Fucking bumps caused my chest to compress. Every single flaw in the road is pretty similar to having a mischievous toddler stab me in the ribs with a sharpened #2 pencil. Big bumps felt like the toddler was kicking the pencil. Really big bumps sent my vision to that wonderful black place where I see stars, and can actually count the seconds off where I can’t see where I am driving, or what I am doing.
It’s a fucking miracle I didn’t wrap my ass around a guardrail or a tree.
You get a freebie on this one God. One.
Lisa and Mike came out to meet me in the parking lot of the school when I told them over the radio I wasn’t in much shape to walk. In fact, I chewed a vike right there in the driver’s seat while I waited for them. It didn’t take them long to come get me. In fact, they moved me from the Tundra to the back seat of a humvee, and immediately drove me over to their town clinic so Lisa could x-ray me.
I was lucid enough on the trip over to the clinic to see that the supposedly empty town of Westfield was not empty any more. When we were moving about in town over there in the early months of the year we saw almost no undead. Twenty over the whole winter?
I saw at least forty today on the way over and back to the clinic. For some reason, that really bothers me. To the core even.
I think it’s because I had this preconceived notion that Westfield was “safe” (or at least “safer”) and now it seems it isn’t. My illusion is shattered. Sigh.
Maybe I’m overreacting. It isn’t like the car barrier at the school there is being tipped over by a war host of the dead. Forty zombies isn’t the end of the world.
All it really takes is just one.
Lisa is not a very good x-ray technician. I don’t think she’s given more than a handful based on how long it took her to fire the machine up and get me imaged. They’ve managed to get the backup generators at the clinic working so there’s power if they need it there. Go them. They’re anticipating one of the pregnant women to fart out a baby literally any moment now, so they’re trying to get all their ducks in a row. Looking at it in a positive light, my injury and their response to my arrival was a nice “oh shit” practice run for them.
X-ray came back negative. No cracked ribs. No internal bleeding. She did say that it looked like the bottom rib was detached slightly, or something that effect. She said I would be sore for a week or more, and would have trouble breathing deeply for a long time, maybe even a month. Running and heavy lifting was out of the question.
I should be excited for rest, but I’m not. This feels just like being back in the Army when I sprained my wrist real bad and couldn’t do shit for a few days. The feeling of guilt is unreal over leaving my fellow soldiers behind. It didn’t matter how much they told me they were fine, and that I wasn’t needed, and to get better, I still felt like a fucking bliver.
Ever heard that expression Mr. Journal? Bliver? My dad used to say that all the time, and all us kids do too now. He used to tell us a bliver was the technical word for a “bucket of shit.” For example, you could say, “Wow, that farmer is carrying around a bliver.” Or even, “That girl is so ugly she looks like a bliver.” Or even, “Dinner tasted like a big old bliver.”
Feel free to use that one however you choose.
Mike refused me when I said I wanted to drive myself home. Lol. You know what’s funny? I can’t remember SHIT about the rest of that visit. Yay painkillers. I don’t remember the drive home either, but I do remember coming home with extra people.
Mike and Lisa said because things were shitty over here, we needed labor/help, and they sent me home with an escort. I think this is Mike’s way of setting me up for sympathy pussy. Mike is my herp. Err, hero.
He sent me home with the three girls that I talked to that day I recon’d the school looking for vagina. He was also kind enough to stick a note in my holster with their names and basic description so I didn’t look like a fucking dolt. This guy will have claim to any kids I have at this rate.
The names of the girls are Siobhan, Sarah, and Jenna. They are all really thin, fairly pretty, and almost 100% forgettable. In my vicodin haze I found all of them lacking on some level. Not sure why. I mean, they’re all pleasant, but I’m not feeling like going out of my way to bang any of them. Don’t get me wrong, if one of them jumped on my cock I wouldn’t ask them to stop.
Actually I might, because that shit could hurt my chest right now. Most anything hurts my chest right now. Sigh. Even typing that hurt a little bit.
