Pastor Dan
Fox River Valley QZ
Eastern Wisconsin
You know, for a week or so there, I thought things were finally really warming up again. But I've seen snow off and on all week. The locals tell me that's actually pretty standard for April in Wisconsin, and this guy who used to be a meteorologist said that with all the burning happening... well, everywhere, that it was to be expected to get worse before it got better.
It's odd that I actually welcomed the cold snap, though. It slows the groaners down. And I've been on a few runs lately.
I'm not gonna lie to you guys, sometimes I don't know why I keep on. Not why I haven't swallowed a bullet, or anything like that, but why I keep trying to be... well, Pastor Dan. Instead of just Dan.
When we got here (and they let me out of solitary) they did that thing they do where they rank your usefulness based on skills. Our "fitness for duty." Our hunters did pretty well... they were all put on wall guard. Our farmers were treated like royalty, and any mechanics or electricians got high marks as well.
I didn't really have any of that. There wasn't a lot of call for theological training, or creative writing. At least I still had a fit body, but as far as the Commandant was concerned that made me a grunt, around for heavy lifting and runner duty. Hence all my running. He decided not to make me stop preaching, but refused to allocate space or make allowance for time. I would do it in my spare time, in any spot I could stand, and people could sit and listened if they liked.
From basically running the Compound to being a useless irritation in the QZ.
I didn't really mind it too bad, though. I can't say that I particularly LIKED having life and death decisions on my plate. And my people still respected me as a preacher, even if the others in the QZ were almost as wary as the Commandant.
Another change was, as a pastor, I was no longer the only show in town. We also have two Lutherans, a group of Catholic priests, a Rabbi, a Methodist and even an Imam who had been lecturing in Milwaukee when everything fell apart. We all just kind of find some space and do what we do. My people mostly stayed with me, though, and so I had the biggest crowd.
Up until Easter.
I was pretty stupid. Easter was always so joyous, so magical. You could get a congregation to do anything at Easter time, you always got your biggest crowds and best energy. Not this time. Christ was risen from the dead, and that put him in a company of, by best estimates, several billion. It wasn't good news anymore... and so the spell was broken.
The people listen now, for the most part, because there isn't much else to do. There are a few true believers yet, and I think they're the ones I keep doing it for. The ones who use it to keep their heads up. I can't let them down. But sometimes I want to.
It's not that I don't believe any more, really I do, but it would be easier to just be the brute force labor, to hold back and not always have the Commandant looking at me, waiting for me to start preaching poisoned kool-aid.
I really should try to be more up-beat in these things.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
I got interrupted, Sorry
I was trying to detail how eventful my week had been when it became eventful yet again.
First: I'm no longer alone. I haven't told her about this yet because the trust thing isn't there yet. She's asleep so I snuck on here. We're holed up on my elevated overpass oasis. She is in one of the buses at the end of our redoubt. She says it's so she can get away if it hits the fan. Oh yeah, her name is Emily. Emily says she's from Tampa originally. She's 28. Was a grad student. She's for shit with a gun and panics pretty bad when things go sideways. I don't know how she survived this long but if we stick together I'm certain I'll be pulling her weight and my own. Unsure as yet how I feel about this.
So, to continue from last time: I never figured out what that second explosion was caused by. I am still venturing out and creating caches throughout the outlying areas of Tampa. I'm not going down town unless I absolutely have to. I found a second vehicle and I've stashed it near my overpass and it's full of goodies in case I have to make a quick escape. Included in my cache building, I've decided to start planting some seeds on top of some flat roofed buildings around here. I will need a bigger food supply eventually and I have no doubt I'll run out of the pre-dead supplies at some point. Plan ahead, etc. I have to find some seeds first, and some suitable locations. This is more of an idea at this point than an actual, in-operation plan.
Before my last post, part of what kept me so busy, was scouting. I'm still doing lots of scouting. I'll tell you one thing: the refugee areas of Tampa are an absolute wasteland. It looks like they got overrun while still in the setting up process and somebody cleaned house. I heard there was a big shelter being established at the football stadium so I decided to check it out last week when I was in that area. The Air Force or Navy dropped some serious ordnance on that place. The levels of damage done, the craters, the missing sections of the stadium, that's all way beyond what small arms or light vehicles can do. I saw two tanks, both burnt up pretty badly, but they were facing away from the stadium so I don't think they did the damage. From what I've seen in the past, on the news and whatnot, this looked like air dropped bombs. Napalm too. Napalm makes sense if you're trying to wipe out a crowd. It was a fucking nightmare in there. I won't go into too much detail. I'll simple leave it at, there is no one and nothing left there worth me going near it again.
I found Emily hiding on the 2nd floor of a shopping mall near the stadium. I haven't seen much sign of looting around here. I think the area fell too hard and too fast for all that. The mall was barely touched. I got some stuff there to add to my stash but there's plenty left.
Emily says she hid with her family on a boat near channel side right in the beginning. That's about all I can get out of her though. She somehow made it through down town to that mall though. I want to know how. I'll keep at it until I find out.
The further into the summer we get, the more anxious I get. The rains are coming. This part of Florida really does have something of a monsoon season and it's going to make life out here that much more miserable.
The humidity might be affecting the dead somehow. The ones that aren't really dead yet, the faster ones, they don't seem to be slowing down at all. In the very beginning, when the humidity was lower, I heard people in my refugee center in St. Pete talking about the "live" ones start falling apart after a few weeks. The humidity might be keeping them more lithe now. I don't know. I'll keep an eye on it and fill everyone in when I know more. The really dead ones don't seem to be affected by much. I've noticed they are a little more likely to congregate in shady areas as opposed to milling around in direct sunlight. I'm no researcher so I can't say for sure. Maybe it's not a pattern, who knows.
For now, I'm reasonably safe, well fed, and no longer alone. Until next time boys and girls.... Bye
(EDIT: I should read what everyone else posted since my last post, before I make a new post)
First: I'm no longer alone. I haven't told her about this yet because the trust thing isn't there yet. She's asleep so I snuck on here. We're holed up on my elevated overpass oasis. She is in one of the buses at the end of our redoubt. She says it's so she can get away if it hits the fan. Oh yeah, her name is Emily. Emily says she's from Tampa originally. She's 28. Was a grad student. She's for shit with a gun and panics pretty bad when things go sideways. I don't know how she survived this long but if we stick together I'm certain I'll be pulling her weight and my own. Unsure as yet how I feel about this.
