The Failed Coward

by Chris Philbrook

  Only fitting right? After all this time, the banana boxes come home with me.

  I took all the pictures on the walls and mantle. Everything I tell the girls to leave behind when we clear houses came back with me. I even took the curtains. So funny.

  I am very pleased to have replaced my borrowed wardrobe with all of my own clothes. Much of them are large on me now, but it feels nice to wear the shirts I used to wear when things were normal. I am happy to support all my local athletics teams, and favorite bands, despite the fact that the members of them are likely all dead, and will never take to the field/court/pitch/stage again. It gives me comfort to trick my mind by wearing their shirts and hats.

  I took much of my book collection. I’ve always been an avid reader, especially having a job where I had a lot of downtime. I used to buy books by the bag. Cassie used to tell me to buy a Kindle to save on space in the condo, but it’d be pretty useless now. I’m glad I bought all these books now. I’ve got entertainment for... a long time. If I ever find downtime to sit and read that is.

  I grabbed all my movies and video games. I also grabbed my own PS3, because I’ve got save data on that motherfucker for games I haven’t beaten yet.

  Fuck you apocalypse, I’ve still got a video game agenda.

  I grabbed batteries, flashlights, shoes, boots, jackets, sheets, my remaining melee weapon collection, and even some furniture. Cassie and I have got a great living room set, and that fucker fit perfectly in the back of the Chevy. Mind you the entire interior of the HRT was filled to the ceiling with boxes and whatnot, but at the time, I didn’t want to leave anything I knew I wanted behind. I also grabbed my television. We had a widescreen HDTV too, and despite already having one in Hall E, two is always better than one, and while in Rome… Get a big television to watch porn in your bedroom on. Cross that off the list of things to do.

  The vicinity of my place remained clear of danger the entire time we were extricating my shit. You can’t tell me that’s just good luck. Pretty frigging obvious we had some kind of a truce running for a bit with the powers that be. I’m thankful they gave us some time to get it done, because at the time, I would’ve made for a pretty shitty combatant.

  The drive home was clear of undead until we got about a quarter mile away from my place. Ironically, we were right near Steve’s place when we saw the zombies reappear magically from the surroundings. Almost as if they were plucked away long enough for us to do what we needed to do, and then returned once we were done. Every one of us exchanged strange looks and radio messages.

  I didn’t do any of the driving home. They wouldn’t let me. Probably a good decision.

  When we finally made it back to campus I was not in any shape to unload everything, so we got the furniture inside Hall E, I dealt with Steve’s body and then I turned vegetative. Everyone else stepped up for me though, and made sure I was taken care of.

  Yesterday really taught me that I can lean on these people. Hard if I have to. They’re far more than just fellow survivors, they are my family now. My parents are long gone, and I don’t know where my brothers and sister are, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. Even if they do come back into my life, Abby, Patty, and Gilbert are now permanent fixtures in the book of Adrian. I can’t imagine trying to survive all of this without them here.

  Today we are unpacking my stuff, and getting it into my room here. I’ve got so much crap now that I need to take up a second room. In fact, after I get everything inside, I’m going to ask if anyone minds if I knock out the wall that adjoins the small dorm room next to mine. It’s peanuts to get it knocked out and fixed up, and it’d almost double my bedroom size. Then I will actually have room to walk around in here. My new bed is quite literally taking up all the space. Fucking dorm rooms, always too small. I swear morons or Halflings design them.

  After today… We might take tomorrow off to plan for the future. I think I am ready to move forward with our plans to clear more houses in the town. We need the supplies as well as trade bait for the Westfield people, and we’ll be putting more dead folks to rest as we go. I am also positive that somewhere in town we will find more survivors. I know my original plan to build safe houses is still a good one, but I think we might find enough people in town that are continuing to hide that we can re-establish a town.

  I am starting to feel a call to duty in this regard. Saving people is a noble duty. Every zombie we put down isn’t just a threat removed, it’s a soul saved.

  I’m not sure if I’m talking about their souls, or mine.