The fourth person I came home with was a younger guy named Chris. He’s tallish, pretty thick, a little nerdy, and his skin is loose. He looked almost deflated now. The girls were saying earlier he used to be HUGE, like, orca fat, and with this whole “end of the world” thing going on, he’s lost all the weight. Once they said that it made sense. He reminds me of the people from those weight loss shows that lose it too fast, and have saggy skin. It’s kind of funny as well, because he had glasses originally, had them broken, and now he can’t see for shit. He’s always squinting.
Saving grace: he’s damn funny, and strong as a motherfucker. Ollie was chummy with him back at the school, and the two of them paired off immediately today to work on the fences.
I guess the four folks are here for a few days. I think they said until tomorrow, which makes a few days. Yay vicodin. Not making much sense right now.
Taking a break. Yay naps.
-Adrian
April 29th (2nd entry)
A few hours of rest via nap does the brain wonders. I’ve managed to trade mental clarity for pain though. Vicodin wears off, and I can think clearly. But then the Vicodin wears off, and now I can’t see straight because every little thing I do feels horrible.
Protip: long movies are awesome when you can’t move for shit. I got myself up and moving a minute ago and put the first Lord of the Rings movie in. What’s that? Two and a half hours of hobbit-licious entertainment? Score. Up next: Blackhawk Down. (masturbatory high five)
That’s assuming I don’t pass out first, which at best is 50-50.
Where was I?
Right, the four folks are going back to Westfield tomorrow. Succinct eh? Clarity ftw.
Drama today though. Like a motherfucker. It was drama bukkake all over our faces. It was high school Friday dance right after the most popular cheerleader dumped the starting quarterback drama here. Not just because we are +4 chicks either, this drama has fuck all to do with our current estrogen levels. I know, weird right?
We were scheduled to meet Blake today, and obviously I wasn’t in any shape to go for the meet, so Patty and Gavin went in my stead. Actually Gilbert went as well. Maybe my clarity isn’t as hot as I thought. Afk, Advil.
Took me three minutes to move to the side of the bed, get four ibuprofen, take them, and then shimmy my way back to position to continue typing. I’m sweating like a Catholic Priest in a daycare. Twenty minutes and I’ll be good to go. Gilbert visited me earlier for more than an hour and filled me in on the trip to Blake’s. He wanted to make sure I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.
I guess Blake has arranged the cars around Mike’s garage into a defensive pattern not unlike the one at the Westfield school. It’s serviceable as a defensive barrier according to Gilbert. Gilbert also said that Blake has obviously spent a lot of time working on the garage, and he was very skeptical that Blake has actually spent any time observing the farm as we’d asked him to do. That caused some friction, especially in light of his “report” on said farm.
According to Gilbert, Blake was “agitated” during their meeting earlier. Blake said that he’s seen the same kids that he originally saw back in the fall. Remember them? The parents apparently traded a daughter and son in to the people at the farm for food, or supplies or something? And we theorized that the farm was essentially trading for slave labor?
Well Blake says those kids reappeared the past couple days, and they’re working in the field outside. On the surface based on the information he has supplied, this se
ems like a fairly minor change in the details. We suspected the kids had been there all along, and confirming that fact doesn’t strike Gilbert or I as particularly game plan changing.
Apparently Blake feels otherwise.
Gilbert said he was agitated, and based on Gilbert’s account of what he said and how he acted, I think that description might be an understatement. Gilbert essentially said that Blake stopped just short of demanding that we take this more seriously. Blake wants us to start putting our own eyes on the farm day in and day out to see what’s happening first hand. Now, based on what he’s fed us for info so far, there isn’t anything out of the ordinary happening there.
Just like Gilbert pointed out when I was all hot and horny to take this place down back when we first learned about it, we haven’t heard or seen shit that tells us it’s necessary. So far the evidence says they have a fortified farm that’s well guarded, they’ve traded other people food and supplies, and they took in a pair of kids, and now those kids are working on the farm.
Where’s the drama? Why the urgency from Blake? Furthermore, if he had the time to find the keys to or hotwire all the cars around Mike’s Auto to get them set up, when the fuck was he observing the farm to see all this shit?
Doesn’t pass the sniff test for Gilbert or I. Fishy, plain and simple.