So, to continue from last time: I never figured out what that second explosion was caused by. I am still venturing out and creating caches throughout the outlying areas of Tampa. I'm not going down town unless I absolutely have to. I found a second vehicle and I've stashed it near my overpass and it's full of goodies in case I have to make a quick escape. Included in my cache building, I've decided to start planting some seeds on top of some flat roofed buildings around here. I will need a bigger food supply eventually and I have no doubt I'll run out of the pre-dead supplies at some point. Plan ahead, etc. I have to find some seeds first, and some suitable locations. This is more of an idea at this point than an actual, in-operation plan.
Before my last post, part of what kept me so busy, was scouting. I'm still doing lots of scouting. I'll tell you one thing: the refugee areas of Tampa are an absolute wasteland. It looks like they got overrun while still in the setting up process and somebody cleaned house. I heard there was a big shelter being established at the football stadium so I decided to check it out last week when I was in that area. The Air Force or Navy dropped some serious ordnance on that place. The levels of damage done, the craters, the missing sections of the stadium, that's all way beyond what small arms or light vehicles can do. I saw two tanks, both burnt up pretty badly, but they were facing away from the stadium so I don't think they did the damage. From what I've seen in the past, on the news and whatnot, this looked like air dropped bombs. Napalm too. Napalm makes sense if you're trying to wipe out a crowd. It was a fucking nightmare in there. I won't go into too much detail. I'll simple leave it at, there is no one and nothing left there worth me going near it again.
I found Emily hiding on the 2nd floor of a shopping mall near the stadium. I haven't seen much sign of looting around here. I think the area fell too hard and too fast for all that. The mall was barely touched. I got some stuff there to add to my stash but there's plenty left.
Emily says she hid with her family on a boat near channel side right in the beginning. That's about all I can get out of her though. She somehow made it through down town to that mall though. I want to know how. I'll keep at it until I find out.
The further into the summer we get, the more anxious I get. The rains are coming. This part of Florida really does have something of a monsoon season and it's going to make life out here that much more miserable.
The humidity might be affecting the dead somehow. The ones that aren't really dead yet, the faster ones, they don't seem to be slowing down at all. In the very beginning, when the humidity was lower, I heard people in my refugee center in St. Pete talking about the "live" ones start falling apart after a few weeks. The humidity might be keeping them more lithe now. I don't know. I'll keep an eye on it and fill everyone in when I know more. The really dead ones don't seem to be affected by much. I've noticed they are a little more likely to congregate in shady areas as opposed to milling around in direct sunlight. I'm no researcher so I can't say for sure. Maybe it's not a pattern, who knows.
For now, I'm reasonably safe, well fed, and no longer alone. Until next time boys and girls.... Bye
(EDIT: I should read what everyone else posted since my last post, before I make a new post)
Sunny and Busy Skies!
Tyler Collins
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
^I like adding a tag, it's easier to keep track of everyone. Good call, Sarah and Dan.
It sounds like everyone had a rough time this past week. Things were no different in GA.
Locally, we got over five inches of rain and the entire Southeast was off-and-on bad weather the whole week. We powered up for a short time every morning in preparation for traffic and got the stand-down signal each time. If any of you are in those areas that gets regular drops, I'm really sorry that nothing went through. I know that several QZs in the more remote areas basically live week-to-week by those drops. I hope it wasn't terrible for you, but this week's big lift is clear enough to happen, thank goodness. It's been busy these last couple of days in the ATC room, lots of Herks, especially on the north side.
We went back to the QZ for the weekend since we knew it wouldn't clear up. Those trips are generally uneventful, but some of the roads were flooded and we dared not go through Locust Grove. It's seventeen miles by bicycle to our vehicle drop south of Jenkinsburg, normally, but our detour was significantly longer. It only poured on us once during that ride, but that was enough to soak right through our clothes. No contacts, living or otherwise, likely due to the drop in visibility right as we passed I75. We prefer to keep it that way.
To make matters worse, five inches of rain really added up on Jackson Lake, where the QZ is. The rise in water, washed-out paths and roads, and poor construction of the temporary housing made everything pretty nasty. I was extra busy with digging channels, emptying 'habs, organizing a relocation, and the like.
The lake, as you can imagine, is pretty gross by now. The emergency shelters have been up since January and everyone who owned a boat brought it when they fled to the QZ. Combine that with bad enforcement of waste disposal guidelines and now we have a giant, acidic, oily cesspool completely emptied of anything edible. I still can't believe that the bosses didn't believe Eddie (our health guy, from the Fulton Co. Health Dept., I help him out when I'm behind the fence) when he said that we'd need new fresh water sources within five days of setting up the QZ. Well, at least now they believe us.
Rainwater is generally as clean as the vessel you use to collect it, so it's pretty safe. We still filter and treat ours because of all the fires in Atlanta (I highly recommend you do too, wherever you are). I'm worried about heavy metal content, though, so much that I almost want to ask for an expedition over to Gordon. With a generator and some standards (easy enough to make), I could get some info on our water quality with their instruments. I could also raid their stockroom and get a ton of useful stuff, if it hasn't been emptied or burned to the ground. Of course, GT would be better, but there's no way in hell we're going back into Atlanta.
I don't like staying in the QZ for long, it's always busy and people bug you a lot for information or stories beyond the wall. Frankly, we do what we can to avoid the interesting stories and this blog is the only non-official communication that we do. I'm always a bit on edge when we're out but coming back in is way more stressful. Leaving Monday morning was a relief. The trip back was less wet, but we did have to lob off two or three groaners (it feels weird to call them that). I let the military guys do that part as much as I can.
When we powered up on Tuesday, we found out from friends at Peachtree City/Falcon Field that they got an S-band radar working again, but the signal strength is way low and the computer software isn't working properly. I guess it's better than nothing.
I feel like there's so much more to tell but I also feel like I'm rambling. Let me know if y'all want details on stuff, or think I need to stop being so wordy.
Stay safe, everyone, and keep praying for clear skies.
South Atlanta QZ/ARTCC, GA, US
^I like adding a tag, it's easier to keep track of everyone. Good call, Sarah and Dan.
It sounds like everyone had a rough time this past week. Things were no different in GA.
