by Joshua Guess
They are trained killers educated in how to disrupt, destroy, or capture larger forces. Every one of those men could probably take out ten of us, and the fact that they have been able to move like ghosts completely unobserved pretty much wherever they want to leads me to the inevitable conclusion that fighting them would kill us at best.
Trying to live up to the spirit of an eye for an eye in this case just isn't in the list of options. Will is going around explaining to people, talking some of the more hotheaded ones down (myself included). It's hard for him, because he wants very badly to do something about this attack as well and everyone knows it. I think he will channel that energy into the defenses as he has done so often of late, and that will serve us well should his former friends choose to come calling again.
Right now, I wish it were a little warmer. I want to kill something.
at 7:58 AM
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Devil's Night
Posted by Josh Guess
I never get tired of watching new arrivals do the meet and greet. It's sort of like watching an experiment in microbiology, witnessing the seemingly random interactions between the individual parts of the whole, like cells having awkward encounters before finding some common ground to grow on.
That's not my best work, but I'm tired right now. Sue me.
I got to see Rachel and Elizabeth reunite this morning. They have been friends for almost as long as Rachel and I have been, and hearing the cries of joy from both of them at finally seeing the other alive and well did a world of good for my heart.
Rachel has changed a lot from the girl I used to know. I say girl, though we are the same age, because she has always had this amazing blend of impish childlike glee at new knowledge and experience, and the moderately cynical edge of a person who is old beyond their years.
I gave her the tour as soon as the sun came up, really showing her the details of the compound. I can see glimmers of the smart-ass in her eyes at times, almost hear the snarky comments she wants to say. It seems, though, that months of living in a small building with lots of other people, having to scrape for food and supplies while avoiding detection has given her a reserve that frankly makes me a little sad. I miss the incredibly bad puns and her ability to play on words. It seems much of the carefree joy that once nearly defined who she was in my mind has vanished. But really, who can blame her?
What kind of person do I see before me now?
She's still got a sense of humor. I have been an easy target for her to crack jokes at, and any laughs are welcome. She's clearly suffered from the events of the last few weeks, carrying faint lines around her eyes from the constant fear and stress. But along with that is a determined set to her face, body language that radiates a confidence and decisiveness that I never noticed before, or never existed until now. She's a bit jumpy as all new arrivals tend to be. It's hard to be plunged into a new situation so far from your comfort zone. She's dealing with it better than most.
On our walk this morning, we moseyed over to the theater my brother built. He's been decorating it for Halloween in the hopes that we can manage to have some sort of party. Given that we all woke up to the first real frost of the season today, I don't know how comfortable such a gathering would be, but it's always been a favored holiday in my family, and was top on my mom's list. And of course, if there is any time in which we need to make fun of all the things that go bump in the night, it's now.
Thank god it's cold enough that there is little to no chance of zombies hitting us.
So while Rachel was checking out the theater, a few of the younger kids made their way over to us, to ask what we were planning for the weekend. Dave and I are still trying to work that out, and when the little ones asked us about trick-or-treating and candy, we both got a little frazzled. Candy isn't something we have much of, and what sugar we have needs to be rationed for cooking. The kids were looking sort of crestfallen, and I was trying to think of something reassuring to tell them when Rachel saved me the trouble of hurting my brain.
She knelt down with them, beckoning the group of five to eight year olds close to her, circling her arms around them.
Rachel proceeded to explain to those kids that while candy was all well and good, the best part of Halloween is the stories. She regaled them with a dozen titles to frighten and horrify, building up a sense of awe and dread that I found very impressive given the early dawn light and lack of anything scary about her as a person. She talked them into being excited to hear gruesome tales all night long, and to look forward to those stories on Devil's Night, far scarier than Halloween.
All in all, it was a pretty masterful bit of storytelling and theater. I was even convinced.
I don't know how Rachel is around kids normally, having never seen her in such a domestic situation, but this morning she did a better job inspiring and creating interest in them than I have ever seen anyone do. She's always longed to be a writer, but now I see that she is truly a storyteller. Her words and attitude combine in some kind of strange alchemy to capture her audience and make them believe in what she says, to see it clearly in their minds.
It was damn impressive. I'm really looking forward to it now, knowing the treat we're in for as Rachel tells stories.
Now, I need to see if we can find some candy...
at 9:52 AM
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Bitter Cold
Posted by Josh Guess
We're doing another election today, and that's all the detail I'm going into. It will turn out however it turns out, and I will let you all know the results.
