Living With the Dead: Year One (Books 1-2, Bonus Material)
Page 10
It's time. Hopefully I will be posting to you again, but this is a far more dangerous place we're going to than any before. I just pray that Tree is ready to go when we get there.
Posted by Josh Guess at 7:06 AM
Saturday, April 10, 2010
ramble, ramble
I was watching an old episode of "Futurama" earlier, trying to veg and not think about all the people in the country (world?) that just didn't even have a chance to run or fight back. It's so unbelievably depressing, so of course I sought refuge in the awesomeness of cartoons. Fabulous use of energy and time, right? Yeah, I'm a real conservation and efficiency genius. It was the episode where Fry spends millions of dollars on the last tin of anchovies on the planet. I decided anchovies sounded awesome, and opened up a tin of them I found in the hotel. They were tasty, but they are way better on pizza or in a salad like from El Greco. I realize I have no idea how one even obtains live anchovies, much less how to make them salty and delicious. I don't know the specifics on pickles, either (Yes, I know they're cucumbers in salty water, but I think there might be a bit more to it than that), and olives are right out of the question for our midwestern climate. Is it even safe to fish? To hunt? What if some animals have been tainted in some way by whatever made the zombies? I still don't quite understand what happened to make all these people zombiefied. Treesong's comments about us calling them zombies to feel better about killing them hit me pretty hard; I've been contemplating the same thing myself. I mean, what if it's some kind of curable disease? Then all these poor people died when they could have been saved. I'm not saying we shouldn't fight back, we have to stay alive and keep each other safe; I guess I'm just remembering that the creatures we're calling zombies were humans like us not very long ago, and that they're victims, too. Perhaps even more so.
I can't seem to get to sleep tonight, and I probably won't. I've heard the phrase "worried sick" before, but tonight my stomach feels like it's twisting around, and it's making all these horrible squishy noises, so I think I'm finally catching on to the meaning of that particular saying. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that the oily, salty fishies I consumed didn't help all that much, either. No wonder no one else wanted them. I haven't heard back from Steve or Josh or anyone for quite some time. They're probably okay, but... Gah. It takes courage to go out and undertake daring missions, but at least for me, it's scarier waiting back at home. At least if you're on an adventure, you have all the adrenaline and excitement and close calls that make your heart just about stop right in the moment, but that you laugh about later, and turn into a story later on. "I got sick for stupid reasons and felt sad about a number of things" isn't really fireside tale material.
On that note, I think I'm about finished here. I've typed and deleted about two paragraphs worth of sentences now, because nothing seems to do justice to how much I miss my family and friends. The fact that everyone else does, too, doesn't comfort me, it just makes me feel worse. I hate this feeling, why would I wish it on anyone else!? I want to be curled up with my warm, beautiful Steve, and congratulating the others on a job well done. It feels like this night will never end.
Posted by Courtney at 4:40 AM
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Battle of Carbondale
I can't wait to get home. This trip has been one challenge after another, and longer than any of us could have imagined when we set out. When we left home, we had specific goals, and we have met them, but our secondary aims have mostly failed. I wanted to get as many folks out of here as wanted to go, but I only got what's left.
Tree and several dozen folks were still camped out at the Gaia House. I couldn't tell you how many of them were people that had been there for a while, and how many came based on Courtney's comment to the survivors around Carbondale. Here's how it went down.
We got the bus pretty close, but parked it on a side street about three blocks away, pointed back the way we came. We had to leave it so far, because it was the closest street that was deserted and had enough trees to provide cover. My inclination was to ask Steve to stay behind as the driver, given how close I brought him to getting shot. I didn't want to put him into direct danger if it could be helped. He was having none of it, of course. He was the most familiar with the area, really the only person except for me that knew it at all, and I only know the general layout. He had to go, as simple as that.
So we drew straws--Dave stayed behind. I called his phone and left the call open in my breast pocket just in case. Steve led the way, and while the resulting events will probably visit me every night while I try to sleep, I have to imagine how funny we looked as we were sneaking around. Clad in a mismatch of military armored vests, thick Judo gi with kendo face masks, chainmail gorgets, and combat boots, all of us toting firearms of varying types and some of us with swords at our hips. What a sight.
We made it to the Gaia House without any trouble. Without even seeing anyone else. What should have struck us was that we didn't see any zombies either. Not one. Granted, we were moving through as many closed-in spaces as possible to remain concealed, but given the reports, we should have seen something.
Steve called Treesong when we got close, so he was waiting outside for us. We saw a crowd of folks inside, and the thought occurred that we would have to bring the bus, because there was no way we were going to be able to walk all of them back safely. Hell, I was sure that we couldn't pack all of them into the bus.