Locally, we got over five inches of rain and the entire Southeast was off-and-on bad weather the whole week. We powered up for a short time every morning in preparation for traffic and got the stand-down signal each time. If any of you are in those areas that gets regular drops, I'm really sorry that nothing went through. I know that several QZs in the more remote areas basically live week-to-week by those drops. I hope it wasn't terrible for you, but this week's big lift is clear enough to happen, thank goodness. It's been busy these last couple of days in the ATC room, lots of Herks, especially on the north side.
We went back to the QZ for the weekend since we knew it wouldn't clear up. Those trips are generally uneventful, but some of the roads were flooded and we dared not go through Locust Grove. It's seventeen miles by bicycle to our vehicle drop south of Jenkinsburg, normally, but our detour was significantly longer. It only poured on us once during that ride, but that was enough to soak right through our clothes. No contacts, living or otherwise, likely due to the drop in visibility right as we passed I75. We prefer to keep it that way.
To make matters worse, five inches of rain really added up on Jackson Lake, where the QZ is. The rise in water, washed-out paths and roads, and poor construction of the temporary housing made everything pretty nasty. I was extra busy with digging channels, emptying 'habs, organizing a relocation, and the like.
The lake, as you can imagine, is pretty gross by now. The emergency shelters have been up since January and everyone who owned a boat brought it when they fled to the QZ. Combine that with bad enforcement of waste disposal guidelines and now we have a giant, acidic, oily cesspool completely emptied of anything edible. I still can't believe that the bosses didn't believe Eddie (our health guy, from the Fulton Co. Health Dept., I help him out when I'm behind the fence) when he said that we'd need new fresh water sources within five days of setting up the QZ. Well, at least now they believe us.
Rainwater is generally as clean as the vessel you use to collect it, so it's pretty safe. We still filter and treat ours because of all the fires in Atlanta (I highly recommend you do too, wherever you are). I'm worried about heavy metal content, though, so much that I almost want to ask for an expedition over to Gordon. With a generator and some standards (easy enough to make), I could get some info on our water quality with their instruments. I could also raid their stockroom and get a ton of useful stuff, if it hasn't been emptied or burned to the ground. Of course, GT would be better, but there's no way in hell we're going back into Atlanta.
I don't like staying in the QZ for long, it's always busy and people bug you a lot for information or stories beyond the wall. Frankly, we do what we can to avoid the interesting stories and this blog is the only non-official communication that we do. I'm always a bit on edge when we're out but coming back in is way more stressful. Leaving Monday morning was a relief. The trip back was less wet, but we did have to lob off two or three groaners (it feels weird to call them that). I let the military guys do that part as much as I can.
When we powered up on Tuesday, we found out from friends at Peachtree City/Falcon Field that they got an S-band radar working again, but the signal strength is way low and the computer software isn't working properly. I guess it's better than nothing.
I feel like there's so much more to tell but I also feel like I'm rambling. Let me know if y'all want details on stuff, or think I need to stop being so wordy.
Stay safe, everyone, and keep praying for clear skies.
I am so confused.
Lianne, Maastricht
I am so confused.
Sorry for not posting for a while but rediscovering that the internet in some form survived caused quite a stir here. We only have access to two laptops (phones can’t seem to get the signal, is that similar to where you are?) and we spend a lot of time trying to access information or send messages to others.
So far with little luck. If only google had survived; I am too spoiled when it comes to internet searching! The strange thing is though that even on the websites that still exist we can’t find anything. I mean, if there is internet, surely the government would use it right?
I mean… if I can communicate with people all over the world, the proper authorities must do this as well? I really want to find some answers but so far… nothing. And it bugs me! If you can help in any way, please fill in some of the gaps for me, it’d be greatly appreciated here.
Too be honest I haven’t shared this blog with the rest (yet). I am not sure why. I guess I cannot give up the idea to have something private, something that is special. I grew close with the group we live here with, and I guess we’ve become somewhat of an extended family, but I miss privacy.
For obvious reasons we share everything and everything we do is for the common good. I get that. But having some things just for yourself. Or even to have private moments with those you’re closest too. That stuff makes me feel like I'm still human.
Alice, I kinda understand what you meant, but to be honest my experience is the opposite. I was on my own and in my own head a lot before the outbreak but now… I am never by myself anymore, or even just with a few friends. There are always at least 10 people around. Whether I am eating, sleeping, running a mission, do chores; ALL THE TIME. It’s making me feel like I’m on edge all the time.
Internet duty (I guess a new chore now) is mainly just Dirk and me, because he knows technical communication and I own the laptop we search on. It feels like such a relief. Anyway, back to work. We are trying to set up a rudimentary email system between our two computers so that we can perhaps use it to stay in touch with travelers that pass through the area. It’s not that easy, because we have to do everything outside (obviously no signal in a bunker XD) which causes a security issue as well. For now just daytime, within side of the main entrance guards, while the scouts are out. I’ll tell you about that system some other time I guess.
Talk to you soon and stay safe everybody!
Liannne
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
The Worst Thing
Alice Webb
Outside the DFWQZ
East Texas
Hey gang.
I'm tired today, but I'm feeling the need to talk, and I don't have much else to do. Dad and the boys are out running rounds - rounding up stray animals, checking abandoned houses for supplies, that sort of thing. Mom's napping. She says her eyes hurt. We were about to order new glasses when the outbreak hit, so we're both stuck with a few pairs of contacts that are right and glasses that aren't right. Mom's are these weird bifocal ones that she hates because she can't really focus on anything. Mine are just blurry. I'm pretty tall, and my eyes didn't grow with the rest of me, so every year it gets a little worse. The doctors used to say that when I'd stopped growing I could get Lasik but that's never going to happen now. It scares me for the future. I can barely see without my glasses now. Things get blurry just a few feet away. What am I going to do when I can't see WITH my glasses? Worse, what if they break? I'll be be useless. I'll be more than useless, I'll be a liability. But I guess that's something I have to worry about later. For now we're just trying to survive.
We had a zom attack last night. It wasn't many of them, but it was scary enough. There was a big storm Saturday, and a lot of trees fell. There was a big oak tree that fell right across the highway. The boys found it when they went out this morning and had to turn around. It was too big to go around. We're going to have to figure out a way to clear it so we don't get trapped in, but it's going to be difficult. No chainsaws, too much noise, and only one or two people working on it at once. I wish dad would let me help but I'm no good with the axe yet.
