Midnight (Adrian's Undead Diary)

by Chris Philbrook

  After about fifteen minutes of debate, I settled on the idea that a staged cordial ambush where we came across as friendly more than dangerous was a good idea. Mike seems to really have a good head on his shoulders, and I think he’s on the level with me. Ollie seems a little stupid, but he’s about 25 and skipped college from what I understand, so he’s doing pretty good helping his dad with the farm. Sometimes simple is just what you need. As it turns out Ollie has been staying at the school because there’s a girl there he’s pining for. No evil at hand with that I guess.

  So Mike and Ollie faked the first ambush today. As they said, they just left all the shit here back at the farm and when they got back they went straight to Daniels and hopefully persuaded him to see the light. No word on that yet, but I’m getting way ahead of myself here suddenly. I feel like I drank ten energy drinks. I’m vibrating here. All over the damn place.

  I left the porch meeting pretty happy with how it went. I shook everyone’s hand, politely stepped around the back of the barn, and got the fuck out. I left immediately. I didn’t want to risk that being their chance to get behind me, or get to my vehicle to fuck it over. They hadn’t though.

  When I got back to campus (moving all the damn nail boards on the way) I filled Gilbert and all them in on what went down. He agreed with my big swinging dick plan. Any other way I could’ve played it would’ve either been too threatening, or would’ve played my hand as being not strong. Gilbert was sort of on the fence about it. It’s risky to put us in that light. It’ll either show Daniels we mean business and we want to be allies, or it’ll show Daniels that we are scary, and need to be destroyed. Guess we’ll find out shortly.

  Oh yeah, I ran over two more zombies on Route 18 on the way back. Looked like they were headed towards Westfield from downtown. I wonder if I dragged them away when I left in the morning. No way to know I guess.

  I slept like a stone in the living room last night. Been exhausted from all the activity this week. I slept well, and had no weird dreams that I remember. That’s a big plus. I am so sick of the LSD dreams. Shit is getting old Mr. Journal.

  I booked my ass back to Westfield this morning after refilling the Tundra’s gas tank out of big blue. I’d eaten up all my fuel jugs and the gas tank going back and forth like this. It was a somber reminder how fucked we could be for fuel if we don’t start figuring this out soon. I mean fortunately we’ve still got the spare barrels stashed around campus to use, but we really need that fuel to keep the generator going for the furnace. I haven’t been able to figure out if the solar panels are helping or not either. They’re mostly covered in snow at the moment too, which isn’t helping I’m sure. They are self heating or something as well, which is probably why they’re only partially covered with snow. Shrug.

  I got to my parking spot in the ‘burbs of Westfield at around 10am again. I hoofed it to yet another location a few houses over from the very first house I sat up in. This house was a fat ranch right on a street corner about five hundred yards from the school. I could see almost all the way to the end of the street where it turned off towards the farm too, so the spot was nice. I saw the truck go by at 3pm, right after a chubby zombie slipped and ate shit in the road. It was funny watching it try to get to its feet in the packed down slush. We had a warm night last night, and the roads they plowed are all gooshy now. Too funny. As before, I left the zombie to wander off.

  Mike and Ollie returned back through town late. That made sense if they were going to fake an ambush. I got some radio traffic as they made the turn onto the road I was on. It was Lenny.

  “Anyone listening today?”

  I waited about thirty seconds before responding to him. “Yeah Lenny, what shaking?” I was casual.

  “The boys are headed back to the school now. They’re going to talk to the Lieutenant when they return. They’re gonna tell him you’ll be available tomorrow on this channel at noon. Sound fair?”

  “That sounds perfect Lenny. I appreciate all your help with this.”

  “My pleasure son. Trying to do the good Christian thing.”

  I had to smile. I wasn’t religious in the least but I can appreciate the idea of being a good person. I know I’ve failed at that many a time, and to hear that he was trying to right by others sort of warmed my heart. I said goodbye, and after waiting an hour to make sure things were quiet, I got the fuck out of town. Noticed it was lighter much later as well today. Maybe it was just because of the timing of my exit, but it seemed lighter later.

