. I knew it.
Then something even more strange happened. We were hauling ass down this dirt road. I know dirt roads. I grew up on dirt roads. We were hauling ass. Way too fast for anything remotely resembling safety. The passenger of the bike closest to us reached into a small pack slung over his shoulder, pulled something out, played with it for a few seconds, then threw it over his shoulder. It was a little white cylinder and it spun into the wood line to the side of the dirt track. As we passed it, a strangely familiar sound screamed over the roaring of the truck's massive diesel engine. That guy threw an air horn into the woods. It was one of the medium sized ones you buy at Walmart....bought at Walmart.... to prank your friends and scare your girlfriend. The screamers were still behind us but not quite keeping up. We were going way too fast.
Just then the bikes split up, one to each side of the dirt track. They stopped. With these fucking things chasing us, the bikes stopped. I had no intention of stopping. As I drove past the bikes, the drivers both waved me on frantically, gesturing for me to continue down the track. I wasn't going to argue. A second or two later, I looked back, and the passengers were again firing their weapons into the not-distant-enough horde now filling the woods behind us.
The track ended in a clearing that broadened out into a beach beside a lake. A dune lake. We had reached the gulf. I could see the dunes just beyond the lake and the faint haze of salt in the air beyond. We had nowhere else to run. Definitely fucked. The bikes came screaming out of the woods and passed me. I had slowed the truck down trying to figure the path ahead around the lake that was most likely to keep Travis and me alive for another minute or two. Oh. Yeah. Somewhere after the air horn, Travis had jumped in the back seat, opened the rear window, and started pointing my rifle back towards the screamers. He wasn't firing but I think he was getting ready to do so. I sped back up to follow the bikes. The drivers seemed to have some kind of plan in mind. They raced around the shorter curve of the dune lake, the right side, and were flying up and over the dune at what I knew would be the edge of the beach. I quickly decided the truck could probably make that climb too. The horde was only about a hundred yards behind us when I stomped the pedal and raced after the bikes. We hit the dune like a ton of bricks and somehow bounced up and over it without destroying the front suspension. I hadn't even had time to engage the four wheel drive.
Going to die. Going to die. That kept repeating in my brain.
We cleared the top of the dune and bounced over the other side. Travis hit his head pretty hard on the roof of the cab and landed in a fucked up heap in the back floorboard. The rifle flew from his hands and a round went off, punching a cute little hole through the roof. I started to take stock of the beach and my brain just went, NOPE. What I saw didn't register for a long time. The bikes had driven right to the water's edge and rolled up a ramp onto the front of some kind of small military boat, like a landing craft. I had seen videos of the bigger versions used in world war 2 so I recognized the concept. The boat was backing away from the beach as fast as it could. The really shocking thing in front of me was the three gray ships sitting parallel to the beach about a mile off shore.
With a few yards to spare I cut the wheel and sped off West down the beach trying to put some distance between us and the horde.
Then everything went nuts. I don't know what kind of ships they were, but they were armed. Heavily. The air split and thundered with whatever they were shooting. The shockwaves from the shells and explosions did their damndest to pick the truck up and throw it around like a fucking matchbox toy. I kept going. About a half mile from where I jumped the dune, I stopped and turned around in my seat. I could see the screamers pouring over the dune and flooding onto the beach. They were trying to flood onto the beach at least. The pounding coming from the ships was relentless. It was terrifying and beautiful all at the same time. Huge geysers of water, and sand, and blood, and bone were screaming up into the air with each round's impact. The bodies of the undead dead were torn apart like tissue paper. The firing continued for more than five minutes. I didn't even try to count the shots. They all blurred together in an unending, overlapping roar. The shells were so close to the water, I could see white lines of devastated turbulence racing from the ships to the beach with each shot. I've never seen anything so amazing in my life. After an eternity the firing stopped. Travis and I were just staring at the devastation in slack jawed amazement. You could have knocked me over with a feather.
I almost shit myself when someone knocked on the drivers window of the truck. The boat had pulled back up to the shore. One of the bike riders came up and decided to scare the life out of us.
We're on a ship now. I can't say where. I can't say much of anything. I have to show this to somebody before they'll "let" me post it. I'll find a way to fill you in as soon as I can.
We might be ok everybody.
Will advise.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Water Tests: SCIENCE!
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, Georgia, US
A shop-raiding group got a hold on some water testing kits, so I've been testing some stuff.
So, through the lists of things I tested:
Nitrates- from agriculture. We're almost exclusively on rain water now, so the stuff we drink is below the detection limit. Jackson Lake is utterly fucked, though. The test strip practically glowed from the 'positive' indicator.
Heavy Metals: The kit has a total check system that reacts with any 2+ transition metal. Unfortunately, that means that a positive result for something relatively benign, like Cu2+ could hide a positive result for something deadly, like cadmium. This result pegged on both rain water and water from Jackson Lake.
Pb/Cu test: I had to resort to what amounts to a first-year chemistry lab exercise to get a more precise idea. Using both water samples, I added a few different chemicals to each, including ammonia and hydrochloric acid. Basically by juggling these two, I was able to dissolve and precipitate lead, nickel, and copper as salts. There's a chart I used...it'd be easier to show than explain. TL;DR, there's about 14ug/mL lead in the rain water, which I was afraid of. It's just under the EPA max for drinking water, at 15ppb. Jackson Lake tested so positive, I'm surprised it hasn't started casting little figurines for us.
pH: Everyone knows what pH is. Rain normally has a pH of 5.5 or so, Our rain is right at 4.8 on the litmus (I'd tested this before, litmus paper was easier to come by than the full test kit). The lake is at 4.2. Please, kids, don't swim in that.
I don't even want to figure out what kind of intervention it'll take to fix the lake once all this blows over, not to mention the environmental consequences. As it is, I sent a few recommendations on water treatment up the chain.
The kit is also kinda non-specific, especially in the metals department. I'll see if I can talk someone into asking the commandant about testing other lakes nearby or even getting some better equipment. Doubt it'll amount to anything, but given how bad the water is maybe someone can talk them into setting up a well system.
They gave me an assistant earlier. Some guy named Aaron who was studying chemistry before it all went down. He's a good worker but there's a clear difference between a person who can run science experiments and a scientist. I can give him an itemized list and a series of instructions, but the way of thinking just isn't there yet. He'll get better at it.
Do what you can to keep yourselves safe out there from all dangers, not just the nibble-happy neighbors.
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, Georgia, US
A shop-raiding group got a hold on some water testing kits, so I've been testing some stuff.
So, through the lists of things I tested:
Nitrates- from agriculture. We're almost exclusively on rain water now, so the stuff we drink is below the detection limit. Jackson Lake is utterly fucked, though. The test strip practically glowed from the 'positive' indicator.
Heavy Metals: The kit has a total check system that reacts with any 2+ transition metal. Unfortunately, that means that a positive result for something relatively benign, like Cu2+ could hide a positive result for something deadly, like cadmium. This result pegged on both rain water and water from Jackson Lake.
Pb/Cu test: I had to resort to what amounts to a first-year chemistry lab exercise to get a more precise idea. Using both water samples, I added a few different chemicals to each, including ammonia and hydrochloric acid. Basically by juggling these two, I was able to dissolve and precipitate lead, nickel, and copper as salts. There's a chart I used...it'd be easier to show than explain. TL;DR, there's about 14ug/mL lead in the rain water, which I was afraid of. It's just under the EPA max for drinking water, at 15ppb. Jackson Lake tested so positive, I'm surprised it hasn't started casting little figurines for us.
pH: Everyone knows what pH is. Rain normally has a pH of 5.5 or so, Our rain is right at 4.8 on the litmus (I'd tested this before, litmus paper was easier to come by than the full test kit). The lake is at 4.2. Please, kids, don't swim in that.
I don't even want to figure out what kind of intervention it'll take to fix the lake once all this blows over, not to mention the environmental consequences. As it is, I sent a few recommendations on water treatment up the chain.
The kit is also kinda non-specific, especially in the metals department. I'll see if I can talk someone into asking the commandant about testing other lakes nearby or even getting some better equipment. Doubt it'll amount to anything, but given how bad the water is maybe someone can talk them into setting up a well system.
They gave me an assistant earlier. Some guy named Aaron who was studying chemistry before it all went down. He's a good worker but there's a clear difference between a person who can run science experiments and a scientist. I can give him an itemized list and a series of instructions, but the way of thinking just isn't there yet. He'll get better at it.
Do what you can to keep yourselves safe out there from all dangers, not just the nibble-happy neighbors.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Getting Warmer
Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
I know that everyone down south probably doesn't want to hear this... but I am already getting tired of this heat. We've really needed the rain we've had for the last couple of weeks, but combined with the heat the humidity is just getting ridiculous, and the mud is making Runs more dangerous. Just yesterday I had a bad stumble when I hit a patch of mud. I was just jogging for the sake of moving faster, but if there'd been groaners on me...
Well, then, this blog would have one poster less.
I get more and more reports these days about the different Doomsday cults that are out there, a lot of them Post-Christian. I think the Commandant likes sharing those stories with me... like he's telling me to give up the whole faith thing and just be another runner.
Sometimes, I'm tempted.
It's not a uniquely religious thing... suicide rates have been flat out ugly since the Cameras bled, but darned if we religious folks aren't amazing at making it even scarier. One guy, or one family, deciding they've had enough is one thing. But a whole faith community that was basically safe? Intentional infections? Contaminating public water supplies? This stuff is nuts.
My worst service since we started was Easter. Easter season just ended last week, and it was relief. The dead rising isn't good news anymore. It's a terrifying fact of life.
I've been dodging around the issue but sooner or later I am going to need a theological reason to keep on as I have been. It needs to WORK, because if it doesn't, then I'm just a guy with a good imagination and great blinders.
Still working on that.
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
I know that everyone down south probably doesn't want to hear this... but I am already getting tired of this heat. We've really needed the rain we've had for the last couple of weeks, but combined with the heat the humidity is just getting ridiculous, and the mud is making Runs more dangerous. Just yesterday I had a bad stumble when I hit a patch of mud. I was just jogging for the sake of moving faster, but if there'd been groaners on me...
Well, then, this blog would have one poster less.
I get more and more reports these days about the different Doomsday cults that are out there, a lot of them Post-Christian. I think the Commandant likes sharing those stories with me... like he's telling me to give up the whole faith thing and just be another runner.
Sometimes, I'm tempted.
It's not a uniquely religious thing... suicide rates have been flat out ugly since the Cameras bled, but darned if we religious folks aren't amazing at making it even scarier. One guy, or one family, deciding they've had enough is one thing. But a whole faith community that was basically safe? Intentional infections? Contaminating public water supplies? This stuff is nuts.
My worst service since we started was Easter. Easter season just ended last week, and it was relief. The dead rising isn't good news anymore. It's a terrifying fact of life.
I've been dodging around the issue but sooner or later I am going to need a theological reason to keep on as I have been. It needs to WORK, because if it doesn't, then I'm just a guy with a good imagination and great blinders.
Still working on that.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Challenges of post-apocalyptic living
Alice Webb
Outside the DFWQZ
East Texas
So for the first time ever, I'm updating at night. Why? Well, mainly because I can't sleep. We've had storms, zoms, power outages...everything you can imagine has happened the past few weeks. It's been hectic and crazy.
The storms just keep coming. When I wrote last, I figured the worst was over, because this is Texas and we never get rain like this. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. It's been like the biblical flood. I wish I could send pictures, because this shit is cray cray. (Speaking of crazy, if I don't seem like myself...I've had a few weeks of being pent up. My brain is fried.) Anyway, trying to be productive lately has been a losing battle. The animals have been panicky in the storms, zoms keep prowling around/getting shredded by the storms, and oh yeah, our shelter freaking FLOODED. We had to pump it last week, and then work really hard to make it more water proof, but for a few days we were sloshing around in ankle-deep water. At least the babies had fun.
We're running into difficulties as the weather changes. For one, it's hot. Really really really hot. And I don't know if you've ever slept in a metal-walled bunker room in 100 degree weather with...eleven adults and two children, but it's truly horrible in ways that only sleeping in a hot room with a bunch of other sweaty people can be. It smells. And the beds and cots start to smell. And since we all don't exactly wash like we used to anyway, it smells even worse. Everyone makes noises when they sleep-snoring, mumbling, heavy breathing, the whole shebang. The babies cry every so often. At least we can take naps during the day.
That, however, is why I'm able to write to you at night. We have been attempting to sleep in our own house again. We have doors and windows barred, and we have dogs inside and out, plus we rotate shifts of keeping watch, but...for the first time in months, I have been able to sleep in my own bed. And it was glorious. But I drew a watch in the middle of the night, and after I finished I couldn't fall back asleep.
I do have to say though, that first night was terrible, and this week in general has been difficult. I didn't sleep all that night. I kept waking up at every little sound. And it was hot in the house, though much better than the shelter. Mostly though, I just kept worrying. It was like my brain wouldn't shut off, all these horrible scenarios running through my mind. I know my dad was scared, too. He doesn't feel like the house is safe enough, and honestly, he's probably right-if a big group came through we'd be pretty screwed. But we have to do something.
We did rescue a few of the semis from the city, and we met up with the other survivors last week. They went to a freaking Lowe's. Apparently it's pretty clean in terms of zoms. My dad's hoping he can exchange some of our food for their finds-I think he wants to try and build another safety structure, one that can fit us all better. He keeps talking about a cement block shelter, since we probably can't do another shipping container one. We'll see how it goes.
Going to try and get some shut-eye again. I still need to talk about the storms, but I'll have to do it later. Maybe we'll get some sun tomorrow.
Luck and love, all.
Alice
Outside the DFWQZ
East Texas
So for the first time ever, I'm updating at night. Why? Well, mainly because I can't sleep. We've had storms, zoms, power outages...everything you can imagine has happened the past few weeks. It's been hectic and crazy.
The storms just keep coming. When I wrote last, I figured the worst was over, because this is Texas and we never get rain like this. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. It's been like the biblical flood. I wish I could send pictures, because this shit is cray cray. (Speaking of crazy, if I don't seem like myself...I've had a few weeks of being pent up. My brain is fried.) Anyway, trying to be productive lately has been a losing battle. The animals have been panicky in the storms, zoms keep prowling around/getting shredded by the storms, and oh yeah, our shelter freaking FLOODED. We had to pump it last week, and then work really hard to make it more water proof, but for a few days we were sloshing around in ankle-deep water. At least the babies had fun.