  Otis sends his regards.

  -Adrian

  Gasoline

  I have been preparing for this day since I was ten years old. I’ve got knives, axes, rifles, handguns, shotguns, muzzle loaders, ammunition, gunpowder, reloading supplies, bulletproof vest (purchased at a steal on eBay), spare clothing, bandages, bacitracin, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, diesel fuel (4x 55 gallon drums), gasoline (12x 55 gallon drums), coffee, tea, cases and cases of MREs, over a thousand cans of food, seeds stockpiled to restart local agriculture, batteries (9-volt, AA, AAA, C, and D in large quantities), car batteries, a large 4x4 truck with run flat tires and a rifle rack with rifle and ammunition handy, a sturdy stockade fence around my property, firewood to last at least one winter for my stove, solar panels on the roof of my house, an artesian well despite being close enough to town to use town water if I wanted to, a spot welder, an acetylene torch and two canisters of gas for it, a ham radio, a police scanner, pepper spray, three tasers with spare batteries, a battery charger, books on medicine, car repair, satellite communications, biology, agriculture, religion, your mom, how to make suppressors, how to make Italian food, general carpentry, and multiple other categories. I’ve also got enough lumber stored in my basement to reinforce my stockade wall or build an entire small home in my backyard, binoculars, moisturizing lotion (for dry skin), sex lube (for copulation and masturbation), pornography, contraceptives, condoms, pain killers (illegally obtained via faked prescriptions at a pain control clinic), motor oil good for ten oil changes in my truck, spare tires for that truck (not all run flat though, I’m not made out of fricking money here), maps for the entire western hemisphere, plans for extrication to multiple locations on said hemisphere should the house not hold in the event of the apocalypse (currently unfolding), one box of all my favorite candy bars/candy (plus thirty bonus bags of Twizzlers. I really like Twizzlers.), one box of every kind of snack cake I’ve ever consumed and enjoyed, thirty five twelve packs of all the carbonated beverages I enjoy, five cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon, two gas generators running in tandem and connected to a series of batteries capable of storing a week’s worth of energy, twenty flats of bottled water, ten cases of water filtration filters for my water filtration system, 50 packages of potassium iodine tablets (in the event of a nuclear based apocalypse), bomb shelter built into the basement for additional radiation shielding (in the event of the aforementioned nuclear based apocalypse), one .22 caliber semi automatic handgun, one .22 caliber semi automatic rifle, one AR15 rifle with 10 spare magazines, three bolt action rifles in various calibers, 500 rounds of ammunition or more of each caliber, and a slew of other useful things you want when the world comes crashing to an end.

  I am gonna rock this fucking apocalypse. This will be the best summer ever. These Zeds have nothing on me.

  Plan Zed-Domination is in effect.

  APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH LATER

  I cannot believe this is happening. I’m having so much fun killing my neighbors. This is like a weird Disney Land where I get to legally shoot the people I don’t like. I feel like I won the lotto.

  I’ve got a few shooting hides set up on the second floor of the run down Victorian my mom and I call home. Well, before she died. People in town used to laugh at me for having a house that looked like a pile of shit, but who is laughing now? None of the dumb shits in town want to come here because they think there’s either nothing of value inside, or that I’m loony. Never mind the fact
that I keep shooting anyone that comes close to my stockade fence.

  My neighbor across the street, Margaret Evans (she was a dental hygienist), tried to climb over my fence yesterday just after dusk. I bet her and her asshole son have finally run out of food. I always used to tell her when I saw her at the grocery store to buy durable foods! Stockpile as much as you can in the event of the apocalypse. Or an economic collapse, which was really quite feasible.

  I shot her in the head. It popped like a water balloon and sprayed her grey matter all over the sidewalk behind her. Through the scope on my rifle I could see her son screaming inside their house. Poor kid is gonna die in there, all alone and hungry. He smartened up after a few hours of screaming bloody murder and shut the hell up.

