Midnight (Adrian's Undead Diary)

by Chris Philbrook

  Back to the arms and ammo thing briefly. We’re pretty much all set for ammunition and weapons for some time. As long as we aren’t assaulted for a prolonged period of time, we should be all set. I do want to up our 5.56 count, now that I’ve got the two M15’s. Not exactly sure where I’m going to find boxes of 5.56, but I’ll think of something.

  In fact, I already have. However, we’ve got to get the woodstove into Hall A before I can present that plan to the crew. Jesus I’m jumping around here big time. Focus Adrian, focus.

  While Patty and Chuck got the woodstove thing figured out, I went out with Randy and Abby and we gathered an ass load of wood. I used the little chainsaw to cut down some trees that would fall soon, or would eventually need to be trimmed anyway. Between the three of us we filled up the back of the truck and got it all moved into one of the bedrooms in Hall A. The kids started calling it the woodshed.

  It was fun to hang with the two kids. I haven’t been around kids since the school was open, and it brought me back to better days for sure. Sometimes I forget how lonely I am. Normalcy for me used to be seeing 30 or 40 kids each day, and I haven’t seen any for quite some time. I’d forgotten how weird it was not seeing the kids every day.

  The rest of yesterday we helped Charles and Patty. Charles had found a spot in the Hall A common area that was pretty reinforced in terms of the floor. He also is setting up a brick floor there, and is putting in a brick backer to keep the wall cool and to reflect the heat. I think it’ll work pretty damn well. Gilbert maintains we need to get at least one pole to reinforce the floor joists under the stove, and we got one today from a house on Auburn Lake.

  With two generators running we will be needed roughly twice the fuel. Chuck thinks that the generator in Hall A is far more fuel efficient than my generator, but even if so, it’s safe to assume we’re looking at twice the need as soon as we start running them at the same time. I think once we get to warmer weather we can go back to a shift system like I was using in autumn. Only run them here and there for power, and overnight as needed for heat.

  However, for the remainder of winter with it being so cold, we need more fuel. Now we can always make more fuel runs, but that invites danger. I think we’re going to wrap our heads around more gas storage here. Gilbert thought there were a few 55 gallon drums somewhere around the area, and he said he’ll putz around and find them. I think he’s just looking for a reason to get the snowmobile out some more.

  We worked on two fronts today. Charles and Patty went to the house that had the woodstove while Abby and I went to the gas station. Randy stayed back here all day and abused my Playstation. Chuck and Patty got the stovepipes out of the house as well as started to break down the pieces of the stove that come off. Chuck said they found another six feet or so of spare stovepipe in the shed at the house as well, so it looks like we’re all set on that front.

  Abby and I refilled all the gas cans and dugout the engine lift from the garage. She had a little puke attack when she saw the two bodies at the gas station, but she was okay after she gathered herself. She’s a tough kid. We took the maintenance truck and between the two of us we managed to get the thing into the back. I’m guessing it weighed a couple hundred pounds, but we managed it. It was more bulky and awkward than heavy.

  Abby and I dropped it off at the house with the woodstove. The plan is tomorrow we all work together and somehow use the engine lift to get the stove back to campus. I’m thinking we’ll have to chainsaw the walls to make a space to get it out. Charles says we can just drive really slowly dragging the engine lift up the road back to campus, but that seems unlikely to work. The road is too uneven, and I can just see the chain snapping, or a wheel coming off. I’m sure we’ll think of something. Worst case we’ll brute force the bastard somehow.

  And that’s it. Busy as a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. We’re starting early tomorrow so we can hopefully get the stove set up and running within a day or two. Once that’s all set we’ll gather more wood, and hopefully have new drums to store more fuel in here so we can take fewer trips to the station.

  Once everyone gets settled in here and I have a better idea about how we’re all going to fit in with each other, I’ll spring phase 2 of the “find people and get them here” plan. Phase 2 has a pretty high level of risk to it, and will probably take us a week or two to enact, so I’ve got to get this right.