We're running into difficulties as the weather changes. For one, it's hot. Really really really hot. And I don't know if you've ever slept in a metal-walled bunker room in 100 degree weather with...eleven adults and two children, but it's truly horrible in ways that only sleeping in a hot room with a bunch of other sweaty people can be. It smells. And the beds and cots start to smell. And since we all don't exactly wash like we used to anyway, it smells even worse. Everyone makes noises when they sleep-snoring, mumbling, heavy breathing, the whole shebang. The babies cry every so often. At least we can take naps during the day.
That, however, is why I'm able to write to you at night. We have been attempting to sleep in our own house again. We have doors and windows barred, and we have dogs inside and out, plus we rotate shifts of keeping watch, but...for the first time in months, I have been able to sleep in my own bed. And it was glorious. But I drew a watch in the middle of the night, and after I finished I couldn't fall back asleep.
I do have to say though, that first night was terrible, and this week in general has been difficult. I didn't sleep all that night. I kept waking up at every little sound. And it was hot in the house, though much better than the shelter. Mostly though, I just kept worrying. It was like my brain wouldn't shut off, all these horrible scenarios running through my mind. I know my dad was scared, too. He doesn't feel like the house is safe enough, and honestly, he's probably right-if a big group came through we'd be pretty screwed. But we have to do something.
We did rescue a few of the semis from the city, and we met up with the other survivors last week. They went to a freaking Lowe's. Apparently it's pretty clean in terms of zoms. My dad's hoping he can exchange some of our food for their finds-I think he wants to try and build another safety structure, one that can fit us all better. He keeps talking about a cement block shelter, since we probably can't do another shipping container one. We'll see how it goes.
Going to try and get some shut-eye again. I still need to talk about the storms, but I'll have to do it later. Maybe we'll get some sun tomorrow.
Luck and love, all.
Alice
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Mother Nature says "Nope"
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, Georgia, US
Small window here to talk:
Horrible weather this week. They aren't even loading the aircraft, wherever they are, so no traffic will be coming through. It's been raining off and on here as well, which is nice in some ways.
We won't be heading back but we also will be powered down for the weekend. Fine by me, the QZ will be a mud hole with all this rain.
Not much more to tell. Stay safe and try to stay dry if you're in the eastern US.
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, Georgia, US
Small window here to talk:
Horrible weather this week. They aren't even loading the aircraft, wherever they are, so no traffic will be coming through. It's been raining off and on here as well, which is nice in some ways.
We won't be heading back but we also will be powered down for the weekend. Fine by me, the QZ will be a mud hole with all this rain.
Not much more to tell. Stay safe and try to stay dry if you're in the eastern US.
Monday, May 25, 2015
My long lost, but not so lost, friend
Jason Duncan
Big Bend region, Florida
I grew up in a small town in the Florida Panhandle. I went to a small school that taught all grades, from preschool to high school. I started there in middle school. One of my best friends was this kid named Howard. Howard and I were thick as thieves through all of our formative years. We were inseparable barring serious illness.
I found the fucker. He found me. Whatever. In this crazy bullshit, this chaos panic and disorder, we crossed paths at just the right moment. Five minutes either way and we'd have passed one another, likely never to see each other again. He was sitting on the hood of a car on a long stretch of county road between two towns. Just sitting there. Said he had just walked out of the woods and was about to head back out again when he heard my engine. I told him it might be foolish for him to just sit out there exposed like that. Not everyone is friendly these days. More so than before.
He stayed in the panhandle after graduation while I moved on to explore and sew my oats. When this shit kicked off earlier in the year, he tried to hold out with his family, but apparently they succumbed and were lost. His words..."they were lost." He gets the glassy eyed stare when he says it, so I'm not pressing for details. He said he got on his mountain bike with a backpack and started riding. There are a lot of long dirt roads up there and I imagine you can make it a pretty fair distance without passing many of the dead. He says he made it almost to Tallahassee before he ran into real trouble. Again the glassy stare. He was trying to get to South Florida because the news said there were refugee centers and evacuation points all over the place.
I explained how wrong that was now. Maybe if he had driven, he'd have made it sooner... would have missed this rendezvous .... I'm glad he didn't. How selfish is that? I'm glad he suffered longer because it brought us together.
Shit. I suck.
We're going to try for Apalachicola or St. Joe or something. I want to stay near the water. They don't seem to like the water. There was a pretty small population there before. Maybe there are still survivors. I still don't want to go to a QZ and I've convinced Howard we shouldn't even attempt it. I hope I'm right.
He's riding with me now. I've got enough supplies for both of us to make it a long while if nothing too shitty happens. Yeah. I know.
UPDATES: The laptop turned on again by itself. Still didn't do anything significant.
There are deer everywhere. I think it's more than there used to be. Lots of other wildlife. I guess the lack of traffic isn't wearing there numbers down lower like it had been. Either way, it's keeping us better fed.
Will advise.
Big Bend region, Florida
I grew up in a small town in the Florida Panhandle. I went to a small school that taught all grades, from preschool to high school. I started there in middle school. One of my best friends was this kid named Howard. Howard and I were thick as thieves through all of our formative years. We were inseparable barring serious illness.
I found the fucker. He found me. Whatever. In this crazy bullshit, this chaos panic and disorder, we crossed paths at just the right moment. Five minutes either way and we'd have passed one another, likely never to see each other again. He was sitting on the hood of a car on a long stretch of county road between two towns. Just sitting there. Said he had just walked out of the woods and was about to head back out again when he heard my engine. I told him it might be foolish for him to just sit out there exposed like that. Not everyone is friendly these days. More so than before.
He stayed in the panhandle after graduation while I moved on to explore and sew my oats. When this shit kicked off earlier in the year, he tried to hold out with his family, but apparently they succumbed and were lost. His words..."they were lost." He gets the glassy eyed stare when he says it, so I'm not pressing for details. He said he got on his mountain bike with a backpack and started riding. There are a lot of long dirt roads up there and I imagine you can make it a pretty fair distance without passing many of the dead. He says he made it almost to Tallahassee before he ran into real trouble. Again the glassy stare. He was trying to get to South Florida because the news said there were refugee centers and evacuation points all over the place.
I explained how wrong that was now. Maybe if he had driven, he'd have made it sooner... would have missed this rendezvous .... I'm glad he didn't. How selfish is that? I'm glad he suffered longer because it brought us together.
Shit. I suck.
We're going to try for Apalachicola or St. Joe or something. I want to stay near the water. They don't seem to like the water. There was a pretty small population there before. Maybe there are still survivors. I still don't want to go to a QZ and I've convinced Howard we shouldn't even attempt it. I hope I'm right.
He's riding with me now. I've got enough supplies for both of us to make it a long while if nothing too shitty happens. Yeah. I know.
UPDATES: The laptop turned on again by itself. Still didn't do anything significant.
There are deer everywhere. I think it's more than there used to be. Lots of other wildlife. I guess the lack of traffic isn't wearing there numbers down lower like it had been. Either way, it's keeping us better fed.
Will advise.
I should probably be dead.
Sarah Evans
QZ Zone, Central California
How the fuck am I surviving in this place? I guess I'm lucky QZs exist. If they weren't here, I probably would have just covered myself in salt and grenades and run screaming at the nearest pile of uglies.
After seeing that there are other places that have been killing off non-essential animals, I'm even more grateful that my cat is content to sit in my room and chill by himself. The noises make him nervous but he has a window, and if I lost him after losing everything else I'd probably go insane.
I'm almost certain my family is dead. I hear my mom in my head sometimes, just laughing or the way she'd tell me that I could survive anything, but...my depression, you guys, it's kicking my ass.
I mean I guess at least I've lost weight in this situation, that's something. But it's harder and harder to get out of bed. It's harder and harder to come on here and read your words and form words of my own that are even remotely coherent.
I wish I had faith. I wish that I'd found it again after I lost it. Maybe believing in a higher power would make this easier.
I wish I just knew, you know? One way or the other. If they were alive or not. I wish I just knew. Then I could stop living in this world of "but what if they're not dead, though?" Then I could stop thinking that maybe I should just do it again, take my cat and my laptop and my car and head to Missouri, try to find them. It'd be suicide.
I miss them so much. It was different to be apart from them when I knew they were just a phone call or Facebook message or text away.
Sorry for being a Debbie Downer. I just have to be so positive all the time here, for the kids. Keep that customer service game face on.
Anyways, I'm still alive. Sort of. Hang in there.
QZ Zone, Central California
How the fuck am I surviving in this place? I guess I'm lucky QZs exist. If they weren't here, I probably would have just covered myself in salt and grenades and run screaming at the nearest pile of uglies.
After seeing that there are other places that have been killing off non-essential animals, I'm even more grateful that my cat is content to sit in my room and chill by himself. The noises make him nervous but he has a window, and if I lost him after losing everything else I'd probably go insane.
I'm almost certain my family is dead. I hear my mom in my head sometimes, just laughing or the way she'd tell me that I could survive anything, but...my depression, you guys, it's kicking my ass.
I mean I guess at least I've lost weight in this situation, that's something. But it's harder and harder to get out of bed. It's harder and harder to come on here and read your words and form words of my own that are even remotely coherent.
I wish I had faith. I wish that I'd found it again after I lost it. Maybe believing in a higher power would make this easier.
I wish I just knew, you know? One way or the other. If they were alive or not. I wish I just knew. Then I could stop living in this world of "but what if they're not dead, though?" Then I could stop thinking that maybe I should just do it again, take my cat and my laptop and my car and head to Missouri, try to find them. It'd be suicide.
I miss them so much. It was different to be apart from them when I knew they were just a phone call or Facebook message or text away.
Sorry for being a Debbie Downer. I just have to be so positive all the time here, for the kids. Keep that customer service game face on.
Anyways, I'm still alive. Sort of. Hang in there.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
I've decided this isn't real, it's all a movie.
Jason Duncan
North of Ocala, Central Florida
Quick updates first:
There is a significant quarantine zone located just South of Ocala. I didn't stop in. I'm not interested in crowds or some asshole telling me what to do, or worse trying to take my shit. I saw it from the closest thing that area has to a hill. They surrounded some kind of warehouse complex or industrial park with freight containers. Those are pretty stout and should provide lots of protections. There were fires inside but they looked contained, maybe for cooking. I also saw some assorted camp fires on the drive last night. I don't know where I'm going yet. North for now. We'll see.
I've stopped counting or trying to remember all the dead and semi-dead that I've killed. You've all had your fill and telling another story about another groaner put down wouldn't really add to the knowledge base. It's still a daily occurrence that I have to fight for my life at least once. The ratio of screamers to groaners seems about the same everywhere I've been.
So, all of this is a dream or some kind of movie. Remember that zombie movie from a few years back where the guy runs into his girlfriend from high school during the zombie apocalypse?
Yeah.... well it's not my ex girlfriend. My best friend from middle and high school just fell into my path. I just logged on here to tell you guys about the QZ. We've got some catching up to do. I'll be back on tomorrow hopefully and fill you in. This is nuts.
EDIT* I'm going to kill this motherfucker. Five minutes into catching up, he reminds me that we'll likely never eat pizza rolls again. Pray for him.
North of Ocala, Central Florida
Quick updates first:
There is a significant quarantine zone located just South of Ocala. I didn't stop in. I'm not interested in crowds or some asshole telling me what to do, or worse trying to take my shit. I saw it from the closest thing that area has to a hill. They surrounded some kind of warehouse complex or industrial park with freight containers. Those are pretty stout and should provide lots of protections. There were fires inside but they looked contained, maybe for cooking. I also saw some assorted camp fires on the drive last night. I don't know where I'm going yet. North for now. We'll see.
I've stopped counting or trying to remember all the dead and semi-dead that I've killed. You've all had your fill and telling another story about another groaner put down wouldn't really add to the knowledge base. It's still a daily occurrence that I have to fight for my life at least once. The ratio of screamers to groaners seems about the same everywhere I've been.
So, all of this is a dream or some kind of movie. Remember that zombie movie from a few years back where the guy runs into his girlfriend from high school during the zombie apocalypse?
Yeah.... well it's not my ex girlfriend. My best friend from middle and high school just fell into my path. I just logged on here to tell you guys about the QZ. We've got some catching up to do. I'll be back on tomorrow hopefully and fill you in. This is nuts.
EDIT* I'm going to kill this motherfucker. Five minutes into catching up, he reminds me that we'll likely never eat pizza rolls again. Pray for him.
Focusing on the Positives
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Today isn't the best day for flying, but planes are making it out anyway. There's apparently a whole lot of cloud cover over the Midwest, so those air-access QZs probably won't get their drops till tomorrow. There are also storms to the northeast of here, so NC-VA area is probably going to have to wait too. The weather's been weird.
I wish I had good things to say, it seems like this week has been really difficult on everyone.
Unloading bad things first:
1) There apparently was a breach at my QZ. Someone left the northwest gate unlatched, I think. The commandant was inquiring whether it was our departure that left it open, but we left a day earlier and we don't touch the gates. The guards handle that.
Five or so groaners got in, made a bunch of noise, and got bludgeoned. No casualties, I think, but I'm speculating that the commandant is going to use it as a scare for some policy wrangling. Glad I'm not there.
2) The creeks leading into Jackson Lake had reduced flow over the last few days, despite the rain. A group headed up to find out what the problem was and found it choked with groaners. As if the lake wasn't toxic enough, it's very likely that it has been contaminated with the contagion too.
3) The Robins QZ reported that they were completely out of antibiotics and there's a significant outbreak of some intestinal disease there. If one disease doesn't kill us, there's a whole lineup of secondaries. Some of the camp problem-solvers are working on trying to get a general aviation plane over there for a drop, though we don't have a lot of antibiotics ourselves.
Good things:
1) I communicated the information about animals to a couple of vets in the QZ, and they're working on convincing the commandant to allow some more livestock in. Dr Stamper has a theory that the dead respond to sounds that would attract attention to a normal human. Sounds we drown out, like distant dogs barking, birds singing, etc don't draw attention. A police siren, a shattering window, or a roaring engine, however, do make our ears perk up, and all three of these things are guaranteed to attract groaners by the dozens.