It's been bitter cold for the last few days. Our Halloween gathering was truly fun, but I think the general consensus is that staying at home for anything but work or special occasions. Rachel kept her word and spun stories for us all night, capturing child and adult alike for almost two hours. We managed to find some candy for the kids, though at this point it's all pretty stale and I don't think they will be clamoring so hard for it come valentine's day...
We haven't seen a zombie in more than a day. The cold is doing it's job, but some of the scouts have pointed out that the best time for us to take out large groups of them is now, when they are immobile from the cold and helpless. It won't be very dangerous, and we won't have to use firearms to kill them. I have to admit, though, that the idea of going around bashing in the heads of helpless zombies is really macabre and gruesome to me. I'm used to killing them when it's me or them, when my blood is hot.
Just the thought of their eyes following the arc of my arm while I swing away with a hatchet gives me the willies. I've spent so long fighting them that sometimes it's hard to remember that they were people once, and that the deep down part of their brains that still function contain basic fears and needs.
Maybe I'll sit this one out.
Will isn't going out with the scouts, which is unusual for him. We've officially made him our defense coordinator, which is a separate position much like my own, but whose findings carry heavy weight in council and leadership meetings. As a part of his job, Will typically goes out with a fast scout run every morning to keep an eye on any subtle changes in the area surrounding the compound. He's sending out his assistant, an older marine veteran whose real name I don't know, but everyone calls Dodger.
Ok, so let me digress a minute here. Dodger is important because of the job he fulfills, and I think a few words are in order.
He's this forty something guy, never been married and never had kids. He used to live alone in Mercer county, just outside of Harrodsburg. We didn't even know he'd been a Marine until a few days ago, he didn't think his experience was very useful since he'd only been in the service for four years just after he graduated high school.
When The Fall hit, he was at a bar. He spent most of his nights there, not drinking, but watching people. Dodger observed the interactions of those around him and used that for inspiration--he was a writer of all things. When the panic and violence began, people all o
ver his town were going apeshit. Someone set fire to an apartment complex across the street from the bar he was in. He went into the flaming building, and there found three children, and he led them to safety.
He spent a few hours trying to locate their parents to no avail. When it became clear that something huge was going on, he moved them to a safer area, Frankfort. To here.
He's an interesting guy. As to how he got his nickname, he says that while he was in the corps, he "spent a lot of time getting shot at, and no time getting shot."
At any rate, Will has left him in charge of the morning run outside. Will himself is holed up in his office, working at tornado speeds on an ambitious and frankly pretty scary set of upgrades to our defenses. He swears that if he can get it done, we'll be nearly impossible to take over by force. Which would leave our destruction as the only other option.
That's strangely encouraging.
We're pretty sure that the soldiers from Richmond have access to the blog, so from here out I won't be discussing specifics of our defenses. We bloodied their nose as much as they did ours a few days back, but none of us are under the illusion that in a one-on-one we could stand half a chance. So we prepare and hope, and thank whatever prickly force that guides the world that it has spared us more pain for another day.
Problem is, we seem to get hurt all the more for all the days of peace when the time comes around.
at 11:03 AM
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
The Wheel Turns
Posted by Josh Guess
Roger died this morning.
He developed an infection that there was simply no way to stop. The fever was intense, and caused him to become delusional. He tore apart his stitches and bled, it was all so quick that there was nothing anyone could do.
Roger was a good friend to me and many others around here. Though I only got to know him after our misadventure at the hotel, I felt blessed for the opportunity. He was a smart and loyal man, a dedicated father, and a hard worker. He was also intensely for this place. Roger stood very strong in support of what the compound is meant to be--a place where people who want to live in peace but are willing to fight can gather. Somewhere that doesn't try to stop you from whatever your pursuit of happiness might be so long as it doesn't endanger others or the overall safety of the place.
I can only imagine what his family is going through today, and we will do everything we can to support them as he did.
Roger was all for a new election in his lucid moments, knowing that even if he managed to survive he would be in no shape to lead anyone for a long time.
With that in mind, we must move on. We will mourn him and pay tribute as he deserves, but life continues.
The results of the election caught me by surprise. Darlene has been elected leader, and Will is her second in command. I have to admit that I thought most people around here would have some problem with electing a female as our leader given how brutal some of our decisions have to be. Will as second doesn't surprise me so much, since anyone who might have had doubts about his loyalties lost them when he mowed down some of his old chums with a machine gun.
Right now the leadership is working on defenses and weapons. Thankfully, the headache of managing the logistics for all of that mess has been passed off from me and my brother, though we've had the number of workers at our disposal reduced. That's ok, actually, since a lot of the big projects are going to have to wait until spring. We have plenty of small problems to deal with, like sending people to houses whose homemade heat stoves aren't fully sealed or failed at some point and fixing them.