Anyway, we think the storm is what stirred up the zoms. They came sniffing around the farm last night. We watched them through the windows above the bunker. I'll have to draw a diagram sometime, see if I can show you guys. If they were as smart as their instincts we'd be in real trouble, but as it was they smelled easier meat and moved on. We've got what my oldest brother has dubbed the "sarlacc pit". We basically just dug a huge hole in the ground and lined the bottom with sharpened stakes, a few feet apart. We hang an animal over the top every now and then-mostly goats, sometimes roadkill or something diseased. It doesn't have to be fresh, just hold together. They smell it and walk right out on the air. I guess it could be a problem if we ever had a horde, but so far there's just been one or two, and it works great to draw them away from us. After all, there's dead things all over the place.
We've had a couple of sniffers every now and then for the last few months-zoms partly decayed. They can't move very fast, and they aren't coordinated or anything, but you can see them sniff. We haven't seen any of the fresh ones. It's Texas, after all; it's still too humid and hot even in the spring for dead bodies to stay around very long, and we've got plenty of scavengers that'll take a bite out of the zoms. The vultures are looking particularly fat lately. The zoms will lose leg function or fall and the vultures are on em like, well, vultures. It's definitely a help to know they're getting cleaned up by nature. We just have to be careful and not get bit.
I think the worst part of the attack isn't the actual zoms. They're scary, but you have a plan in place, and you know what to do, and you know what to look for. Plus adrenaline kicks in and you think so clearly. I think the worst part is after. You lie awake for hours, and every little noise sends you bolt upright, heart pounding, ready for the worst. They've found us, there's thousands, they're getting in, we're all going to die, and you stare at your family, the people you love, and think that they will never live a happy, normal life again, because this is life now. It's the terror and the fear and all the time leading up to the next time. I look at my nephews sometimes, these beautiful little boys, and I think about what their life is going to be. I think about their clothes, these remnants of crushed dreams: baseball jerseys and Iron Man onesies and tiny Converse sneakers. We bought them just a few months ago, thinking how cute they were. But CJ is never going to watch a Marvel movie. Isaac is never going to see the Rangers play in the stadium my brother's been going to his whole life. I still have my books, at least; I can read them Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings and Shakespeare. But how long will that last? Are we ever going to live like we did? Or is it always going to be a before and after, and we're stuck on the after side?
If I sound like I've been overthinking this, forgive me. I've had a lot of time on my own, with nothing much to do. I never imagined the apocalypse could be so mind-numbingly boring. I've gotten exceedingly neat, something I'm sure my mother is grateful for. I do the dishes unasked, I make my bed (well, I clean up my cot). I put things away. I sweep, I mop, I water plants and venture outside when my dad gives the all clear, to help or just feel the sunlight for a few minutes. All of this takes maybe an hour, in our little space, and I don't know what else to do. I read as much as I can. My paperbacks are starting to fall apart already. I write some. Mom used to tease dad and me about hoarding office supplies because we'd stock up every new semester. We have boxes full of spiral notepads, mechanical pencils, pens, just because we liked having empty ones on hand. Now I'm so glad we did that, because I can spend hours writing whatever comes into my head and it only fills up a few pages. It's gotten to where I just want ways to pass the time. Playing with the babies is always good, but there's only so many toys we could bring down to entertain them, and they surely aren't going above ground. I've only seen one zombie baby. I hope it's the last one I ever see.
If I was older this wouldn't be such a problem, because the boys and my sister's-in-law have much more freedom than I do. They're still careful, they still have to go in pairs, but they can at least go out without the whole family around them. I'd say my brother's girlfriend, too, but she won't leave the bunker for ANYTHING. She's too scared. I know I should be more understanding, and maybe grateful for her company, but honestly she's getting on my nerves. We never got along much before the outbreak, and now...we aren't even family. I don't even like her, and she doesn't like me. And since she's here all the time, I spend a lot of time in my head, trying not to talk, because we'll just end up in an argument. I hate it, because I really could use someone to talk to. She's not that much older than me; in theory we could be great friends. In practice? Ugh. Not so much.
Before you start lecturing me, I did try. Since there's only so much you can talk about with your family, and we're not exactly in a place where I have friends I can go hang out with, she's pretty much my only option. So when we first moved in here I made a huge effort-I tried to talk to her about shows we used to watch, books we used to read, anything we might have in common. Nope. Nata. Zilch. It's like we're from different planets.
I gave up. Now I spend a lot of time wishing someone would show up on our doorstop seeking refuge. Maybe someone who could be a friend. Someone my age, who likes the same things I used to. Or even just likes the same things I do now, who can help me get out of my head and make the most of this awful life. Because I should feel lucky just to be alive; but I just feel trapped. The days are so lonely.
No, that's the worst thing, the thing I was so totally unprepared for. Not the fear, not the boredom. The crippling isolation. Feeling alone, and lost, and sad every day and every hour. Maybe it breaks for a few minutes, when the family comes in for the night, or when you can sleep and dream about the life you used to have. But in the long hours between sunrise and sunset, all you have is yourself.
Maybe that's why I'm so glad I found this, whatever "this" is, my lifeline to the rest of the world. Even if I'm alone here, I know someone, somewhere can read my words, and maybe they understand exactly how I feel. Maybe they want a friend, too, even at the end of the world, when that really should be the last thing on our minds. It's funny; maybe this will all end tomorrow, or maybe all you other people will blink out, one by one, or maybe tomorrow we'll be overwhelmed and I'll never get the chance to write to you again. But right now, in this moment, I'm happy for the first time in months. For the first time, I don't feel so alone.
Keep safe, friends. My thoughts are with you, wherever you are.
Alice
Outside the DFWQZ
East Texas
Hey gang.
I'm tired today, but I'm feeling the need to talk, and I don't have much else to do. Dad and the boys are out running rounds - rounding up stray animals, checking abandoned houses for supplies, that sort of thing. Mom's napping. She says her eyes hurt. We were about to order new glasses when the outbreak hit, so we're both stuck with a few pairs of contacts that are right and glasses that aren't right. Mom's are these weird bifocal ones that she hates because she can't really focus on anything. Mine are just blurry. I'm pretty tall, and my eyes didn't grow with the rest of me, so every year it gets a little worse. The doctors used to say that when I'd stopped growing I could get Lasik but that's never going to happen now. It scares me for the future. I can barely see without my glasses now. Things get blurry just a few feet away. What am I going to do when I can't see WITH my glasses? Worse, what if they break? I'll be be useless. I'll be more than useless, I'll be a liability. But I guess that's something I have to worry about later. For now we're just trying to survive.