2) An idea Dr. Stamper and I had a few weeks ago about trying to do a population map around Atlanta got approved. There are scout groups scattered all over, and with some good book-keeping we should be able to make something like a heat-map of where the biggest groups of uglies are, and with a few weeks of data, maybe we can figure out some general movement trends. As far as I know, Atlanta is one of the few locations with enough able manpower to actually cover this.
3) Most of our food is preserved stuff looted from surrounding stores and warehouses, mixed with MRE components. Some professors from the UGA location near here did some soil tests and came up with a plan to start growing food nearby, so we can sustain our population. This is a big step physically, because food rationing leaves everyone hungry and emotionally because the support they're getting represents a big shift in the camp attitude to taking their own initiative to help. Morale is low as ever, but there seems to be an investment in the community that I hadn't seen before. That's something.
4) Another group of people from our QZ cleared a field that surrounded a broken aircraft beacon. They used a bunch of blue tarp (courtesy of the Home Depot distribution center) and marked out a gigantic crosshair in the field. With a repaired fence, it is now a relatively secure location that is already marked on aircraft charts and very clearly marked visually. We should now be able to get air-dropped goods of our own if needed.
Out to do my rounds. I hope the good news carries you on. Stay safe!
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
Today isn't the best day for flying, but planes are making it out anyway. There's apparently a whole lot of cloud cover over the Midwest, so those air-access QZs probably won't get their drops till tomorrow. There are also storms to the northeast of here, so NC-VA area is probably going to have to wait too. The weather's been weird.
I wish I had good things to say, it seems like this week has been really difficult on everyone.
Unloading bad things first:
1) There apparently was a breach at my QZ. Someone left the northwest gate unlatched, I think. The commandant was inquiring whether it was our departure that left it open, but we left a day earlier and we don't touch the gates. The guards handle that.
Five or so groaners got in, made a bunch of noise, and got bludgeoned. No casualties, I think, but I'm speculating that the commandant is going to use it as a scare for some policy wrangling. Glad I'm not there.
2) The creeks leading into Jackson Lake had reduced flow over the last few days, despite the rain. A group headed up to find out what the problem was and found it choked with groaners. As if the lake wasn't toxic enough, it's very likely that it has been contaminated with the contagion too.
3) The Robins QZ reported that they were completely out of antibiotics and there's a significant outbreak of some intestinal disease there. If one disease doesn't kill us, there's a whole lineup of secondaries. Some of the camp problem-solvers are working on trying to get a general aviation plane over there for a drop, though we don't have a lot of antibiotics ourselves.
Good things:
1) I communicated the information about animals to a couple of vets in the QZ, and they're working on convincing the commandant to allow some more livestock in. Dr Stamper has a theory that the dead respond to sounds that would attract attention to a normal human. Sounds we drown out, like distant dogs barking, birds singing, etc don't draw attention. A police siren, a shattering window, or a roaring engine, however, do make our ears perk up, and all three of these things are guaranteed to attract groaners by the dozens.
2) An idea Dr. Stamper and I had a few weeks ago about trying to do a population map around Atlanta got approved. There are scout groups scattered all over, and with some good book-keeping we should be able to make something like a heat-map of where the biggest groups of uglies are, and with a few weeks of data, maybe we can figure out some general movement trends. As far as I know, Atlanta is one of the few locations with enough able manpower to actually cover this.
3) Most of our food is preserved stuff looted from surrounding stores and warehouses, mixed with MRE components. Some professors from the UGA location near here did some soil tests and came up with a plan to start growing food nearby, so we can sustain our population. This is a big step physically, because food rationing leaves everyone hungry and emotionally because the support they're getting represents a big shift in the camp attitude to taking their own initiative to help. Morale is low as ever, but there seems to be an investment in the community that I hadn't seen before. That's something.
4) Another group of people from our QZ cleared a field that surrounded a broken aircraft beacon. They used a bunch of blue tarp (courtesy of the Home Depot distribution center) and marked out a gigantic crosshair in the field. With a repaired fence, it is now a relatively secure location that is already marked on aircraft charts and very clearly marked visually. We should now be able to get air-dropped goods of our own if needed.
Out to do my rounds. I hope the good news carries you on. Stay safe!
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
"Vacation" is over
Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
If exercise really is the cure for what ails you, I might never die at this rate.
After a few days out of commission with the kidney stone, I have had my runner missions outside of town DOUBLED to "make up" for time lost while I was FOB. I don't mind the extra work, at least it gives me stuff to do, but it would be a lot easier to handle if it didn't feel like the Commandant still had it out for me.
My services are continuing, but morale is about as low as it's been since we arrived. Folks mainly stop by and listen as something to do, and then head on with... whatever else is next, often to see if someone else is speaking. I have a handful of consistent attenders... my wife, a kid I sometimes run with named Dave, and three blue hairs from my congregation before this all started. Rose is there out of loyalty to me, Dave comes along because I make him laugh... but those three...
Their names are Joanne, Jane, and Judy. The three J's. They had already buried most of their families before the world ended, and seem just as content to weather this world as they were the last one. Their faith... it's real, it's strong, and sometimes it's all that keeps me going.
Well, that and you guys, thanks for all the comments.
I think the government, or whoever it is organizing the QZ's, knows about Tampa. They've been muttering about it for days and then I saw your update, Jason. I am so sorry to hear about Emily, keep moving, keep going. There's got to be a place you can hole up, safe. Find people you can trust.
Though that can be hard, when some people have a huge problem trusting you. I have another run with Dave in an hour or so, gonna go spend it with my wife before we hit the road. It's so hard on her when I go out... She knows I can easily outpace Droolers and Groaners, but I've been lucky so far not to run into any screamers up close.
Hell of a way to spend your anniversary.
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
If exercise really is the cure for what ails you, I might never die at this rate.
After a few days out of commission with the kidney stone, I have had my runner missions outside of town DOUBLED to "make up" for time lost while I was FOB. I don't mind the extra work, at least it gives me stuff to do, but it would be a lot easier to handle if it didn't feel like the Commandant still had it out for me.
My services are continuing, but morale is about as low as it's been since we arrived. Folks mainly stop by and listen as something to do, and then head on with... whatever else is next, often to see if someone else is speaking. I have a handful of consistent attenders... my wife, a kid I sometimes run with named Dave, and three blue hairs from my congregation before this all started. Rose is there out of loyalty to me, Dave comes along because I make him laugh... but those three...
Their names are Joanne, Jane, and Judy. The three J's. They had already buried most of their families before the world ended, and seem just as content to weather this world as they were the last one. Their faith... it's real, it's strong, and sometimes it's all that keeps me going.
Well, that and you guys, thanks for all the comments.
I think the government, or whoever it is organizing the QZ's, knows about Tampa. They've been muttering about it for days and then I saw your update, Jason. I am so sorry to hear about Emily, keep moving, keep going. There's got to be a place you can hole up, safe. Find people you can trust.
Though that can be hard, when some people have a huge problem trusting you. I have another run with Dave in an hour or so, gonna go spend it with my wife before we hit the road. It's so hard on her when I go out... She knows I can easily outpace Droolers and Groaners, but I've been lucky so far not to run into any screamers up close.
Hell of a way to spend your anniversary.
Monday, May 18, 2015
It's been a long time
Aspen Larson
Twin Cities QZ
I know it's been awhile since I've posted. I almost got caught smuggling and I've had to be really careful about spending my ration cards.
Conditions are deteriorating in here. Rules are becoming stricter. All alcohol is now officially being confiscated. People are regularly having their apartments ransacked and searched for weapons. More and more people are dying while on perimeter clean-up. I don't know how much longer it'll be safe in the outer districts. My apartment was searched, but like I mentioned before, Bast is good at hiding since she hates strangers. I never keep my illicit stuff in there. I've got a cache elsewhere for that shit. But the barriers outside are being worn down. There's too many people here, too much noise and light. It attracts them for miles around.
Dan - if you have any kind of contact with your family you may want to warn them. If they did make it to the QZ and are living in the outer districts they need to at least move into the inner cities, but ideally they should get out.
I'm going to stay as long as possible. I might head out and see if anyone is left in what remains of the Fargo QZ after that. I don't know where I'll be going if there's nothing left. I can't stay in Fargo, it'll be too cold come winter. There's no way anyone will survive. Then again, zombies still freeze solid, and honestly I'd rather die of exposure than being bitten.
It's been a long time since I've admitted I was scared. I couldn't afford to be scared before. Even being caught smuggling doesn't scare me much anymore. But I've grown too comfortable here. And now my safety is stretching thin.
I'm scared.
Twin Cities QZ
I know it's been awhile since I've posted. I almost got caught smuggling and I've had to be really careful about spending my ration cards.
Conditions are deteriorating in here. Rules are becoming stricter. All alcohol is now officially being confiscated. People are regularly having their apartments ransacked and searched for weapons. More and more people are dying while on perimeter clean-up. I don't know how much longer it'll be safe in the outer districts. My apartment was searched, but like I mentioned before, Bast is good at hiding since she hates strangers. I never keep my illicit stuff in there. I've got a cache elsewhere for that shit. But the barriers outside are being worn down. There's too many people here, too much noise and light. It attracts them for miles around.
Dan - if you have any kind of contact with your family you may want to warn them. If they did make it to the QZ and are living in the outer districts they need to at least move into the inner cities, but ideally they should get out.
I'm going to stay as long as possible. I might head out and see if anyone is left in what remains of the Fargo QZ after that. I don't know where I'll be going if there's nothing left. I can't stay in Fargo, it'll be too cold come winter. There's no way anyone will survive. Then again, zombies still freeze solid, and honestly I'd rather die of exposure than being bitten.
It's been a long time since I've admitted I was scared. I couldn't afford to be scared before. Even being caught smuggling doesn't scare me much anymore. But I've grown too comfortable here. And now my safety is stretching thin.
I'm scared.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Emily is dead. Tampa is gone. I think. Everything has changed.
Jason Duncan
Central Florida
Alone
I was working on the truck and I must have fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of her screaming. He must not have seen me or something. He was on top of her. I have no idea where he came from. He had a gun in his pants but they were around his ankles already. He saw me running at him and tried to pull the gun. It went off and he shot her. He hit her just below the jaw. At least it was quick. I didn't have a gun on me. Shit. I thought she was having a nightmare or something. I didn't react like I should have. I beat him to death with a fire extinguisher. I don't even know where it came from. I don't remember picking it up. I don't remember hitting him with it. I just remember when I stopped. His head was caved in and so was his rib cage. I was covered in blood. His, mine, hers. All three. I don't know. We were just starting to really connect and she was opening up to me. I have no idea where this guy came from. He didn't have any gear. No pack. No weapon other than the pistol in his pants.
I covered her up at first. I was going to just stay there. Keep living there. I don't know what I was thinking. Like I could just carry on. There was no way I could clean up what was left of her enough that I wouldn't remember...wouldn't see her face when I looked around the overpass. We had only been ...what? Living together? This isn't living. We had only known each other a short time but she was my only companion. Everything, every spot, all of it, that whole overpass was shared with her. Her memory would have been everywhere.
I loaded up the truck with as much shit as I could. My plan was to just drive off and leave it all behind. One of my roof top garden was near a big cache I had created. I was planning to make that my new home of sorts. I was already planning how to clear the area around it. Maybe secure it with some makeshift walls or abandoned vehicles. I was almost off the bridge when I remembered Emily. I had just left her sitting there. I threw some clothes over her and just drove off. I thought about eating a bullet just then. How could I leave my friend like that? I walked back and sat next to her for a good while. I burned it all. Everything left, all the supplies, the fuel, the food, the weapons, the ammo, everything. Viking funeral. That made me think. That got me to the next step. Boat.
I had found a fuel barge in the bay. I poured gallons of stabilizer into it. That was my golden nugget. I never told you guys about it. Didn't really trust you in the beginning. Doesn't matter now. Nothing back there matters now.
Near the fuel barge there was another barge. I think it was originally a construction barge used to store materials for bridges or something. When I found it, the thing was beached and everything on the deck was gone. There was a tug still attached at the back of it sticking out into the water. I created my big cache inside the tug. The rooftop garden was a short walk away. It was high enough off the ground that the dead couldn't get on top. I'd be safe there until I figured out my next move.
The second day of living on the boat there was a storm. The monsoon season of Florida is now upon us pretty seriously. It storms most afternoons now but that day was the first big one. I think it was 7 or 8 days ago. I've lost track.
The storm was really a bad one. Hail and lots of thunder. The thunder is how they got so close to me. I guess the guy I lobotomized had friends. Maybe they came looking for him. Maybe they found me by accident. I don't know. I didn't ask questions. They were on the barge looking around before I had time to react. They had guns and they looked angry. Other than Emily these three guys were the first people I'd seen since leaving St. Pete but I could just tell they weren't friendly. There was something about the way they walked and looked around. They were hunting. They were not friends.
I jumped in the water. The thunder covered my noise too. They did see me as I climbed up onto the fuel barge though. The first guy yelled and told me to stop. He said "Come here." I almost stopped climbing up the side of the barge. I almost listened to the guy. I probably didn't hesitate for more than a split second but at the time it felt like hours. I kept climbing. That voice in the back of my brain screamed at me to climb. To run. To move. Flee.
I was over the top of the fuel barge and down the other side when one of them started shooting. The barge blew up. I don't know why. They always say the shit from the movies isn't true. Shooting a fuel tank doesn't make it blow up. Maybe lightning hit it. I really don't know. But it blew up. That's the last thing I remember for a little bit. I didn't die obviously. The blast must have thrown me clear enough that the flames didn't get me. I came to on some pieces of a wooden dock that were floating in the water. My back and legs were burnt hairless but not too bad other than that. I found the truck where I'd parked it a block away.
The barge was gone. The tug was gone. The rooftop garden was gone. I had other caches in the area but I didn't care. I just drove. It wasn't until about an hour later I saw the glow behind me. The fire from the barge was spreading a bit when I left. Apparently it spread pretty well. Even with the storm still raging the fire took hold. I didn't go back to check, so I can't confirm, but I'm going to say Tampa is a complete ruin. There are undoubtedly parts left untouched. It can't all be gone. But the flames were hundreds of feet in the air and covering most of my field of view behind me when they faded under the horizon.
I saw more of the dead on that drive than I could count. I avoided the big groups and plowed through the smaller ones. The fire seemed to attract them. They were walking towards the light. Even the ones I saw on side streets that didn't see me, they were heading towards the flames. I hope it wiped out a bunch of them.
