Feeling Kinda Tired

Pastor Dan
Fox Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin

Man, I'm tired. A smallish horde (I can't believe I wrote that phrase unironically) caught our scent and the Commandant sent me and a couple of runners to see if we couldn't pull them due west of us. It worked, and we're all home, but I feel like I get picked for these missions more often than others.

As you might have guessed, my relationship with the Commandant has been... strained... to say the least. At least he hasn't tried to cut off computer time.

So, back to the story. Those of us at the compound, faced with massive groaner migrations from the Milwaukee area, agreed to relocate to the Fox Valley QZ. It wasn't just that easy, though. They'd sent a chopper to inform us of our "choice" but couldn't airlift us back. If we were going, we were going on foot, every blessed one of us.

It was going to be about a thirty mile hike, and between us and the QZ lay a few towns that had gone unprotected when everything had fallen apart. There were sure to be a few holdouts, but that also meant groaners... and possibly even a few screamers and droolers.

I sat down with the Elders and we made a plan. We had a day, maybe two, before the first of the new Horde arrived, so there wasn't much time for deliberation. Our hunters, who had been so effective holding our weak spots, were going to be spread around the group, while those of us who weren't shooters but were in decent shape would scout ahead and around, drawing off as many zombies as possible away from the main group.

The biggest key was that we absolutely had to keep moving. The big group behind us, and several smaller ones that were not in our path at the moment but could get there at a moments notice. Luckily the terrain wasn't bad, just a few hills and a lot of farmland.

It ended up being one of the longest days of my life.

It was only March and we still didn't have the daylight we would have liked to have had. The hunters dropped the stragglers while the runners pulled off the larger groups. That got... pretty hairy, sometimes, especially when someone (like me) didn't know the lay of the land as well as others. There were a couple of times I thought I was screwed, trapped between several zoms and a fenced in area that wasn't supposed to be there.

I got through it, though. Most of us did. We lost two runners, and another died of a heart attack on the trip. I'm glad I wasn't the one who was there to order the people to leave him be... I would have. But I'm glad I didn't have to.

When we arrived we were all coded according to our usefulness. They said all the QZ's were doing it... is that true? I got "red flagged," though, and went straight into a cell until my people made enough of a fuss that the Commandant let me out. It was at least a few days.

I should have guessed why a lot sooner than I did. There were, apparently, a lot of other compounds like ours, led by clergy. Some were fighting the government, some were "sacrificing" non-believers to the zombies... I heard of one where the QZ folks arrived and found everyone already dead... poison in the kool-aid.

Not everyone who did that sort of thing was religious, of course. But enough of them werethat our Commandant was taking no risks with me. But the people pointed out that I had never tried to demand faith, that I tried to help everyone. He didn't trust me, though. Still doesn't.

So now I'm nothing. One of a few thousand people, only a few hundred of which think anything more. I do my time as a runner, or as a heavy laboror, and if I want to preach on my time off I'm allowed so long as I "watch it," according to the QZ's enforcers.

Speaking of which, I've been at this too long. I hope to read more from you all later.