  Hopefully I’ll get the time to put an entry in tomorrow.

  -Adrian

  January 3rd

  I feel like I have a broken back. Of course, all of us feel that way tonight. Today was a giant fucking toe-pusher.

  Ooooooh….. I haven’t told the story of my toe-pusher reference have I Mr. Journal? Well then, let’s get that out of the way so you understand what I mean when I say today was a toe-pusher.

  My boy Kevin Whitten and I were in Kuwait prior to our deployment in 2003. We were living in this shit-bag pre-deployment tent city area and we were bored out of our fucking minds. We were stuck in a small, out of the way area of a small, out of the way base, and there was fuck all to eat. We were not feeling MREs so Kevin and I got the bright idea to order pizza.

  We had heard that some of the units had Dominos or Pizza Hut brought out to them just before they deployed, so Kevin and I scoured the base looking for someone higher up the chain of command than us that knew where and how to order it. Eventually we found a POG Lieutenant who had the number to the place, and could get the permission needed to get the delivery driver on base.

  I slipped the LT a $20, and he made the call for us. We ordered 6 pies. We hauled ass all the way across base to the main gate and waited in the baking ass Kuwaiti sun for almost an hour when this sweet ass white Mercedes van with the pizza delivery sign on top pulls up to the gate. The guards were already in the know for us, and they let us go out and get the pie. We paid a fucking fortune for it, but man it was worth it. Well, sort of.

  We hauled ass back across base after giving the guards a slice each. The pizza was still steaming when we got back to our guys, and we became heroes when we dropped it in the middle of our tent. The guys just tore the shit out of the food. I think the pizza lasted maybe 5 minutes. It wasn’t pizza from home good, but it beat the shit out of yet another fucking MRE.

  So everyone was happy, and all was well. At about 0100 I woke up in my cot and felt like I’d eaten knives. My guts were fucking killing me. I rolled out of bed and shuffled tight assed out to the fucking shit hole and blasted my innards into the damn thing. Mind you, this is when we were still shitting in wooden shacks perched over a 55 gallon drum. Anyway, I just died on that goddamn toilet. As I was shitting myself to death I heard three or four more people making the same desperate sprint to the barrels. It I didn’t feel like I was minutes from death, it would’ve been funny as hell. All of us guys were grunting and moaning as our guts just purged.

  Finally I got out when I had a break in the shitstorm. There were at least six more of us waiting to get on the shitter outside. I stumbled down the steps and let another one of the guys in. So I get about two thirds of the way back to our barracks tent and I seize up again. I mean bad. I panic, look around and realize I’m gonna shit myself right there. Now… I’ve never been the best soldier. I’m not going to lie to you and say I was Johnny fucking robot soldier. I followed pretty much all of my orders. I glossed over a few of the dumb ones. I had a pretty healthy sense of contempt for some of the shitty officers.

  So about five meters from where I was about to blast off was the officer’s bathrooms. They had full facilities. I decided I’d risk getting yelled at instead of ruining my skivvies. I did the teeter totter tight ass sprint over to the bathroom and dropped trough. Unfortunately, I did not make it to the head.

  I made it to the shower stall nearest the door. I couldn’t help myself. I shit in the officer’s shower. Now I was half a mind to just leave it there. Of course, you realize that if I had, our entire unit would’ve caught mad shit the next day. There would
be almost no way to hide the fact that all of us had the shits, so I knew I had to make the poop go away.

  I stripped off my skivvies and shirt and turned on the shower to wash the crap off my ass and to get the poop to go down the drain. Some of the chunks were just too large to go down the drain. In my infinite wisdom, I daintily used my toe, and pushed the turds through the grate and down the drain. Gross? Sure. Effective? You bet.

  When I told Kevin about what I did the phrase toe-pusher caught on. Anytime anything sucked, it was a toe-pusher. When one of us got hit on by an ugly chick, she was a toe-pusher. When a firefight got real hot, it became a toe-pusher.