  The trip home was a little messy. As I said it was kind of warm, and we got a little bit of rain. I got a wee bit paranoid when I made the turn onto Auburn Lake too. It got foggy once the elevation increased a little. As I’ve mentioned before, I fucking hate fog. I hated it even more because I actually frigging hit a walking zombie on the way up the hill. The bastard was just plodding along and I was doing about 25 miles an hour. Launched him into the fog ahead so far I couldn’t see him. I crept forward until I saw him trying to get up. I aimed for him and ran his ass over. Definitely didn’t want to get out of the truck in the pea soup bullshit. NofuckingthankyouMr.Journal.

  I told Gilbert about the recon today, and the faked ambush, and he seemed pleased with it. Gilbert’s always thinking so far ahead on shit. I bet you anything he’s already got plans for us for spring. Wily fucker that Gilbert. In retrospect after our mistrust bullshit I can totally see how his actions can be misconstrued. He literally is always looking at every angle, and only reveals his hand when necessary. I bet that guy is a royal bitch at the poker table.

  So like a giant human rubber band, I am headed back to Westfield tomorrow in the hopes that our friend the Lieutenant Daniels (read: Snowpants) drops me a cordial line and we can speak amicably. It’s my sincere hope Sergeant Mike and Ollie can persuade him to our side. I desperately want this to end with as little bloodshed as possible.

  I tell you though Mr. Journal, I am feeling good about this. I don’t even care about the jinx factor. Fuck it. Mike, Ollie, and Lenny all seem like really good people to me. I’m a good judge of character too I think. They seem like down to earth straight shooters who have had enough of all this bullshit.

  I hope they see me for the same.

  -Adrian

  February 19th

  Fuckity fuck fucking A Mr. Journal. One more to grow on; Fucking A!

  Wow. Heart is pumping like a bastard. I think this is almost over. I really do . Within 48 hours either I’m dead, or Sean’s dead, and one way or the other, this trip will come to an end. I get to start the next journey.

  I don’t even know where to start here. I have a chubber the size of my forearm, which is way larger than normal. That’s at least 50% larger than normal, not that I’m bragging about dick size to a fake person. Christ the thing has been so unused lately I think I’ve got dust on it. It’s awful.

  Otis is freaking out here man! Whenever I get all excited and happy he digs out one of his little cat toys and goes postal on it. He’s currently rolling around kicking the living shit out of a fake mouse, and chewing its head to shit. He’s such a moron.

  Back on subject. I went to Westfield today at the crack of dawn. The drive in was good, although it snowed all day and the ride back sort of sucked ass. I wound up hitting five more zombies in the Tundra on the way out. I saw a small crowd coming down Route 18 so I drove really slowly away and apparently I got them moving this way. I wound up hitting them with the truck on the way back. Poor fucking pickup is beaten to shit. I will need to use the plow for night drives now as I’ve managed to smash both headlights in the Tundra out. Maybe I can score another Tundra somewhere, or at least spare Tundra headlamps.

  I weaved my way into the city of Westfield this morning and set up shop in a multi family house about three blocks from the school on the other side. It’s amazing how few streets they’ve plowed out. I mean it makes sense to leave them covered in snow. The zombies can’t get through the stuff for shit. But, it also means there are huge tracts of real
estate I can move around in with really no chance they’ll see my footprints. I did get a bit of a scare though. I was sprinting between buildings and a humvee came around the corner about 75 yards ahead. I was near a bush, and literally just dove out like I was about to jump on a slip and slide. The sheet on my back blended in perfectly with the snow. The humvee stopped, and I peeked out of a tiny crack under the sheet.

  A soldier looking guy searched the area I was laying in and after about thirty seconds, decided he didn’t see anything, and they left. I realize it’s a little crazy to be hiding from people I’m trying to ally with, but I didn’t want them to know I was on a recon op right in their backyard. It makes me look like a liar, when all I’m trying to do is cover my bases. Funny how diplomacy in the post apocalyptic world works eh Mr. Journal?

