Midnight (Adrian's Undead Diary)

by Chris Philbrook

  The officer said a tearful goodbye to his men, and they were pretty broken up. He seemed liked by his men, and that’s rare. Not a lot of officers are loved by their men. Anyway, after they all said their goodbyes, I crouched down, and we talked for a few minutes.

  He said he was the man leading the assault that day, and he apologized for doing it. He was glad when I told him none of our people were hurt, and I apologized for killing their folks. It was a nice mea culpa moment. He seemed truly regretful, but a lot of people about to die are. I had a lot of respect for him. Before we left I ran back to the truck, and grabbed a full bottle of Jack I grabbed from the cafeteria, and brought it back to him.

  I told him I’d brought it, and I said I’d hold him to his promise of helping me empty it. He took a swig with a wince, and thanked me. I got a little blurry eyed. When I stood up to leave, he laughed and asked me if I’d “handicap” Sean’s golf game for him. He pointed at his knee. I said sure, and I curb stomped the asshole’s leg right at the kneecap. He was still so unconscious he didn’t wake up. Daniels seemed really pleased, and I left.

  The vehicles left the two dying men behind, and we went back to the farm, where we’d left Lenny and Ollie behind with Chad. I’d cuffed Chad with the cuffs I found at the police station way back when. When we got back, I made all the men share a drink with me, and after a few rounds of that, I made all the women join in too. Ollie and Lenny both took a swig, and before you know it, we’re all fucking laying the snow, looking at the giant pool of blood left behind by Lt. Daniels.

  Weird moment. Bonding no doubt. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, you go to war with someone, even someone you hate, and in the moment you hit the shit, you just understand that there’s no one else you want near you, having your back, and that was one of those moments. I just somehow knew, and I could see they knew that the same. Everyone let out the real them when we were three sheets to the wind, and with Sean out of the way, we had no barriers left to forming real friendships. Alcohol might be the key to post apocalyptic diplomacy. Who knew?

  I really think these people are going to be my friends. I didn’t ever think that about Brian and the STIG people. They were always… I don’t know. Untrustworthy somehow. Maybe it’s because I met mostly ex-military folks here? I don’t know.

  We wound up passing out that night at the farm. Lenny had plenty of space there for everyone, and after Mike sent a message back to the school that everything was okay, and that they’d all be back the next day, we settled in for a dinner, and a drunken night’s rest. I am displeased to note Mr. Journal that we had fresh baked chicken out of Lenny’s woodstove, and I don’t remember eating a single bite of it. Figures, right? The things I do for the sake of human cohesion. Always taking one for the team.

  We passed out all over the place, and I must report a joyous awakening to the smells of fresh food cooking. Lenny brought in eggs for us, and was cooking them up in various forms, and apparently he’d made fresh bread too.

  Mr. Journal, I can’t even describe to you how filthy, dirty, and sexy that food was. I seriously feel like I’m talking about porn when I think about the food. Fresh. Baked. Bread. Eggs. Protein and carbs. He also had butter. BUTTER.

  BUTTER.

  I think I need to rub one out now. Just wow. It was like when I got that deer back in what? November? I forget. It has been so long, and I am still riding my butter high. I wanted to cut it up into lines and snort it. Filthy dirty butter. Yeah you bitch. Sexy butter.

  You shoulda seen Abby and Patty and Gilbert. Hilarious. They ate so much frigging food. I felt bad, like we were stealing or something, but everyone else ate like pigs too. This was our reward for doing the dirty work of dealing with Sean. Oh, and Chad joined in on the party, but he was clearly on the outside looking in. He spent the whole time looking on, watching, with a pained expression on his face. I felt bad for him.

  Oh! And there was a little… romance too. I definitely caught Abby and one of the Privates talking a little too comfortably for me. Well, I mean it’s cute, and cool and all, but I feel like Abby is my own kid now, and watching a 20 year old hit on her was a little strange. Gavin seems nice enough. Little tall, little gawky, but he seemed really nervous around her, and nervous guys are always better than cocky guys. We’ll have to see how that pans out. A love affair between their people and mine might actually be nice. Like a feudal lord marrying his family into the family of his rivals, bringing them together with blood relationships.

