Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 10): The Last Resort [Adrian's March, Part 2]

by Philbrook, Chris

  I’ve been doing this with snow machines late at night while wearing NVGs with Kevin. We’re slipping out the back gate into the forest onto our secret trails in the woods and moving things one sled at a time. It’s taken hours, late hours where I leave Michelle with Otis in a cold bed, but it’s done now, and I feel good about it.

  Gilbert did this shit back in the day. He slid around on his snow machine, using gas he got from me to do things he didn’t want to tell me about. If I’m doing it now, does that make me an asshole, or a hero? Either way, it makes me like Gilbert.

  I accept my fate in this matter.

  I know Michelle knows. I can feel her awareness pouring off her as if it were sweat on a hot day. I KNOW she’s turning a blind eye to it. It’s her job to be the optimist.

  It’s my job to pull the trigger when things go bad.

  I hope I’ve left that battleground behind me, but if I have to protect my people, I will. And until the day I am forced to take up arms comes again, I will smile and be friendly and give everyone the opportunity to do the same to me.

  -Adrian

  February 6th

  Yesterday was a good day, and I had to skip a good portion of it due to anxiety. Early on in the morning before the NVC convoy arrived here, I offered to Kevin that I could take one of the horseback patrol shifts. “Offered.” And “could.” I wanted to miss the early parts of their tour here. I couldn’t bear the idea of being here to welcome those assholes. Kevin obliged me, and I started to conquer my fear of horses.

  I’d taken a few lessons already from the Texans who brought ‘em, but I’d avoided them (the animals, not the Texans) intentionally for a long time. Yesterday morning helped. I went out with Bud, Donna, and Ethan to do a short tour of the place. I had Ethan sent off site in the event things got violent. I had to protect our medical team. We watched from deep in the tree line off of Route 18 as their vehicles went past, and made the turn up Auburn Lake Road. We didn’t have to give them directions. A few minutes later the helicopter flew overhead, taking the straight route. I don’t know why they brought the helo, or why it lagged behind, failing to provide adequate cover, or provide an eye in the sky on the route they were taking. Sloppy.

  When I returned the tour was already in full swing. Michelle led the way, supported by Abby and Hal, as well as Ollie and Sylvia. It was a cross section of people they knew, people in charge of things, shooters and non-shooters, and the brain trust. Abby served as our resident journalist, though she didn’t advertise that until much later in the day, so I’m told.

  I pieced together a lot from asking folks this morning what they saw. Michelle really stepped up her game for me, and looked at the things I asked her about from the Spring Meadow trip, as well as staying on point for her own agenda. She evaluated them like a courtroom lawyer.

  The convoy delivered a huge complement of people in a small package. They came in one APC and three humvees, and somehow managed to transport thirty people. Most were logistics types, not shooters, which was nice. They also landed the helo in the road outside of the gate, and allowed most of the adults and all of the kids to come see the helicopter. They scored major points with the parents and kids with that, which might’ve been the reason they brought the bird. Sway the kids, and you get the parents.

  What else? Michelle let them see all the Halls, inside and out, though she kept their visits out of the bedrooms and basements. Common spaces only. Otis hissed and booked ass when they came through. Smart cat. He and I are cut from the same cloth. They toured our cafeteria, hydroponics facility (which by the way, we crush them on), our staged armories, the maintenance area, the barns and the medical clinic, which their Doctor Tina Acworth seemed impressed by. She got along with our vet/doctor Fletcher really well too. Maybe they’re cut from the same cloth, too.

  We didn’t tell them about Ethan or Joel, nor Kevin or Quan, or Kate or Nick or the rest of our military men and women. Their ‘elite’ military status doesn’t need to go on the roll of things they’re acquiring.

  After about eight solid hours of Michelle leading Mizaki around, and me trying to ignore the feeling of my space being violated, we wrapped it up with a huge open meeting and dinner in the cafeteria. Somehow Michelle worked with Ollie and Melissa to get a feast up and prepared, all while I was squirreling my nuts away in the forest. She works in miracles… I work in foul language, and toes pushing shit down shower drains.