  I cleared out the second floor apartment of the multifamily home and found nothing. Empty as they all are. The kitchen window faced the school and with a few hours of note taking and map making, I was able to get a full and complete layout of the school. Good times.

  After chilling out and eating a granola bar, my radio popped to life on their channel five at 12:05. It was a new voice, and I was pretty excited to hear it.

  “This is Lieutenant Jeffrey Daniels with the 809th Brigade Support Battalion. Is there anyone on this channel? Over.” GI Joe baby. Had to try and play this close to the chest for a bit.

  “Copy that, this is Adrian Ring. I’ve been waiting for your call, over.” Didn’t want to over-military my responses, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t a total tool when it came to protocol.

  “Copy that Mr. Ring. I am under the impression you are a decision maker? Over.” Terse. He sounded fairly young too, definitely younger than me, but I thought Lenny said he was about my age.

  “Roger that. I am here to start some talks about getting rid of what I’ve been led to believe is a mutual problem for our people. I appreciate you contacting me. Over.”

  “Copy that. You know the United States has a standing policy of not negotiating with terrorists, right Mr. Ring?” His tone became defiant. I knew I had to placate his ego. I could just tell I needed to think of a way to make him feel like we were not his enemy.

  “Lieutenant, I prefer to think of myself as a humble soldier that’s trying to protect his fellow citizens from someone who appears to be a terrorist themselves. I’m sure you realize by now that Sean has perpetrated not one but two unprovoked, violent attacks on my people, and our shared resources. I can’t afford to allow him to be in charge of the people here or the threat he poses is too dangerous for me and my people to not respond by defending ourselves. Over.” I took a big risk with that.

  “Senator Stockwell has reported that he was attacked when he followed people from here in town to your base of operations. When we returned to your AO you had set up an ambush for us, and we wound up losing a dozen people. I can’t see your point of view right now. I need proof. Over.”

  Uphill battle here. This guy struck me as one of those hard ass officers who couldn’t think outside the box. Ran his unit just like the manual said, and not the way common sense said. “Lieutenant Daniels, I’m sure you keep your ammunition and weapons well organized, correct? Over.” Had to make a play at showing me he was either incompetent with organization, or he’d illuminate a fact for us that provided some semblance of proof of Sean’s scum-baggery.

  “We are very well organized Mr. Ring when it comes to that. Over.”

  “You lost three people the other night in your attack on the gas station correct? Over.”

  “Copy that. Two males and a female. Wasn’t pleased about that either Mr. Ring. This line of discussion is not moving us together. Over.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t pleased. Shooting them was the last thing we wanted to do, but they were armed combatants standing around our gas station as it burned. Were those people friends or supporters of yours? Over.” Moment of truth.

  His voice broke a little when he responded, “I’d rather not comment on personal relationships with a terrorist.” I knew right then I had his ass. No “over,” and his voice kinda broke, which meant they WERE friends of his.

  “I’m genuinely sorry you lost people Lieutenant. Did you happen to know what weapons the people you lost had? Can you find that out? Over.”

  “Again, I’d rather not comment on that.” No over again. He had started to lose his composure.

  “I understand. I’ll just tell you what I know then. I searched your people and made sure that they were well taken care of Lieutenant. And I’ll tell you this; not one of the three people who died that night had loaded weapons. It’s my distinct suspicion that your fearless Senator set those people up to die because they were against him. Over.”

  Silence for some time. Maybe a full minute. “You have my attention Mr. Ring. Over.” He sounded pissed, and it didn’t sound like he was pissed at me.

  “Look Lieutenant, I am sick of posting watch every single night waiting for Sean or some asshole who thinks he’s the next coming of the President to try and set my home on fire. I’ve got old people and kids that have done nothing to him that I’m trying to protect, just the same as you I’m sure. I want this to end. I want to go home, and deal with the damn dead people beating down our doors instead of the living people that should be working with me. I’ve lost good friends over all this bullshit, and at least a thousand gallons of gasoline, and it’s not like the gas station is opening up again anytime soon. Gas doesn’t grow on tree either. I really need your help in bringing this to a peaceful end. Over.”

