Living With the Dead: The Wild Country

by Joshua Guess

  During the agonizing minutes it took the exiles to reach our side of the bridge, New Haven lost another twenty-one people. Three of those were from the group of allies in Shelby county, women we'd rescued from Tennessee. Four were from the new neighbors who've joined with us from the surrounding areas. Seven were soldiers from North Jackson.

  Each of those lives lost are a blow to us, measurable in the loss of their productive and protective capabilities, immeasurable for the lost laughter and fellowship that left the earth with them. Their potential is forever gone. That is the price we paid to defend our home. That is the sacrifice those people knew they might make to give the appearance of a united and dedicated front.

  Because once the Exiles got to the edge of the bridge, we detonated the explosives.

  This was not a small, controlled piece of demolition designed to blow out the middle of the bridge and simply make it impassable. The reason our people got as close as they did was to make a good show, and to take out those snipers. We could probably have been closer, but the bombs were designed to literally rip the bridge apart and to utterly ruin the steep edges of the river valley they were attached to. The mistake the Exiles made was thinking that we wouldn't cut off our own hand to save the body. That we wouldn't destroy our best remaining way across the river. That our appearance at the bridge signified our determination to stop them with their tactics. Self-sacrifice doesn't seem to be a concept they're keen on.

  Our best guess is that about forty percent of their people and weaponry were on the bridge when it went. The volunteer fighters from New Haven took withering fire, many giving their lives to guarantee as many of the enemy were on the bridge as possible when we took it out. Even those who survived the rain of bullets have suffered much more than anyone should--seeing friends die before them, splattered with the blood of allies. Having to make sure none of our dead would rise again as zombies. Terrible memories to carry.

  But they carry them anyway. And I respect that choice just as much as I respect those we lost in the fight.

  One major aspect of this assault we didn't anticipate, however, was that the Exiles would find a way to attack on two fronts. Even as the major assault group left the fallback point, another group about half the size of the first made their move. Maybe the Exiles assumed that the scouts we've had posted on the hills and cliffs around the fallback point would come back to New Haven once it became clear we were going to have to mount a defense.

  Leave the enemy base unwatched during an armed conflict? I don't think so.

  That was why we knew they'd pulled a trick on us. Will and I, along with many others, have constantly asked why the Exiles would stage so much right in front of our scouts knowing we were watching. The natural assumption is that the enemy had other tricks and deceptions up their sleeves, and we were right. We just didn't know how much we'd missed.

  There were three bridges leading across the river right in front of the fallback point. Two of them were elegant arches of concrete before their destruction. They were shattered in such a way that I can't think of any way to repair them or bridge their gaps. Too much open space, and the remains are at steep angles. The third bridge was an old railroad bridge, straight as an arrow and flat. The middle part of it was destroyed, leaving a gap sixty or seventy feet across.

  The Exiles hid a military bridge-layer on the far side of the fallback point, where our scouts couldn't see. Will says it was probably an M104 Wolverine, whatever that is. He says given how old the railroad bridge is and how much damage it sustained, he's surprised the weight of the Wolverine didn't collapse the half of the bridge it had to roll across to lay the replacement section.

  I mean, the thing used to hold freaking trains, so it had to have been built tough, right?

  Anyway, our scouts reported what the enemy was doing even as they were driving the Wolverine out of its hiding place. The remaining people in New Haven got the news, and we were readying to leave, to make our way down the hill to hurl explosives and anything else we could bring with us at the enemy.

  Then the Exiles must have had a call from some of the survivors who hadn't made it onto the bridge before we blew it up, telling the people back home what had happened. Because they retreated back across that makeshift span as fast as they could, then retracted it and dug into their new home.

  Apparently, there's a difference between being the other half of an attack force, the surprise half, and being the only group left capable of attacking at all. The Exiles left at the fallback point were only happy to give up their secret weapon and fight as long as they thought they had a huge advantage. Once they learned how badly we hurt them, they scuttled back to safety like the cowards they are.

  Yes. I'm saying this. Exiles:

  You can attack us if you like, but understand what will happen. We will go to any lengths to protect our home. We will do anything we have to in order to assure the safety of our children and loved ones. You can come back across the river any time and we probably won't be able to stop that. But remember when you do what happened to your people. You want to hurt us, to kill us, because you're angry and vengeful. And honestly? You've got every right to feel that way, even though we have done what we've done because our point of view makes you the bad guys.

  But remember this: while you're coming after us for revenge, we fight for survival. Tooth and nail, to the bitter end. Whatever it takes to make sure the group endures. So, attack if you want, but remember that we will kill ourselves gladly to take you with us.

  I told you before. We are not to be fucked with.