  Of course the sound of the gunshot drew in a bunch of the bleeding dead folks, and the sound of his screaming sent them right into his front yard. I figure I’ll give it a few more days until he kicks it, then I’ll start picking off the dead assholes in their yard.

  The internet and telephone have been down for weeks. The town’s electricity has shit the bed as well. I’m glad the closest nuclear plant is downwind and a day’s drive away. Last I saw on the local news was that it was secured by the National Guard, and being powered down. It’d suck if it melted down, and I died of ball cancer during the zombie apocalypse. Luckily, I’ve got the gas generators in the basement to keep the television and the fridge running.

  I don’t know how much gasoline I have left. I’ve been watching a lot of movies to pass the time, and my fuel discipline needs to be tightened up. Them damn Arabs aren’t shipping the black juice anymore, and I need to make sure I make every last drop of the old go-juice last as long as possible.

  Margaret was a retard. She should’ve been buying canned goods instead of frozen meals.

  APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH LATER

  I have drastically underestimated my ammunition requirements for surviving a Zed oriented apocalypse. I have already consumed 50% of my ammo stores simply defending the perimeter fence. To counteract the constant attention of the horde of Zeds, I have broken out the circular saw and tape measure, and fortified the fence as per plan: Fence Upgrade 1.2.

  Unfortunately I have used a little more of my wood than I had intended. During construction this week I accidentally cut the cord to the circular saw, and I am now down to using a manual saw. I wish I had worked out more before the apocalypse. My arms are very sore.

  The fence is now fully upgraded, and I am much more comfortable leaving larger amounts of undead circling the neighborhood. I no longer feel compelled to shoot every dead bastard that wanders down the street.

  I am still shooting the living though. They are here and up to no good. I’m sure they are interested in stealing my supplies and or taking over my home. I am now seriously debating setting up a perimeter system as per plan Dynamite Perimeter Defense Plan 6.3.1. That plan took a lot of time to perfect. Dynamite is dangerous stuff.

  Dynamite Perimeter Defense Plan 6.3.1 involves setting up trip wires inside the fence in the event the fence is climbed over, or breached. I’ve got enough sticks of dynamite left over from my internet deal that I can place them about one stick every ten feet. I suspect the first asshole who hops my fence and gets blown to kingdom come will teach the others a lesson. Plus if any of the Zeds manage to force their way through the fence, they’ll get blown to smithereens.

  I am using a lot of gasoline. I do not think my gasoline stores are sufficient for long term survival. After evaluating my actual gasoline needs and consumption, I do not think that I need to watch the entire series of Buffy followed by the entire Star Trek TNG run next week. Just one should suffice.

  I need to procure more 55 gallon drums and then fill them with gas from a local gas station. I think I will get the truck ready to go to the gas station. I know Mark’s Garage had two more drums in the back I can take, plus he had a barrel dolly as well, which is necessary to move the barrels when they are full of the ole go-juice. I am happy I have a hand crank to pump fuel as well.

  All is moving according to plan.

  APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH LATER

  My run to the gas station last month ended splendidly. I found four 55 gallon drums at Mark’s Garage and after cleaning them out properly, I brought them to the gas station to fill. It took me two days of gun running to clear the gas station long enough for me to accomplish the task. The number of Zeds still wandering about town continues to astound me. Why aren’t they rotting? Why aren’t they freezing solid on the cold overnights?

  I’ve heard gunfire in the distance periodically for weeks. Well, since June 23rd really, and despite the intensity of gunfire dropping over time, I would have imagined that with all those shots fired, there would be a lot less zombies about. I guess people are really shitty with their guns.

  I had to shoot a few folks trying to take my gas. Well, technically I don’t know if they were going to steal it, but they saw me filling the barrels while I was at the pumps, and when they stopped their car and came towards the station, I shot their car up. It crashed into the metal posts at the end of the pump and after a few minutes, the people inside the car came back as Zeds. I shot them again.

  Upside: inside their car they had some food. Downside: one of the girls in the car was very pretty, and I would’ve liked to have met her, or at least brought her back home. She was as pretty as the young girls who go to that private school just outside of town on Auburn Lake. I miss sneaking into the woods near there with my binoculars and trying to catch a little peek. Now that’s fun.

