Living With the Dead: The Bitter Seasons

by Joshua Guess

  The rest of them, though...

  The ferrets stay in their cage a lot of the time, and they sleep about twenty hours a day in the winter. We play with them, which does a lot of good for them and for us. It seems no matter how terrible the pain or how hard the road ahead, cuddling with your pets always lightens the load, if only for a little while.

  Cats? Well, they're cats. That means they eat all the time, sleep wherever they want (which is all too often my lap or shoulder while I'm trying to drive) and resist any attempt to coerce them into cages, collars, or leashes. We let them wander around the car when we're on the road, in our tent when we have to camp, or in a closed room otherwise.

  You might think this post is sort of frivolous, but to me it's about as important as it gets. There are so many things we've lost as a people since The Fall, and more yet after the Richmond soldiers took the compound. I have tried to retain some of the more important parts of myself that make me something more than a marauder, and showing kindness and love toward living things is definitely one of them. Don't misunderstand-- if it came down to my survival, I would give up my critters. I don't know that I could eat them or anything, but I do know how to make the awful choices that living in our new world entails.

  It's a pretty similar dynamic with the people that have joined in with our original group of refugees from the compound. I watch out for them as they do for me, I give them food when they are running low. I listen to their worries and try to comfort. It would be almost easy to deny them--that's probably how the various marauders started. By saying no to someone in need when they had the capacity to help. I can imagine the slippery slope that had to have been. It's easy to justify not doing what you can to help when you are worried about your own survival. From there, it's a small step toward that same justification used for stealing from those who have what you need. Then only what you want.

  Eventually, it leads to violence--murder, rape, assault--all the things that we have seen them do.

  Are you reading this, Richmond boys? Do you see where it all began?

  You were volunteers, serving your country and its citizens. You probably felt abandoned when everything fell apart, and for that you have my sympathy--we all felt that way. You even managed to keep to yourselves for a long, long time, only to finally give in to whatever desperate needs drove you to my home. Imagine how you would have reacted had someone done to you what you've done to us. Think about it for as long as you can manage.

  Because here's the thing. I wrote all of that up there about how caring for my pets is one of the ways that I keep who I am, who I want to be, in my mind. But please don't see the guy who baby-talks his golden retriever without also realizing that behind those same eyes lurks a man who burned dozens of men to death in their sleep in payment for much lesser crimes than you have committed.

  You hold my home hostage. You have my good behavior, for now, because of that basic love of living things. If I didn't think that you would start killing those left behind in a heartbeat if I or my friends attacked you...words can't describe the things I wish I could do.

  Remember that the sword cuts two ways. If my people are being harmed or assaulted in such a manner that we feel it would be worth risking the lives of some to save the larger group, we'll do it. Be very careful.

  Not that my threats mean much right now anyway. We all know it, and there's no reason to dance around it. You're trained soldiers who are in what it essentially a fort, with defenses that would be nearly impossible to overcome with the meager resources at hand. Not to mention the very small number of us, and your plenitude of heavy weapons you all brought with you.

  So I will go on dangling yarn for my cats out here on open land while one of you surely violates the home that my family and I worked so hard to preserve and protect. You won the battle.

  But you started a war.

  at 7:59 AM

  Sunday, December 5, 2010

  Frankish

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Just got this in my Email. I'm posting the entire message unedited.

  Josh, I’ve been reading your blog for a while now, and it wasn’t until I read your posts over thanksgiving that I realized it was finally time to reach out and make a connection with you and those in your community. It feels funny to use that word. As I read your entries, there are many references to The Fall. A shortened way to refer to the date that the White House sent out their last communicates declaring Marshall Law in the United States and its territories. Over time, I’ve come to view “the fall” as an equally important time in each of our journeys. The Fall being the end of civilization as we knew it, the fall being the journey each of us takes to come to terms with what exactly that means.