  I will also say this, as it comes from our newly elected leader and our even more newly elected council: we're done attacking you. Though we consider you to be a horrendous group of people, murderers, rapists, and thieves as well as traitors and probably worse, we also want to live. So we're offering this truce to you. Stay on your side of the river, forgo assaulting groups of survivors for any reason save self-defense, and we'll leave you alone. Break those terms, and this whole destructive cycle can begin all over.

  The future is now in your hands. The choice is yours.

  Make the right one for once in your lives.

  Monday, February 20, 2012

  Disintegration

  Posted by Josh Guess

  The fallout from our conflict with the Exiles is starting to settle. It's been a hard and tearful few days, as we've treated our wounded and consigned brave men and women to their funeral pyres. There's an overwhelming sense of sadness around New Haven right now, but also new shoots of hope rising through the ashes.

  Our fallen friends and family will be missed, but even those most deeply wounded by their passing recognize the bravery with which their lives were given. Without those we lost and their willingness to stand against an enemy that seemed unstoppable, without their help in our desperate gamble, New Haven would likely be a smoking ruin. I've lost count of the times I've said this over the last two years, but thank you.

  Not just thanks for those who died, but to those who lost loved ones in the struggle. The fallen have moved on from the danger and death that lurks around every corner in this world. It's you who are left behind that deserve equal respect. You've lost husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, best friends. A little bit of the light that brightened your world has gone out, and your lives are that much darker.

  I see the pain on your faces and the tears in your eyes, yet you go on. You honor the memory of those lost in the best possible way: you live. And though your hearts are heavy, you'll soon laugh again, and enjoy warm days and sunsets from a home that continues to exist because of the generous hearts of people unwilling to bend or break in the face of annihilation. Once the wounds begin to heal, you'll take comfort in that.

  You will not fall apart.

  In the world that was, disintegration happened to people all too often. Life would strike one blow too many, and something deep and vital would break. We've been through too much, fought too hard to make it with all the world seem
ingly against us, to ever let that happen. It isn't a matter of strength, necessarily. I've seen strong people give in to depression. I don't know what it is, for sure, but I know that even as you hurt you see the need to use the lives and freedom that were bought and paid with the sacrifice of dear friends to the fullest.

  There will always be threats. Zombies will, on those warmer days, move against us as they have from the first moments of The Fall. As long as the undead exist, our lives will be contingent on our wits, resourcefulness, and willingness to stand as one.

  There will likely always be people like the Exiles as well. Human beings are bred to hate, to kill, to make war. Our genes make us our own worst enemy, and even among the most peaceful there will doubtlessly be born those who commit acts that run counter to that way of life.

  We've seen all things fall apart. The world has ended in all practical senses of the term. Society as it was has fallen, infrastructure is mostly useless. Social, political, and governmental structure have all been reset to zero.

  Yet here we are, working against entropy to build something new. Something that evolves as we choose it to evolve. Because we recognize that being human and being alive is only worthwhile and meaningful so long as we choose to find worth and meaning. We see the truth; that survival is a means to make a better life for those who come after.

  So mourn our lost, as is fitting. But remember every moment of danger and effort that led us to right now. Remember to give silent thanks to the fallen, as I give written thanks to you. We hurt as one, but we're strong. Some of us will die, but the community will live on.

  We're survivors. When things begin to fall apart, we are the ones who choose to put them back together.

  Tuesday, February 21, 2012

  Deafening Silence

  Posted by Josh Guess

  We've heard nothing from the Exiles. Our watchers have seen minimal movement at the fallback point, almost entirely guards moving about on their rounds. For the moment we're working on the assumption that no news is good news and that the Exiles will abide without attacking us for now. If nothing else, they'd have to build up their numbers, weapons, and equipment again, since so much of what they had was lost when the bridge dropped.

  Jess has tentatively allowed me back in our house, and I'm trying to appease her in any way I can. She still hasn't forgiven me, but I can live with what progress I've made. Now that the immediate threat is over, she is more open to listen to my point of view. Which I'm cautiously meting out in small doses, because she's still angry and has access to a high-powered rifle.

  Our trick with the ammonia worked, driving the zombies away right at the Sherman-Minton bridge that connects Louisville with Indiana. We're not entirely sure where the swarm went after that, but some of our contacts in the Louisville area assure us that it wasn't across the I-65 bridge. Maybe the undead we put off their course are still in Indiana, wandering around looking for a way to pick up whatever trail they're following.

  Which reminds me: we're now certain that the new breed can track scents over very long distances. We've had multiple reports from around the country in the last few days of people being attacked on the road, and then having some of the same zombies attack them again days or weeks later when the travelers had been at their destinations for a good while. One story related to me pointed out that during a zombie attack, the defender had cut the hand off a zombie, whose stump then brushed their vehicle. That same zombie appeared with a swarm to attack three days later. We've guessed for a while now a zombie's sense of smell is way more powerful than our own (or at least the organism that animates the undead can detect odors way better than we can, it's all semantics) but now we've got pretty convincing evidence that at least the smell of zombies themselves persists for a long enough time to act as a guide for other undead.

