Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath

by Chris Philbrook

  By the time we'd made our way to where Gavin was, Abby was a blubbering mess, barely able to hold her weapon up. I crouched near him, and could hear his labored breathing, and see him clutching at his midsection. The motherfuckers couldn't even give him a clean death. His weapons were missing too. I checked for head injuries, and we got him rolled over. Once I was sure he was able to breathe and move, I grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him over to the Hall A porch, into strong cover should something bad happen. That took a full on minute or two. I got his shirt off with Abby's help, and even though I was primarily keeping my eyes up looking for more threats, I could see he'd taken at least two to the abdomen. It didn't take a long examination to realize he had small penetration wounds that matched up spot on with a 5.56 round.

  Seeing Abby's face was what did it. I felt this roiling, bubbling feeling come up from down deep, and my face turned hot. I remember this one moment where I looked down at my left hand on the front of the M4, and it was red and sticky with someone's blood, and I kept thinking to myself, "How did I let this happen? How could I be so stupid?"

  Then I heard a large engine trudge near the bridge and cut off. It sounded throaty, with a little rattle and whine. A diesel for sure. A big old one. I told Abby she was on her own for a minute, and I left Hall A's porch at a full sprint. I slowed and rounded the corner of the office building at a slow walk, my weapon up and immediately on the chests of two women. You now know them to be Angela and Amanda. Across the bridge I saw they had a deuce and a half. I remember feeling shocked to see one. In the front of the truck I could see a teenage boy, and a little kid. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl.

  I threatened them proper, and they dropped their one gun. A shotgun. Within a few seconds of questioning them I knew they weren't part of the attacking force, and I my mind instantly went elsewhere. It went back to Gavin, and the Edwards people, and Melissa. I knew we had just a small amount of time to get them medical aid in Westfield. We had to get them to Lisa.

  I left the women. I knew with the kids present they wouldn't try shit. Too much at stake.

  Gavin died on the way to Westfield just after telling Abby about the dream he'd had regarding me, and by the time I made it back to Hall B Candace was dead too. Tucker was a crippled orphan with a jellied hip. Lindsey was screaming and shaking, holding her decapitated baby girl. I've never seen so much blood, or tears as a result of it. Maybe I'm remembering it worse than it was, but I doubt it.

  Sigh. I've talked enough. I think those that died that day deserved more of an explanation as to what happened. Maybe they'll find more peace with this recorded here Mr. Journal.

  Or maybe I will. I'm tired now. Depressed too. Gonna hit the rack, and get back to it tomorrow.

  -Adrian

  June 10th

  Sleeping better since my late night confessional the other day. That's good. What's also good is we're making some hella progress on the wall. We are now going in the opposite direction from the bridge, wrapping in front of Hall A and towards E. The soil on that side of the bridge is heavily filled with rocks and debris though, and if we didn’t have the backhoe to dig, we’d be fucked.

  Oddly enough, there is a lot more ground water at the bottom of the ditch on that side, despite the fact that we have been digging on the lake side up until today. Who knows. I am worried the bottom of the logs will rot on us, but the way I see it, this fence is a temporary measure anyway, and if we can get a couple years of added safety out of it, that’s fine with me.

  I decided earlier today when I was busting my ass on the fence that I’d do something with this entry that I haven’t done at all, as well as something I haven’t done in awhile. I think as we get closer and closer to the one year anniversary of “that day” I should pause, and reflect on things. I think maintaining the perspective is important to anyone who might read this one day, as well as to remind me of the things that are different.

  Having said that, it is June 10th, and this seems appropriate to me…

  10 things I miss

  • I miss new movies. I am already largely fed up with the few hundred we’ve accumulated over the past months of scrounging. I want new actors, new plots, and just new stuff.

  • I miss pizza. I used to eat the shit out of pizza. We need to figure that out, because I really want a fucking pie. Something really good, like a Hawaiian, or a meat lover’s or something.

