by Guess, Joshua; Ribken, Annetta; Ayers, Rachel; Whitwam, Lori
Not to mention people to do it all. Power plants need skilled operators to work, and three shifts running all the time. Think about that. How are less than ten thousand (that we know of) going to make even half the things that took millions before, work?
We can't. Not yet. What we can do is innovate, and find ways to use the resources we have at our disposal that get the most from them. Heating up rocks to keep warm is a very simple, very old idea. Combine that with a creative ventilation system and the basic knowledge that heat rises, and you get a relatively simple but effective method of warming a medium sized space.
Brilliant in its simplicity. For right now, simplicity and functionality are what we need. Reliable things. If or when we get our compound back, this will be one of the things that we'll try to implement. We tried something like it, but here I see how we can improve on our original designs.
See? It's a perfect example of ingenuity, efficiency, cooperation, and functional adaptation. Exactly what we human beings need to do to not only continue to survive, but to thrive as the future unfolds. All of that from something as simple as very hot rocks.
at 8:29 AM
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Nowhere To Go
Posted by Aaron
So I'm alright. I suppose. If you can call being Held captive by some of the most desperate people I've seen since the fall, all right. It's my fault we're captive really. I should've been a tad bit more cautious rather than typing away and not keeping an Eye out. I figured we were safe. If ya remember when last I left off writing, I mentioned some people had come up to the comp. What I didn't have time to write down was that they were armed and had taken one of the kids hostage. Me and the rest of the kids were ordered to throw down our weapons and well, honestly, I've seen too much death already. I'm not about to Let another one of my kids die. Not for anything, Plus I could see at least another dozen men around us all with guns aimed at us. It wouldn't have been much of a fight. So I've been captive for a few days now. This is what I can say.
There's at least a dozen of them, maybe two. Apparently they're used to be more, but the winter has been really harsh to them. In fact, the harshness of the winter is why I'm in this predicament, and even have time to write at all. It's been consistently below freezing, I'd dare say even in the lower teens or upper single digits. Windchill's been bad too. Feels like it's -23 or so out their. Apparently, they've had access to the blog (indeed, they will likely read this one to make sure I don't screw up their plan) and recognized my group as one of the ones that fled Richmond. They've been low on food and fuel for quite some time, and quite honestly, they don't have much in the way of winter gear either. So, upon discovering my group they came up with a plan. They just needed to wait for our guard to be down, and then they'd ambush us and capture us, so that they could "sell" us back to Richmond. Well, apparently their plan has panned out. We started marching about three days ago and I could tell the group was in good spirits. Upon a bit of questioning, found out that not only Richmond agree to their request, but even invited them to come and stay with them at the Compound. Bastards.
The upswing is that given their optimism, they've decided to let me back on the computer, though they will be monitoring rather heavily what I put up here so as to not give away their current position. Not like I would. We'd only be leaving in a day or so anyways.
Anyways folks, don't worry about me or the kids. We might be captives, but we're safe. I wish the rest of you the best of luck.
at 3:28 PM
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Story Time
Posted by Josh Guess
Today, I want to do something a bi different. I want to tell you a story. It goes something like this...
Josh powered up his laptop and checked his mail. He had been hoping to hear something from Aaron or Patrick, since he had managed to stay in touch with all the other refugees from the compound save those two. As Gmail opened, he noted with sadness that there was still nothing.Damn, he thought, when are they going to contact me? Are either of them still alive?
Josh went through his rounds, checking his voicemail and text messages, hoping that he had missed something. Nothing. More nothing.
He was just giving up hope when his wife, Jess, handed her phone to him. "Look," she said, her eyes bright with excitement, "Aaron posted on the blog today. Pay attention to what he wrote..."
Josh typed in the address of the blog, looking at the post left there by the friend so long out of touch. Something about it was off, but he just couldn't put his finger on it...
Aha! Of course! Embedded into the post was a code, a simple numerical substitution that had been taught to various people from the compound as a way of sharing location without letting anyone who read the message know exactly how. Josh pored over the text, double checking each part of the code. He ran the converted digits through his GPS app, and got a location.
Aaron and his kids were being held against their will, and not that far away. Maybe two hours if they took a vehicle capable of running down whatever obstacles might be in their way...
...and two hours later, a team of eleven people slowly worked their way behind Josh as he crept toward the lonely building, smoke barely rising from its decaying chimney. The neighborhood had clearly been prosperous and expensive at one point, but nearly a year of warring survivors and unchecked fires had decimated it, leaving a lone home standing amid a field of the blackened skeletons of what had once been homes.