  I had to be at work early one April morning. It was unseasonably warm, and I had regretted putting on my blazer the second I stepped outside, but knew my office would be exponentially cooler than the temperature outside, so I sucked it up and drove to work. I should probably mention that going to work early for me is going into work before 4 am. I’m not use to seeing many cars, let alone much else at that time of day. And I didn’t. Well, in retrospect my drive would take me along the back side of a property on which a hospital is located and I thought there were a lot of flashing lights that morning, but didn’t think much of it. I work about 3 blocks past the hospital and as I pulled into the twisting drive leading to my parking space I noticed a group of what I assumed as homeless people standing at the far end of the main parking lot. I zipped into my spot and crossed the short distance from my parking spot to the side door I use in the mornings in a hurry. My loafers clacking on the concrete as I crossed the small court yard to the entrance. I let myself in the building being sure to pull the door tight behind me. I nearly sprinted down the hall and punched my code into the beeping security system. I paused at the welcome desk for a moment. Something was not sitting right with me. I had seen people on campus before, but never this early and never in such a disheveled state. I went behind the desk and reached for the phone. I hesitated for a moment with my hand on the receiver when I heard a loud banging on one of the doors down the hall. I punched 911 into the key pad and listened as the phone rang. Someone picked up after 4 or 5 rings and as I tried to relay where I was and what was happening the line went dead. I steadied my hand and replaced the receiver counted to 5 and dilled again. This time I was met with only a busy signal. I replaced the receiver and sat down to collect my thought. I then noticed the computer monitor at the desk had come on. Apparently the security system was tied into the phone system and when I called it had activated. The screen asked me to select what my emergency was from a short list. I selected unknown persons on campus. It then asked me if they were in the building or on the grounds. I selected on the grounds. The third question I stared at for longer than most probably would. “Would you like to engage code red security measures?”

  When I had stared working I was told about how cutting edge the facility was. It could be locked down in a matter of seconds. All windows covered with solid metal gates. All doors locked in what was described to me as a manner similar to how a safe locks and had metal gates that covered them as well. The facility was also almost self sustaining as far as electricity was concerned. Great measure had been taken to reduce the carbon footprint and base operations could be run simply on the solar power and wind power the facility collected. Another series of pounding sounds brought me back to the present and I clicked the button to engage code red. It asked on more time if I was sure and said yes out loud as I clicked the button. In a matter of seconds all light from outside was obscured and I could hear the pounding still coming from down the hall only this time it was the distinct sound of fists on metal.

  I should probably take a moment to mention a bit about where I work. I won’t give too much detail for safety sake, but I’ll paint a broad picture. I work in a school. Surprising isn’t it? You probably though I worked in some top secret military complex or for some large corporation. The thing th
at sets my school apart from most is that we deal with the children of very wealthy people. Like if Oprah had kids, kind of wealthy. Security measure like these are considered another selling point for the school like small class size and being able to customize your curriculum as early as kindergarten.

  I made my way to my office and got online to post an e-mail about locking down the campus and try to contact the police again. When I opened up my browser I was so shocked by what was on my screen I dropped the phone and could only stare at the carnage and hysteria unfolding.

  The next several days and for that matter months played out similar to how you’ve been explaining it people. Only I had a great luxury of not having to battle a single zombie. Also, food has not been an issue as the facility was used to feeding hundreds a day and having a supply on hand to last close to 10 days.

  I don’t know why I’m reaching out to you. I have everything I need to last conceivable until the entire zombie threat is gone. I have more books and movies than I could finish in a life time. I have enough food and water to last for years. I’ve just begun to feel like there is something missing. There were time I felt like I was the only person on the face of the earth.

  In light of the recent events at your compound though I realized I was being selfish. Here I have more food, water and power than I know what to do with and you are huddled in the cold for survival. I don’t know what you’ll run into on the way here. With the limited sights I have I can say I haven’t seen a zombie in weeks if not months. This area was nearly leveled in the initial infestation. The major highways and bridges into the city were destroyed, and fires broke out destroying large sections of the city. I’m not sure if the fires were the act of fleeing individuals or the government trying to contain the outbreak. I guess what I’m trying to say is please join me with any survivors from your compound that would like to come. I’ll contact you with more details if you are interested.

  Best,

  Frank

  This is exactly what we've been shooting for. People coming forward to do what they can not because we tell them to or even ask them to, but because they understand that the only way we can keep going is to work as a team.

  We're on the road at the moment, so this is all I can manage for today. Back tomorrow for a good long update, when we get where we're trying to go.

  Fucking snowstorms...

  at 8:43 AM

  Monday, December 6, 2010

  Stopping Point

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Our group has found a place to stay for a while. I don't know how safe it is for a long term camp, but there are no tracks in the snow that we can find for miles around. We had to stop; the weather is getting so bad that traveling is almost impossible. We're also trying to conserve fuel. We have enough left to make a run for it if we are threatened, but we're going to have to find more if we intend to get very far.

  Our group hasn't gotten much bigger than the last time I posted. We picked up a pair of refugees from the compound yesterday whose vehicle had gone off the road when they hit a patch of ice. The front end was wrecked, so we siphoned off the gas and packed in their supplies with ours. Lucky for us that one of them knew the area we're in better than the rest of us (which is to say that they knew it at all, none of us have ever been here) because they found this spot for us. It's a nursing home, apparently forgotten after The Fall, still full of medical supplies, medications, blankets, and best of all, food. It even has a cistern below ground, and old fashioned hand pumps. Thank god we brought water purification tablets with us...

