by TW Brown
It’s sorta weird how the zombies will chase and eat dogs and cats, but deer, horses, cows, they all seem safe.
Sorry…I just started giggling and couldn’t stop for like five minutes. I pictured the zombie version of Elmer Fudd tip-toeing along. Then he stops and says, “Shhh, be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting peoples. Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.” Stupid, right? But it just absolutely cracked me up. I had tears in my eyes and everything.
Jenifer showed up when I was in full-on mirth and asked if I was okay. I did a really poor imitation, made worse by my inability to stop laughing. She just shook her head and said that maybe I should drink more fluids because I was delirious. I think I’m getting stir-crazy.
Why can’t I just settle down? I’ve asked myself that question these past couple days. It’s not safe out there. I don’t know what my problem is. I only know that I can’t even imagine the thought of staying put.
Sunday, February 15
I’ve told everybody that I felt had a need-to-know that I will leave tomorrow. I’ve been packing my stuff. Some of the residents took the trouble to come by with gifts. They even let me have a shower this evening with TWO buckets of hot water. Talk about making a gal feel special.
Shari’s been ducking me all day. Jenifer actually spun around and went the other way when she saw me. And I haven’t seen Jonathan since the day we took out those raiders. As for Coach, well, I just couldn’t do that to Hope.
Monday, February 16
I left by myself. Made it all the way to the torched ruins of what was apparently some sort of shopping complex. I think there was a grocery store, a couple of restaurants. All that remains are piles of rubble and the black smudge of what must’ve been an impressive fire.
Then I reached a large field. This was another curiosity. There were the husks of military vehicles scattered about. Also, this is the first time I’ve encountered what looks to have been large cages. Nothing nice could’ve been happening here. There are lots of weathered and decayed carcasses lying about.
I was poking around when I heard a thud. Spinning around, I see this cloud of soot and dust swirling a few feet from a burned out army jeep. I walk over to investigate. A zombie chil—-three, maybe four years old tops—is lying face down with a very neat hole in its head. I start looking everywhere. I hadn’t heard a gunshot.
“You forgot your crossbow!” Jonathan slid over a dirt embankment.
Seems that one of the folks back at the Transit Fortress heard about my love of the crossbow, but was on patrol and missed out on the opportunity to give it to me personally. Jonathan claims he accidently overslept. He says he will see me to my destination, but then he’s going back. Also, Jenifer has a boyfriend. When the hell did that happen? And why can’t anybody tell me anything?
I guess Shari felt really guilty about “abandoning” me. Maybe if she would’ve talked to me she wouldn’t need to feel guilty. I would’ve told her that I completely understand. She’s found a home. She feels wanted. Also, not everybody feels the need to be on the move.
I have to admit, I am very worried about making it to the warehouse. I am getting slower every day. And if I stare at my belly long enough, I swear I can see it grow. I’m just glad I can’t see my ass, because I’ll bet it is experiencing the same fate.
I’d never tell him to his face, but it was nice to see Jonathan.
Wednesday, February 18
We might make it to the warehouse complex tomorrow morning! Of all the crazy things, Jonathan found a pair of Vespa scooters in the house we camped in last night. After some tinkering he got them both to work. Then, he rigged a hook-up for my cart. Since we’ll be sticking to the highway unless a nasty surprise or an emergency arises, we should be able to make good time.
I am actually nervous. I have a feeling in my stomach that I haven’t had since—well, since before all this started. I’m actually writing this by moonlight because I’ve had trouble sleeping, and it’s not because of the baby. I don’t think I’ll be able to relax in any way, shape, or form until I lay eyes on that place.
Thursday, February 19
This place would give the folks back at the Sunset Transit complex a run for their money. It is, in a word, amazing. I’ve met so many people. And so many folks come up to me and simply smile that I feel very self-conscious about the decision that I have yet to tell them regarding the baby.
It seems they found a way to deal with the wall of undead once surrounding the place. In fact, there weren’t even any stragglers when Jonathan and I arrived. And they have excavated a deep moat that runs all the way around the facility. Couple that with razor wire coils and sharpened rods of what look like rebar planted in the concrete basin at the bottom of the moat. And that is just the outer-most ring of protection. Throw in eight armored machinegun towers that look not only like they can withstand rocket attacks, but like they actually have.
They have stills and produce their own version of ethanol to run their generators. Yes, this place has electricity 24/7! Granted, they’re still very frugal. There is nothing wasted here. This place has a three square acre plot just for corn! There are six satellite “gardens” being worked, plus they converted one warehouse into the biggest greenhouse I’ve ever seen. They haven’t eaten anything processed or “canned” in over six months! They have goats, cows, and even horses! I had a glass of milk today! Oh. My. God.
Everybody here works a regular job. This place even has a jail, although they say it has only been used less than a handful of times. (And only once by a member of the community.) At least that is according to the sheriff and mayor, Tom Langston.