  Funny how things have rewound a few hundred years eh Mr. Journal? Like for example, I’d fucking KILL for a drawbridge and a moat for campus. If I knew a dude who could competently make bows and arrows, I’d feel hood rich. I mean I can make a bow and arrow, but I’d be just as likely to hurt myself with it.

  So during and after breakfast we had the most honest conversation. Mike and Lenny without doubt were the leaders here, and I got the feeling they were the leaders for the most part back at the school. Mike was really adamant about making sure the women were brought on board, because up until that day, Sean had run the joint like a harem. He made sure to whisper that in front of me too. He pointed at Ollie. Made me think about the girl Ollie said he had the hots for. Sucks. Anyway, Mike really wanted to make sure they were represented. After all, he said they had 37 people left, and of that, there were 27 women. Talk about Team Vagina. That’s like League Vagina. A whole.... box’s worth of vagina if you will. I bet they’re tight. But they might be loose too, you can never tell until you get close to them.

  Innuendo much? I wonder if any of them are my type? Naughty Adrian. No. Bad boy.

  We left after noon with the understanding that we’d be available via radio on channel 4, the same one they used. We tested walkies and ones we use are compatible. We also set a date for them to come visit us at the campus on the 25th, which is three days away. They said their biggest need was fresh water. I told them we could use more 5.56 ammo, and more 9mm. Gas or diesel would rock, and any “new” sorts of food would be terrific too.

  In town like they are, they are on town water, which has not pumped for them in months. They’ve been melting snow, but when the snow melts in spring they’ll be relying on rain, and that’s random. I told them we have artesian water, and as long as we can work out a fair trade system for eggs, milk, chickens, and ammo or medical care, we would make sure they always had fresh water from us, at least until they could secure a more local supply. Mike and Lenny agreed that a trade system would be awesome until at least spring. We also talked about mutual supply concerns like gasoline and diesel. They said they’d gotten a lot of fuel, but their furnace at the school ran on diesel, and so did their humvees. Double dipping sucks. The expression “burning the candle at both ends” comes to mind, and it’s damn appropriate.

  After spring, we’d need to find something else to barter with. Which is cool, I really like that idea. It forces us to be productive! Yay! Work is freedom! Communism for the win! We’ve got farmland on campus, and between Lenny’s fields, and our fields, we can crop rotate to make sure we’re always growing the important stuff, and we’ve always got trade material between the groups. It could really work out for everyone.

  Kind of exciting actually. I feel a little dopey being a water seller though lol.

  We left them on a great note. The drive back was also amazingly easy, as we found out they had no patrols, no defenses, and nothing stopping us from simply rolling into town the whole time. Talk about wasted time right? When we were able to drop the plow and clear the tougher spots in the road out, life was much easier. Trips back and forth will be pretty fast.

  We passed and killed three more undead on Route 18, and three more after that on Auburn Lake Road. It definitely seems like they are making their way from downtown to campus. I got a sick feeling sooner or later here we’re going to be dealing with large numbers of undead. Makes me want to get some serious trades for ammo going on. Mike said they had a lot of ammo for their M4s in storage, and I would LOVE t
o get a few hundred rounds.

  So yeah. Sean’s dead. I think. I told Mike I wanted him to double check the golf course to make sure the Lt. and Sean were both put down in the right way, and he said he’d take care of it. Once he confirms to me that Sean’s dead… I might dance a jig.

  So the plan now is to try and relax a bit, and get some rest. The past ten days have been a motherfucker of stress and activity, and I desperately need to take it relatively easy here. We’re not posting guard in Hall A tonight, and Gilbert is staying here in Hall E with us. Gilbert is worried his house will get attacked by too many zombies for him to deal with. Makes sense. His defenses are good for two or three zombies, but any more than that, and he might have trouble. Hall E is pretty much a fortress versus the undead now.

  Go me.

  Gonna try and sleep in a bit tomorrow, then maybe take the bow out and see if I can clear out some undead on Auburn Lake Road for archery practice. I need to get some bow time in.