  Silence again. It lasted so long I actually checked to see if the battery on the walkie had died. It hadn’t. It was about five minutes before he replied again. “I’ve got no interest in putting a gun to his head Ring. I’m told you’d be willing to do it if came down to it. Is this true?”

  Man this was hard to answer Mr. Journal. I wanted to kick that prick’s face in and wanted to do it more than just about anything I’d ever wanted to do. But, I couldn’t let him know I was bloodthirsty. Here’s what I came back with, “Look, I served, same as you. Active duty. I did my time in the sandbox. I know what it is like to kill someone. I’m not happy about pulling triggers when the gun is aimed at anyone. I will say this though; Sean has done wrong by me, and done wrong by my people. And I need to see justice done for my people to sleep at night, and if that means I am the one that does what needs to be done, then so be it. I’ll do what’s necessary and deal with the guilt later. I can’t let that man continue to put the people I care about in continual danger. Over.”

  More silence. Not as long this time as last time. Finally he came back, “I went to Sean earlier this morning and discussed the fact that we have had two trips assaulted by “that asshole from the school.” He was pretty furious Ring. I mean fucking angry. We’re rolling in a big patrol tomorrow when we make the run at about 3pm. We’ve already decided that it’ll be him, me, and four guys I trust. We’re meeting with Lenny at the farm. We’re gonna tell Stockwell he’s done for, and he can leave, or he can stay, and get handed over to you. Over.”

  Sha-boing! Insta-chubber. “Is that gonna be safe? He strikes me as the kind of asshole that’d draw a gun on you and your men?”

  “Well Ring if he decides to draw a gun on us then I’ve got no problem shooting him. I won’t shoot him unarmed, and I won’t shoot him in cold blood, but if draws on one of my men, we’ll shoot the shit out of that cocksucker.” No over. He meant it.

  “Understandable. Where would you like me to be? I’d really like to have eyes on for this if you get my meaning. Over.”

  He thumbed back with a live line, and then sighed. I don’t know if he meant to do that. “You’ve got bino’s or a rifle with good optics? Over.”

  “I do indeed. I can be in range for that. I’d much rather be within earshot though, if that’s okay with you. I’d really like to hear everything that’s said. Plus if anything does go down, I’d like to be there to help. Not that I can’t help
from a few hundred yards away with a rifle. Over.” I really wanted to be there, to hear it all go down.

  Daniels took another minute to reply, “That’d probably be a good idea. If you’d like, you can hole up in either the barn or the chicken building. Just make sure Lenny knows where you are. If anything goes wrong, we’ll radio you on this channel by noon tomorrow. Keep the line open until you see us pull into the farm. After that, you should be in earshot. If the meeting is called off, we’ll speak again via radio on this channel the day after next at noon once more. Same as today. Over.”

  “That sounds excellent Lieutenant. I would like to add something as well, if that’s okay with you, over.” Here’s the final sales pitch.

  “Go ahead, over.”

  “When this is all settled, I’d really like to sit down and pour a glass of something kinda strong with you and your soldiers. It’d be nice to have a drink with someone who wears real combat boots, if you understand my meaning.” Had to appeal to his warrior nature.

  “We don’t have any booze left here, so if you bring the bottle, we’ll help empty it with you.” I could hear him smiling right though the radio.

  “I hope to shake your hand tomorrow Lieutenant.”

  “Same to you, over and out.”

  WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT.

  I’m positively fucking giddy. I skidaddled after an hour or so and got the fuck home. I don’t even remember the trip. I remember literally hitting the giant cluster of zombies I led away from Auburn Lake Road earlier, but I don’t remember much. Dead bodies flying around like an explosion of zombie confetti. Just too damn excited.