We had a zom attack last night. It wasn't many of them, but it was scary enough. There was a big storm Saturday, and a lot of trees fell. There was a big oak tree that fell right across the highway. The boys found it when they went out this morning and had to turn around. It was too big to go around. We're going to have to figure out a way to clear it so we don't get trapped in, but it's going to be difficult. No chainsaws, too much noise, and only one or two people working on it at once. I wish dad would let me help but I'm no good with the axe yet.
Anyway, we think the storm is what stirred up the zoms. They came sniffing around the farm last night. We watched them through the windows above the bunker. I'll have to draw a diagram sometime, see if I can show you guys. If they were as smart as their instincts we'd be in real trouble, but as it was they smelled easier meat and moved on. We've got what my oldest brother has dubbed the "sarlacc pit". We basically just dug a huge hole in the ground and lined the bottom with sharpened stakes, a few feet apart. We hang an animal over the top every now and then-mostly goats, sometimes roadkill or something diseased. It doesn't have to be fresh, just hold together. They smell it and walk right out on the air. I guess it could be a problem if we ever had a horde, but so far there's just been one or two, and it works great to draw them away from us. After all, there's dead things all over the place.
We've had a couple of sniffers every now and then for the last few months-zoms partly decayed. They can't move very fast, and they aren't coordinated or anything, but you can see them sniff. We haven't seen any of the fresh ones. It's Texas, after all; it's still too humid and hot even in the spring for dead bodies to stay around very long, and we've got plenty of scavengers that'll take a bite out of the zoms. The vultures are looking particularly fat lately. The zoms will lose leg function or fall and the vultures are on em like, well, vultures. It's definitely a help to know they're getting cleaned up by nature. We just have to be careful and not get bit.
I think the worst part of the attack isn't the actual zoms. They're scary, but you have a plan in place, and you know what to do, and you know what to look for. Plus adrenaline kicks in and you think so clearly. I think the worst part is after. You lie awake for hours, and every little noise sends you bolt upright, heart pounding, ready for the worst. They've found us, there's thousands, they're getting in, we're all going to die, and you stare at your family, the people you love, and think that they will never live a happy, normal life again, because this is life now. It's the terror and the fear and all the time leading up to the next time. I look at my nephews sometimes, these beautiful little boys, and I think about what their life is going to be. I think about their clothes, these remnants of crushed dreams: baseball jerseys and Iron Man onesies and tiny Converse sneakers. We bought them just a few months ago, thinking how cute they were. But CJ is never going to watch a Marvel movie. Isaac is never going to see the Rangers play in the stadium my brother's been going to his whole life. I still have my books, at least; I can read them Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings and Shakespeare. But how long will that last? Are we ever going to live like we did? Or is it always going to be a before and after, and we're stuck on the after side?
If I sound like I've been overthinking this, forgive me. I've had a lot of time on my own, with nothing much to do. I never imagined the apocalypse could be so mind-numbingly boring. I've gotten exceedingly neat, something I'm sure my mother is grateful for. I do the dishes unasked, I make my bed (well, I clean up my cot). I put things away. I sweep, I mop, I water plants and venture outside when my dad gives the all clear, to help or just feel the sunlight for a few minutes. All of this takes maybe an hour, in our little space, and I don't know what else to do. I read as much as I can. My paperbacks are starting to fall apart already. I write some. Mom used to tease dad and me about hoarding office supplies because we'd stock up every new semester. We have boxes full of spiral notepads, mechanical pencils, pens, just because we liked having empty ones on hand. Now I'm so glad we did that, because I can spend hours writing whatever comes into my head and it only fills up a few pages. It's gotten to where I just want ways to pass the time. Playing with the babies is always good, but there's only so many toys we could bring down to entertain them, and they surely aren't going above ground. I've only seen one zombie baby. I hope it's the last one I ever see.
If I was older this wouldn't be such a problem, because the boys and my sister's-in-law have much more freedom than I do. They're still careful, they still have to go in pairs, but they can at least go out without the whole family around them. I'd say my brother's girlfriend, too, but she won't leave the bunker for ANYTHING. She's too scared. I know I should be more understanding, and maybe grateful for her company, but honestly she's getting on my nerves. We never got along much before the outbreak, and now...we aren't even family. I don't even like her, and she doesn't like me. And since she's here all the time, I spend a lot of time in my head, trying not to talk, because we'll just end up in an argument. I hate it, because I really could use someone to talk to. She's not that much older than me; in theory we could be great friends. In practice? Ugh. Not so much.
Before you start lecturing me, I did try. Since there's only so much you can talk about with your family, and we're not exactly in a place where I have friends I can go hang out with, she's pretty much my only option. So when we first moved in here I made a huge effort-I tried to talk to her about shows we used to watch, books we used to read, anything we might have in common. Nope. Nata. Zilch. It's like we're from different planets.
I gave up. Now I spend a lot of time wishing someone would show up on our doorstop seeking refuge. Maybe someone who could be a friend. Someone my age, who likes the same things I used to. Or even just likes the same things I do now, who can help me get out of my head and make the most of this awful life. Because I should feel lucky just to be alive; but I just feel trapped. The days are so lonely.
No, that's the worst thing, the thing I was so totally unprepared for. Not the fear, not the boredom. The crippling isolation. Feeling alone, and lost, and sad every day and every hour. Maybe it breaks for a few minutes, when the family comes in for the night, or when you can sleep and dream about the life you used to have. But in the long hours between sunrise and sunset, all you have is yourself.
Maybe that's why I'm so glad I found this, whatever "this" is, my lifeline to the rest of the world. Even if I'm alone here, I know someone, somewhere can read my words, and maybe they understand exactly how I feel. Maybe they want a friend, too, even at the end of the world, when that really should be the last thing on our minds. It's funny; maybe this will all end tomorrow, or maybe all you other people will blink out, one by one, or maybe tomorrow we'll be overwhelmed and I'll never get the chance to write to you again. But right now, in this moment, I'm happy for the first time in months. For the first time, I don't feel so alone.
Keep safe, friends. My thoughts are with you, wherever you are.