  Play to your strengths.

  Speaking of Ollie and Melissa, she’s as pregnant as three people. They’re due literally any minute now, and somehow Melissa still managed to kill it. She runs the cooking operation here, as well as managing the food storage and production behind the scenes, and run their family while Ollie slaves away to keep us all fed. This place would survive if I went down in a gunfight, but if we lost Ollie or Melissa, we’d be fucked in six months. I’m excited to meet their next ginger baby. Baby Martha and her red curls is the cutest, and well behaved, and I’m sure #2 will be the same.

  The open air meeting was a blast. I sat with Michelle near the front as my people grilled the living shit out of the NVC council members. I thought the MGR people were thorough, but holy shit our folks put them to shame. We talked about trade, economics, security, short term plans for integration, long term plans for expansion, resource allocation, repopulation plans, and what the immigration policy would be on where people could live. They talked about weather, food shortages, and food production. They asked them personal questions (Mizaki is married with a daughter and son, both in their early teens) and they asked them about impersonal things, like how much medicine they have in the event of a cholera outbreak.

  Oregon Trail, anyone?

  They also grilled them about vehicle repair, news and entertainment (shockingly little up there, it would appear) as well as education for kids.

  They did their best to answer the questions, but they didn’t have answers for it all, and that made me feel a lot better. We don’t have answers for it all either, and if they had faked it, we would’ve caught it and stomped them right down the drain.

  But alas, they came, they saw, and they were cool. Veni, vidi, neato.

  We’re signing the ‘official’ treaty on the 12th at the Factory. I’ve stipulated that I will not allow the treaty to move forward if Pasta is part of their organization in a decision-making capacity. He gives me the bubble guts, and I want to punch him in the face when I hear his ugly name, or think about his ugly face. Michelle is taking the lead on negotiating, as it should be. I’m stepping back and allowing her to do her thing, because I want to be able to say I told you so if it shits the bed.

  Maturity has always been a struggle for me.

  We meet with Maria and her people tomorrow, barring bad weather, again.

  -Adrian

  February 12th

  Almost Valentine’s Day.

  I’m about to put head to pillow, but I wanted to write a few words in here before I do so. The treaty signing went well earlier today at the Factory. I believe it went well because I made sure Kevin remained back at Bastion to hold down the fort. Kev is still hot under the collar about conceding any control of anything, but he’s come around a good bit. No matter how far he moves from his original position, he’s still apprehensive about the whole deal.

  Can’t say that I blame him. I’m starting to believe all diplomacy is, is agreeing to something that’s halfway to getting fucked, and then hoping the other guy doesn’t go all the way anyway and finish fucking you. How did anyone get anything done? For that matter, how did they get rid of their paranoia, and need to protect their people in all ways? I’m not good at giving up ground in places to get it elsewhere. I’m too ‘all or nothing’ as a thinker.

  I think.

  Anyway, worthless treaty is signed on paper that won’t last time. In under a week, the NVC moves their support unit down here to assist us in the event of an attack. We agreed to no more than two vehicles and ten soldiers, and that was agreeable to them. We
’re giving them one of the smaller staff houses at the far rear of campus that’s remained empty. We haven’t put anyone in it because we usually do our funeral fires back there, but that’s an easy fix. We’ll build something more stoic and permanent for funeral services on the shore of Auburn Lake. Putting them back there will also keep their vehicles out of the way.

  Michelle spoke to them minutes prior to the signing and blindsided them with my big clause. I told her to tell them in order for this to happen, we had to have Picarillo removed from service. At the very least, he had to be moved to a desk job where he was no longer in charge of people outside their wire.

  Mizaki pushed back against her on it, but she stood firm and explained that we had people who KNEW Picarillo was the shit on their heels, and that we couldn’t associate ourselves with him if he went out and did something shady again. We couldn’t risk our reputation (such as it is) for him. If he did something, it’d be an on the spot deal breaker.