I'm done with that city. I'm close to Ocala now. I haven't stopped moving yet for more than a few hours to sleep here and there. I don't know this area and I don't feel safe.
Will advise.
Central Florida
Alone
I was working on the truck and I must have fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of her screaming. He must not have seen me or something. He was on top of her. I have no idea where he came from. He had a gun in his pants but they were around his ankles already. He saw me running at him and tried to pull the gun. It went off and he shot her. He hit her just below the jaw. At least it was quick. I didn't have a gun on me. Shit. I thought she was having a nightmare or something. I didn't react like I should have. I beat him to death with a fire extinguisher. I don't even know where it came from. I don't remember picking it up. I don't remember hitting him with it. I just remember when I stopped. His head was caved in and so was his rib cage. I was covered in blood. His, mine, hers. All three. I don't know. We were just starting to really connect and she was opening up to me. I have no idea where this guy came from. He didn't have any gear. No pack. No weapon other than the pistol in his pants.
I covered her up at first. I was going to just stay there. Keep living there. I don't know what I was thinking. Like I could just carry on. There was no way I could clean up what was left of her enough that I wouldn't remember...wouldn't see her face when I looked around the overpass. We had only been ...what? Living together? This isn't living. We had only known each other a short time but she was my only companion. Everything, every spot, all of it, that whole overpass was shared with her. Her memory would have been everywhere.
I loaded up the truck with as much shit as I could. My plan was to just drive off and leave it all behind. One of my roof top garden was near a big cache I had created. I was planning to make that my new home of sorts. I was already planning how to clear the area around it. Maybe secure it with some makeshift walls or abandoned vehicles. I was almost off the bridge when I remembered Emily. I had just left her sitting there. I threw some clothes over her and just drove off. I thought about eating a bullet just then. How could I leave my friend like that? I walked back and sat next to her for a good while. I burned it all. Everything left, all the supplies, the fuel, the food, the weapons, the ammo, everything. Viking funeral. That made me think. That got me to the next step. Boat.
I had found a fuel barge in the bay. I poured gallons of stabilizer into it. That was my golden nugget. I never told you guys about it. Didn't really trust you in the beginning. Doesn't matter now. Nothing back there matters now.
Near the fuel barge there was another barge. I think it was originally a construction barge used to store materials for bridges or something. When I found it, the thing was beached and everything on the deck was gone. There was a tug still attached at the back of it sticking out into the water. I created my big cache inside the tug. The rooftop garden was a short walk away. It was high enough off the ground that the dead couldn't get on top. I'd be safe there until I figured out my next move.
The second day of living on the boat there was a storm. The monsoon season of Florida is now upon us pretty seriously. It storms most afternoons now but that day was the first big one. I think it was 7 or 8 days ago. I've lost track.
The storm was really a bad one. Hail and lots of thunder. The thunder is how they got so close to me. I guess the guy I lobotomized had friends. Maybe they came looking for him. Maybe they found me by accident. I don't know. I didn't ask questions. They were on the barge looking around before I had time to react. They had guns and they looked angry. Other than Emily these three guys were the first people I'd seen since leaving St. Pete but I could just tell they weren't friendly. There was something about the way they walked and looked around. They were hunting. They were not friends.
I jumped in the water. The thunder covered my noise too. They did see me as I climbed up onto the fuel barge though. The first guy yelled and told me to stop. He said "Come here." I almost stopped climbing up the side of the barge. I almost listened to the guy. I probably didn't hesitate for more than a split second but at the time it felt like hours. I kept climbing. That voice in the back of my brain screamed at me to climb. To run. To move. Flee.
I was over the top of the fuel barge and down the other side when one of them started shooting. The barge blew up. I don't know why. They always say the shit from the movies isn't true. Shooting a fuel tank doesn't make it blow up. Maybe lightning hit it. I really don't know. But it blew up. That's the last thing I remember for a little bit. I didn't die obviously. The blast must have thrown me clear enough that the flames didn't get me. I came to on some pieces of a wooden dock that were floating in the water. My back and legs were burnt hairless but not too bad other than that. I found the truck where I'd parked it a block away.
The barge was gone. The tug was gone. The rooftop garden was gone. I had other caches in the area but I didn't care. I just drove. It wasn't until about an hour later I saw the glow behind me. The fire from the barge was spreading a bit when I left. Apparently it spread pretty well. Even with the storm still raging the fire took hold. I didn't go back to check, so I can't confirm, but I'm going to say Tampa is a complete ruin. There are undoubtedly parts left untouched. It can't all be gone. But the flames were hundreds of feet in the air and covering most of my field of view behind me when they faded under the horizon.
I saw more of the dead on that drive than I could count. I avoided the big groups and plowed through the smaller ones. The fire seemed to attract them. They were walking towards the light. Even the ones I saw on side streets that didn't see me, they were heading towards the flames. I hope it wiped out a bunch of them.
I'm done with that city. I'm close to Ocala now. I haven't stopped moving yet for more than a few hours to sleep here and there. I don't know this area and I don't feel safe.
Will advise.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Stormy Week
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
There's some storms to the west, apparently, so I don't know how much is going to get through this week. It doesn't seem bad, but the supply flights are all about avoiding risk.
Today I learned that Robins AFB to the south is a QZ, harboring many of the people from the Macon area and around there. They finally got their ATC radio up, so I picked up their traffic on the speakers as I listened yesterday morning.
Fortunately, I remember from a visit that the base has a bunch of maintenance facilities and stuff that will really come in handy while maintaining the C-130s that keep us alive. Unfortunately, Robins ATC pointed out to us that they cannot accept aircraft unless it's capable of vertical landing. I guess they packed in so many people from the area that the runways are crowded? I don't know.
Today, you all get to learn what my actual job is. I guess it might seem odd to have a crew of eight military folks, an Air Traffic Controller, two military civil engineers, and...a grad student?
Short answer: Steve, the ATC guy, has one hell of a case of PTSD. Like...worse than bad. He is fine as long as he's working, either actually controlling aircraft or plotting. It's stressful, but he explained to me that his job was something that was completely in his control. Maybe it takes his mind off the other stuff. When he's idle...well, that's my day job.
The QZ has a psychiatrist, Dr. Stamper. He ran with my group out of Atlanta during the fall and I got to know him. Unfortunately, he is the only psychiatrist in the entire QZ, and we absolutely cannot afford to risk moving him. Dr Stamper and I did a lot of talking on the way and we got a good rep. When Steve was found and the commandant wanted to crack open the ARTCC to try to make contact, I was recruited to be Dr. Stamper's avatar for Steve's treatment. He knew about my background in science and my smattering of courses on psychology, so he plopped a notepad in my lap and dumped a crash course on cognitive-behavioral therapy.
Nowadays, when Steve is off duty and we're staying in the building, I run him through what approximates a therapy of sorts. When he's having flashbacks, it's me that drags him into the present and gets him focused again. It's a lot more of the latter than the former.
There was a time when I contemplated becoming a psychologist myself. No more, not after this. I'll stick to my chemicals and my instruments and not having to pull someone out of a scene so horrible that they cannot escape it months later.
Out to do my rounds. Stay safe, everyone.
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
There's some storms to the west, apparently, so I don't know how much is going to get through this week. It doesn't seem bad, but the supply flights are all about avoiding risk.
Today I learned that Robins AFB to the south is a QZ, harboring many of the people from the Macon area and around there. They finally got their ATC radio up, so I picked up their traffic on the speakers as I listened yesterday morning.
Fortunately, I remember from a visit that the base has a bunch of maintenance facilities and stuff that will really come in handy while maintaining the C-130s that keep us alive. Unfortunately, Robins ATC pointed out to us that they cannot accept aircraft unless it's capable of vertical landing. I guess they packed in so many people from the area that the runways are crowded? I don't know.
Today, you all get to learn what my actual job is. I guess it might seem odd to have a crew of eight military folks, an Air Traffic Controller, two military civil engineers, and...a grad student?
Short answer: Steve, the ATC guy, has one hell of a case of PTSD. Like...worse than bad. He is fine as long as he's working, either actually controlling aircraft or plotting. It's stressful, but he explained to me that his job was something that was completely in his control. Maybe it takes his mind off the other stuff. When he's idle...well, that's my day job.
The QZ has a psychiatrist, Dr. Stamper. He ran with my group out of Atlanta during the fall and I got to know him. Unfortunately, he is the only psychiatrist in the entire QZ, and we absolutely cannot afford to risk moving him. Dr Stamper and I did a lot of talking on the way and we got a good rep. When Steve was found and the commandant wanted to crack open the ARTCC to try to make contact, I was recruited to be Dr. Stamper's avatar for Steve's treatment. He knew about my background in science and my smattering of courses on psychology, so he plopped a notepad in my lap and dumped a crash course on cognitive-behavioral therapy.
Nowadays, when Steve is off duty and we're staying in the building, I run him through what approximates a therapy of sorts. When he's having flashbacks, it's me that drags him into the present and gets him focused again. It's a lot more of the latter than the former.
There was a time when I contemplated becoming a psychologist myself. No more, not after this. I'll stick to my chemicals and my instruments and not having to pull someone out of a scene so horrible that they cannot escape it months later.
Out to do my rounds. Stay safe, everyone.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
I'm alive, and other updates.
Alice Webb
Outside the DFWQZ
East Texas
Hello all. Sorry this took so long-it's been an eventful few weeks. We had some really bad storms rip through here, one after another, one of which destroyed our antenna. We got a new one up yesterday, but only after a trip to the nearest town, which was...well. I'll get there, I guess.
Anyway, I'm back now, and hopefully will have an easier time posting. See, I told my dad about you. Marjolaine-I am so glad I found this, because we might be dead now if not for you. We've been running low on water resources, and my family has been trying to figure out what to do to fix that. We had been collecting off the roof of the old house, and we have a deep well that's covered, but my dad was considering trying to pump from a pond next door. We were in the process of boiling the water (there's still the usual run of diseases, don't forget to treat water for those!) when I saw your post, and immediately the boys went to drag the pond. Sure enough they found three decomposing zoms at the bottom, barely mobile and fish-eaten, but clearly zoms and not dead people. We didn't know if boiling it would kill whatever the infection is so right now it's just being used for the animals.
Which, by the way, it appears that none of the animals can get infected. We had a dog get chewed up pretty good in the last few weeks, poor baby. I convinced my dad to quarantine him and see what happened, so we muzzled him, washed him up, gave him a few stitches and then set him in an empty room with food and water. Two weeks later and he's healing nicely, with no signs of turning. We're waiting longer just in case it's different for the animals, but all signs point to this being a human-only infection, at least right now. No idea what would cause that but it's helpful. We're now rescuing every dog we see; they get a home and we get bodyguards. A part of me hates that they're our first line of defense, but at the same time we need all the help we can get.
My brother thinks he can train some younger ones to attack zoms on command. If he can do it, it will change everything. The dogs don't worry about getting bit, and the barking doesn't attract the zoms like human noises does. If they're in the vicinity they come towards it, but for the most part they seem to ignore them. As an aside, those of you outside the QZs, don't forget about sound camouflage. It's the mechanical sounds and human voices that seem to attract the most zoms. We had a car backfire a few weeks ago and it attracted a dozen or so zoms. It was not a great day. That was the day Deacon got chewed up, and we were so lucky to have him-my dad nearly got bit, and probably would have if not for him. Zoms came out of the trees at a run, probably the freshest ones we've seen since the outbreak, and it was touch and go for a while, especially since we try hard not to use guns so near the house.
At least one good thing came out of that, though. I'm not being treated like a kid so much now. My sister in law is teaching me archery, which I apparently have a knack for. My brothers found a weapons stockpile on one of their outings, some guy nearby was apparently a HUGE hunter. So they brought back a bunch of guns and ammo, but also like ten bows of all different sizes and shapes. They're so much quieter than the guns, and much more effective than axes, hammers, etc., at least if you can get in a head shot. And since I've got a way to defend myself now, a way I can really get good at without being in too much danger, my parents are letting me be a bit more independent. If my brother's right about the dogs it will help a lot too. So at least I'm not feeling so trapped.
It's going to be a long week. We're going to have to make daily excursions for a few days. One of the storms that hit us seems to have destroyed the closest town. My parents think there must have been a tornado, and having seen the damage, I'm pretty sure they're right. We're going to have to salvage all that we can this week, so it's all hands on deck. I'm even going. My sisters in law and me are going to take turns going, since my brother's girlfriend is no use, and someone has to stay with the babies who can protect them. It's not a huge town, so most of the zoms have already decayed too much to be dangerous, but we have to be careful. Plus we're hoping we can find survivors. We've driven through there once or twice but we've never stopped very long. Tomorrow's going to be the first big salvage trip, we're taking the trucks and the trailers, and dad wants to take any of the 18 wheelers left in decent shape. City was a big truck stop so there should be a few at least. I think he wants to build a mobile base, in case we ever have to leave here in a hurry. My question is what we're going to do for fuel. We've got plenty of gas for now, and fuel stabilizer seems to be help keep it usable, but that's not going to last forever. My brother keeps joking that we're going to go all Mad Max, trying to save fuel. It would be funnier if a part of me wasn't afraid that it's true.
So, what else? It's been so busy lately I'm having trouble keeping track in my head. Oh! We ran into other survivors. We were out scouting after the first round of storms and went further out than we've ever been. Saw their barricades and stopped, and they let us in. They were super happy to find out they're not alone. They're doing the same thing we're doing, trying to stay off the grid. We've got a better setup but they have more space, so we've made a safety deal should either of us get overrun. They're all a bit older than me, in their twenties. Basically a group of hippies who were trying to live off the grid. I would have envied them, before, and I really like them. Very friendly, helpful people, and we got a lot of news. They've been into Tyler, the biggest city out here, and apparently it got pretty overrun for a while. They think though that since the city is so spread out, and there's not really a high population density, there's still people living there, and that most of the zoms are decaying now. One of the guys, David, said he wants to try making another trip now that it's been a few months. There's such a high concentration of things we need. Dad says they're crazy to risk it, but I kind of understand why they would. I hope if they do it goes well and they stay safe.
I have to go now, but I'll try to post after we do the salvage this week. Wish us luck, it's going to be rough. All of you keep safe-lots of love.