  The officers complained about the smell of shit in their head for a week.

  Ah good times. Unlike today. Today was a real toe-pusher. We got the jump on moving the damn woodstove early in the am. We drove the maintenance truck down there just after the sun was fully up and we started to make a hole in the house to get the stove out. I’m not even sure how they got the bitch in there frankly. I used the heavier chainsaw and simply cut a hole in the wall of the house where it made the most sense to. The shortest path to the truck basically.

  Patty and Charles disassembled the stove as best they could and we got the engine lift out of the truck and in a good spot next to the house. I would be lying if I said it was easy. We had to strong arm the motherfucker across the kitchen to the hole in house, and it was a ball buster. Fucking stove easily weighed 600 pounds. Gilbert didn’t assist in the moving, mostly because he is pretty fucking old, and he’s as good a shot as we have. He kept guard while Charles and I destroyed our backs.

  Once we got the thing near the engine lift we extended the arm and got it chained up. Backed the engine lift suspending the stove across their patio and little Randy, all excited to be helping us finally, pushed the damn lift too far, and one of the wheels of the lift went off the edge of the patio, and sank into the yard.

  Sigh.

  We dropped the stove, unchained it, dug the lift out of the ground, moved it to the walkway so all the wheels were on solid ground, re-chained the engine, got it lifted, and we swung the bad bitch around and started moving towards the driveway where we were hoping to tow the lift up the road with the truck.

  Ka-CHANG! Fucking chain snaps. Woodstove comes crashing down, shatters the patio walkway blocks, and imbeds itself right back in the fucking lawn. The bastard was so fucking deep in the lawn we actually had to find goddamn shovels to dig the legs of the stove out so we could get ANOTHER chain underneath the thing.

  Mr. Journal I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “fit to be tied?”

  Oh my fucking.

  I mean it was fucking FURY. I can’t even imagine how goddamn red my face was. I had half a mind to just straight up light that stove on fire right there smashed through the patio and roast marshmellows over it like a fucking funeral pyre.

  Motherfucker. Grr.

  Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale.

  Better.

  Alright so we dug the bitch out, found new chains in maintenance, and like, quadruple chained the damn thing. By that time Charles and I had scared off all available assistance. Patty, Randy and Abby were with Gilbert pretty much just off to the side watching us get angry. We got the damn thing out to the road, and jerry rigged a tow chain to the back of the maintenance truck. Now like I said, the road is really bumpy now, so I was just waiting to get stuck in a rut and toss the stove on the road so it could bust apart like a fucking cast iron melon.

  Buuuuuuut it didn’t. I know huh? No fucking way right? But really, we drove about 5 miles an hour the mile or so back to the campus and not once did we have a problem. There was a little slipping when we were coming down the last little incline right near where we had the shootout, but it didn’t affect anything.

  I got the truck over to Hall A, and by the time we got the engine lift unhitched, there was no frigging way we were getting the thing inside today. We easily lost three hours with the bullshit in the yard, and Chuck and I quite literally blew our backs out digging and lifting and shoving. I found my bottle of ibuprofen and stogged a handful down my gullet, and came up here to my bedroom to lie down. I’m on my stomach right now trying to stretch my back out, and it seems to be better. I’m dreading tomorrow though.

  We wound up getting the stove near the Hall A porch and throwing a tarp over it. Chuck and I pretty much said fuck it.

  As much of a toe pusher as today was, it was nice to tackle a problem with people. Looking at things from different angles, thinking shit through, and then laughing at our misfortune afterwards. Previously when I was alone I’d laugh at my own misfortunes by myself, and really when you’re doing that you’re being bat shit crazy. In a group: funny. Alone: going fucking nuts.

  Ah boy, what a day. My back feels like I got thrown in a fucking washing machine filled with rocks. But, assuming I don’t die from a back related injury while I’m sleeping tonight, we should have electricity and a woodstove in Hall A tomorrow, thus making it livable. That means I’ll get my home to myself again, and I can watch porn on the big screen television. It’s good to have goals.