  Thorpe understood completely according to Michelle, and she went further and said she thought Thorpe handled Mizaki in a way that told her they both knew that this was coming. They got the agreement amended, and I’m happy to say Captain Pasta will now be stirring his noodle solo as either a retiree, or a POG inside Calendar Mountain. If I ever see him again, I’m gonna raise hell to get him strung up. He’s bad and I can smell it a mile away. Smug motherfucker.

  I guess Jay Wilson and his sister pitched a fit while we were gone, but they’ve since been calmed down. Mostly by me when I returned. I explained that we had Picarillo sent off to the pasture, and that seemed to help. I think the little sister Sharon is still simmering, but I think we can appease her for the time being. All for the greater good.

  Anyway, all is well otherwise. Weather is crisp and cold, our food supplies are holding up better than we thought (huzzah to Ollie’s crew for a banner harvest, as well as Ryan and Becca killing it with the hydroponics). We’re also excited because we now have the Calendar Mountain food exchange option to trade in our excess to get variety. Our wheat harvest lacked this season, but we’ve got so many pumpkin and apple byproducts it’s not even funny. Biweekly trips for staff exchanges and food swaps are the new rule.

  I’m kind of excited.

  Oh, and the meeting a few days ago with Maria actually happened. We met at the same overpass as before, and did some pretty routine trade stuff. The above mentioned pumpkin and apple byproducts traded well, and we were able to procure some flour and medical supplies that they accumulated.

  Maria knew about our NVC shit due to the radio traffic (no secrets on an unencrypted channel, or an encrypted channel that she has the encryption for) and she seemed hesitant at best about it. Worried, I would say.

  I couldn’t find fault. She said for now, they’d call off trade meetings with us so we could get our house in order. She said to reach out to her when we were ready, and I thanked her for her patience, and understanding. She’s a good egg.

  -Adrian

  February 18th

  The men arrived from the NVC today, and got settled in quick, and without incident. The initial complement of soldiers came with a humvee and a single Bradley APC. The humvee has a Mk19 grenade launcher mounted in the turret, and the APC has a M2 .50cal. The men are armed with standard infantry gear the Guard would’ve supplied them with before that day, supplemented by civvie gear as needed when shit fails and can’t be repaired.

  Their leader is a Lieutenant Dana Lemanowicz. Polish as fuck. He’s a decent guy, and did a good job of listening, and doing what he was told when he arrived. He treated Michelle as more of an authority figure than Kevin or I, which may or may not be the smartest thing I’ve ever seen someone do. Time will tell. The rest of his eight guys looked and acted like you’d expect, and stayed close to his ass. I think they’ll be more social as time goes on. They’ll need to make an effort to be a part of our community if they want to be accepted.

  So yeah, it went well, and didn’t feel nearly as strange as I thought it would. Maybe because I spent most of the day playing Playstation while watching baby Gavin here in Hall E.

  Pick your battles.

  -Adrian

  February 24th

  Been super busy with the hydroponics facility, and Ollie and Melissa’s new baby! They welcomed their new daughter Barbara Ann with the dawn on the 22nd. Somehow, Melissa knew, and had everything all set up and ready to go. In anticipation of the arrival of their new kid, Ollie had been working more or less around the clock to build three new hydro bays for the gymnasium. It isn’t a massive addition to our capabilities there, but it will help bolster any lack of effort he has when it comes to helping Melissa and his two daughters. For a guy who I thought wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when I first met him, Ollie has his shit together. Ginger or not, you gotta give the guy credit. His dad would be so proud of him and everything he’s done here. I mean you gotta spot me a mulligan on him. I made him piss his pants when we first met.

  Anyway, the other bit of news is that Lt. Lemanowicz and his crew have settled in well. The men are respectful and helpful, and have been assigned tertiary duties to help around campus while they’re stationed here. The humvee and the tank haven’t moved unless we’ve asked them to move them, and they aren’t even carrying side arms around. Only the Lieutenant, and he’s legit calm.