  How do I spell relief Mr. Journal?

  S-E-A-N I-S D-E-A-D.

  -Adrian

  February 25th

  Long time no see Mr. Journal. Needed to take a break from writing for a day or so. Tired fingers, and the last couple days haven’t really been all that exciting around here.

  I mean after the end of the world what’s exciting and what’s normal is kind of fucked up. So I guess I should say, things have been less exciting than they have been, but still much more exciting than would’ve been “normal” last year. Better.

  The last three days have been a mixed bag. It’s mostly good because the stress of dealing with Westfield as a serious threat is largely gone. I mean yeah, we’re still worried to some extent, but the feeling of dread is gone, and we’ve got some serious hope now. Our first “trade meeting” today was pretty fantastic. More on that later.

  The unintended and kind of unexpected side effect of the Westfield situation having been handled is the fact that Abby and Patty seem to have come to the sudden and overwhelming realization their family is gone. A young boy and a father have been torn from them for a reason we haven’t been able to decipher. I would’ve bet cash on Sean’s people having taken the torch to STIG, but Mike over in Westfield says it couldn’t have possible been them. That doesn’t leave a lot of targets to point fingers at.

  Patty now thinks there was an accident in the fuel area, which I guess is possible. It just seems too massive an explosion to be an accident. I don’t know what to think. I can say there have been a lot of tears here lately, and some of those have been my own. It’s so painful to watch a mother and daughter weep for those they’ve lost. It’s hard to even describe how it feels without starting to get all emotional myself. It brings me right back to how I feel about Cassie being gone.

  I mean, it’s hard to describe. I don’t know how else to describe it. I miss my family a lot too when I watch Abby and Patty. I wonder if they’re thinking the same things about me. I hope they’re all right, and I hope that someday we can be reunited, but as they say, I don’t think that’s in the cards. All I can do is hope for the best, and that one day everything will be revealed in a positive light. Turn that frown upside down, right?

  Morose motherfucker, aren’t I?

  So. What’s been happening? Nice of you to ask Mr. Journal. I’ve managed some pretty excellent sleep, which is a great change of pace. Dreams have been pretty straightforward too, which is a lot of it. I’m sure the stress of the Westfield issue having passed over is a huge part of it too.

  We’ve done some legwork here on campus too, which is… scary fucking business lately. As I’ve been saying for the past what? 20 days? The undead from downtown having been trickling onto campus. It's usually two or three at a time, and we’ve done a good job of catching them at the bridge, but a few have gotten through when we weren’t looking. Plus there’s always the chance that they’re walking across the frozen lake. Come to think of it, I should check the lake for footprints in the snow.

  Anyway, moving about on campus is almost like it was back in June and July. There are undead all about, and we’re instituted a “no one alone” rule. Gilbert has defied it at every opportunity to go home, but trying to tell Gilbert what to do is a lot like trying to herd cats. I can’t be too worried about him.

  I did a fuel oil check on Hall E and Hall A. We are about halfway through the tank on Hall E, and Hall A is still almost full. Fortunately administration had the oil topped off in the summer when the prices must’ve been lower. If we’ve gone through half the oil in Hall E already, then we’ve got enough to last the rest of this winter. That’s great news. If we can find another woodstove sometime soon, then we can install it in Hall E, and between wood and oil, we’ll be set for perhaps two or three winters just on the fuel we’ve got on campus, let alone the home heating oil in the houses in just this neighborhood.

  I didn’t check the school building, or the classroom style buildings. Hall B, Hall C, and Hall D all had three quarters or better in their tanks. That’s a LOT of fuel. We should be all set for heating oil if we can figure out a way to siphon it up and out of the tanks.

  What does concern me is gasoline. Going back and forth to Westfield all those days did our fuel supply no fucking favors. I think I mentioned before that we would need to look at diesel soon, and that’s a harsh reality we need to deal with in a week or two. Well, I suppose we could check out the gas station that’s a mile or two from the one we had been using, but that’s heading towards downtown, and frankly, I really do not want to head that way until we’ve got a plan to deal with the undead coming our way, from that way.