  What I'm saying is that I seriously doubt the swarm we hit with the ammonia trap will stay away for long. If they find a way across the river, they'll eventually find us. Large groups of people attract zombies like moths to a flame, so there are thousands of scent trails leading right to us.

  We'll deal with that when it comes. New Haven has been a flurry of activity over the last few weeks as the defenses have been bolstered again and again, so we've got little to fear from anything other than truly overwhelming numbers of zombies, even if they are new breed. Our home is set up to defend against even those tricky bastards, and the team and I have seen enough of their tactics to give us solid grounding to the rest of our fellow citizens. The new breed might choose to attack, but we'll have our eyes open for anything unusual.

  Worst case scenario, we won't go down easily.

  I have to say, I really miss Aaron. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had the chance to comment on him being gone, but I'm glad he left before all this insanity broke out. He's a gentle soul, a rare thing in the world as it is now, and the less horror he has to face, the better. I've got to catch up with him if he manages any kind of internet access soon so I can pick his brain. Aaron probably has some good ideas on the new breed, and I imagine he's put quite a bit of thought in their direction.

  I still have that wound-up feeling, that tension all through my body and mind that screams to me that something bad is going to happen. Not that the sensation ever truly goes away nowadays, but it's intense at the moment. As if every second is the last before a soul-chilling scream splits the air.

  Yet, there's nothing. The Exiles are holed up and beaten, surely planning but unable to reach us easily and too short on bodies to attack if they wanted to. The local undead are cleverly staying under the radar. I'm sure given the new breed's penchant for sneakiness, there are far more of them around than we think. Maybe the group heading toward the Exiles from the east is close. I don't know that anyone has checked on that, or even has the capacity to.

  It's the silence that bothers me, I guess. The quiet in New Haven and the quiet outside the walls aren't good things. It isn't the dull absence of trouble that once brought us peace. It's the calm you hear before a tragedy, the dramatic pause before the serial killer strikes from the darkness.

  That's the way it feels to me, but I have zero logical reason to feel that way. Just months of living on the road, usually in immediate danger of some kind, then weeks of record-level stress here. My mind is probably just overcompensating for the sudden cessation of dangerous outside stimuli. I'm sure I'll go back to normal (whatever that is) in a few days. For now, I'm going to fully embrace the fear and roiling sense of doom in my belly, which I can use as an excuse to curl up on my couch and be a curmudgeon.

  On that note, I'm taking the rest of the day off. I'm sure tomorrow will be incredibly busy, and I've had precious little rest in the last few days. Maybe some isolation and mental decompression is what I need.

  Wednesday, February 22, 2012

  Minor Threat

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Being away from home for a long time has always been a surreal experience for me. When I was a kid I'd go visit my dad and other family in Illinois for extended periods of time in the summer, and coming back was strange. The house seemed smaller and small changes never ceased to throw me off.

  New Haven is constantly evolving, and that means any given day can bring a change you haven't been aware of. Stay away for months and you're bound to feel like a stranger when you see the new and amazing things your people have done in the interim.

  Hell, just since we've been back there have been a lot of alterations to the fabric of New Haven. War, losing people, gaming the broken system to put Will in charge and then fast-tracking elections to get the dangerously unpredictable councilors out of power.

  Then there's construction, which I've mentioned recently. We've got a functional refrigeration unit that can hold literally tons of food for us. We've got the fishing hut my brother took me to. The annex has been fully cleared and exploited for farmland, and some greenhouses have sprung up there as well. All over our little city on a hill, houses have begun changing a
s people convert their roofs into gardens where possible. A very large communal living building is going up, capable of housing nearly a hundred people.

  The most stunning change I've come across is the defenses, as I saw first-hand last night near dusk.

  Mother nature, being an insane bitch, hit us with ridiculous cold in the early morning but let the mercury rise all day. By the time the sun got close to the western horizon, it was in the high forties, maybe the low fifties. The sentries were on high alert, given the recent loss of so many people, and were using binoculars to watch for threats. Our people wanted to catch anything long before it could get to us.

  What they saw was a mass of zombies to the south, admittedly the hardest part of New Haven to defend. Far outside of bow range, the undead were too few to pose a threat high enough to justify picking them off with bullets. Estimates ran between thirty and fifty of them, and even from a distance we could tell they were new breed. An interesting aside--the cold weather has apparently been accelerating the change in the color and texture of the new breed's skin, making it much easier to tell them apart from regular zombies.