  I must say, when they DO move the tank for us… I have weird dreams about it that night. Sweaty, anxiety ridden dreams of IEDs and Iraq. I dream of Kevin a lot in those dreams, and that’s comforting, because it means I’m still dreaming of the living. In all, they suck, but I know they’re just memories dredged up by the presence of armor.

  Things are going great. Maybe this was all blown out of proportion after all.

  -Adrian

  March 2014

  March 2nd

  Sitting here in the old common/living room of Hall E watching the snow fall outside the windows that are still half boarded up, I had the realization that tomorrow is March 3rd.

  That means in just a few hours, it will be the third hour of the third day, of the third month again. Maybe you remember what happened back a few years ago when that little celestial bullshit lined up? Bad dreams of Cassie followed by waking to the entirety of campus being overrun by book-carrying dead?

  Ha. Shenanigans.

  Subtle fuck you by God I suppose. You’re the Scribe, Adrian. Here’s a thousand undead carrying books to let you know your job. Now do it.

  It’s a shame I didn’t figure it all out earlier. Might’ve saved more lives. Maybe not.

  And let’s not even talk about me going back into the city and finding Cassie in her speaking, undead form on March 3rd a year later. Coincidence? I think the fuck not.

  So much has happened. Pain and suffering… all for what? Sigh.

  I can’t control what tomorrow brings beyond whether or not Michelle and I take some venison out of the freezer to eat. Which I do believe I’ll ask her about. We haven’t had any meat in a few days, and while I do love quiche and carrots and old canned beans, some venison chops sautéed in fresh garlic and olive oil sound like the way to celebrate 333 Day. Mmmmm, protein.

  In other news, MGR, the Factory AND Spring Meadow are all reporting increased foot traffic. Nothing hostile, but there are a lot of people who are new to the area wandering about, setting up shop in houses and apartments. Mostly near Spring Meadow and the Factory right now, but MGR reported seeing new fires in town this evening, so who knows.

  Weird that people are traveling at all right now. Snow storms are bad and regular, and with all the roads and neighborhoods overgrown and unplowed, there’s no easy way to get anywhere. We’re able to only because we have the infrastructure (read: plows, and reasons to plow).

  What would make so many people want to leave where they were in February or March? Go huddle by a fire, ya idjits. Stay warm and fed, avoid the cold and getting lost.

  I hope this is not some portent of doom. An exodus from anywhere at this point can�
�t be good. I need a fucking break from doom and gloom, and we were doing so well.

  NVC people are still cool.

  -Adrian

  March 7th

  Nothing weird happened on the 3rd.

  Well, more pilgrims. Pilgrims in the ‘I traveled a far journey to reach a spiritual place or person,’ sense.

  The creepy kind.

  Michelle’s shitting golden eggs over this. It’s literally the birth of a new religion and she’s got front row seats. No, fuck that, she’s on stage, front and center. I get to stand beside her and Kevin is in the corner wearing his white Warden Protective Group dunce cap. Yeah, I do literally mean we are watching the birth of a religion, and I get to be a part of it.

  SO not excited.

  Can we also have an aside right here, and discuss that if Michelle were *actually* laying golden eggs, I’d be disappointed they weren’t real eggs? I’d rather have the protein than the precious metal.

  Go figure.

  Leading a small group of men and women that literally knocked on the door downtown at MGR was an older man named Peter White. Yesterday the group of five people with seven horses appeared camped out at the base of the tower with a small fire going. The nighttime watch somehow didn’t see them approach, nor start the fire, which is halfway between creepy and awesome. I went down there this afternoon and visited with the noobs. Mike and Patty said that I should. Texas Rich, the new guy David plus Quan and I drove down in a humvee with one of the NVC Sergeants in the turret. Sergeant Rodriguez. Seems nice. Forms full sentences. Eats his crayons with a fork and knife.