The house was large, perhaps 3,500 square feet, and guarded by two men on each side. So, Aaron had been at least in the ballpark about their numbers. No survivor would leave so many people outside for guard duty unless there were even more inside to watch the prisoners.
The low mounds of rubble pushing up against the small wood Josh and his group were crouched in offered some cover, but the best advantages they had were the cover of darkness and the element of surprise. The men standing guard looked haggard but tough, and they were armed with small arms. No rifles among the ones that he could see.
Behind him, the gentle crunch of snow stopped, and a warm gloved hand gently brushed his shoulder. It was the sign letting him know that his people were in position. Now, to wait for the signal from the other team...
From the far side of the clearing that had once been a cul-de-sac in the ruined neighborhood, an angry chattering sound erupted. The guards nearest to Josh jolted with surprise but made no sound. Experienced men, obviously used to dealing with threats in the night.
The raccoon scrabbled across the snow and ice, moving with the quiet desperation that only wild animals confronted by men are capable of. The guards, still away from their positions with their backs facing Josh and his team, never heard the sharp thrum of the bows, nor the whistle of the arrows that struck them. Instantly, six of the men were down, arrows transfixing them in various places. The men screamed, trying to go for their weapons, but the third team had already rushed in, slaughtering the downed guards in the confusion.
Josh assumed that team four had done the same to the pair of remaining guards on the far side of the house. There was no chance that the men inside hadn't heard the racket, but that couldn't be avoided.
Josh raised the bullhorn to his mouth. "You inside the house. You have some of my people captive. Let them go, now, and we will let you walk away from this. Harm them or take too long, and we'll kill every one of you."
There was silence from inside. After thirty seconds or so, a scuffling sound could be heard, and a body came tumbling through the front door, a knife plunged into its neck. It wasn't anyone Josh recognized. There must have been an argument among the captors about how best to proceed.
A man came out, his hands raised in surrender. "We're sending them out. Just don't start shooting."
Josh nodded to the man, but kept the arrow nocked in his bow just the same. He was ready to drop the bullhorn, draw and fire in a heartbeat, and the dirty man with the raised hands in front of him could clearly s
ee it.
One by one, Aaron's kids came shuffling out. They joined the group behind Josh, and with the last of them came Aaron. Josh looked him over quickly, and didn't see anything seriously awry other than the obvious hunger and exhaustion on his face.
Josh tipped his head toward the house, and spoke to the filthy man in front of him. "We're going. You and your men will stay here until we're gone. Try to follow us, and we'll kill you. Come after innocent people again and we catch you....and you'll wish the zombies got you first."
The man's face darkened, but he gave Josh a terse nod all the same.
The assault teams backed away from the house, guarding the retreat of Aaron and his kids as the man went back inside. The groups had all nearly reached the safety of the woods when a loud argument could be heard from the house. Screams filled the night air as someone was put through a window on the second floor, and the thundering blast of gunfire filled the night. Bullets winged into the earth nearby, causing Josh to duck and weave. Puffs of dust and ash sprang up wherever the bullets hit, coming closer to his party with every shot.
Josh fell to his side behind a pile of rubble, and nearly knocked out some teeth when he slapped the bullhorn to his mouth.
"TAKE IT DOWN!" he shrieked.
A few moments later, small bright points could be seen from the edges of the cul-de-sac. The flaming bottles made shining arcs as they flew through the air, smashing to brilliant life against the siding. A few broke windows. It only took moments to set entire structure ablaze. Those that ran through the doors were picked off one by one. There were no survivors. The End.
Aaron and his kids are safe, and the people that took them no more than ashes on the wind. Such is the fate of anyone who comes for us or our people.
Call it a parable. Learn the lesson it teaches.
at 10:52 AM
Friday, January 14, 2011
Safeish
Posted by Patrick
I'm so sorry that I haven't posted or got in touch with any one in a while. Had a good reason though, was unconscious most of the time and getting no signal the rest of it. The pain and exhaustion both mental and physical finally caught up with me, that and I have been fighting infection from my impromptu amputation. Obviously the mundane infection and not the zombie kind or my typing would be much worse.
The girls and I are still at the place we last posted from all of us trying to get our strength back. Glad to hear that every one was able to meet up at Jacks, extra smile for Aaron and the kids keeping their head and getting out of there alive. Thank you every one for the text messages they have been getting through to my phone every couple of days, I just haven't been awake during the brief window of service.
The only reason I'm able to post this evening is I begged the girls to wake me if the phone received a text. Took them better part of the week to do it having received two bunches of texts earlier this week, guess they felt I needed the sleep more. Really what pre teen girl can't hear a text alert even in a dead sleep. It's sweet and sad, that with every thing that they've gone through that they feel the need to protect me even if it's from my self.