Alice
Outside the DFWQZ
East Texas
Hello all. Sorry this took so long-it's been an eventful few weeks. We had some really bad storms rip through here, one after another, one of which destroyed our antenna. We got a new one up yesterday, but only after a trip to the nearest town, which was...well. I'll get there, I guess.
Anyway, I'm back now, and hopefully will have an easier time posting. See, I told my dad about you. Marjolaine-I am so glad I found this, because we might be dead now if not for you. We've been running low on water resources, and my family has been trying to figure out what to do to fix that. We had been collecting off the roof of the old house, and we have a deep well that's covered, but my dad was considering trying to pump from a pond next door. We were in the process of boiling the water (there's still the usual run of diseases, don't forget to treat water for those!) when I saw your post, and immediately the boys went to drag the pond. Sure enough they found three decomposing zoms at the bottom, barely mobile and fish-eaten, but clearly zoms and not dead people. We didn't know if boiling it would kill whatever the infection is so right now it's just being used for the animals.
Which, by the way, it appears that none of the animals can get infected. We had a dog get chewed up pretty good in the last few weeks, poor baby. I convinced my dad to quarantine him and see what happened, so we muzzled him, washed him up, gave him a few stitches and then set him in an empty room with food and water. Two weeks later and he's healing nicely, with no signs of turning. We're waiting longer just in case it's different for the animals, but all signs point to this being a human-only infection, at least right now. No idea what would cause that but it's helpful. We're now rescuing every dog we see; they get a home and we get bodyguards. A part of me hates that they're our first line of defense, but at the same time we need all the help we can get.
My brother thinks he can train some younger ones to attack zoms on command. If he can do it, it will change everything. The dogs don't worry about getting bit, and the barking doesn't attract the zoms like human noises does. If they're in the vicinity they come towards it, but for the most part they seem to ignore them. As an aside, those of you outside the QZs, don't forget about sound camouflage. It's the mechanical sounds and human voices that seem to attract the most zoms. We had a car backfire a few weeks ago and it attracted a dozen or so zoms. It was not a great day. That was the day Deacon got chewed up, and we were so lucky to have him-my dad nearly got bit, and probably would have if not for him. Zoms came out of the trees at a run, probably the freshest ones we've seen since the outbreak, and it was touch and go for a while, especially since we try hard not to use guns so near the house.
At least one good thing came out of that, though. I'm not being treated like a kid so much now. My sister in law is teaching me archery, which I apparently have a knack for. My brothers found a weapons stockpile on one of their outings, some guy nearby was apparently a HUGE hunter. So they brought back a bunch of guns and ammo, but also like ten bows of all different sizes and shapes. They're so much quieter than the guns, and much more effective than axes, hammers, etc., at least if you can get in a head shot. And since I've got a way to defend myself now, a way I can really get good at without being in too much danger, my parents are letting me be a bit more independent. If my brother's right about the dogs it will help a lot too. So at least I'm not feeling so trapped.
It's going to be a long week. We're going to have to make daily excursions for a few days. One of the storms that hit us seems to have destroyed the closest town. My parents think there must have been a tornado, and having seen the damage, I'm pretty sure they're right. We're going to have to salvage all that we can this week, so it's all hands on deck. I'm even going. My sisters in law and me are going to take turns going, since my brother's girlfriend is no use, and someone has to stay with the babies who can protect them. It's not a huge town, so most of the zoms have already decayed too much to be dangerous, but we have to be careful. Plus we're hoping we can find survivors. We've driven through there once or twice but we've never stopped very long. Tomorrow's going to be the first big salvage trip, we're taking the trucks and the trailers, and dad wants to take any of the 18 wheelers left in decent shape. City was a big truck stop so there should be a few at least. I think he wants to build a mobile base, in case we ever have to leave here in a hurry. My question is what we're going to do for fuel. We've got plenty of gas for now, and fuel stabilizer seems to be help keep it usable, but that's not going to last forever. My brother keeps joking that we're going to go all Mad Max, trying to save fuel. It would be funnier if a part of me wasn't afraid that it's true.
So, what else? It's been so busy lately I'm having trouble keeping track in my head. Oh! We ran into other survivors. We were out scouting after the first round of storms and went further out than we've ever been. Saw their barricades and stopped, and they let us in. They were super happy to find out they're not alone. They're doing the same thing we're doing, trying to stay off the grid. We've got a better setup but they have more space, so we've made a safety deal should either of us get overrun. They're all a bit older than me, in their twenties. Basically a group of hippies who were trying to live off the grid. I would have envied them, before, and I really like them. Very friendly, helpful people, and we got a lot of news. They've been into Tyler, the biggest city out here, and apparently it got pretty overrun for a while. They think though that since the city is so spread out, and there's not really a high population density, there's still people living there, and that most of the zoms are decaying now. One of the guys, David, said he wants to try making another trip now that it's been a few months. There's such a high concentration of things we need. Dad says they're crazy to risk it, but I kind of understand why they would. I hope if they do it goes well and they stay safe.
I have to go now, but I'll try to post after we do the salvage this week. Wish us luck, it's going to be rough. All of you keep safe-lots of love.
Alice
Friday, May 8, 2015
Monsters
DZ - Colombia
La Pintada was a small town. It used to be a place where families went on the weekends to get some rest, to swim in the pools while the refreshing winds softened the burning touch of the sun. But it also was halfway along the way to the coffee growing departments and all the places beyond. It was not a big town, but it was home to maybe a few thousand souls before Day 0.
When it hit them, they weren't prepared. No one was. I still don't know how it was able to start everywhere at once. But they managed to save themselves. Through joint efforts and painful battles they secured the town. They destroyed the infected, the familiar faces trying to kill them, as well as the faceless monsters already dead. Hope was timidly reborn on their hearts. The ones that remained decided they could help the other towns, and the fighters were sent in two teams, one north towards Medellín, and one to the south, to Pereira. A handful of men were left to take care of the families that would rather stay.
I met the northern division when I was in Santa Bárbara, trying to make my way to where I thought my brother was. They fought fiercely, and in one day they took control of the town, which had been almost completely overridden by the infected. When I met them I asked about my brother, but they knew nothing, so I decided to continue descending to the valley, to look for him in the town, among the ones left to look after it. I already told you how I got no information from them, but still I stayed, hoping to learn something from my brother's books. While I was there I became the town's unofficial doctor, because the only one they had left had died during the taking back of the town.
La Pintada was a nice place. Even after our world almost ended they were nice and welcoming. But they can't be that anymore.
The monsters came from the south, along the banks of the Cauca river. There were thousands of them, and not enough of us. Even though the brave men tried to hold them off, they were too many.
I ran. I knew I couldn't fight. I know I'm a coward, and I blame myself for leaving them there, but I know I couldn't have done anything. I'm just stupidly useless with weapons. I managed to get to Santa Bárbara after dusk last monday. I warned the fighters standing guard there, about what might come after me from the valley, and hopefully the story will be different here.
I hoped some might have made it out of La Pintada, but so far none have come. Alive, that is.
These things are not people, they are monsters. I wanted to believe they were just ill, and we could find some cure for the disease, but they can't be saved.
I was so naïve. I was so stupid.
Guys I'm sorry for the sorrowful rant. I just hate this. I hate all of this right now. It's just so unfair.
Anyway, I hope to read from you soon.
DZ
La Pintada was a small town. It used to be a place where families went on the weekends to get some rest, to swim in the pools while the refreshing winds softened the burning touch of the sun. But it also was halfway along the way to the coffee growing departments and all the places beyond. It was not a big town, but it was home to maybe a few thousand souls before Day 0.
When it hit them, they weren't prepared. No one was. I still don't know how it was able to start everywhere at once. But they managed to save themselves. Through joint efforts and painful battles they secured the town. They destroyed the infected, the familiar faces trying to kill them, as well as the faceless monsters already dead. Hope was timidly reborn on their hearts. The ones that remained decided they could help the other towns, and the fighters were sent in two teams, one north towards Medellín, and one to the south, to Pereira. A handful of men were left to take care of the families that would rather stay.
I met the northern division when I was in Santa Bárbara, trying to make my way to where I thought my brother was. They fought fiercely, and in one day they took control of the town, which had been almost completely overridden by the infected. When I met them I asked about my brother, but they knew nothing, so I decided to continue descending to the valley, to look for him in the town, among the ones left to look after it. I already told you how I got no information from them, but still I stayed, hoping to learn something from my brother's books. While I was there I became the town's unofficial doctor, because the only one they had left had died during the taking back of the town.
La Pintada was a nice place. Even after our world almost ended they were nice and welcoming. But they can't be that anymore.
The monsters came from the south, along the banks of the Cauca river. There were thousands of them, and not enough of us. Even though the brave men tried to hold them off, they were too many.
I ran. I knew I couldn't fight. I know I'm a coward, and I blame myself for leaving them there, but I know I couldn't have done anything. I'm just stupidly useless with weapons. I managed to get to Santa Bárbara after dusk last monday. I warned the fighters standing guard there, about what might come after me from the valley, and hopefully the story will be different here.
I hoped some might have made it out of La Pintada, but so far none have come. Alive, that is.
These things are not people, they are monsters. I wanted to believe they were just ill, and we could find some cure for the disease, but they can't be saved.
I was so naïve. I was so stupid.
Guys I'm sorry for the sorrowful rant. I just hate this. I hate all of this right now. It's just so unfair.
Anyway, I hope to read from you soon.
DZ
Boredom and its dangers
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
I remember once reading about the twelve common causes of on-the-job accidents. One of those causes was complacency.
In a chemistry lab, you had to make sure you followed procedure precisely every time. At best, a mistake would land you in your PI's office explaining why the results don't match (especially in nanomaterials, literally everything you do matters). At worst, you were putting people in the hospital. There are no more hospitals out here, only survival of the fittest.
Which is why I was surprised when not one but three instances of complacency appeared in one week, and it nearly cost us.
Instance 1: We got a call on Tuesday from the QZ to 'check out' a report of smoke from a building a few miles from us. I don't understand the reasoning behind the request at all: there are twelve of us, all here for the sole purpose of protecting the building and keeping the radios up. We're not a rescue service. I have some speculation on why we were sent, but I won't get into it now. Point is that I think they're getting complacent about our bloodless operations--we haven't had a casualty in weeks--and now we're doing errands? Someone was being awfully brave behind their desk.
So I went with four of the National Guard guys and we crossed 19-41 (still rather high in groaners, but we got past by using the SR 20 overpass) over past the race track. The track was used as an emergency triage point by GEMA during the early parts of the outbreak. They weren't so careful about screening people, though, and the whole thing collapsed. Luckily there are fences holding most of them in with a lot of equipment blocking line of sight. We stay out of that nest.
A few miles and turns later, we found a burning shack behind a house on Steele Road. We didn't see anyone, living or dead, around. Complacency instance 2 occurred at this time, but we'll get to that.
Complacency instance 3: Sean (Shawn? I don't actually know the spelling), a big burly guy, snatched his crowbar and walked up to the shack. He pried open the door, building still burning, mind you, and out tumbled a groaner. It surprised the heck out of Sean, who dropped the crowbar and fell backwards.
The groaner grabbed his boot and, in a fit of surprise, Sean drew his sidearm and shot the thing in the head. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been fine just pushing the thing's head with his boot until he retrieved the crowbar, or better yet waiting for one of us to kill it. Instead, he used the loudest noisemaker we have, a semiauto pistol.
At exactly this moment, more groaners came out of the shack, some of them on fire. Undead people are scary enough, but undead people on fire are a new level of Bad Ways to Get Killed. Sean got to his feet in time and backed away from them enough to give us a clear line of fire. All four of us lit them up (by this point, we'd already blown the silence so it was pointless to hold off).
Instance 2 then decided to bite us in the ass. We had not set up any sort of perimeter or pre-planned an escape, nor had we cleared the house and the woods around it. By the time the last burning groaner fell, we were cut off from our bikes by a number of them from the house.
Our solution, of course, was to shoot our way out, at which my companions are quite good. Other groaners were shufflign out of the woods near us, maybe thirty total. We cleared up to the bikes and got the hell out. it was a dead-end street, so we had to go back the way we came, including through undead that were heading towards all the sound we made. That was anything but fun and with all the weaving around to find the right roads back to 19-41, it took us over two hours to get back.
Fun fact: while the bike might be a very difficult mount to control one-handed while braining zombies with a camping shovel in the other, I would like to think I got somewhat good at it by the end.
My ears are still ringing and I'm shaking like a leaf from the post-adrenalin shock. Sean's shaking worse, but he's joking again. That's a good thing.
His complacency nearly got himself killed but I don't think he, or us, will make a blatant mistake like that again. As for the Commandant and his staff, if they suggest a rescue again I might hit them with a shovel instead.
It was a relatively uneventful week, otherwise. Stay safe, everyone, and stay vigilant!
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
I remember once reading about the twelve common causes of on-the-job accidents. One of those causes was complacency.
In a chemistry lab, you had to make sure you followed procedure precisely every time. At best, a mistake would land you in your PI's office explaining why the results don't match (especially in nanomaterials, literally everything you do matters). At worst, you were putting people in the hospital. There are no more hospitals out here, only survival of the fittest.
Which is why I was surprised when not one but three instances of complacency appeared in one week, and it nearly cost us.
Instance 1: We got a call on Tuesday from the QZ to 'check out' a report of smoke from a building a few miles from us. I don't understand the reasoning behind the request at all: there are twelve of us, all here for the sole purpose of protecting the building and keeping the radios up. We're not a rescue service. I have some speculation on why we were sent, but I won't get into it now. Point is that I think they're getting complacent about our bloodless operations--we haven't had a casualty in weeks--and now we're doing errands? Someone was being awfully brave behind their desk.
So I went with four of the National Guard guys and we crossed 19-41 (still rather high in groaners, but we got past by using the SR 20 overpass) over past the race track. The track was used as an emergency triage point by GEMA during the early parts of the outbreak. They weren't so careful about screening people, though, and the whole thing collapsed. Luckily there are fences holding most of them in with a lot of equipment blocking line of sight. We stay out of that nest.
A few miles and turns later, we found a burning shack behind a house on Steele Road. We didn't see anyone, living or dead, around. Complacency instance 2 occurred at this time, but we'll get to that.