Patty (ever the diplomat) managed to appease him when they showed him all the stuff we got from the auto parts store. I guess he got all kinds of giddy, and immediately dropped the subject. Once they unloaded everything into the shop and he took inventory, he put in a new order for the remainder of the shop’s contents. I’m not sure whether he was kidding or he was serious about that. It doesn’t make much sense to risk another run to the store for parts we probably won’t need. We’re thinking he’s getting greedy.
It makes sense right? He’s getting all this stuff off of us, apparently isn’t doing all the work he should be doing to earn it, and we stock his entire garage (more or less) as easily as 1-2-3, and it seems like he’s not quite appreciating how much effort we’ve put in to get to where we are today.
Of course we’re not observing him 24/7 either, and we can’t make assumptions like this. There are too many variables in this equation, and I think I’ve said I suck hardcore at math. Need to me to analyze the trajectory of a 700 yard shot? I can figure that out in my head. Figure out all this interpersonal politics or graph a math problem?
Might as well ask me to cure cancer. It ain’t happening.
Something else that struck me as really weird was when Gilbert said that Blake and Gavin were shooting the shit like two old buddies. Last time they met it was awkward at best, hostile at worst. Two young rams butting heads or something like that.
It doesn’t sit well that things are suddenly all good between the two of them, although weirder shit has happened, and recently to boot. Maybe they realized that bygones are bygones, and friendship is superior to animosity.
I’ve got a bliver here for you Mr. Journal if you think that’s the case.
Our next meeting with him is on the 3rd of May, and I plan on being there to assess his ass firsthand. If he’s sketchy, I’m calling his ass out.
And for the record… this whole farm business creeps me out. I've got a bad feeling about it.
Sleepytime.
-Adrian
- About The Author -
CHRIS PHILBROOK is the creator and author of Adrian’s Undead Diary as well as the popular webfiction series Elmoryn and Tesser: A Dragon Among Us.
Chris calls the wonderful state of New Hampshire his home. He is an avid reader, writer, role player, miniatures game player, video game player, and part time athlete, as well as a member of the Horror Writers Association. If you weren't impressed enough, he also works full time while writing for Elmoryn as well as the world of Adrian’s Undead Diary and his newest project, Tesser; A Dragon Among Us.
- Find More Online -
Visit adriansundeaddiary.com to access additional content. Learn more about Adrian’s world, contact the author, join discussions with other readers, view maps from the story, and receive the latest news about AUD.
Check out Chris Philbrook’s official website thechrisphilbrook.com to keep tabs on his many exciting projects, or follow Chris on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ChrisPhilbrookAuthor for special announcements.
Read more by author Chris Philbrook in The Kinless Trilogy. Explore Elmoryn, a world of dark fantasy where death is not the end. The story begins in Book One: The Wrath of the Orphans, available in print, Kindle, and online. Visit elmoryn.com to learn more about Elmoryn, view concept art, and much more.
Follow Chris Philbrook’s latest epic series as it unfolds in Tesser: A Dragon Among Us. Meet Tesser, the Dragon. He who walks in any form, and flies the skies free of fear. He has slept for millennia, but now he has awoken in a world ruled by human hands, where science has overshadowed even the glory of old magic. Follow Tesser as he seeks to understand why he slept for so long, and where all the magic has gone. Visit adragonamongus.com to learn more.
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Table of Contents
Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy map
MARCH 2011, Continued
March 5 th
March 7 th
Sweetest Amy
March 8 th
March 9 th
March 11 th
March 12 th
March 14 th
March 16 th
March 18 th
March 20 th
March 22 nd
March 24 th
March 26 th
March 27 th
Gasoline
March 29 th
March 31 st
APRIL 2011
April 2 nd
April 4 th
April 6 th
April 7 th
The Siege of Mildenhall
April 9 th
April 11 th
April 13 th
April 15 th
April 17 th
April 18 th
April 19 th
April 21 st
The Golden Palace
April 23 rd
April 25 th
April 27 th
April 29 th
About the Author
Additional Online Content
AUD Merchandise
The Failed Coward Page 33