We were discussing our options when someone opened fire on us. Tree called them marauders, that works for me. Three groups of them hit us all at once. Two sets of men on foot, coming from opposite directions down the road, and one set in a military humvee, thankfully without a large caliber machine gun. Treesong hit the ground at the sound of guns firing, as did most everyone else. I saw my wife crumple like a god had punched her in the gut, and everything fell into slow motion.
Steve moved like water, diving and rolling, coming up with a pistol. Jess was moving, one hand clutching her stomach while the other reached out toward her fallen rifle, fingers clawing the dirt. Pain exploded over my right kidney as what was surely a bullet slammed into my vest. The agony of it was numbing, and any thought of anything but that pain drove me to the ground.
I saw the Gaia house over my head as I rolled over in the dirt. Plywood sprouted a vast array of splinters as the marauders peppered us with gunfire. Our saving grace was distance: they were still far enough away from us that aiming was a chore, and that they were moving didn't make it easier. I heard yelling all over, and saw people pouring out of the building, red blooms appearing across their bodies as they ran.
It took a more effort than any movement of my life, getting on my hands and knees. Jess lay on her stomach, rifle butted against her shoulder, making them pay for every step. Steve was firing, moving, firing, moving, taking quick but careful aim. Divots of earth puckered around us as I found my gun and returned fire. I doubt that I hit a thing, too much of my concentration was on my battered side.
Patrick was trying to direct people toward the street where the bus was. Or rather, where the bus had been. In the chaos and deafening ruckus, the incoming foot soldiers didn't hear the bus coming up behind them.
David crushed three quarters of them before he stopped, but he also made a big target. The remaining men were quickly cut down as they fired round after round at the bus, but the last and most frightening threat was that damn humvee. There were so many people trying to get on the bus that when it smashed into the side of it, it had to have killed more than a dozen of them. It's not a sound I will ever be able to forget. The humvee careened off and tried to spin around for another pass. Some of the survivors had managed to get on, but the majority of them ran as they saw the dented machine turn toward them. The hatch on top of it popped open, a rifleman taking aim at my brother as it came toward him. David must have ducked, as none of the few shots the man got off hit him. Few shots, because my wife pegged him with her last bullet. The rifleman vanished as he fell i
nto the Humvee, and he must have fallen into the driver, sending the vehicle slamming into the side of the bus.
Patrick ran up to the Humvee and tossed something into the hatch. Dave slammed the bus into reverse, and all of us screamed in pain as the sound of the pipebomb going off tore at our ears.
We were safe, if you could call it that. The hummer's glass and small metals showed us, gave us all a large complement of cuts and burns. It was on fire, and all of us seemed to have the same thought in unison, because everyone that was left ran for the bus at the same time.
Final count: Treesong and eight others rescued from the Gaia House. Twenty three others dead or ran away. Jess has a bruise that covers most of her belly, Patrick has a few more cuts to add to the scar on his face, Steve took only minor injuries, Dave took none, and I feel like my kidney is going to fall out. Only the fact that we wore the armor saved Jess and me, a fact I will always remember when trying something so ludicrously dangerous.
We are on the way out of town, hoping that no one sees the carnage and follows us, because I don't think we can get so lucky again. We were downhill from them, firing up, not an advantage we can count on twice. Jackie and company should be okay. We'll see them soon, and then head home. If we are lucky, we will be in Frankfort in half a day.
I don't think we can risk another trip like this. It has been made clear to me how very fortunate we have been. While we prepared as well as we could, and benefited from both practice and armor, the simple fact is that too many risky ventures will cost me someone I love, or even my own life. Thinking about Jess taking that bullet makes me sick, and that's with having been saved by her vest. Steve displayed the bravery I had always known him capable of, with a remarkable dexterity I admit I suspected he lacked. That kind of even headed ability only makes my respect for him grow. And one wrong move, all his potential would have been lost. It shakes me, it really does.
The idea that I might have to one day go home without one of them, to their wives or children, and try to explain and comfort, is something I just don't think I can cope with.
Thank god it's over. We're going home.
Posted by Josh Guess at 10:43 AM
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Thank You
They're alive. There was so much death, and yet they're alive. Right now, for a moment, nothing else matters.
Posted by Courtney at 1:45 AM
A week of difference
I almost wept when we I got out of the bus. Seeing my home, my family, and my friends was a shocking dose of normality, which is crazy, given how strange my life had grown before this trip.
I am incredibly thankful to be alive, that everyone who left with us came back in one piece. I am thankful that my sister and her family is with us, that we were able to bring Treesong and the remainder of his group with us. I cannot imagine what that slim number is feeling, to have seen so many others slaughtered before their eyes.
I am thankful, so don't take this wrong, as it's only an observation: I could not imagine how much medical attention my mother and Gabrielle would be lavishing on us.
