I’m sad today. Last night I had another Cassie dream and it was a melancholy one. I can’t recall exactly, but it was back from before and we were lying in bed together. One of those lazy Sunday afternoons where you don’t feel like doing anything, and you lay down in bed to take a nap kinda days. Of course it was just a dream, but it was nice. Waking up from that sucked though. Harsh reality.
I miss my woman. I hate being lonely. I’ll leave it at that.
We’ve had multiple walkers make their way up Auburn Lake Road the past few days. While we were gone Patty said about eight made it all the way to the bridge, and she wound up popping them off with the Tac .22 rifle. She had to leave the bodies for us to deal with, which wasn’t that big of a deal. The big deal is the fact that we’ve had more undead on campus since STIG blew up then we’ve had in the past three months combined. There’s an obvious connection there.
I hope the entire armada doesn’t show up on our doorstep while we’re still dealing with this Westfield bullshit. No second reliable source of fuel has been secured yet either. At the rate we’re going we will have to switch to using diesel pretty fucking shortly. Home heating oil is just dyed and treated diesel, and there are a hundred houses that are heated with it around here. We’ve got so many irons in the fire and they’re all equally dangerous, and equally important. Sigh.
Tomorrow I’m heading back to the Westfield ‘burbs in the hope someone over there makes contact with me. Even if they don’t, the plan is to attempt to recon a totally different part of town. If the opportunity presents itself, I’d like to try and get eyes on the high school so I can see what defenses they have. (if any) I’m likely to stay there overnight again, so if you don’t hear from me tomorrow night Mr. Journal, don’t have a heart attack or anything.
Wish me luck.
-Adrian
February 16th
Things are moving very fast. So much has happened the past two days I can barely recall all of it to recant here for you Mr. Journal. Unreal.
First off, I think I should trust Gilbert’s instincts more. And, if possible, I should try to clone his instincts in a mad scientist’s lair at some point. Whatever he learned when he was in south east Asia should be bottled and injected into modern soldiers. Well, that’s assuming there’s such a thing as armies in the future.
I’ll start as far back as I can remember, and work my way to today. Here goes.
I made the trip to Westfield today fairly early. I didn’t take anything to help me sleep that night and I wound up waking earlier than I’d intended. After packing all my shit up, I took off in the Tundra and made good time. It’s been kinda warm during the day, and the melt has been good to us. I made the trip to the turnoff to get into Westfield in record time, and wound up parking the truck in a garage in an out of the way cul de sac. I was clever though, and drove the truck into the garages of all the houses, so if anyone saw the tire tracks, they’d have to check each house to find the actual truck. Clever eh?
This parking job was pretty slick on the map. I didn’t get close to Westfield in the truck, but on the map this house was really close to the downtown area. Once again though, saw absolutely zero undead moving around. I gotta hand it to Sean and crew, they have been very thorough in their cleansing of the town. That or they’ve attracted them all somewhere I still haven’t heard about or seen yet.
Anyway, with the snowshoes I was able to hike down a ravine, and up a hill on the other side to get to an area that was at most 500 yards from the school. The houses were densely packed, and I moved along with the hatchet and Glock out. I left the M15 stashed in the woods in a gun case in the event I needed it. I didn’t want to leave it behind in the truck, that’s for sure.
The buildings in this area were primarily multi-family homes converted into apartments, and small businesses. There were a few small 3 or 4 story apartments that frankly took forever to get past. I have to check every level of the building while I am on the move until I know there’s no one there. The last thing I want is some Westfield asshole set up on a 3rd floor balcony with a .22 ending my day. When I reached the last one of those, I decided it’d be a great place to get set up in. The back door of the one of the apartment buildings was open, and I let myself in and headed to the top floor, securing every door on the way up. I wasn’t concerned with killing zombies, I just wanted to make sure they couldn’t get out of the apartment while I was there.