  • I miss being able to go out without a weapon on me. I said before I miss being able to wear sweatpants, and shorts and stuff, and that still holds true today. Granted, it’s too fucking hot for sweats now, but the idea remains. I wish I could go somewhere, anywhere without my Glock. Of course I say that, and I also know that if we ever get to the point where I don’t need to carry it, I’ll feel weird without out, and wear it anyway.

  • I miss my co-workers. Some of them were truly interesting people, and I really enjoyed our conversations. Teachers, counselors, athletics people, all of them. Working at a school is a terribly interesting place to earn a living, and I miss that part of it. I guess it doesn’t help that I live here now, and I frequently reminisce about things.

  • I miss the fact that Moore’s Sporting Goods is not open anymore. I wish I could go in there and snatch ten boxes of ammo off the shelf as needed. Sadly, they are closed, and the last time I checked, the shelves are as empty as can be.

  • I miss going to the doctor. And that’s saying something, because I hate going to the doctor. Now that medical care is so goddamn urgent, I find myself worrying about tons of little injuries and making sure they don’t get worse fast. Hell, I had a mildly infected splinter the other day, and seriously considered looking up what antibiotic was most appropriate for it. I am so scared of one of us getting really sick. I don’t need to tell you how many of us have died already.

  • I miss the fact that my future is gone. I wanted to be someone. I wanted to do something special someday, and now, here I sit, struggling to make do and get by everyday with the people that are near to me. Maybe I need to accept the fact that I am doing something special by helping these folks survive as well. Shrug.

  • I miss soda. I know that sounds dumb, because we still have a fair amount of it, but I was a pretty regular soda drinker back in the day, and I miss the fact that I can’t just crack a can or bottle whenever the hell I want to. I guess for the above mentioned health concerns that’s a good thing.

  • I miss the internet. I know I already said this, but shit… I wish I could just look stuff up whenever I needed to. We’ve gotten good at using the resources in the library, but there are a lot of subjects not covered there, and there were a lot of books taken out by students, or are just gone, or destroyed by gunfire or gore. There are a LOT of subjects that we will never learn more about unless we find people who know about them, or we find a book or some kind of documentation detailing them. It’s a fucking shame all that knowledge has been misplaced, even if only for a short time. At some point, we'll need to hit the town library, and more.

  • I miss Dunkin Donuts. God on hot days sometimes I’d get three large iced coffees. I guess more than anything, I miss the convenience of not being able to just go out, and get whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want it. Now, if I want an iced coffee, I need solar panels, a gas powered generator, a working fridge, clean water, coffee, a coffee making system, heat to boil the water, etc etc etc. Not to mention, I NEED TO MAKE IT MY DAMN SELF. Sigh.

  Now here’s something new, which I think is important for me to do once in awhile. Perspective. Important stuff.

  10 things I actually enjoy about life now

  • I like my diet. Even though we eat lots of canned crap, I am eating so much better now than I ever have. Even during my Army days I ate crap, and now I still eat crap, but it’s healthier crap, and I am super healthy for it.

  • I enjoy my body. I was pretty doughy before, and now I am lean, hard, and fast. Once again I am the man that just missed the cut at Ranger school, only olde
r, smarter, wiser, and even less of the kind of person you want to fuck with. That feels good.

  • I love the stars. There are no lights from the town, or the city to cast that dull orange glow anymore. I can see a million stars when I tilt my head back at night, and that show is majestic and captivating. I love the night sky now.

  • I like sitting down and eating dinner every night. Cassie and I usually ate on the couch watching television, and we never talked as much as we should’ve. Had we sat at the table, we’d be forced to chat, and maybe things between her and I would’ve gone differently.

  • I dig the adrenaline. It can be addicting. I enjoy the rush of the fight, I love the heart pounding moments when life is on the line, and things go good, and we all walk away. Almost dying makes you feel alive.