  Oh wide screen porn, how I’ve missed you.

  Catch you later Mr. Journal.

  -Adrian

  January 5th

  Been two long ass days Mr. Journal. Well that’s not true. Yesterday was a long day, today wasn’t that bad. I can’t get over how much fucking work it is just to get basic things done now. I mean, just to get heat in Hall A we’ve been working for what? Three full days? Unreal.

  Yesterday was dedicated to getting the woodstove installed in the common room of Hall A. As I said we called it a day after the great stove debacle of ’11.

  Yesterday we took the reinforcement pole and got it installed in the basement under where the stove will be going. We don’t have one of those guns that shoot into concrete though, so the pole is more or less wedged into there for the moment. I don’t think it’ll come loose. Once we got that put in and Patty and Abby got the bricks and whatnot set up as a backing for the stove, we took the two doors off the hinges, and pulled the doorframes out as well. That was the only way we could get it in the building. I guess technically we could’ve chain sawed a hole in the wall, but that seems counterproductive to what we’re trying to achieve.

  The engine lifter extends out pretty far, and with some careful driving we dropped the stove gingerly just inside the first door of the mudroom. It took us almost two hours to shimmy the thing across the floor using little pieces of scrap 1x6 as footpads, but we got it to the bricks. Using some 2x4s for leverage, we got it up and situated in its final resting place.

  Chuck had checked the exterior wall for studs and such, so he sawed a hole in the wall for the stovepipe with the sawzall. He and Patty got the pipe hooked up and all finished up, although he said he needed something to seal the hole with. Gilbert knew what he was talking about, and actually had it at his house, and by dusk, we had a fresh set of broken backs, and a brand new fully functional woodstove in Hall A. We just need to accumulate a lot of wood to feed the bitch.

  I talked it over with the whole WiIliams clan, and we agreed that wood was their responsibility. I’m sure at some point I’ll help, but I can’t do everything. I’ve already led the horse to the water. They actually seemed really excited about gathering the wood, which is great. I’m sure the enthusiasm for all the work that it’ll entail will fade quickly though. They’re enjoying the heat immensely right now, but the kids will bitch up a storm when they’re working for 16 hours a week chopping wood.

  In celebration yesterday Patty moved some of the food to Hall A and cooked us a marginally edible feast. She also pointed out that Hall A gets better light for my indoor garden, and she asked if she could start her own. I told her to go for it, and she and Chuck are going to track down some more pots and stuff. We have plenty of soil and shit like that for the winter. Apparently Patty was a successful gardener, and I’m hoping her greenish thumb hasn’t lost its touch.


  Incidentally my indoor garden is doing well. I’ve neglected it the past week due to impending doom, but nothing died. Just a little dry. Got the stuff watered up and they’ve sprung back to life today. Would’ve been bullshit if my little cherry tomatoes shit the bed.

  They got their shit (which was pretty much nothing) out of Hall E and into Hall A last night and I had my evening to myself. It was nice. I won’t go into details about what exactly I did with my free time, but I’m sure you can imagine I entertained myself in a reasonably successful manner.

  Today was pretty awesome. Well, awesome is a strong word I suppose. I guess I should say I didn’t kill myself doing manual labor, and I got a few things done I wanted to get done.

  I slept in a little and warmed up a can of soup and a can of SpaghettiOs for breakfast. I will always like those I think. Although I’m partial to Beefaroni. No idea why, I just am. Sitting there at the table reminded me that we’d been eating quite a bit of food since the Williams folks got here, and I wanted to take a more accurate assessment of what food we’ve got.

  I spent the entire afternoon listening to music on the laptop and organizing the food here at Hall E. I still have a bunch of food in the cafeteria, and now we’ve got a pretty good stash over at Hall A with Patty & Co. I know I’ve got about a quarter of the food total here, and the same amount over at Hall A. If we all eat about 5 cans of food a day each, I think we’ve got enough food to last until the end of February.