While all of this may sound grand, I see a very large prison. These folks claim a five mile perimeter as their territory. Jonathan and I even saw signs warning people that they were entering “New Jamestown” and that “passing through is permitted, but staying without autho-rization would be seen as a hostile act.”
The population of New Jamestown is one hundred and eight. Children apparently don’t count until they reach age five. I’ve seen a dozen under that age. There is a school; I met Greg Parker and Crystal Johnson. While there seemed to be some standard stuff on display in the classroom, when I visited, all the students were at one of the ethanol stills. Did I mention that every roof here is lined with solar panels? Oh, and three windmills are under construction.
This all may seem well and good, but I see a push to the “old ways” here that is being sought much faster than anything I’ve witnessed. Out there, it is the Dark Ages. This is like discovering New York City in the middle of the Old West.
It is a lot to process in one day. I’ve given Sam’s journal to Tom. He wanted to make copies. Can you believe it? They can make copies here! He wants to make it available to anybody who would like to read it. He was actually sort of hesitant when he asked…like he was afraid I would say no.
Sam, you may well be the writer of the first “Best Seller” of the new age. Although, technically your book will be given away for free. Still, not bad for a newspaper deliverer and garage band member. I’ve kept this journal hidden. It is mine and I don’t think I want to share. And, of course, I want to keep the original of Sam’s.
Jonathan has made it clear, just as I was determined to reach my destination, he is returning to the other place. He says that he doesn’t feel comfortable here. I can’t blame him. Is it possible that these people are too civilized? Anyhow, I wished him well. He promised to see me in the morning before he actually leaves. I’ll miss him.
Friday, February 20
Jonathan left today. I’ve been given a list of job possibilities. They told me it was no rush, but I got the feeling these folks are watching me closely. Measuring me.
Saturday, February 21
I’ve met Monica Campinelli, finally. She was out with nine others doing a security and supply run. I guess this place has motion sensors in a few key locations. They have cameras that are activated when the motion sensors are triggered. It is how they keep tabs o
n their farms.
Additionally, they send regularly scheduled teams out to patrol. They have a communications center which is manned any time that they have a person or persons out in the field. Again, this is way too organized. Some may see this as good, but all I see here is power. And power produces envy. There will always be somebody bigger and badder on the horizon. I just can’t shake the uneasy feeling I have.
Back to Monica, she is nice. Tough, but nice. She actually came looking for me. She was holding a copy of Sam’s journal in one hand, a basket of fresh muffins in the other with a little jar of strawberry jam and fresh butter. We sat at a table sipping tea and snacking on muffins, talking about all sorts of stuff.
I told Monica what my intentions are. No, I didn’t tell her anything about The Genesis Brotherhood or the plans I have for them. I told her that I would like for the baby to stay here. I told her that I didn’t want to plant any roots. I also told her that if this place didn’t want the baby, I’d take it to the other place. Monica sat silently the entire time I spewed all of this out.
Before I knew it, I was babbling about what happened at the hands of the Sparrow Falls people—and I use the word ‘people’ loosely. I told her stuff that I don’t think I’ve spilled to anybody about what they did to me. I don’t know what it was. I just started talking to this woman and everything poured out.
After I was done, and it took a while, she gave me this look. It wasn’t condemning, or judgmental, or even slightly disapproving. She told me that everything would be fine and that the baby would be welcome. She even said that I could interview a few potential parents and choose who the baby will be given over to for raising.
I was exhausted when it was all over. Monica told me that Dennis VanDelay will want to give me a check-up tomorrow, and that she would be there for it as well. I also told her that I’d decided on my job choice. Of course my choices were limited. Some limits were probably due to my “condition”, but I bet the rest is because I am new and they have zero reason to trust me with anything involving security.
Tomorrow I go work in the kitchen.
Sunday, February 22
Met Marty Johnson today. He was adopted by Crystal. He hung around in the kitchens after lunch and I could tell he wanted to talk to me. If I hadn’t been sporting the massive pregnancy bulge, I would’ve thought he was checking me out.
He wanted to show me how well he played guitar! I forgot that one of Sam’s early experiences here was teaching the kids to play guitar. It seems that Marty really took to it. He’s very talented. He now teaches others. I think Sam would be very proud.
Tuesday, February 24
Time seems to go so damned slow here! I don’t know if it is the eight hour shift in the kitchen or what, but it makes me want to scream! Have I mentioned that there is no such thing as a weekend?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not lazy. Only, working in a big kitchen is not high on my list of career choices. I’d rather be out on patrol. Hell, I’d even take manning one of the towers. Chopping onions? No thanks.
There is an upside. It’s not all misery here. There is a “movie theater” and a “gym” and even a “dance hall”. All meals are served to the entire community. I see no signs of rationing or controlling portions. Food is not a problem. It is a regular social event three times a day. Nobody seems to have specific people they sit with unless they are in some sort of relationship. There’s even a guy-guy couple and two girl-girl couples!