  • Every day I feel like I have earned my living. Despite being exhausted all the time, and nearly dying multiple times, I know when I crawl into bed at night, I have done my part. Many people have dead end jobs where it doesn’t matter if they call out or not any day of the week. I can’t take a day off. If I do, it better be for damn good reason. I like earning my paycheck.

  • I like the quiet at night. Actually, I enjoy sleeping at night. I used to work nights, and sleeping during the day was a bitch at times. Anyway, there is no traffic anymore. There are no car horns, blaring stereos, or shitty parents with asshole kids running around all night. It’s nice.

  • I like the fact that I write this regularly. It helps me clear my head. I like the fact that after I write every one of these dumb entries, it’s a few more days detailed about my life, and the lives of the people that are near to me. I hope that one day the words that I leave behind here for you Mr. Journal become relevant to someone when the world starts to rebuild. That might be a fool’s dream.

  • I love the fact that I get to drive big trucks. It makes my penis feel good. Yes, that’s an amazingly male thing to say, but it’s the truth. Driving the HRT around all the time is a rush. It’s like driving around a monster truck, or a Maserati or something. It’s just ego swelling, and makes you feel a wee bit invincible.

  • I enjoy the fact that I am not harassed by assholes. Granted, I’ve exchanged shitty drivers, and dickheads in the grocery store line for undead trying to eat me, but at least I get to shoot undead. Before, I had to just put up with the asshole’s shit. It’s a terrific tension reliever to shoot people. I should note that I am not condoning randomly shooting people. It should be a well thought out process reserved exclusively for people who deserve to be shot.

  So yeah. A little change of pace here. Not much else going on. We’re going to bust ass tomorrow because Mike and company are returning here the day after for another water/trade run, and I’d like to take that day off and let everyone recuperate. We’re working our asses off, and the way I see it, we’re only a day or two away from people starting to get really angry and shitheaded.

  Hopefully Mike has good news from Westfield.

  -Adrian

  June 12th

  Well well well. The hits keep coming. I’m starting to worry, because there are far too many roses blooming here lately, and that often means we’re knee deep in shit. We’ve had two more good days on campus, and it’s starting to be unnerving. Whenever we string too many safe days together, nothing good comes of it.

  Weird how that works.

  I’ll try to keep this as short as possible. I’ve had a small amount to drink today, and I’m at the point where typing this is a little bit of a struggle for me. To be honest, this could go either way. I might face plant on the keyboard, or be up all fucking night typing because I’ll catch my excited buzz second wind.

  Yesterday was Worky McWorkerson. We had a huge day of getting shit done yet again, and worked an extra hour late to get a few more logs upright, and reinforced. We’re really trying to get this shit done in a hurry so we can move back to more “productive” tasks. Not that safety isn’t a productive task, or a major priority. It’s just stupid when we could be in town, gathering resources, killing undead, and being more of a proactive force for the world.

  Eh, whatever. This shit needs to be done for our long term chances at survival. Stay focused Adrian. Quit bitching.

  Otis dislikes me tonight. He’s ignoring me. I suspect it’s because Mallory is here in the bed with me, and it’s kind of damp and warm. There’s no room for my homeboy. He’s sitting in the corner of the bedroom watching me type, and I swear he’s giving me the, “dude, bros before hoes” look. Poor cat. I wish he still had his balls. I’d love to have his lineage continue on. Maybe they’ll grow back someday.

  As I was saying, yesterday was a heavy workload day. We got a bunch of shit done. No injuries, no trouble, nothing to note. We did however agree that Daniel Junior needed a firearms refresher course. He hadn’t done any shooting since his dad was around, and he’s old enough, and experienced enough that he should be carrying some kind of firearm at all times. His mom Angela is all for it, but she doesn’t have the patience or experience to teach him how to shoot. I’ve half a mind to ask Abby or Gilbert to do it, but Gilbert’s eye is still on the mend, and Abby is a little short on patience at the moment. Sooooo… it falls to me to teach the kid how to shoot again. I’m thinking we get him a decent 9mm pistol, and perhaps one of the 20 gauge shotguns. More than enough firepower for him to support us in a fight, and not too much gun for him to manage. He’s a thickly built kid like his father, and in a year, he’ll have no trouble handling anything we put in his hands.