  Next time I shoot people, I’m going to try and shoot the ugly ones first.

  Darwinism.

  APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH LATER

  It got really cold late last month. Unseasonably cold even. I’ve got a lot of home heating oil in the tank, and I can use the diesel when that runs low. The fence is holding up, and my ammunition seems to be lasting. I made a trip to Moore’s Sporting Goods last week with the truck, and the place is empty. There are dead bodies all over the place near there. I wonder if there was a shootout over guns and ammo? Some people just can’t share. Morons.

  Gasoline continues to be a problem for me. I’m wishing I cut more wood for the woodstove. I think it might’ve been a better idea for me to have stockpiled the wood, rather than all the diesel and gasoline, but not like I can undo what’s done now. I’m also pissed the wood is all stored outside too. I hate walking all the way outside to get armloads of wood. Had I just stored it inside somewhere, like maybe in the hallway, life would be so much easier.

  Halloween is in two days. I think I’ll dress up as a survivor of the apocalypse again. I’ve been doing that every Halloween for twenty five years now. Ever since I was ten.

  I remember watching all those old zombie movies from the seventies, especially the ones made in Europe that were super gross and thinking how awesome it would be if zombies took over the world. I used to fantasize about getting to shoot the kids in school that were dickheads to me. I used to plot and plan where and how I’d hole up. I’m glad I did all that planning, because it’s late October, months after the apocalypse, and I’m still surviving, still strong.

  Dicky Benedetto, eat my ass you prick! I’m here and you’re dead in the street.

  APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH LATER

  I burnt down my garage. I was drinking some PBR while doing some metal work to make the truck a little more substantial against the Zeds and I dropped the acetylene torch into a pile of greasy rags. Turns out they are super duper flammable.

  Like a ninja I saved the remainder of my beer and the truck. I can still drive downtown if I need to, I’ll just have to cope with the truck as is. My garage is separated from the house, and I had to let it burn down. The garden hose wasn’t up to the task of dousing the flames. I’m a little worried because the explosion of the acetylene tank attracted a lot of the Zeds to this neighborhood again. The tall green metal cylinder launched about a hundred feet straight up in the air, an
d stuck in the hood of a car in the street like an enormous lawn dart. I’d been really quiet for weeks and the Zeds been drawn off by shooting on the other side of town. Guess that’s just more Zeds to shoot.

  Today is Thanksgiving actually, which is sort of awesome. I love turkey. I wish I had one to eat. Instead I am eating a tin of Spam with a can of diced tomatoes, cooked over the stove. For dessert I am having a cupcake. It is my last cupcake, and I plan on savoring it for an hour.

  Because I am now down to my last cupcake, I am wondering if I should return to a local food selling establishment and perhaps attempt to procure some of said food. Winter is upon me in just a few weeks, so if I am going to do it, I should totally do it soon. I don’t have anything other than my snow blower to remove snow, and that’s just impractical.

  If I get bored though, I might try and modify the snow blower into a Zed munching machine. I’ve got a loosely worked out plan for it, called ZedBlower 1.7.3. I’m thinking I can get it up on wheels, and set it at roughly chest height. With a slight tweak to the motor, it’ll chew up Zed heads and toss them out the chute like confetti.

  I just need to weld the frame of the….

  Ah shit. Never mind.

  APPROXIMATELY ONE MONTH LATER

  Couple more days to Christmas. This year I am giving myself last year’s gift again. I found some wrapping paper in the basement behind one of my gas barrels, and I re-wrapped my Stargate complete boxed set, and put it under a tree branch from my backyard that is doubling for my Christmas tree. I seriously debated converting to Judaism early in the month for the extra presents, then switching back, but there’s nothing I want in my house that I don’t already have. I’m kinda glad mom is dead. She’d be pissed at me for thinking about drop kicking Christ out of my life, even if it was just for eight days. The end never justified the means to her.