Alice
We had a hard week in Montreal
Marjolaine
Montreal Quarantine - Olympic plaza
Day 130 after isolation
Rain today
Hello everyone! I am so glad to see that there are so many of you, around the world, still surviving.
Your stories give me hope.
I've had precious little hope lately.
It's been, a hard week, my follow survivors. I can't talk about it with members of my camp, moral is bad enough as it is. People around look up at me for reassurance. I've always been someone rather unfazed by things, who keeps a cool hand under pressure, who is supremely logical. For their sake, I can't let that mask crack. Because mask it surely is.
I've been weeping, strangers. I've been weeping and yelling and hitting things, in secret, far from everyone. I am not as hard as I project. I am not the girl of stone cold intellectualism even my friends see. I am not the ice queen unkind lovers have thought.
I've killed again this week. Again and again. I joke that I don't remember how many, that there have been too much.
There has been to many to count. I remember every single one.
My armor is cracking, and I can't afford a nervous breakdown I wish I could have. I can't sleep this plague away.
Montreal has had a very cold winter. Very cold. This was very difficult for the survivors, but our quarantine area, in the Olympic plaza, or rather UNDER the Olympic plaza, is geothermal-heated, much to my surprise. They really thought of everything when they build this bunker in the 70s.
The cold was very bad for the Montrealers that didn't spend the winter with us. Survivors have been pouring in for a week, many of them with scars of frostbite and hallowed cheeks. The empty look in their eyes almost made the guards shoot the first ones that showed up 10 days ago. But we brought them in and locked them in a room for a few days, which proved to the guys ruining the quarantine that they weren't sick. That they weren't coming to spread the plague. How they are sure, I don't know, they won't explain to me when I pester them.
So far, about 50 news arrivals have joined, emerging from the thawing city. They weren't the only ones.
I guess I have to be thankful for the time we had to prepare. I realise now that the winter didn't kill off the sick, these "Groaners" that you call them. They were just frozen in place. But now, summer is coming, spring is here, with a vengeance. I think that may be following us back to camp. We may have been careless. The outsiders may have been careless as well. But they are coming for us now.
When I ran, when all of this started, I had barely any contact with the sick. I made to the Olympic safe camps without getting our group into trouble. Then, winter settled in, and we waited for rescue.
We hadn't realized then that the city had been left for dead. I've had no contact with the outside world till early April, when I tried this blog.
I see now you are all as trapped as we are. What happened to our governments?
When we started to be low on food, in late December, I approached a few of the older men and women who seemed to have taken somewhat charge of the camp. I had a proposal. I've already been foraging around, and wandering through the underground Metro tunnels. I've always been restless, and the nervous flittering in the camp was wearying. The Metro Green Line: the darkness and chill like the great cavern of a beast, a labyrinth under the city, leading to many unexpected places. During my rather recent hooligans years, I acquired two things : an understanding of these great many tunnels, and a handful of keys. One of those keys, acquired quite legally I might add, led to the Biodome, and the vast freezers used to store all of the food for the animals in that indoor zoo. I knew for a fact that there were thousands of tons of fish, because I had helped bring in the crates near days before the first outbreak of the plague. I knew how to get that food. One of the men, Jérôme Tremblay, was in favor of a leading a retrieval group.
He told me he used to be a police officer, and he handed me a handgun. I don't believe he was, but you don't question a man with weapons. The thing was heavier then I imagined, and I couldn't quite hide my nervousness when I fastened it to my belt, because he laugh and just told me to point in the direction of any sick.
"You want me shoot at the plague victims?" I asked in alarm. At that time, even after everything that led us to hide in a quarantine camp, I was still under the impression that those afflicted were still to be cured, to be saved. Aren't they working on a cure right now, in the rest of Canada or the States or Europe? Fuck was I naive.
Tremblay turned serious at this. "You don't hesitate. It's you or them, and better be ready to face that truth. Or you'll be dead en tabarnak" I nodded grimly. But then, I still didn't think I'd have any cause to fire on anyone. How I wish that was true.
The first thing I remember is the smell. A sickly, sweet smell, like rotting flowers, tinged with a strong metallic element that tasted like rust in my mouth. At first, we thought it was the zoo itself, that was already starting to decay in the absence of caretakers. But around a corner, she surprised us. It surprised us, I should say. It was slumped against the wall, bathed in shadow. The beige of its uniform stained and frayed. One moment, we thought it was a bundle of rags, the next instant she, it, sprinted in our direction. I had barely the time to notice the gleam from our headlamps, a weeping, crimson wound from her neck and left shoulder. I shot. The recoil hurt my arm, but the pounding of my blood through my ears was all I could feel. I damn lucky shot, it hit her in the hip and she topple to the ground. Tremblay and another man named Simon were quick to bash its head in with the broken broom handles they carried. A bit of scalp and hair stuck to the wood. The hair was short and gray. I knew who she was. Who it used to be. I have to remember that they are not human. I'm sorry Anne.
(We wore face masks, but really, are they necessary to protect ourselves from the plague, I ask you? I don't think so.)
Anne was my first kill, but not my last. With the thawing of the city, there have been a lot of Annes, lately. A lot of monsters. I've grown a reputation as someone who doesn't falter at the trigger. If only they knew how the death pains me.
I can't talk to Paul, psychologist he may be. I don't need reassurance that I am doing the right thing. This will never be the right thing. God, please, if you are out there and you are able to help us, please come and save us. I can't take more killing. I can't take more death.
Summer is coming. They keep coming.
J'espère que vous restez vivant un peu plus longtemps.
Jo
P.S. Dan, your quarantine is using runners to divert the monsters away from camp. I don't know if it will work here, but I'll suggest it. Seems like a good idea, if it's working.
Montreal Quarantine - Olympic plaza
Day 130 after isolation
Rain today
Hello everyone! I am so glad to see that there are so many of you, around the world, still surviving.
Your stories give me hope.
I've had precious little hope lately.
It's been, a hard week, my follow survivors. I can't talk about it with members of my camp, moral is bad enough as it is. People around look up at me for reassurance. I've always been someone rather unfazed by things, who keeps a cool hand under pressure, who is supremely logical. For their sake, I can't let that mask crack. Because mask it surely is.
I've been weeping, strangers. I've been weeping and yelling and hitting things, in secret, far from everyone. I am not as hard as I project. I am not the girl of stone cold intellectualism even my friends see. I am not the ice queen unkind lovers have thought.