I found the top floor apartment facing the school, and tested the door. It was locked. One big boot later and the older wooden door crashed open. I cleared the apartment and got the door shut. I had to move the fridge in front of the door to secure it, but I got it done. Inside the apartment there were windows in a bedroom that faced the school. I didn’t want to fuck with the curtains on the outside chance someone would see it and realize something was amiss, so I set up a place to sit back from the window, and wound up getting the Savage’s scope on target with great visibility.
Once I was set up I turned the radio I took from the pickup truck and turned it on the channel that I told Ollie the other day. With any luck, I’d hear from them. I wasn’t sure how long the battery would last, or whether or not we had any way to charge the damn thing if it died.
So the school is pretty fucking big. I’m guessing they had somewhere around 600 or 700 students based on the size of the town, and the size of the building. It’s roughly rectangular with the gymnasium at one end. The school is two stories high, and the gymnasium looks to be about three and a half stories high. They had electric lights visible in the windows, which tells me they’ve got generators.
The entire school property is surrounded with vehicles parked end to end. Specifically each vehicle is either a truck or van. In two places that I could see they had vehicles parked sort of set back, and it looked like they were using those trucks as a gate, similar to my vans back at campus. There were a few undead here and there in the streets, but honestly, the whole portion of the city I could see was a fucking ghost town.
On the roof of the building they had two security people. I could see they were armed with AR style rifles, and they were wearing the same National Guard camo that woman had worn in the failed ambush. They didn’t have scopes on their rifles, which seemed like a travesty to me. Silly to put observers anywhere without a scoped weapon. They seemed pretty relaxed, and the few undead that meandered to the vehicle barrier were left alone. The zombies couldn’t get around the trucks or vans, and they seemed pretty frigging confounded by the wall of metal and glass.
I noticed they had about fifteen vehicles in the parking lot. Three military issue humvees as well as a heavy duty military issue tow vehicle. I forget what they’re called but they have a shitload of wheels and are used for moving tanks. I had vehicle envy.
I took some notes, drew some maps, and at 12:15, the radio cackled. We were in business.
An older man’s voice came over the radio. It was clearly not Sean’s. “Hello, is anyone there?”
I waited a few seconds, then answered, “We’re listening, go ahead.”
“Thanks for answering. You people have some feathers ruffled around here. Got some folks scared about what you’re up to.” He had a smooth baritone. Almost melodic. I could totally envision this guy singing country music from the 50’s. The shit my grandparents used to listen to.
“We’re very sorry about what happened to the lady the other day. Genuinely sorry.”
“Well it sounds like she pointed her weapon at someone who was faster on the trigger. Sounds a lot like natural consequences to me.” He seemed full of wisdom and wonder. It didn’t hurt that he more or less dismissed me shooting one of his locals. I liked him. Reminded me of Gilbert some.
“Well, we weren’t out to hurt anyone, just trying to learn more about your situation here and trying to find out a way to bring this bullshit to a close. Too many good people have died already over this.” As I talked I moved around the apartment, making sure I wasn’t getting snuck up on.
“Wise statement from someone as young sounding as you. How old are you?”
“I’m almost 35. I’ve seen my share of growing up recently.” Sad, but true.
“I hear that. So my boy Oliver says the man that talked to him the other day put the fear of God in him. Would that be you?”
I had two options: lie about it, and say I was someone else and risk Ollie listening in and finding out I was lying, or tell him the truth and put an honest foot forward. I chose truth. “Yeah that was me, my name is Adrian. It wasn’t my intention to scare him, although I can see how he would’ve been a little freaked out.”
“Yeah, watching someone get dropped can do that to you.” He sounded… I don’t know, not angry, but maybe sad?
“Yeah. So, you’ve contacted us, and you know my name. Can I get yours?”
Silence for maybe 30 seconds, then he replied, “My son says he recognizes your voice. That tells me you’re being more honest than most lately. So in the spirit of being a good Christian, I’ll tell you my name. You can call me Lenny.”