Complacency instance 3: Sean (Shawn? I don't actually know the spelling), a big burly guy, snatched his crowbar and walked up to the shack. He pried open the door, building still burning, mind you, and out tumbled a groaner. It surprised the heck out of Sean, who dropped the crowbar and fell backwards.
The groaner grabbed his boot and, in a fit of surprise, Sean drew his sidearm and shot the thing in the head. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been fine just pushing the thing's head with his boot until he retrieved the crowbar, or better yet waiting for one of us to kill it. Instead, he used the loudest noisemaker we have, a semiauto pistol.
At exactly this moment, more groaners came out of the shack, some of them on fire. Undead people are scary enough, but undead people on fire are a new level of Bad Ways to Get Killed. Sean got to his feet in time and backed away from them enough to give us a clear line of fire. All four of us lit them up (by this point, we'd already blown the silence so it was pointless to hold off).
Instance 2 then decided to bite us in the ass. We had not set up any sort of perimeter or pre-planned an escape, nor had we cleared the house and the woods around it. By the time the last burning groaner fell, we were cut off from our bikes by a number of them from the house.
Our solution, of course, was to shoot our way out, at which my companions are quite good. Other groaners were shufflign out of the woods near us, maybe thirty total. We cleared up to the bikes and got the hell out. it was a dead-end street, so we had to go back the way we came, including through undead that were heading towards all the sound we made. That was anything but fun and with all the weaving around to find the right roads back to 19-41, it took us over two hours to get back.
Fun fact: while the bike might be a very difficult mount to control one-handed while braining zombies with a camping shovel in the other, I would like to think I got somewhat good at it by the end.
My ears are still ringing and I'm shaking like a leaf from the post-adrenalin shock. Sean's shaking worse, but he's joking again. That's a good thing.
His complacency nearly got himself killed but I don't think he, or us, will make a blatant mistake like that again. As for the Commandant and his staff, if they suggest a rescue again I might hit them with a shovel instead.
It was a relatively uneventful week, otherwise. Stay safe, everyone, and stay vigilant!
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Bad Enough to Wish I'd been Bitten
Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
Over the last few months I have watched society collapse under the weight of the dead and dying. I have watched friends die, lost contact with loved ones. I have watched as the faithful who look to me for leadership lost their faith under the crushing weight of their losses. I have watched others look at my faith as a cause of heavy suspicion, and I have watched as other clergy, supposedly my colleagues in ministry, do the things that earn such suspicion.
This seems horrible to say... but the worst of it came this past week. I had a kidney stone.
It seems so damned stupid. Our QZ is well stocked with food and clean water and is adequately defended from the dead. I have food to eat and work to occupy my time, and even this thing to share my thoughts. But as the stone passed through my system, the pain made me think that I wished I had been one of those lost over the last few months.
Drugs were in short supply, too. The medics we have on staff muttered about the treatments they'd be prescribing had this happened just six months earlier, but now we had so little to work with. Our pain meds are so heavily rationed. I should have received a major narcotic with vicodin as needed. Instead? One vicodin dose every 24 hours. Three to four hours of minor relief followed by twenty hours of agony. They put me in a hot water bath in hopes of relaxing my muscles to help the stone pass more easily... if it helped, I couldn't tell. I think they just did it so that they could say they had done something.
The stone is passed, now, and I am slowly regaining my strength. The Commandant even said I didn't need to rejoin the runners for a few more days.
So I'm still here. The QZ is fine. I'll just... be a little while recovering.
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
Over the last few months I have watched society collapse under the weight of the dead and dying. I have watched friends die, lost contact with loved ones. I have watched as the faithful who look to me for leadership lost their faith under the crushing weight of their losses. I have watched others look at my faith as a cause of heavy suspicion, and I have watched as other clergy, supposedly my colleagues in ministry, do the things that earn such suspicion.
This seems horrible to say... but the worst of it came this past week. I had a kidney stone.
It seems so damned stupid. Our QZ is well stocked with food and clean water and is adequately defended from the dead. I have food to eat and work to occupy my time, and even this thing to share my thoughts. But as the stone passed through my system, the pain made me think that I wished I had been one of those lost over the last few months.
Drugs were in short supply, too. The medics we have on staff muttered about the treatments they'd be prescribing had this happened just six months earlier, but now we had so little to work with. Our pain meds are so heavily rationed. I should have received a major narcotic with vicodin as needed. Instead? One vicodin dose every 24 hours. Three to four hours of minor relief followed by twenty hours of agony. They put me in a hot water bath in hopes of relaxing my muscles to help the stone pass more easily... if it helped, I couldn't tell. I think they just did it so that they could say they had done something.
The stone is passed, now, and I am slowly regaining my strength. The Commandant even said I didn't need to rejoin the runners for a few more days.
So I'm still here. The QZ is fine. I'll just... be a little while recovering.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
I told Emily about you all and other various updates
Jason Duncan
In the shit near Tampa, FL
Everything settled down. She calmed down the morning after I almost shot her. She said she understood and didn't mean to scare me. She came up with a plan to throw pennies or pebbles at me next time to wake me up if there's a problem or she needs me.
That said, she has been acting very odd. The first few days she was with me, she was rather happy and talkative and she's becoming more and more withdrawn lately. I'll have to keep an eye on her for the near future and make sure she doesn't draw back into herself too much. I like having someone to talk to so I suppose I have a bit of a selfish motive for keeping her mentally stable enough to carry on conversation.
No aircraft spotted for the last few days. No new explosions. On the outskirts of the city there are surprisingly few of the dead walking around. I haven't seen a "screamer" in over a week. I've kind of taken it easy lately and haven't been scouting around quite as much. I'm planning for an overnight excursion to Clearwater and Palm Harbor in the next few days. Before all this, that would have been about a forty minute drive. Now, I'm giving myself plenty of time to take it slow and see what's going on before I get myself into any kind of harry situation.
The laptop powered itself up and connected to the internet twice yesterday. The first time I just shut it down but it did it again about ten minutes later. I watched it to see what would happen but it just booted to the desktop and sat there. Maybe someone out there is trying to connect and the program isn't working or something. It's really strange. Seeing as it uses a satellite modem, somebody out there knows exactly where I am though. I don't think I like that.
That's all for now. Stay safe.
Monday, May 4, 2015
Thanks for the information!
Sarah Evans
QZ Zone, Central California
Firstly: Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with this. Thank you, Pastor Dan, for the warning about the screamers. I relayed that to my commanders as soon as possible. And Marjolaine, thank you for the warning about the water. We haven't really had any of the dead close to our supplies, but we reinforced the barriers around our water barrels just in case.
We don't get to catch much rainwater, here. Drought, and all. Usually we recycle it - run it through a few filters, pop some purification tabs, and no one can tell the difference.
And DZ! Thank you for checking in! Your last post had me so worried. I'm glad you're okay.
I'm glad everyone's (mostly) okay.
The guy whose wife and child died is actually doing better. I didn't think he was going to make it, but he bonded with a couple kids who came to us without parents. He's very nurturing. I'm keeping an eye on him as best I can, when I can, but it's nice to have some help tending the kids while the parents are busy.
Anyways, I don't have a lot of time - gotta start cooking - but I just wanted to pop on and say thank you to everyone. Coming here and reading these other voices, knowing that people are out there and living and working and fighting, gives me strength. You're all wonderful.
Keep an eye out, and stay strong, and safe. Love you all.
QZ Zone, Central California
Firstly: Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with this. Thank you, Pastor Dan, for the warning about the screamers. I relayed that to my commanders as soon as possible. And Marjolaine, thank you for the warning about the water. We haven't really had any of the dead close to our supplies, but we reinforced the barriers around our water barrels just in case.
We don't get to catch much rainwater, here. Drought, and all. Usually we recycle it - run it through a few filters, pop some purification tabs, and no one can tell the difference.
And DZ! Thank you for checking in! Your last post had me so worried. I'm glad you're okay.
I'm glad everyone's (mostly) okay.
The guy whose wife and child died is actually doing better. I didn't think he was going to make it, but he bonded with a couple kids who came to us without parents. He's very nurturing. I'm keeping an eye on him as best I can, when I can, but it's nice to have some help tending the kids while the parents are busy.
Anyways, I don't have a lot of time - gotta start cooking - but I just wanted to pop on and say thank you to everyone. Coming here and reading these other voices, knowing that people are out there and living and working and fighting, gives me strength. You're all wonderful.
Keep an eye out, and stay strong, and safe. Love you all.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Is This Just Fantasy?
Gecks
Caravan - Designation Scout
North Florida QZ
This is going to be long and I still can't believe this isn't a fantasy. This is life now.
Holy fuck! I am not dead. I thought I was going to be, but I'm not. A lot has happened. I've been on a drop, a mission, and a detour, that is why I have been radio silent for so long.
New, Orleans is bad!!!!! Do not stop there!!!! The levees are about to go. They haven't been maintained in months. The dead wander the streets. The pumps don't work so the water isn't draining out of the city anymore either. I'm getting ahead of myself, that was part of my mission. I'll come back to that, but yeah, New Orleans is a no go zone guys. If you have to just drive through. The interstate is holding up as of now.
So, as I stated before we do supply runs, pick-ups and drop-offs via ground travel. There are no planes here. Some of you guys have been seeing some, but NFQZ is a bird free zone. We are trying to get some flight ready, but so far too much damage for them to fly. We have two stations up here one at NAS (Naval Air Station) Jax, where the birds are that we are trying to fly. And Mayport, Naval Station so we have the water at our back and only need to defend from one side. I read about Tampa, I've informed them to keep an weather eye out on the water side just in case, but we have the Atlantic at our back. Those undead would need to be made of some stern stuff to get to us. We are doing well with shrimp, that is what I dropped off this week. I make short runs between the two naval bases in town, but I also go further south to St. Augustine and Daytona. (I have only travelled inland to Gainesville and Ocala. I haven't seen Orlando, yet. We had a different mission. Another team took Orlando).
In Auggie, them folks are holed up in the Castillo de San Marco. You know the old fort made out of coquina. The people have been trying to get it from museum to battle ready. It has done well for protection, especially with some of the modern weaponry they have there. But, it isn't necessarily battle ready per se. Since, the incident was kind of sprung it did well in a pinch for about 100 people there.
I also made a run to Daytona. I dropped off some shrimp at the Ponce de Leon Inlet Light House and brought back some knowledge from their Marine Science and Ocean center. Also, got some citrus (yeah we can grow it, but they can also get their own shrimp, it's mostly for news and other human interaction).
Anyway, this drop, we learned something nifty. One of the scientists at one of the centers (they won't give specifics), is doing some experiments on the undead. One of them was to see how far they can get into the ocean and their effect on the inhabitants of the oceans. The fish and all other sea life, they scram from them. So, when you are looking out in the water to see if that is where they are coming from, watch for the sea life. Fish and ALL other sea life get away in a hurry, even jelly fish. I repeat even the jelly fish (which are mostly determined by ocean currents) try and get away. And yes, the scientists fished it back out and burned it to ash. They are going to see what depth does to the body next, but I am going to go with the assumption it does the same as it would to any human body, it crushes it.
Right, so now the mission. Simple enough travel as far east as possible while looking for signs of life. We had cleared a lot of I-10 of car remains, but we hadn't made it out past Lake City yet. This was our chance. Tally has a QZ, they were nice. We didn't stay long, just enough to get some fuel and be on our way. We paid in some medical supplies. The barter system is my favorite thing. I don't know why we ever went to that paper shit. Back on track. Anyway, we continued on and found a QZ in Pensacola at the Air base there. They have birds that work. They gave us a few supplies we need for ours. We gave them some food, and ammo. We stayed there for a night. They told us about a few other places, I didn't tell them about the internet yet. And that I knew about some of the things they told us. I don't fully trust them, but they have planes and I know Tyler has let them land. Something seems off with them though, I'm not sure what.
We passed through Gulfport (it's a wash). Getting out of their alive was hell. The casinos left everyone defenseless. Everyone was so busy gambling they didn't know what was going on. Gulfport, MS is a deadzone. Mobile had gas and oil and we had to take the detour on that one, because the tunnel that is used to stay on I-10 instead of taking 90 was blocked with undead. Like they were guarding it. There were no cars at all or anything. We stocked up on oil and gas and used 90, but holy shit was that bad. I don't know if someone is directing the groaners or if they are gaining mob mentality type shit. But, that blockade at I-10 forced us to take 90 and I kid you not, groaners just lined the streets. I did everything I could as passenger to make sure myself and my driver (my best friend Shana, pronounced Shawna) out of there alive. Us and The Rig had to travel behind Back-up the entire way through. No more groaners on I-90 in Mobile, AL.
Finally, we made it to New Orleans. There are floaters and groaners, screamers, and droolers. I killed 100 zoms in New Orleans alone. They were EVERYWHERE, there. The streetcars are decaying and stopped randomly along the lines. Bourbon St. is gone. The French Quarter in general is gone. It's just water and dead. And floaters are my term for the drowned dead or those that died and ended up in the water. The gasses release and they come to the surface and it keeps it impersonal so I don't have to think of them as people. But yeah, there aren't that many screamers, but we found 2. I don't know how those people survived so long, just to end up one of them or why it took so long. Maybe, it was the water like y'all were saying, but this is a city run by the dead. Maybe, it was just a matter of time before they were turned. We checked the Naval Station on the other side of Algiers, but it was a zombie town. There was nothing there. All of the boats were gone too. We turned tail once we realized the Mighty Mississippi was about to take over and it was just a city for the dead at that point. I mean it may be days, weeks, or months before the levees fully give, but the pumps are caput. So, we figure either the Mississippi will go over the levees or the city will drown itself to meet the Mississippi. We camped out that night on the side of the highway just outside of New Orleans on the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, in Slidell.
We only stopped to refuel on the way back. We'll make another excursion and try and go further next time. We wanted to bring news back home and we need to consult some maps back here, to find a way around New Orleans. Lake Pontchartrain Causeway is untravellable. It is partially flooded and too many dead on the small causeway, plus the blockage of cars. Like I said, untravellable. Well, that is all for now. I need to get some sleep while I know I am safe. If you have questions ask me in the comments. I'll answer. If you need more information about something as well, put it in the comments. Lastly, hopefully I'll be able to write more with less time in between. I am not scheduled for another long mission for a few weeks. We need to plan ahead better after the New Orleans and Mobile fiascos.