Patrick, already having a sizable facial scar, seems oddly at peace with a few more. Steve has only minor cuts and burns. Jess and I are stuck at my mom's house right now, being hovered over. I'm certainly not complaining about having medical care available, I am just kind of shocked at how much this house and the people in it have changed since we left.
Mom and Gabby must have started converting it a soon as we left, maybe before. Mom tells me that Gabby went out with a small party and scavenged a lot of equipment and supplies. Most of the space inside her house has been turned into what is pretty much an urgent treatment center. They even have generators set up, just in case. They have all sorts of plans to go and try to find some more solar panels, turbines, all the stuff we have at our own house. The idea of anyone doing something even that risky is, at least for right now, enough to make me nauseous. So we're going to donate the turbine we stole, and plan to gather more later.
They expected much worse casualties, which I guess is obvious.
It's interesting--only gone a week, but the difference in the compound is as dramatic as it is in this house. All around, I see row after row of churned earth, some with tiny sprouts. All over I see signs of progress, of growth, of change. Fences have been torn down on our block, our massive communal back yard a nest of growing structures and plants.
All over, I see signs of growth, but not only the life sustaining growth of plants and needed buildings. Sadly, I see other walls forming, other seeds breaking into the open with the same jealousy, hate, and misunderstanding that seemed to be the only oil that society's wheels turned on. I used to pride myself on being able to see what was around me, to read people. I was so proud that we had begun to build something here, and had helped others to survive and make something better with us.
What an idiot I am. No matter how much of a realist I thought I was being, I can only be called an optimist in comparison.
I see it in the eyes of the people who visit us. I hear it in the tone of their voices as they tell us the goings on around the neighborhood during our absence, in their questions. Body language screams at me, so clearly that I wonder how other people don't wince the way I do when some people show up, though I pass it off as kidney pain.
I know many of them will read this: good. I want all of you to know that there are some simple and hard truths that we will have to all agree on. This place, our compound, is all we have. We are all individuals, which is to be celebrated. We disagree, which is the foundation of debate and useful conversation. But I feel how deep many of the divisions around here run, and this cannot continue. I am not issuing a decree, no grand statements of purpose. I am simply relating provable truth. We are a small group that may or may not grow. We have lived where the vast majority have died, which makes us dangerous. These factors make it clear to me that we MUST calm ourselves, we have to force ourselves to choose reason and logic over emotion, religion, or any other factor.
Our past experiences can be hurtful and scarring. I sympathize with those who have suffered. But to be blunt, I won't let that stop me if you raise a hand in violence against another person for any reason other than to defend your life. I can't make this any more clear.
If any of us allow our minds to be clouded by rage, or pain, religion or hope, we risk the safety of everyone. It is in my nature, and not my job, to be concerned with the welfare of the group. I wish that others felt this way, but I can't make it happen. But to my mind, anyway, it is clear that people should be considering the good of the tribe over personal vendetta or disagreement. Of course, I felt that way before the fall of society, and few people in the world fit that particular hope, even then.
I guess I will stop now. I have to pee in a very bad way, and it's my deepest hope that this time it won't be full of blood.
My hope is that by talking to people, by letting them vent and discussing their problems calmly, I can help them. That's probably as foolish as thinking things around here were going smoothly, but it is, to me, more reasonable.
Good luck to us all.
Posted by Josh Guess at 11:14 AM
Monday, April 12, 2010
Ethical Considerations
A comment was posted on "The Battle of Carbondale". It is repeated here in full, and unedited:
I'm glad that you got all your family and friends out of my area because if you ever come back again it will be the last thing you ever do! Do you even consider the your actions before you go threw with them. Did it even cross your mind that the wall your brother blew up might serve a purpose. Thanks to you the one side that we knew that was free of zombies was breached. They over ran our defenses and my wife died saving our children's lives. You and every one you love and care for should thank what ever god looks over this hell on earth that they still live, if it weren't for them all your lives would be forfeit. You laughed at my traps as you drove away from here, be warned you won't laugh if yo
u ever come back. Pray that my children have long lives.
I read this, and my first reaction was sadness. But after thinking about it for a while, I came to other conclusions. I have been pondering what constitutes morality and ethics in the here and now. What are the definitions or right and wrong? Are they absolutes that exist independent of the changes in society, in reality? Or are they dynamic ideas that must shift and change to suit the needs of survivors?
Anyone who knows me knows that I am fiercely protective of children. The idea that I would put kids in danger needlessly is insane. I won't sit here and debate the points in this post, because the author has a completely valid argument. From his point of view, I committed a terrible crime. From mine, we took necessary steps to accomplish our goals.
But in general, I can make some statements. My morality is based on practical need to accomplish things. Our overall goal is to keep people alive. To that end, I will take almost any step required. Would I blow another hole in that wall of junk to get back into Marion if it meant saving the lives of people I love? Almost certainly. Would I kill a man who held a weapon to one of them? Yes, without qualification.