“Fantastic Lenny. I appreciate your honesty. I hope you can appreciate the pickle your fearless leader has put us in here.” I was hoping he was onboard.
“I’m hearing all kinds of stories about pickles lately. I wish we had more. We have some here in the mason jars in the basement. You’re aiming to kill Sean are you?”
That was random. “Well, he’s done his level best trying to kill me and my people. He’s destroyed the gas station near our place as well, and the other day a large building filled with people was torched as well. Over a hundred died in that explosion Lenny. I can’t abide him being a threat to my people anymore.”
“What happens next Adrian? If we don’t give him up, or drag his body out, what’re you and your people gonna do to us?”
“Lenny I don’t want trouble. Ollie seemed like a good man, and you strike me as a good person as well. But Sean needs to be brought to justice, and one way or the other, I’ll see to it. The next time he sticks his head outdoors it is getting shot off. Now if I have to, I’ll make life difficult to flush him out of that school. I’d really rather not do that though. I’d rather we came to some kind of agreement where you can try him for his crimes, or you can just send him off somewhere so I can handle this myself.”
“You prepared to kill another man Adrian?”
“I won’t lose another friend to him and his plans. And I don’t want him wasting the lives of your people trying to kill mine. The world is filled with problems, and I don’t need him making it more difficult for me, or for your people. So the answer is yes, I’m prepared to kill him. I’m also prepared to kill every single person he foolishly sends to try and kill me too. And I’d much rather I sat down and had a meal with those people instead.” I was aiming for the Christian morals I suspected he had.
It was probably the better part of a minute before he replied, “I’ll tell you something son. That man is not popular with a lot of folks left here. He’s made a lot of enemies, but he still has some friends, and he still has some power. You best be able to follow through if we hatch a plan to make things right by you.”
I was excited, not gonna lie. “Lenny I am a man of my word. There’s little left in this world worth haggling over, and the biggest thing I can give you is trust. I don’t know you, and I can’t trust you yet, but I can tell you this, if we shake hands, and you’re the man you seem to be, then you won’t have any problems with me.”
Silence for another minute. Finally he replied, “You interested in meeting face to face?”
Tough question…. “Yeah, I suppose that’s the best next step. I can’t say when we can meet you, or where, but if you’re interested, I can arrange it.”
“Very good. You can come to the farm whenever you like. I’ve got some ideas that we really can’t share over the radio, in case things are being listened in on. My beehind might already be in a sling for what we’ve said already right here.” He seemed annoyed at the premise of being watched over.
“I understand. I’ll try and contact you as soon as I can. Noon in two days via radio again work for you?”
“Sure does, you take care son. I think you’ve got a week or two before he comes at you again, but rest assured, he will come at you. You’re under his skin like a thorn covered in lemon juice.”
I smiled, “Lenny thank you. We’ll be in touch, and best of luck.”
“God bless.”
And that was it. I danced giddy like a school girl for ten minutes, then returned to watching the school, and taking notes on what I’d said, and what the Lenny guy said. Talk about excitement. As soon as the sun started to dip at about five thirty I exfil’d.
I did get the scare of my life when I was leaving the building though. I was going down the flights of stairs in the central hall and I looked over the railing and saw a hand resting there, slowly moving up. I’d already made a shitload of noise though, so even when I froze whatever it was would’ve known. I leaned over and put the Glock sight on the hand, and noticed it was all grey, and covered in flecks of dried blood. It looked like old blood too.
I got the hatchet out and holstered the Glock. About a flight and a half of stairs later I came face to face with a young lady that when alive, would’ve been beautiful. She was young, 25 years old at most, and had long straight hair dyed in colorful streaks. She had a pierced lip and eyebrow, and she was covered in tattoos. Very alternative. She was wearing a torn open pajama shirt and a pair of boxer underwear. Man she must’ve been gorgeous when she was alive.