We're working on rigging up a big generator as well, using one of the turbines Pat and his team brought us with their last trip in. They are already back out once more, third trip to the factory. The demand for power around here is high enough that we've decided to risk the runs to the factory as fast as we can make them.
The generator we're working on was actually Roger's idea. He pointed out that we do have extra hands around, and that if we rigged together a rough transmission system, we could essentially have a human-powered generator running around the clock. It's a good idea, of course. Roger was full of them. Now we have to try and build the damn thing and make it work without him.
I'm trying to go on about business as usual, tell you what's going on without pining for my lost friend. It's just that now that he's gone, I realize how much a part of my life he was. I mean, he helped care for me while I was sick. He tended Jess after her shooting. His and Patrick's forge and offices are right next door to my house, so he was forever here at his lunch time, finding out what our resources were for whatever project he had in mind, often spending too much time shooting the breeze with me and snacking endlessly.
It's hard to imagine that I won't see him at my door with a brown bag dangling from a hand dusted with black from working at the forge and eyebrows singed from the heat. Hard to wrap my head around the fact that he won't be teaching Jess how to weld like a pro, or the finer details of metallurgy. Roger was nuts for metal and how to work it, and spent his life learning everything about it he could, every skill for working and manipulating it.
I'll leave it with a paraphrase from him. I think it says a lot about why I liked him; namely that he saw life as I do, an exercise in viewing things philosophically.
Roger told me that the reason he began to work with metal is because it always fascinated him--how the stuff could be so strong yet brittle, be everything you wanted it to be if you knew how to ask it. He said that the idea of taking this raw material from the earth, understanding its properties and shaping it into a useful thing, was the very definition of being human. Making something complex and thoughtful from the hard rocks of the ground.
He helped us do that. Roger's knowledge, skill, and dedication have been a big part of helping us move forward as a community, to help us stay safe from the zombie hordes. For that, I will always be thankful. May his spirit find peace wherever it now rests.
Goodbye.
at 10:28 AM
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Will to Proceed
Posted by Josh Guess
I want to start off by saying that we have some good ideas on how to make our little turbine project work, and it's awesome, but I am going to wait to fill you in until we know if we can make it happen. We're still planning on building a large power plant if we can manage, but we need a stop-gap in the short term.
I talked to Jack today, and he and his folks are doing pretty well. They suffered a lot of losses during the storm of zombies a few weeks ago, but the recovery effort seems to be coming along well. He and his people have set up some backup systems for heat, should the electricity fail for whatever reason. Keep in mind that they live in a big industrial complex, not individual houses like we do. It's harder for them to keep the places they sleep warm, even though they have power.
We've sent them a lot of extra supplies since the attack. The last truck that went that way was stuffed entirely with blankets and coats. Living in Michigan, of course, I am quite sure that most of them know just what kind of cold is coming, but we had the extra, thanks to the rather intense sacking of a Burlington coat factory in Lexington.
We're still on the lookout for other groups out there to build relationships with as we have done with Jack's people. Most of those who we have come into contact with, even the ones who sent help to us up in Michigan, remain pretty wary of new people. Of getting close. I can't blame them, really.
The major work around here is being carried out with gusto. The alterations and upgrades to the defenses are coming along, though Will has threatened me with a stabbing if I blab any details about them. Quite apart from the obvious advantage that keeping it all secret gives us in a fight, I think Will is sort of obsessing about this like it's his child.
He's a pretty calm and rational guy most of the time. He doesn't usually snap at people or get sharp with them...but the last few days have been different. It's strange to see him mo
ve around this place with such intensity, checking and rechecking measurements and angles. This morning I saw him rush to a platform, measure the anchor points drilled into it, and then spend five minutes explaining why it had to be reworked because the anchors were offset by something like two degrees. He went on to the poor foreman about maximizing area of fire and all sorts of crazy details, and then he ran off to check something else.
And it doesn't stop with him simply making sure that we're building things according to his designs. Whenever he has an idea for an improvement to something, he sends Dodger out running to update the plans. Some projects he's done this to three, four times. Poor Dodger is starting to look a little haggard, and maybe a little stabby himself. If I were Will, I'd wouldn't keep too many pointy things close at hand in his office.
I won't be the one to bring it up to him, (though of course, he'll read this blog and know that the door is open if he wants to talk) but I really think that Will feels responsible for the attack last week. In one sense, he is. His helicopter crashed here, and we rescued him. It clearly isn't coincidence that his former buddies from the depot in Richmond have since come at us.