I've killed again this week. Again and again. I joke that I don't remember how many, that there have been too much.
There has been to many to count. I remember every single one.
My armor is cracking, and I can't afford a nervous breakdown I wish I could have. I can't sleep this plague away.
Montreal has had a very cold winter. Very cold. This was very difficult for the survivors, but our quarantine area, in the Olympic plaza, or rather UNDER the Olympic plaza, is geothermal-heated, much to my surprise. They really thought of everything when they build this bunker in the 70s.
The cold was very bad for the Montrealers that didn't spend the winter with us. Survivors have been pouring in for a week, many of them with scars of frostbite and hallowed cheeks. The empty look in their eyes almost made the guards shoot the first ones that showed up 10 days ago. But we brought them in and locked them in a room for a few days, which proved to the guys ruining the quarantine that they weren't sick. That they weren't coming to spread the plague. How they are sure, I don't know, they won't explain to me when I pester them.
So far, about 50 news arrivals have joined, emerging from the thawing city. They weren't the only ones.
I guess I have to be thankful for the time we had to prepare. I realise now that the winter didn't kill off the sick, these "Groaners" that you call them. They were just frozen in place. But now, summer is coming, spring is here, with a vengeance. I think that may be following us back to camp. We may have been careless. The outsiders may have been careless as well. But they are coming for us now.
When I ran, when all of this started, I had barely any contact with the sick. I made to the Olympic safe camps without getting our group into trouble. Then, winter settled in, and we waited for rescue.
We hadn't realized then that the city had been left for dead. I've had no contact with the outside world till early April, when I tried this blog.
I see now you are all as trapped as we are. What happened to our governments?
When we started to be low on food, in late December, I approached a few of the older men and women who seemed to have taken somewhat charge of the camp. I had a proposal. I've already been foraging around, and wandering through the underground Metro tunnels. I've always been restless, and the nervous flittering in the camp was wearying. The Metro Green Line: the darkness and chill like the great cavern of a beast, a labyrinth under the city, leading to many unexpected places. During my rather recent hooligans years, I acquired two things : an understanding of these great many tunnels, and a handful of keys. One of those keys, acquired quite legally I might add, led to the Biodome, and the vast freezers used to store all of the food for the animals in that indoor zoo. I knew for a fact that there were thousands of tons of fish, because I had helped bring in the crates near days before the first outbreak of the plague. I knew how to get that food. One of the men, Jérôme Tremblay, was in favor of a leading a retrieval group.
He told me he used to be a police officer, and he handed me a handgun. I don't believe he was, but you don't question a man with weapons. The thing was heavier then I imagined, and I couldn't quite hide my nervousness when I fastened it to my belt, because he laugh and just told me to point in the direction of any sick.
"You want me shoot at the plague victims?" I asked in alarm. At that time, even after everything that led us to hide in a quarantine camp, I was still under the impression that those afflicted were still to be cured, to be saved. Aren't they working on a cure right now, in the rest of Canada or the States or Europe? Fuck was I naive.
Tremblay turned serious at this. "You don't hesitate. It's you or them, and better be ready to face that truth. Or you'll be dead en tabarnak" I nodded grimly. But then, I still didn't think I'd have any cause to fire on anyone. How I wish that was true.
The first thing I remember is the smell. A sickly, sweet smell, like rotting flowers, tinged with a strong metallic element that tasted like rust in my mouth. At first, we thought it was the zoo itself, that was already starting to decay in the absence of caretakers. But around a corner, she surprised us. It surprised us, I should say. It was slumped against the wall, bathed in shadow. The beige of its uniform stained and frayed. One moment, we thought it was a bundle of rags, the next instant she, it, sprinted in our direction. I had barely the time to notice the gleam from our headlamps, a weeping, crimson wound from her neck and left shoulder. I shot. The recoil hurt my arm, but the pounding of my blood through my ears was all I could feel. I damn lucky shot, it hit her in the hip and she topple to the ground. Tremblay and another man named Simon were quick to bash its head in with the broken broom handles they carried. A bit of scalp and hair stuck to the wood. The hair was short and gray. I knew who she was. Who it used to be. I have to remember that they are not human. I'm sorry Anne.
(We wore face masks, but really, are they necessary to protect ourselves from the plague, I ask you? I don't think so.)
Anne was my first kill, but not my last. With the thawing of the city, there have been a lot of Annes, lately. A lot of monsters. I've grown a reputation as someone who doesn't falter at the trigger. If only they knew how the death pains me.
I can't talk to Paul, psychologist he may be. I don't need reassurance that I am doing the right thing. This will never be the right thing. God, please, if you are out there and you are able to help us, please come and save us. I can't take more killing. I can't take more death.
Summer is coming. They keep coming.
J'espère que vous restez vivant un peu plus longtemps.
Jo
P.S. Dan, your quarantine is using runners to divert the monsters away from camp. I don't know if it will work here, but I'll suggest it. Seems like a good idea, if it's working.
Monday, April 20, 2015
It's been a difficult and productive week
I haven't had an opportunity to get on here this week. The first few days were very hectic and I was getting a lot done. The last two days were filled constantly with moments I thought would be my last.
I'm just now getting settled down. I slept a few hours but my nerves are still absolutely on edge. I'll try to keep this chronological. Forgive any ramblings please.
Some time last week, I don't know maybe 5 or 6 days ago, I saw another huge explosion at the south end of the bay. That's about 35 miles as the crow flies which is well over the horizon, so it was a big blast. Thinking about it now though, maybe it was on the water not over land. That might change things. There are fuel barges and bulk transport ships that used to use this bay, maybe one of those blew or something. Regardless, it was huge. It woke me up in the middle of the night. I was racked out in the back seat of the truck. I sat up pretty quick and hit my head on the window. My luck.... because there was one of them outside. One of the not-so-dead dead guys. He heard or saw me, and started banging on the door trying to get to me. I had backed the truck into a very narrow alley. It was barely wider than the truck. This asshole managed to squeeze between the truck and the wall somehow. Stupid luck. So, I scrambled up front to get the hell out of dodge because he was making a LOT of noise. I got my foot caught between the front seats, and fell. I landed on the horn. The horn still works, did I mention that? The asshole that tricked out my nice big house sized truck also replaced the horn with one of those train horn type horns. I drew in every dead son of a bitch from about a mile in every direction. I got the truck started and barely got out of dodge in time. I drew in what might be the biggest crowd of the things I'd seen to that point. I did the slow roll trick and got out without any damage. Not sure the head count, I was kinda panicky. I got up onto the elevated portion of the interstate which is pretty well intact. There were some vehicles blocking the lanes but not many on the extremely narrow shoulder. I carefully pushed those out of the way and then backed into them to push them back. This pretty effectively closed the door behind me.