I actually had to take a deep breath and focus myself to hit her with the hatchet. I kept thinking about love lost, and “oh man I wish this chick was alive” stuff. I side armed the hatchet into her neck right below the ear and nearly severed her head. It sucked. Her head rolled around with the jaw still clenching up and down, so I curb stomped it a few times until the brain got smooshed. I got the fuck out after that.
Making it back to the truck turned out to be a real bitch. The ravine behind the house was really ugly on the way up, and I had to practically rappel it. I made sure not to forget the stashed M15, and I trucked it home. I remembered to stash the 2x4s with nails in a spot of Route 18 where the snow was still covering the road. They’ll never see them if they come that way.
I made it home by about 7pm, and I swung into Gilbert’s place to let him know what happened. He said he’d be by in a bit, and I headed to campus to shower. Patty moved the vans for me as I got the nail boards out of the way, and I got in, cleaned up, and everyone gathered for a pow-wow pretty quickly.
I told them everything I saw and said and heard, and they were pretty excited. Gilbert complimented me on my maps and the notes I took. Apparently my attention to detail is good. Yay me.
He immediately suggested we make another trip into Westfield today and meet with this Lenny character. His argument was that if we went immediately we showed them several things. We were serious about moving this plan forward as soon as possible.
We knew exactly where Lenny would be and when so he knew that if he double crossed us, we could find him and exact retribution at our leisure. And, he said that by going immediately we cut down on the likelihood that they were attempting a double cross on us. Essentially the less planning time we gave them the better. Faced with Gilbert’s patented “pile ‘o logic,” we made plans for today.
I crashed immediately to get some sleep, and Gilbert took off for his place. Patty and Abby held down the fort over the evening and into the night, and as soon as I woke up, I packed up our shit and met Gilbert at his place in the plow truck. We were on the road by 8am, and after moving all of ournail laden defense, we reached yet another new and interesting parking spot by about 10:30.
On the drive over there Gilbert mentioned one really strange thing that hadn’t occurred to me yet, that told him we had major leverage. If Ollie was Lenny’s son, then why wasn’t he living at the farm with his dad? Gilbert felt it was weird that Ollie rode to the
farm, got shit, then returned to the school. Unless he felt safer there, Gilbert felt something was up. There was a reason why Ollie wasn’t at the farm.
Our parking spot was closer to the farm than my previous places, and we rode the snow mobile as slow as possible through the woods to a point near the chicken coop area of Lenny’s farm. I knew there would be some noise for cover coming from all the damn birds in there, and Gilbert kept the snowmobile moving at about 5 miles per hour so we made little to no noise anyway. The trees without doubt killed a lot of the engine’s buzz.
We parked the machine about 50 yards from the edge of the tree line near the farmhouse. I led Gilbert though the woods until we got to where I’d set up the other day to observe the place. I showed him through the Savage where what was, and he formulated the final details of our plan.
The truck arrived with Ollie and a new guy wearing camo at the same time as usual, right after three. As soon as they left, Gilbert made an old guy beeline for the farm, and wound up walking right into the back door of the barn. He went inside for fifteen minutes, then turned his mic on like we had Abby do when the old man from earlier came back out on the porch to fire up his pipe. Gilbert spoke quietly into the mic saying, "Cover me, here I go.” He exited the rear of the barn, and walked around it, and right up to the screen door. The old man with the pipe stopped cold when Gilbert waved, and he put his hand on a revolver on his hip. I put the crosshairs on the old guy’s chest, and waited for him to make a mistake.
“You must be Lenny,” Gilbert greeted him.
“Aye, that’d be me. You can’t be Adrian, but I bet you’re with him, eh?” Lenny grinned and puffed on his pipe. I could just barely smell it in the wind.
“Yeah, I’m one of his friends. I’m Gilbert Donohue. I volunteered to come here and speak to you. I thought we might be able to talk two old fogeys on the porch together.” I couldn’t see Gilbert’s face, but I totally could tell he was smiling.
Midnight (Adrian's Undead Diary) Page 32