  Some of the others that escaped haven't had as much luck. Seems that many people escaped in groups, loosely based on where they were in the compound when the call to run came out. It's a damn good thing that it's winter, because I doubt that half of us would have survived if we'd had to fight our way through a crowd of zombies to get free.

  Gabrielle, Evans, and some of the other folks who worked at the clinic are together, though they apparently went the other direction when they ran. There are about a dozen of them, six of them Evans' students. Gabby sent me an email yesterday talking about what they've been up to, and it's pretty neat.

  Think of a sort of gypsy medical group. They've encountered a few other people since they left, small groups that none of us knew about. None of them larger than a few dozen people, most a lot smaller. Gabby and the rest have been trading their services for food and shelter. They aren't turning away folks that can't offer anything, but most people can give a little something. She went into a good amount of detail, and I'm going to have her post some stuff on here in the near future so you can read about it yourselves.

  I haven't heard from Patrick in a while. I hope he's OK, but to be honest I'm not all that worried about him. Pat is a survivor in the truest sense of the word--nothing can stop him. If it's possible to make it through, he will.

  Courtney and her entourage are still doing their thing, traveling from place to place trying to get supplies and other help to those survivors in need. Of course, now we won't be bringing any of them back to the compound to live and work, but we can still help them. Little David isn't faring so well, though...

  It hit him hard when he heard about Darlene. David is a lot like me--snarky, smart, and with a need to cover his sensitivity with a thick layer of sarcasm and a sharp tongue. I haven't had a chance to talk to him, but from what the others have said it took several people to hold him down when he heard the news. He was going to take a vehicle and make a run back to the compound. Little David isn't a big guy. He must have been more angry than I can even imagine.

  No, scratch that. I don't have to imagine it. I know what I felt when I saw Jess lying on the ground, her blood spreading under her. I know the rage that sits in the pit of your stomach like a ball of ice, sending cold hate through your veins and suffusing every part of your body. If I hadn't felt it then, I sure as hell would know what it feels like now that Will Price has handed our home and half our people over to the enemy. It's a struggle every second not to turn around and go back, picking off sentries from a distance. I imagine the scenarios over an over again, the many ways that I could weaken the Richmond soldiers.

  The certain knowledge of the horrible consequences of those acts keeps me from going, though. I know that our people still in the compound would pay the price for our actions. I worry about what those soldiers are capable of, who they would take revenge on just for sheltering us or giving us aid. That's why the few people from outside the compound that we've met so far remain nameless, and why the locations of everyone that has escaped will remain unknown for the time being. I won't bring destruction on anyone if I can help it. If I wasn't worried about that, I would simply have headed to Michigan, toward Jack's...

  For now I will settle for living still, happy for the cutting wind and heavy snows that mean that no zombies will come for me while I sleep. Being alive and moderately well supplied is about the best I could hope for in this situation, and I've even got the bonus of having my wife and some friends with me. We'll stay where we are for a bit, see if we can find some decent hunting, and explore the small town nearby for things we need. I will be posting when I have time to, but never fear--there are some other people that will be more than happy to fill in those gaps for me.

  Keep us in your hearts, and think warm thoughts for us.

  at 8:01 AM

  Tuesday, December 7, 2010

  Did you hear the one about the one-armed snowman?

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm happy to report that as early as tomorrow, Gabrielle is going to be posting on here. Just FYI.

  We saw something here this morning that makes me wonder how much we actually know about the zombie plague. Evans spent a good deal of time studying the bodies of ones we killed, and even had a chance to study a "living" zombie. He formed some theories that seemed pretty reasonable, but now all of us here are beginning to wonder if whatever disease or fungus causes the dead to walk can ever be understood by anyone.
At least, with the resources we have available to study it...

  Several of us were out in the nearby town searching for supplies (I'll get back to that in a bit) when we saw someone walking. At first glance you might have assumed it was a person who was simply staggering from the cold, but long experience has taught us to expect the undead rather than people. It was about a hundred yards from our position, stumbling and crunching through the snow toward us. It was all alone, which is rare, so we let it keep on coming rather than announce our location to any possible company with a gunshot.

  The thing was missing an arm, and when it got close enough you could actually hear crackling and popping coming from its body, as if frozen parts inside its muscles and joints were breaking as it moved. It was one of the more disturbing moments I've ever encountered, I promise you that. We waited until it got pretty close and then spread out to make it harder for it to pick a target. When it finally did, the rest of us closed in and took it out as the zombie lunged at a lady named Judy, from the compound.