This leads me to what might be the best stroke of luck yet. The particular elevated section of interstate is over a mile long and three lanes wide for its majority. There were a lot of vehicles stuck up there and more than a few dead shambling about. After I drove the length of the overpass I found a hefty blockage at the other end. There were two buses locked together after some sort of crash. They made a nice V-shape that blocked all three lanes and both shoulders completely. It hit me at that point that I had a nice piece of real estate all to myself if I could clear and secure it. As I'd driven from one end to the other, most of the mobile dead had followed me. I was just a bit ahead of the first of them so I backed up and crushed the ones in the open. I then parked the truck right up against the concrete side rail at an angle with them at the wide end and me at the narrow end. I wanted to funnel them to me so they couldn't come from more than one direction. The gap was so narrow they had to squeeze through to get to where I was standing, with my back almost to the buses. As they squirmed through, slightly off balance, I just gave them each a little shove with a shovel I found and they fell right off the overpass. The 30 or 40 foot fall to the highway below was enough to kill or incapacitate them all the the point I wasn't worried. Thoroughly pleased with myself, I began scavenging through the abandoned vehicles. There I found a few of the dead, still buckled into their seat belts or otherwise trapped inside. They can't open doors. I don't know how much of what I put on here is obvious or old knowledge to everyone else, but until someone suggests otherwise, I'm going to keep sharing most of what I learn and what keeps me alive. I'm still not going to give exact details of my location yet. At least not where I currently am.
I added a few dozen gallons to my water supply. I found a car with 3 cases of military MRE meals in the trunk. I found some assorted ammo, a few firearms, and some other food. I then used the truck to push the vehicles out of the central span of the overpass. I spent the whole next full day doing this and searching through the vehicles more. I used to play a lot of video games and I was always that guy that solves all the puzzles and searches all the rooms to get all the loot. I collect all the coins or rings or lego pieces because it bugs me not to have everything. I was destined to be a hoarder maybe. So, in the bed of one of the other trucks I gathered all the water bottles. In another I put fuel containers. I'm mostly keeping diesel because that's what my found truck uses but I'm saving gas as well just in case. In one of the cars, I filled the back seat with food and covered it with clothes and shoes that were scattered around.
I'm just now getting settled down. I slept a few hours but my nerves are still absolutely on edge. I'll try to keep this chronological. Forgive any ramblings please.
Some time last week, I don't know maybe 5 or 6 days ago, I saw another huge explosion at the south end of the bay. That's about 35 miles as the crow flies which is well over the horizon, so it was a big blast. Thinking about it now though, maybe it was on the water not over land. That might change things. There are fuel barges and bulk transport ships that used to use this bay, maybe one of those blew or something. Regardless, it was huge. It woke me up in the middle of the night. I was racked out in the back seat of the truck. I sat up pretty quick and hit my head on the window. My luck.... because there was one of them outside. One of the not-so-dead dead guys. He heard or saw me, and started banging on the door trying to get to me. I had backed the truck into a very narrow alley. It was barely wider than the truck. This asshole managed to squeeze between the truck and the wall somehow. Stupid luck. So, I scrambled up front to get the hell out of dodge because he was making a LOT of noise. I got my foot caught between the front seats, and fell. I landed on the horn. The horn still works, did I mention that? The asshole that tricked out my nice big house sized truck also replaced the horn with one of those train horn type horns. I drew in every dead son of a bitch from about a mile in every direction. I got the truck started and barely got out of dodge in time. I drew in what might be the biggest crowd of the things I'd seen to that point. I did the slow roll trick and got out without any damage. Not sure the head count, I was kinda panicky. I got up onto the elevated portion of the interstate which is pretty well intact. There were some vehicles blocking the lanes but not many on the extremely narrow shoulder. I carefully pushed those out of the way and then backed into them to push them back. This pretty effectively closed the door behind me.
This leads me to what might be the best stroke of luck yet. The particular elevated section of interstate is over a mile long and three lanes wide for its majority. There were a lot of vehicles stuck up there and more than a few dead shambling about. After I drove the length of the overpass I found a hefty blockage at the other end. There were two buses locked together after some sort of crash. They made a nice V-shape that blocked all three lanes and both shoulders completely. It hit me at that point that I had a nice piece of real estate all to myself if I could clear and secure it. As I'd driven from one end to the other, most of the mobile dead had followed me. I was just a bit ahead of the first of them so I backed up and crushed the ones in the open. I then parked the truck right up against the concrete side rail at an angle with them at the wide end and me at the narrow end. I wanted to funnel them to me so they couldn't come from more than one direction. The gap was so narrow they had to squeeze through to get to where I was standing, with my back almost to the buses. As they squirmed through, slightly off balance, I just gave them each a little shove with a shovel I found and they fell right off the overpass. The 30 or 40 foot fall to the highway below was enough to kill or incapacitate them all the the point I wasn't worried. Thoroughly pleased with myself, I began scavenging through the abandoned vehicles. There I found a few of the dead, still buckled into their seat belts or otherwise trapped inside. They can't open doors. I don't know how much of what I put on here is obvious or old knowledge to everyone else, but until someone suggests otherwise, I'm going to keep sharing most of what I learn and what keeps me alive. I'm still not going to give exact details of my location yet. At least not where I currently am.
I added a few dozen gallons to my water supply. I found a car with 3 cases of military MRE meals in the trunk. I found some assorted ammo, a few firearms, and some other food. I then used the truck to push the vehicles out of the central span of the overpass. I spent the whole next full day doing this and searching through the vehicles more. I used to play a lot of video games and I was always that guy that solves all the puzzles and searches all the rooms to get all the loot. I collect all the coins or rings or lego pieces because it bugs me not to have everything. I was destined to be a hoarder maybe. So, in the bed of one of the other trucks I gathered all the water bottles. In another I put fuel containers. I'm mostly keeping diesel because that's what my found truck uses but I'm saving gas as well just in case. In one of the cars, I filled the back seat with food and covered it with clothes and shoes that were scattered around.
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