  Not sure when I’ll tackle his training. Tomorrow we are expecting good weather, and if we do, we can make a huge portion of wall leading up to a few existing large trees. Trees are a mixed blessing. They’re free wall material, but the roots are a bitch to dig around and into. The backhoe does it fine, but it’s one more pain in the ass hurdle. Anyway, if we wind up getting stymied by the roots of the tree, maybe I’ll take a few hours, and Danny and I can sneak away for some trigger time.

  Today as I said before Mike and crew rolled into town with the water truck for a trusty refill. They didn’t have a huge need for much from us, and they didn’t have much to trade us either. Their spare trade goods have dried up pretty dramatically since the returning folks in Westfield have been mooching off their supplies. Mike said things were pretty good, but the sudden addition of 30 mouths in the town has made things awkward. The scavenging in town has all but dried up, and Lenny’s farm can only grow so much food, so fast.

  Mike is now wondering how they’re going to make it through the winter. I don’t like the idea of people starving here or there. We might need to seriously step up our hunting activity as cooler weather kicks in. If we can drop a half dozen deer, that’s at least 500 dressed pounds of venison. That much meat can be doled out over a pretty long fucking time if we can preserve it. Let's say an eight ounce portion is a meal. That's the equivalent of a thousand meals.

  Which reminds me, we need more fuel soon. It’s been a long time since we re-upped, and we’re pissing through diesel like there’s no tomorrow. We’re saving the gasoline for the generators as much as possible, but because we’ve switched over to the diesel trucks, and with the addition of a dualie, as well as the Deuce and a half, our diesel use has just leapt up. At some point in time, we’re going to have to start accumulating more fuel. I think our best bet is to hit some of the homes with heating oil, and just drain some drums out. Ideally, if we can hit the houses down on Route 18 first, that’d be best. Work our way closer to us as we go along.

  So yeah Mike came today. Few other folks, but honestly I don’t care that much right now. I’m basking in a nice buzz, and the afterglow from pretty good sex. I was a little sloppy though, and I have to own up and say that I underperformed tonight. Shit happens. Sorry Mallory, next time I promise I will try harder. Lol. Harder.

  I spanked her. Softly. Didn’t want her to wake up and wonder why I was spanking her. She just fell asleep. I’d hate to interrupt her dreams. However, if I work up an ere
ction while staring at her ass, you best bet I’m waking her up with it. I see no sense in wasting a perfectly good boner. Those things have an expiration date.

  Where was I? I have my own penis on the mind. Terribly distracting Mr. Journal. The curse of being a man.

  Westfield is +1! Yay for childbirth. Megan Clough gave birth under Lisa’s watchful eyes to a seven pound, ten ounce baby named Allison. Although honestly I’m conflicted on this. Mike said that back when Sean was still kicking over there, he’d taken a few girls into his bedroom as an executive privilege. Megan was one of them, and if you do the math on the whole deal, it is pretty much a fucking LOCK that the baby born on June 4th is Sean’s. I dislike that idea. I realize fully it’s asinine to think that the child will turn out anything like her father, but I can’t help but wonder what she’ll turn out to be. I’m hoping that apple drops off the tree, and rolls far the fuck away from her father’s genetic heritage. We don’t need a dickhead’s daughter running around here. Anywhere else for that matter.

  I digress. We shall celebrate the birth of a new life, and be happy that the mother and daughter are both healthy, and happy. I need less bitterness. More happiness. Sunshine, rainbows and ponies. And sex. That shit always makes me happy.