Caravan - Designation Scout
North Florida QZ
This is going to be long and I still can't believe this isn't a fantasy. This is life now.
Holy fuck! I am not dead. I thought I was going to be, but I'm not. A lot has happened. I've been on a drop, a mission, and a detour, that is why I have been radio silent for so long.
New, Orleans is bad!!!!! Do not stop there!!!! The levees are about to go. They haven't been maintained in months. The dead wander the streets. The pumps don't work so the water isn't draining out of the city anymore either. I'm getting ahead of myself, that was part of my mission. I'll come back to that, but yeah, New Orleans is a no go zone guys. If you have to just drive through. The interstate is holding up as of now.
So, as I stated before we do supply runs, pick-ups and drop-offs via ground travel. There are no planes here. Some of you guys have been seeing some, but NFQZ is a bird free zone. We are trying to get some flight ready, but so far too much damage for them to fly. We have two stations up here one at NAS (Naval Air Station) Jax, where the birds are that we are trying to fly. And Mayport, Naval Station so we have the water at our back and only need to defend from one side. I read about Tampa, I've informed them to keep an weather eye out on the water side just in case, but we have the Atlantic at our back. Those undead would need to be made of some stern stuff to get to us. We are doing well with shrimp, that is what I dropped off this week. I make short runs between the two naval bases in town, but I also go further south to St. Augustine and Daytona. (I have only travelled inland to Gainesville and Ocala. I haven't seen Orlando, yet. We had a different mission. Another team took Orlando).
In Auggie, them folks are holed up in the Castillo de San Marco. You know the old fort made out of coquina. The people have been trying to get it from museum to battle ready. It has done well for protection, especially with some of the modern weaponry they have there. But, it isn't necessarily battle ready per se. Since, the incident was kind of sprung it did well in a pinch for about 100 people there.
I also made a run to Daytona. I dropped off some shrimp at the Ponce de Leon Inlet Light House and brought back some knowledge from their Marine Science and Ocean center. Also, got some citrus (yeah we can grow it, but they can also get their own shrimp, it's mostly for news and other human interaction).
Anyway, this drop, we learned something nifty. One of the scientists at one of the centers (they won't give specifics), is doing some experiments on the undead. One of them was to see how far they can get into the ocean and their effect on the inhabitants of the oceans. The fish and all other sea life, they scram from them. So, when you are looking out in the water to see if that is where they are coming from, watch for the sea life. Fish and ALL other sea life get away in a hurry, even jelly fish. I repeat even the jelly fish (which are mostly determined by ocean currents) try and get away. And yes, the scientists fished it back out and burned it to ash. They are going to see what depth does to the body next, but I am going to go with the assumption it does the same as it would to any human body, it crushes it.
Right, so now the mission. Simple enough travel as far east as possible while looking for signs of life. We had cleared a lot of I-10 of car remains, but we hadn't made it out past Lake City yet. This was our chance. Tally has a QZ, they were nice. We didn't stay long, just enough to get some fuel and be on our way. We paid in some medical supplies. The barter system is my favorite thing. I don't know why we ever went to that paper shit. Back on track. Anyway, we continued on and found a QZ in Pensacola at the Air base there. They have birds that work. They gave us a few supplies we need for ours. We gave them some food, and ammo. We stayed there for a night. They told us about a few other places, I didn't tell them about the internet yet. And that I knew about some of the things they told us. I don't fully trust them, but they have planes and I know Tyler has let them land. Something seems off with them though, I'm not sure what.
We passed through Gulfport (it's a wash). Getting out of their alive was hell. The casinos left everyone defenseless. Everyone was so busy gambling they didn't know what was going on. Gulfport, MS is a deadzone. Mobile had gas and oil and we had to take the detour on that one, because the tunnel that is used to stay on I-10 instead of taking 90 was blocked with undead. Like they were guarding it. There were no cars at all or anything. We stocked up on oil and gas and used 90, but holy shit was that bad. I don't know if someone is directing the groaners or if they are gaining mob mentality type shit. But, that blockade at I-10 forced us to take 90 and I kid you not, groaners just lined the streets. I did everything I could as passenger to make sure myself and my driver (my best friend Shana, pronounced Shawna) out of there alive. Us and The Rig had to travel behind Back-up the entire way through. No more groaners on I-90 in Mobile, AL.
Finally, we made it to New Orleans. There are floaters and groaners, screamers, and droolers. I killed 100 zoms in New Orleans alone. They were EVERYWHERE, there. The streetcars are decaying and stopped randomly along the lines. Bourbon St. is gone. The French Quarter in general is gone. It's just water and dead. And floaters are my term for the drowned dead or those that died and ended up in the water. The gasses release and they come to the surface and it keeps it impersonal so I don't have to think of them as people. But yeah, there aren't that many screamers, but we found 2. I don't know how those people survived so long, just to end up one of them or why it took so long. Maybe, it was the water like y'all were saying, but this is a city run by the dead. Maybe, it was just a matter of time before they were turned. We checked the Naval Station on the other side of Algiers, but it was a zombie town. There was nothing there. All of the boats were gone too. We turned tail once we realized the Mighty Mississippi was about to take over and it was just a city for the dead at that point. I mean it may be days, weeks, or months before the levees fully give, but the pumps are caput. So, we figure either the Mississippi will go over the levees or the city will drown itself to meet the Mississippi. We camped out that night on the side of the highway just outside of New Orleans on the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, in Slidell.
We only stopped to refuel on the way back. We'll make another excursion and try and go further next time. We wanted to bring news back home and we need to consult some maps back here, to find a way around New Orleans. Lake Pontchartrain Causeway is untravellable. It is partially flooded and too many dead on the small causeway, plus the blockage of cars. Like I said, untravellable. Well, that is all for now. I need to get some sleep while I know I am safe. If you have questions ask me in the comments. I'll answer. If you need more information about something as well, put it in the comments. Lastly, hopefully I'll be able to write more with less time in between. I am not scheduled for another long mission for a few weeks. We need to plan ahead better after the New Orleans and Mobile fiascos.
Friday, May 1, 2015
It's been a while.
I'm sorry.
But I'm not dead.
I sort of wish I was, though.
We lost a lot this past week, something with the water supply.
My dad put them down and I'm pretty sure it was the most awful thing i've ever experienced, and I?'ve been through a lot.
My dad sort of founded the camp. He feels responsible for all the people in it. He was a teacher... before. So he sort if feels all the kids my age are his students and he tries to keep us on some sort of schedule. We have classes when we're not hunting, but...
He tried. He tried really hard to save them but once it took them over, nothing could save them.
It was awful.
It can only get better from here, right?
But I'm not dead.
I sort of wish I was, though.
We lost a lot this past week, something with the water supply.
My dad put them down and I'm pretty sure it was the most awful thing i've ever experienced, and I?'ve been through a lot.
My dad sort of founded the camp. He feels responsible for all the people in it. He was a teacher... before. So he sort if feels all the kids my age are his students and he tries to keep us on some sort of schedule. We have classes when we're not hunting, but...
He tried. He tried really hard to save them but once it took them over, nothing could save them.
It was awful.
It can only get better from here, right?
May Day Mayday
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ ARTCC, GA, US
Hi again everyone.
I never thought I'd hear the word 'Mayday' on a radio outside of the movies. Given what goes on here, I was expecting to hear it again. Today I did.
Thursday's lift went well, but it was short. Most weeks have maybe forty military aircraft doing the big haul and a smattering of civilian planes. This week, there were maybe fifteen. We didn't ask why because they never answer our questions anyway.
This morning, a former FedEx plane, an ATR turboprop I think, was returning after a refuel somewhere in middle Georgia. They had an engine failure somewhere north of Columbus (Steve, the main ATC guy here, redirected him south towards Benning, hoping to use one of their airstrips). It was startling to hear their collected panic as the aircraft came down. They managed an emergency landing in a field somewhere but they were out of radar range and our repeater lost line of sight as it was falling below three thousand feet.
Someone probably alerted the QZ at Benning to search for them, but without a definite location not a whole lot of people want to leave the fences these days, let alone military types. Planes make noise, too, so there will probably be dozens of the groaners approaching the crash site. I hope they make it out okay.
Speaking of the dead, there's lots of the uglies marching along 19-41 right now. I have no idea why they're basically following the road, but we can see them from the higher floors, slogging along, heading south.
A few of them have wandered nearby and we've had to eliminate them. I take routine tours of the bottom floors to make sure our boards are in place and nothing snuck in. The National Guard take care of the rest.
I'll take a look at some other posts and leave to do my rounds. Stay safe!
Monday, April 27, 2015
WARNING - WATCH YOUR WATER
Marjolaine Fournier
Montréal - Quarantine/Survivors camp
Rain again
GUYS GUYS. JUST A HEADS UP. CONTAMINATED WATER MAKES PEOPLE TURN INTO SCREAMERS! PROTECT AND TREAT YOUR WATER SUPPLIES.
Alright, had to get that out to you guys, as quick as possible.
So with so many people, water has been a concern. I'll be honest, I haven't been around camp for more then a few hours since the last time I wrote to you all. I've been scouting for supplies, exploring the underground tunnels and generally trying to keep myself occupied and away from the rest of the survivors, or else I'd go bunkers. So what happened, I am telling you sound head. One of the guards, Emile, was the one who told me about just an hour ago. I ran off to sneak into the offices were I've been finding computers and the internet as soon as I can to warn you all.
We've had so much rain lately that we installed a few rain catching barrels. Water is not limited yet, but the idea was not to take any chances and run out of drinking water. This quarantine is rather large now, with well over 1000 people, with more still showing up every few days.
I'll give you an overview of our situation when I have a bit more time.
Montréal - Quarantine/Survivors camp
Rain again
GUYS GUYS. JUST A HEADS UP. CONTAMINATED WATER MAKES PEOPLE TURN INTO SCREAMERS! PROTECT AND TREAT YOUR WATER SUPPLIES.
Alright, had to get that out to you guys, as quick as possible.
So with so many people, water has been a concern. I'll be honest, I haven't been around camp for more then a few hours since the last time I wrote to you all. I've been scouting for supplies, exploring the underground tunnels and generally trying to keep myself occupied and away from the rest of the survivors, or else I'd go bunkers. So what happened, I am telling you sound head. One of the guards, Emile, was the one who told me about just an hour ago. I ran off to sneak into the offices were I've been finding computers and the internet as soon as I can to warn you all.
We've had so much rain lately that we installed a few rain catching barrels. Water is not limited yet, but the idea was not to take any chances and run out of drinking water. This quarantine is rather large now, with well over 1000 people, with more still showing up every few days.
I'll give you an overview of our situation when I have a bit more time.
The barrels were mostly attached to the roofs, with rain filling them directly, but a few were placed under dips in the concrete structures allowed a steady stream of water to accumulate. Those barrels fill up quick and need to be brought in often. Now, you have to understand, water that runs off the Biodome and the Stadium tastes a lot like soot and dust. This is city rainwater, and even after all this time you can still taste the smog in the air. So the odd flavour was not immediately a concern. Those barrels were rolled to a corner of the compound where about a half-dozen families had access to them. Within 5 days, the barrels were 1/4 drunk, and the families went completely mad. It started with odd twitches and drooling, but quickly one of the children bit a cook's aide who handed them their meal and everything spun out of control. The families turned screamer right in the middle of the camp, and it was mayhem. People running, people shooting, an old man trampled to death.
In the end, they were all killed, and the death count is about 40 people. It's hard to tell how much of that number are actually monsters, and how many were bystanders. I pity those on kitchen duty, who have asked me to try and find more bleach.
It took a few panicked hours to figure out how they got sick, but one of the climbers (those whose rock climbing experience is now used to climb the infrastructure around camp and set up watch points) spotted a badly decomposed groaner on the roof, with it head shoot clean off. No one knows how it got there for now, but the rain has been n making bits of it run off the east side of the roof for a while now. All water is to be treated with purification tablets, and a lot of the barrels have been dumped.
We are having a bit of a wake tonight, in my corner of the camp. Some survivors and I will mourn the old man, Jerry Leduc. He was gentle and kind, and played the accordion when we were all feeling blue. I don't know if anyone else here can play the accordion, but I hope someone does. I hate seeing his instrument gather dust. Music is the last bit of humanity around.
Take care, stay safe. Keep music alive were you can.
Priez pour nous, pauvres âmes maudites. Sans la force de la prière, notre vie est insupportable.
Jo
P.S. Dan, I'd thought you would like to know that religion is playing an odd role in the comfort of the survivors here. Monseigneur Lépine is among the survivors in the camp here. He is the archbishop of Montreal. I haven't been to any of his sermons, but some folk think that he is playing a large role in keeping the calm in camp. Doesn't stop people from raving that this is the apocalypse (justly deserved) or that having the cynical claim that religion is just burying your head in the sand. But after the mob incident it seems he was key and making sure that a flock of people didn't run off into the city, and to their probable deaths.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Where are all the Screamers coming from?
Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
Last night might have been the roughest I've had since the Compound.
The alarm was sounded at about 1 am... the low thrumming that doesn't seem to call groaners but let's us know that all able-bodied citizens are needed to repel an attack. At first I thought it was a mistake... the walls and gates are pretty strong, nothing a team of groaners could ever get through, but the moment I stepped outside I knew.
I knew because I could hear the screaming.
The guns were already going, but the screaming...
We're not sure how many Screamers there were, all in all. We didn't wait around to see if any would become groaners. But they're different.
Most of you will know this already but for those who don't... the Screamers aren't dead yet, technically. They still have full use of their bodies and, according to a government medic who checked the injured, a whole triple heaping dose of adrenaline. Five Screamers could tear through a barricade that would hold back a horde of groaners indefinitely in hours.
And last night we had more than five.
The Gate was new, put in a few weeks ago as a way to get big vehicles in and out by ways other than airlift. It was our weak point, and they... they just hurled themselves at it. Eventually our gunners handled them, but the damage was scary. They COULD have broken through, and then we'd be in a melee, with who knows how many groaners pouring through after them.
The weird thing is... where did they come from? There isn't another QZ for hours of travel by road, and they're all still standing. Screamers are freshly infected... none of these are first wave, or even second wave. It's like a whole small community got infected and rushed us overnight, out of almost freaking nowhere.
So keep your eyes open, people.
And if you hear screaming... run.
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
Last night might have been the roughest I've had since the Compound.
