I drew the sword and finished her. Couldn’t afford to waste any more of the .22 ammo. When I turned around I saw my shotgun on the floor under a desk, and my keys right next to it. I snagged them both and slipped into the hall. It was still clear so I let myself into Dr. Potter’s room, and shut the door behind me.
It was time to clean house.
Talk to you soon Mr. Journal.
-Adrian
November 8th
Hello and good day Mr. Journal. Today is a reasonably good day. I find myself feeling a little chilly, but my spirits are pretty good all things considered. I have decided to make another supplies run down to the gas station. My fuel stores are doing well but I’ve consumed enough to warrant another trip. I also found a giant heavy duty plastic barrel which is rated to hold gasoline during one of my patrols of campus. It was stuck behind one of the athletics sheds down near the football field.
Ironically, this school did not have a football team. We didn’t have enough students to field a team. We did have a pretty good basketball and soccer team though. Our girl’s athletics was excellent as well. It was one of the reasons why we drew so many female students here. Great prep school for college sports.
So anyway I got the barrel back to the center of campus and I’ve got it cleaned out. The maintenance area had one of the rotary style oil pumps that fit on top of it so when I fill it, I can crank out as much fuel as needed. Sad thing is that once filled, I will not be able to move the damn thing. I’ll have to fill it one batch of gas cans at a time. I think I will siphon off all the fuel in the cars around campus into it first. It’s a 55 gallon barrel, and I figure I can completely fill it with just the fuel tanks in the cars.
Now I once had a mechanic tell me gas taken out of a car’s fuel tank was dirty and unusable. I don’t know enough about fuel or cars to know if that’s true or not, but I’m going to filter the fuel before I put it in the big barrel. Fyi the barrel is blue, so I’ve taken to calling it “my boy Blue.” Heh. I’ll start the siphoning and filtration tomorrow, and once I have a better idea of when I need to hit the gas station I’ll get a plan together. I also need to look into getting that wood stove asap to more adequately solve the heating issue.
So much to do. I guess that’s another reason to try and gather some other people up here. They could be doing some of this shit too. The case continues to build for looking out to find others. No decisions yet though. I’ve got it pretty good and I want to make damn sure I don’t fuck myself over.
Otis is well. I think he’s enjoying this thoroughly. He gets to crawl up into my ass to stay warm at night, there is a steady procession of mice to for him to play with while I’m busy, and he gets my undivided attention. He’d always get jealous when Cassie and I were affectionate. Man I miss her. I dream about her a lot. I can’t remember most of the specifics in the dreams, I just remember she was in them, and that they were good dreams. Sigh. More guilt. Time may heal all wounds, but this guilt may kill me first. It’s a slow bleed.
But today is not a day to vent. I have my emotions under control for a change, and I’m feeling like recanting some history. I need to speed this up too, as the longer and longer I wait to document everything that’s happened to me, the harder it is for me to remember what the hell has happened. On good nights when I write in here it all comes back in a flood. On the senility nights I sit here wondering what the hell I did in certain situations. I backtrack and change things when I get them out of order all the time. Good thing I have nothing but time to edit my own stories right? Forgive me Mr. Journal, I am far from perfect.
Day after “that day.” According to where I left off in the last journal entry I had just reached the top floor of the main school building, and had shut myself into Dr. Potter’s classroom. It smelled funny in there, that much I recall pretty easily. There was a musty odor of sweat and old books that was just kind of gross. Dr. Potter was our English department head, as well as the instructor for Mythology, Greek history, and all that jazz. He had a ton of old books on shelves in there. All the classics.
The room was still clear, as was his staff closet in the corner. That turned out to be a goldmine as well. Dr. Potter was…. a fairly round person, and that’s being generous. He had a thing for snacking and his closet was full of cups of soup, fruit bars, granola bars, and bottled water. If anything, I was thankful for that.
Dr. Potter’s desk was a heavy oak number, and I pushed it against the door the longer way so the length of the desk stuck out into the room. More effort required to move it inwards that way should the door get collapsed in. I needed a good sniping position. That classroom is a corner room, and it had a great view of the portion of campus that admissions was. Out one side it could clearly see Hall A as well as one of the school office houses. The windows on the other side of the room had visibility to the lake, and could see two maintenance buildings. The small brick industrial buildings where I got the ladder the prior night from in fact.