Even though I'm done with the lone hero bullshit, I still can't call for the calvary because I don't know where the hell I am other than some where north of Tampa. Sorry guys we spent the better part of two weeks on foot constantly running from a small but determined group of smarties. Every time I got their numbers down to some thing I could manage they would let out a loud moan howl thing that brought all the zombies in the area running. The only thing that saved us was the cold and how slow they moved in on us. Fast enough to get my hand though, sorry still bitter.
We got lucky though and stumbled into an abandoned neo-nazi compound. I shit you not, fucking nazis saved our lives. Judging by the crime scene and lack of any weapons or ammo that the place was raided. Yet the place has 12 ft. cinder block wall all around all three buildings and the steel gate was still intact only the lock was burned out. We manged to wedge it closed with a car. The food stores and fuel for the generators were stocked up. So although we are lost and the dead have the place surrounded we are safe and getting stronger by the day.
Don't know when I can post again but don't worry about us the only monsters that we have to deal with here are in our nightmares and souls.
at 12:07 AM
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Full Dark
Posted by Josh Guess
Before I get into the details of the sad events that prompted today's post, a few notes.
Another snowstorm blew in this morning, thankfully after we got back from retrieving Aaron and the kids with him. We can't even go out and scout, much less look for Patrick, though I'm relieved and happy that he finally managed to get in touch with us. We also got word from the courier who is bringing copies of The Ark from Google. He's much closer, and if the weather lets us we will leave out tomorrow to meet him. God only knows how he got here from California so quickly, but I'm happy he's OK.
Now, to more somber news...
Last night, one of the women that came with my group of refugees was found in a pile of industrial trash, raped and beaten almost to death. The jumble of scrap metal and discarded wood was just outside the walls of Jack's compound, and only her thin cries for help alerted the guard nearby that she was there.
Evans, Gabby, and the rest have been caring for her. They say that she'll probably live, though I can't imagine the pain she must be going through.
I won't give her name, nor will I name the man responsible, other than to say he was not one of our refugees. The victim knew the man, had been showing some interest in him since our arrival here. Through her tears and anger, she told Jess (who has been staying with her, weapons in hand to keep the poor woman feeling secure) that she had intended to consent.
Her attacker seemed to think she was teasing. He struck her, and took her.
Sorry. One of the things in this world that pushes my rage to uncontrollable levels is rape. I'm trying to type softly, because thinking about what she went through, knowing the details, is making it hard not to beat on something with all my strength.
He did it. There was little doubt. He tried to deny it, but he had wounds from her scratches, and every part of the evidence linked up with her story. There wasn't a trial. There wasn't a defense for him or any judge other than Jack and the people who examined both the victim and the accused. The decision was quick, and the punishment...
Every person not on the walls was in attendance. Everyone was called over the PA system here, and gathered in a massive circle outside. The guilty man was brought into the wide empty space in the middle of that huge swarm of people, and his crime and punishment were announced via bullhorn for everyone to hear.
Ten people came forward. I'd have to guess that they were volunteers who served this duty in a rotation, because there was no hesitation to their movements. Each of them carried a thin, flexible metal rod. They looked dull, not shiny or polished. It was only afterward that I found out the reason: they were covered in tiny points and barbs. I watched for almost twenty minutes as they whipped him bloody, the force of their lashing ripping his clothes to shreds and leaving him virtually naked.
The scent of all that blood brought zombies to the wall. You could hear them crunching through the snow. He was still alive when they pulled him by his arms through the frozen and snowy gravel, moans of pain escaping him as the rocks dug into his wounds. He was conscious when they reached the edge of the wall. I know, because I could hear him begging in a broken voice not to do it, that he was sorry. I don't know if he really felt remorse for the suffering he brought. I am certain that he regretted his actions, if for no other reason than the horrible consequences.
He was still begging for mercy when they dumped him over the edge. Still at it as he was bitten and torn, right up until a wet crunch signaled that his throat had become part of the main course.
It was a dark night. I think he got off easy.
Because
people always talk about their pain as a means of trying to cope with it, much of last night after the punishment for me was spent listening. I heard people who knew the condemned man comment on how lonely he had been, how hard he had found it to connect with others. In the time everyone I talked to had known him, he had never been seen so much as kissing a woman.
Until yesterday, he had been known for his politeness. For kindness. He often covered shifts for other people so that they could attend a social gathering or get needed rest. He spent much of his free time reading to kids. He was, from everything I heard, a very nice guy.