  For the moment, our plan is to conserve gas. Simply don’t go anywhere if we can avoid it. We’ve got plenty of food for the moment, and there’s nothing pressing that we need to do downtown other than getting fuel, and we’re better off picking off stragglers making their way up to campus than we would be if we made a trip back into a gigantic mass of undead, and then leading them all back here in wholesale fashion.

  Come to think of it… That might not be a bad idea. Hall E is a fucking fortress, and with a little more work, we could make it basically zombie proof. We could lead the whole fucking crew right back up here into some kind of trap, then take them all out with our own massive zombie eradication plan. Hm. Food for thought.

  So the last two days were pretty mundane. Like I said checking fuel and oil, and making sure any zombies that made their way onto campus were killed, and their bodies relocated to the now sizeable body pile out near staff housing. We’re trying to use the new bow and my long sword as much as possible, but we’ve broken two arrow shafts the past two days, and that seems… shitty. So melee is the way, and Abby and Patty aren’t that hot with the physical stuff yet. Abby’s skinny as a rail, and Patty is getting near 50, and with her healing ribs, she’s still a little sore. Once again, Adrian’s grunt labor to the rescue.

  But, the occasional gunshot is actually a good thing, as it leads a few more our way. As long as it’s small groups, this is very containable. Even a group of 20 would be fine. Makes me want to think about the whole leading a shitload of them up here plan.

  Earlier today the Westfield crew arrived at noon. Gilbert decided he’d make a large dinner for them in Hall A, which I thought was a good idea. It’s a “neutral” site on campus that shows we have our shit together, and yet still doesn’t let them into our last bastion of strength, Hall E. Mike drove and brought one humvee with him, which I thought was great. I was honestly expecting a large show of force, but that kind of goes to show you how he feels about us. If he didn’t trust us, he’d have rolled in with the two trucks. Binge drinking after the death of an enemy is a relationship builder I guess.

  Gilbert had prepared some canned hams in the spirit of the ones I made for Valentine’s. I didn’t know we had so many. I’m wondering if he brought one from home or something. Not that I’m complaining or anything. He made a glaze similar to the one I made, which definitely made me think he had ham envy. Ma
shed potatoes, a can of cranberry relish, and a can of asparagus later, and we had a regular old feast.

  Mike brought three people with him. Gavin Russell, one of the soldiers who came out to the farm on the 20th, Lisa Goldman (their physician’s assistant, and resident doctor), and a chick named Mallory Malone. Here’s my full take on the new people:

  Gavin is about 20 years old, and before the world shit the bed, he was probably always in trouble, and joined the Guard as a way to pay bills. Now, with military skills, and a fairly tough attitude, he’s a keeper here. He’s tall, an inch taller than me at least, and has a buzz cut. He’s good looking too, so Abby says. And incidentally, the two of them talked the entire time. Romance is in the air. You should of SEEN Patty’s face lol. MURDEROUS. But she also seemed happy about Abby talking to another guy. The plight of a parent I suppose.

  Lisa Goldman is early to mid 40’s I think. According to her dinner table talk, she was a PA at one of the local Westfield Clinics, and was instrumental in getting it emptied of supplies. She said Westfield is well stocked for meds and such, and in a pinch, they can bring a generator to the clinic for “more substantial” procedures. She’s kind of nervous because there are two women due in spring over there. One is due in late April, and the other late in May. Kind of neat to think about babies being born. Makes me want to go back to the grocery store and get the formula. I remember leaving a shitload of it there. Oh, she’s got shoulder length pitch black hair, is kinda pretty, and looks super Jewish. No cape or anything, but I can totally see her in Miami Beach. I like her.

  Mallory is my new favorite person. Mal as she prefers, is maybe 25 years old. She’s a hairdresser. Very funny, very witty, sharp on her toes, and from what I gathered at the lunch table, she had a pretty rough go of the whole surviving June thing. I think she holed up in her salon eating snacks for a few days and wound up quite literally fighting her way to the school using scissors. That is a story I want to hear more about. Mal has very nice short brown hair (no shit, right?), and is fairly pretty, although not in any special way.