There is a “church”. It was a conference room that they converted. (I find that to be an amusing phrase). Outside is a schedule. So far there are Baptist, Jewish, and Catholic services. Also there is an “open worship” time and two bible study groups. I guess some folks still believe. With all I’ve seen out there, plus the whole dead getting back up thing, I have a bit of a problem with exactly what my spiritual beliefs are. If God is everything The Bible claims, then I’m sure He’ll understand.
Besides all that, I feel like a beached whale. I want this thing out of me. Dennis says he wants to see me twice a week. He estimates that this baby will be born on or around the first of April. I told him I wanted to punch him in the face, and that he could move that date up to tomorrow and that would be fine with me. Another month of this?
Saturday, February 28
I believe I’ve chosen the couple for the baby. Monica actually came to me with four couples to choose from. The only one I didn’t feel comfortable with on paper was Janie and Lindsay.
They are the youngest of all the couples. Both are in their early twenties. They are the only couple with no child of their own. And it may’ve been my conservative, rural, quasi-Republican upbringing, but a lesbian couple would never be something I would consider as my first choice to raise this baby.
Then, I met Janie and Lindsay.
I don’t know what I expected. I do know that I’d asked Monica to sit in with me because I had no idea what I would ask these two. I am embarrassed to say that I expected one of them to be wearing hiking boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt.
Janie is what you might call drop-dead-gorgeous. She is tall, curvy, sandy-haired with hazel eyes. She was wearing a blue turtleneck sweater and the cutest skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she even wore make-up! She works in one of the armored towers, manning a big-ass machinegun.
Lindsay looks like an Olympic gymnast. She is a tiny thing, at least a foot shorter than Janie! Her blonde hair is kept shoulder length and has eyes so blue I thought she was wearing colored contacts. She is armed security for one of the farm-worker details.
I have no idea when Monica left. The three of us were talking and laughing so much that she slipped out unnoticed at some point. Both women asked me more questions than I asked them! Somewhere along the way I told them I’d decided. They were so happy. Yay! Three women hugging and crying and laughing. I felt…human.
Sunday, March 1
One thing about how things are set up here; there is always a parent at home with the child. Even though this place believes in a seven-day work week, parents are never on the same shift. And if one parent works “outside the fence”, the other is required to work inside.
Janie asked me if I would like to move out of the “dorm” and move in to her and Lindsay’s apartment. Also, they wanted to know if they could attend my check-ups and if I’d allow them to be there at the birth. I’ve said “yes” to all three.
My shift happens to be the same as Janie’s, so we’ll spend a bit more time together. I’ve made sure that Dennis was okay scheduling my appointments when all three of us can be there. I don’t want Lindsay feeling left out.
Tonight, the three of us started talking about a name. Honestly, I’d never even thought about it. I am a terrible person. The choice for a boy’s name was easy: Sam. It just seems right. If it is a girl, she will be named Snoe. I thought it would be difficult to convince them, but we all agreed so easily.
So…baby Sam or Snoe. It’s been a real experience carrying you inside me this whole time. I’ve done my best to make sure that you arrive in this world. I’ve tried to keep you safe and sound. And it’s not that I don’t love you or anything else like that. I simply know that I cannot live behind a fence for the rest of my life. And, I cannot take you out there. I would be condemning you to death. This way, you have a real chance at life. Your mommies will have a copy of not only your dad’s, but also, this journal.
Now, if you don’t mind. Get out of my belly!
Monday, March 2
This morning, I woke before I had to be to work. I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep because I take almost an hour just to get comfortable. That, and I’d had this terrible nightmare about Dominique.
I question if I did the right thing. I know I couldn’t really force her to come with us. But she’s just a child. Her first sexual experience was violent and traumatic. She was confused. And I left her behind. So determined to pursue my own selfish goals, I abandoned a young girl, not even a teen yet, to some unspeak
able Hell.
What angers me is the wave of self-doubt. My rational mind tells me she would’ve bolted at the first opportunity. But the Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder says I was the “adult” in the situation. I should’ve gotten her away from there and then taken the time to help her through this trauma. This is just more proof that I have NO BUSINESS being a mother.
If I didn’t before, I MUST go back. I have to find those bastards. I have to save Dominique. None of the things that happened to her in the past few months would’ve ever taken place if we’d left her at her little camp. What business was it of mine to take her from there? Who do I think I am that I know what is best for others? Half the time I don’t even know what is good for myself.
Also, I miss Jenifer. I miss Jonathan. And I even miss that dumb dog.
Tuesday, March 3
Doctor Dennis says everything is going just fine. Janie held my hand. I think it was more for her than for me though. It was sweet.
Wednesday, March 4
Sleeping is starting to become harder to come by. Nothing is comfortable. I feel like a hippo, and if I hear one more person tell me “pregnancy really suits you” or “you’re carrying it so well, you look like you just swallowed a basketball”, I may literally scream. And the next person who touches my stomach without an actual invitation may come back with a bloody stump.