The alarm was sounded at about 1 am... the low thrumming that doesn't seem to call groaners but let's us know that all able-bodied citizens are needed to repel an attack. At first I thought it was a mistake... the walls and gates are pretty strong, nothing a team of groaners could ever get through, but the moment I stepped outside I knew.
I knew because I could hear the screaming.
The guns were already going, but the screaming...
We're not sure how many Screamers there were, all in all. We didn't wait around to see if any would become groaners. But they're different.
Most of you will know this already but for those who don't... the Screamers aren't dead yet, technically. They still have full use of their bodies and, according to a government medic who checked the injured, a whole triple heaping dose of adrenaline. Five Screamers could tear through a barricade that would hold back a horde of groaners indefinitely in hours.
And last night we had more than five.
The Gate was new, put in a few weeks ago as a way to get big vehicles in and out by ways other than airlift. It was our weak point, and they... they just hurled themselves at it. Eventually our gunners handled them, but the damage was scary. They COULD have broken through, and then we'd be in a melee, with who knows how many groaners pouring through after them.
The weird thing is... where did they come from? There isn't another QZ for hours of travel by road, and they're all still standing. Screamers are freshly infected... none of these are first wave, or even second wave. It's like a whole small community got infected and rushed us overnight, out of almost freaking nowhere.
So keep your eyes open, people.
And if you hear screaming... run.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
I almost shot Emily tonight.
Jason Duncan
Loose in Central Florida
My nerves are more screwed up than I thought. She's been sleeping in the bus. So when the door of my truck got opened unexpectedly about an hour ago, I woke instantly and I snatched my rifle off the floor board. She screamed and ran off. I haven't gotten her to come out of the bus and talk to me. I probably scared her worse than she did me. No, I'm sure I scared her worse.
I'm such a moron. Zombies (I finally fucking said it) don't open doors. My body reacted before my brain kicked in. That's supposed to be a good thing in survival situations. It almost cost me the one person I've found still alive in a county that used to have nearly a million people. Now I can't sleep.
While I'm logged on here, I'll share a bit of news and some advice. It'll get my mind off almost killing the closest thing I have to a friend.
News: I saw another air plane this morning. Well, it was at extremely high altitude. I saw a contrail. It was flying East to West. At that altitude it made me think intercontinental because there's nothing far west of here of any significance. Just a hunch. Also, this laptop was turned on and booted up when I woke up this morning. Emily still doesn't know about it, and it was right where I left it last night. I think someone on "the other end" powered it up. I don't know what that means, if it means anything. Hell, maybe I bumped the power button in my sleep.
Advice: Emily had a great suggestion this morning. She rummaged through some of the vehicles on the overpass and found a hefty stack of magazines and some duct tape. She asked me to gather some heavy weight pants and long sleeve shirts or jackets from anyone I could find laying around. She can't bring herself to go near the truly dead people up here. They don't stink as bad as I'd have thought. I suppose I should throw them off the overpass too. Anyway, Emily had me put on a leather bomber jacket and some paramedic type pants I found. She then wrapped the forearms, elbows, and shins with magazines and duct taped them in place. I'll be damned if I want to find out, but the shit feels like it'd be bite proof. Add some gloves and some kind of shoulder and neck protection and I think I could walk through a crowd of the things without dying. Maybe. I hope I don't have to test this theory.
Will check in later. Best wishes.
Loose in Central Florida
My nerves are more screwed up than I thought. She's been sleeping in the bus. So when the door of my truck got opened unexpectedly about an hour ago, I woke instantly and I snatched my rifle off the floor board. She screamed and ran off. I haven't gotten her to come out of the bus and talk to me. I probably scared her worse than she did me. No, I'm sure I scared her worse.
I'm such a moron. Zombies (I finally fucking said it) don't open doors. My body reacted before my brain kicked in. That's supposed to be a good thing in survival situations. It almost cost me the one person I've found still alive in a county that used to have nearly a million people. Now I can't sleep.
While I'm logged on here, I'll share a bit of news and some advice. It'll get my mind off almost killing the closest thing I have to a friend.
News: I saw another air plane this morning. Well, it was at extremely high altitude. I saw a contrail. It was flying East to West. At that altitude it made me think intercontinental because there's nothing far west of here of any significance. Just a hunch. Also, this laptop was turned on and booted up when I woke up this morning. Emily still doesn't know about it, and it was right where I left it last night. I think someone on "the other end" powered it up. I don't know what that means, if it means anything. Hell, maybe I bumped the power button in my sleep.
Advice: Emily had a great suggestion this morning. She rummaged through some of the vehicles on the overpass and found a hefty stack of magazines and some duct tape. She asked me to gather some heavy weight pants and long sleeve shirts or jackets from anyone I could find laying around. She can't bring herself to go near the truly dead people up here. They don't stink as bad as I'd have thought. I suppose I should throw them off the overpass too. Anyway, Emily had me put on a leather bomber jacket and some paramedic type pants I found. She then wrapped the forearms, elbows, and shins with magazines and duct taped them in place. I'll be damned if I want to find out, but the shit feels like it'd be bite proof. Add some gloves and some kind of shoulder and neck protection and I think I could walk through a crowd of the things without dying. Maybe. I hope I don't have to test this theory.
Will check in later. Best wishes.
Friday, April 24, 2015
Explanations
DZ - Colombia
Guys, I'm sorry I scared you with my abrupt ending last time. I'm still alive and uninfected. Thank you for your prayers. I feel an explanation is needed, hopefully without all the rambling I managed to write last time.
Things here are not as organized as in your countries, there are no such things as quarantine zones or the like, at least that I know of. Our government was almost as useless as yours seemed to be, and I haven't got any news from it since January. It doesn't matter now.
The cities fell, I was there when it happened.
Reading your accounts I realize we all have been through things no one should go through. I thank God I haven't had to see some of the things you describe, infected babies for example. But I hope this thing we have going on here will help us survive, even if it's just a little longer.
These last few weeks I've been living in a town on the Cauca Valley. My brother was one of the practicing doctors out here. When I got the chance I came looking for him, but it's been almost a month now and no one knows anything. I still haven't given up, but I'm staying here so I can do a little reading in his library, trying to find something about this disease.
Infected people haven't been overwhelmingly numerous so far. There are a few families staying together in this town and they have been able to repel the sparse attacks we have had. Still there are always a few lost souls on the streets, and without proper weapons we are in constant danger. So I had been sneaking in to my brother's house to read, and two weeks ago a miracle happened. We got electricity back! It was only for a few hours, but thanks to that I found you guys, and this site has opened my eyes to the magnitude and reach of the infection.
So last time I was taking my time to write some of the answers I though I had about the disease, and suddenly I hear this groan on the front door. I had to change my figurative pants right there because that freaking thing scared me. I think it found me by my smell. I guess it was as decayed as your stalkers, Allice, because indeed it reeked and I still can't believe it could sniff me out with its own odor hanging around it like its very own stinky cumulus cloud.
So I had to go. I grabbed my "peinilla"(It's the way people here call a machete-like weapon that I still can't learn how to properly use) and made my way out of there through the rooftops. It followed me, but it was one of the slow ones, so I managed to escape.
Anyway, electricity here has been fluctuating, and I have no idea how is it even back on, or why on earth do I have internet access here, but it is a blessing, and I can only thank God because I know He's the one looking after me. Speaking of which: Dan, tocayo, don't give up. I know these are hard times, but it's in times like these when God needs his ministers to minister his house. Whatever you have to do, do it as unto the Lord (Am I seriously lecturing a pastor? God, I've always been crazy)
I don't want to extend myself too much, so I hope next time I will finally be able to tell you what I've concluded so far about all of this.
Best wishes
DZ
Guys, I'm sorry I scared you with my abrupt ending last time. I'm still alive and uninfected. Thank you for your prayers. I feel an explanation is needed, hopefully without all the rambling I managed to write last time.
Things here are not as organized as in your countries, there are no such things as quarantine zones or the like, at least that I know of. Our government was almost as useless as yours seemed to be, and I haven't got any news from it since January. It doesn't matter now.
The cities fell, I was there when it happened.
Reading your accounts I realize we all have been through things no one should go through. I thank God I haven't had to see some of the things you describe, infected babies for example. But I hope this thing we have going on here will help us survive, even if it's just a little longer.
These last few weeks I've been living in a town on the Cauca Valley. My brother was one of the practicing doctors out here. When I got the chance I came looking for him, but it's been almost a month now and no one knows anything. I still haven't given up, but I'm staying here so I can do a little reading in his library, trying to find something about this disease.
Infected people haven't been overwhelmingly numerous so far. There are a few families staying together in this town and they have been able to repel the sparse attacks we have had. Still there are always a few lost souls on the streets, and without proper weapons we are in constant danger. So I had been sneaking in to my brother's house to read, and two weeks ago a miracle happened. We got electricity back! It was only for a few hours, but thanks to that I found you guys, and this site has opened my eyes to the magnitude and reach of the infection.
So last time I was taking my time to write some of the answers I though I had about the disease, and suddenly I hear this groan on the front door. I had to change my figurative pants right there because that freaking thing scared me. I think it found me by my smell. I guess it was as decayed as your stalkers, Allice, because indeed it reeked and I still can't believe it could sniff me out with its own odor hanging around it like its very own stinky cumulus cloud.
So I had to go. I grabbed my "peinilla"(It's the way people here call a machete-like weapon that I still can't learn how to properly use) and made my way out of there through the rooftops. It followed me, but it was one of the slow ones, so I managed to escape.
Anyway, electricity here has been fluctuating, and I have no idea how is it even back on, or why on earth do I have internet access here, but it is a blessing, and I can only thank God because I know He's the one looking after me. Speaking of which: Dan, tocayo, don't give up. I know these are hard times, but it's in times like these when God needs his ministers to minister his house. Whatever you have to do, do it as unto the Lord (Am I seriously lecturing a pastor? God, I've always been crazy)
I don't want to extend myself too much, so I hope next time I will finally be able to tell you what I've concluded so far about all of this.
Best wishes
DZ
Thank all the gods.
Sarah Evans
QZ Zone, Central California
Hi.
It's been a few weeks. I'm sorry. We had...a situation.
I want to talk about it and then I don't want to talk about it? But I think if I don't talk about it I'll go utterly mad, and I can't talk about it with people here because they're all just as shocked and devastated as I am.
Well...most of them are.
Alice, I now know why you never want to see another zombie baby. And heads'-up. If any of you have pregnant women in your midst, watch them carefully. We let a VERY pregnant survivor inside, when she and her husband made it to us somehow. She was breathing heavy but seemed to be largely okay...not very chatty but not exhibiting any of the signs of a Groaner, you know? (I like that term for them.) Just pregnant, and kind of sick, and tired, and so we let her in because we felt bad for her, because I mean, fuck, hi baby, welcome to the fucking apocalypse.
That baby came out beet-red and screaming bloody murder. Not the normal cry a baby gives when it's being born...no. This was a howl of pure rage and pain, and even when it was still attached to its momma it tried to bite at the people helping her give birth.
(It's easier for me to call her an it. It's easier for me to dehumanize her. Instead of remembering that she had a thick head of dark hair and was totally perfect...and practically dead before she drew her first breath. Like having a stillborn, only the stillborn's screaming...)
...
Sorry.
We had to kill it. The mother lost her mind with grief. We don't think she was actively sick but we're really not sure. She got shot in the face when she flung herself at the Captain. Her husband...
We're still not sure about him. He's here but...he's not coping so great. I think he might leave, soon.
At least we gave them a grave. At least it wasn't worse.
But I watched that whole family crumble and I can't help but think about my own family. My sister had cancer, before. She beat it, but--would it make her more susceptible? Did they even make it out of the city? Are they alive out there...somewhere? I can't cry here. The kids I watch wouldn't even know how to handle that.
I want you all to know that even though I don't know any of you in person, I love you all. You're my beacons of hope that someday, when things get better, we can be connected in person. I will buy every single one of you the drink of your choice, when that day comes.
...But speaking of. Has anyone heard from DZ, down in Colombia? He hasn't posted anything...I really hope he's okay. I hope you're all okay. Stay strong. Keep writing. Remember that humanity is here, and it is living, not dying.
Much love.
QZ Zone, Central California
Hi.
It's been a few weeks. I'm sorry. We had...a situation.
I want to talk about it and then I don't want to talk about it? But I think if I don't talk about it I'll go utterly mad, and I can't talk about it with people here because they're all just as shocked and devastated as I am.
Well...most of them are.
Alice, I now know why you never want to see another zombie baby. And heads'-up. If any of you have pregnant women in your midst, watch them carefully. We let a VERY pregnant survivor inside, when she and her husband made it to us somehow. She was breathing heavy but seemed to be largely okay...not very chatty but not exhibiting any of the signs of a Groaner, you know? (I like that term for them.) Just pregnant, and kind of sick, and tired, and so we let her in because we felt bad for her, because I mean, fuck, hi baby, welcome to the fucking apocalypse.
That baby came out beet-red and screaming bloody murder. Not the normal cry a baby gives when it's being born...no. This was a howl of pure rage and pain, and even when it was still attached to its momma it tried to bite at the people helping her give birth.
(It's easier for me to call her an it. It's easier for me to dehumanize her. Instead of remembering that she had a thick head of dark hair and was totally perfect...and practically dead before she drew her first breath. Like having a stillborn, only the stillborn's screaming...)
...
Sorry.
We had to kill it. The mother lost her mind with grief. We don't think she was actively sick but we're really not sure. She got shot in the face when she flung herself at the Captain. Her husband...
We're still not sure about him. He's here but...he's not coping so great. I think he might leave, soon.
At least we gave them a grave. At least it wasn't worse.
But I watched that whole family crumble and I can't help but think about my own family. My sister had cancer, before. She beat it, but--would it make her more susceptible? Did they even make it out of the city? Are they alive out there...somewhere? I can't cry here. The kids I watch wouldn't even know how to handle that.
I want you all to know that even though I don't know any of you in person, I love you all. You're my beacons of hope that someday, when things get better, we can be connected in person. I will buy every single one of you the drink of your choice, when that day comes.
...But speaking of. Has anyone heard from DZ, down in Colombia? He hasn't posted anything...I really hope he's okay. I hope you're all okay. Stay strong. Keep writing. Remember that humanity is here, and it is living, not dying.
Much love.
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