I pushed the desks out of the way and left one desk, and one chair cornered and set back about 5 feet from the window. One of the cardinal laws of sniping is you never let the barrel show. Always recess yourself into your hide so there is no glare, and no muzzle flash visible. Zombies didn’t strike me as being able to look for either of those intelligently, but setting myself back put me mostly out of sight, which was useful. I pulled another desk over and set up my ammo, and spare clips so I could quickly reload, which I also did right then. I had 10 shots, then a clip change, then 10 shots, then reload both. I wouldn’t touch the Sig until I was desperate.
Right then was when I realized that I was missing something. Phil (my man at Moore’s Sporting Goods that hooked me up with my guns and ammo) had sold me TWO spare clips for both of these guns. I currently only had one spare clip. I remember laughing at myself because sitting in a plastic bag somewhere in my car were the two extra clips that I flat out forgot to load in my hurries earlier that day and the day before. Sad… just sad. Oh well, at least I had one spare clip.
So I set myself up in the chair, leaning over the first desk as a stand, wished I had bought a scope for the .22, and started shooting zombies. Sniping is both an intensely personal act, and at the same time, one of complete remoteness. I am not near my targets, but because I aim so intently to kill, and I observe the target prior to, and after the shot, it is very intense. This wasn’t. I think my emotions had just switched off by that point that day. I was exhausted, tired, and frankly sort of thrilled to have the upper hand finally. I put the front sights on the head of the first zombie, lined up the rear sights, exhaled slowly, and gently squeezed the trigger. I did this slowly and methodically for some time. Within a few minutes I had shot all of the zombies outside admissions easily. It was only perhaps 75 yards, which isn’t a tough shot in calm winds. Only a few misses, and only a few penetration failures.
While I was reloading, I saw perhaps another dozen zombies moving about in the general campus area by looking out other windows. I remember seeing quite a few zombies banging on the back door of the staff office house, which raised my suspicion that there were still people alive in there. I didn’t see anyone in there over the night, but that didn’t mean anything. I resolved to check that building first.
Once I had killed every visible zombie outside on the campus, I was in a bit of a pickle. Inside admissions there was a solid 20 to 30 zombies if not more still trying desperately to get into the office where the Lady Gaga CD was blaring. I could still hear it faintly all the way in the classroom. I couldn’t get them to leave, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to go down there and start shooting them up close.
I had plenty of daylight to work with, was solidly holed up, had food and water, and when I checked the hall, there were no zombies coming at the door. My immediate hope was that when the CD ended, the zombies would shuffle back outside, giving me more clear shots. It had been about 45 minutes anyway, so I would know shortly. I gobbled down a granola bar and just a few minutes later heard
Gaga go silent. I waited in the shooter’s pose, leaning over the desk for several minutes more before they started coming out the door. I got so excited I missed my first few shots down at them.
So the pros of the situation I already listed. The cons were a short list, but they were motherfuckers. Now that Gaga was done doing her thing, they could clearly hear me. Even if they couldn’t see me they were coming towards me. I remember hoping the glass doors downstairs would hold up if I couldn’t shoot them all in time.
As I said before though, I am good shot. And, despite being moving targets, they are not elusive targets. In sniping talk you are never “outnumbered.” Instead we used to call that a “target-rich environment.” I calmed myself down, and started aiming and shooting like a professional.
I had to stop though when I saw the woman from the night prior. MILFy. She looked really ragged in the daylight. I’m not talking beer-goggles here, I mean the nerdy zombie that killed her the night before had done some work on her. Her face was all bitten up, her nose mostly gone, and some of her hair had been ripped out, leaving huge swathes of bloody scalp showing. I think she’d been bitten a bunch on her arms and legs too, as she was just covered in blood. I think I apologized to her, and then I put one through the hole in her nose. She crumpled down to the ground, and I moved on to the zombie behind her.
I shot the nerdy kid shortly after I shot her, and I shot her husband not long after that. He was much worse off than she was. He was tripping himself up on his own guts. Apparently they’d been ripped out of him during his failed death struggle with his bat. Sad really. The last one I killed from my sniping position was Amy. I always liked her too. She was just pretty enough that you could imagine falling in love with her. She had a great personality too. Warm, kind, funny.
I killed her just like the others. From a distance it wasn’t quite real yet though, but it was real as hell when I started cleaning later.
So for the moment, once I had killed the slow bleed of zombies trickling out of the admissions building, there was no movement anywhere. I hung out for 20 more minutes, and actually fell asleep for a bit. Technically it was more of a “blacked out from exhaustion.” I think I was out for 2 hours, but I’m not sure. I wound up waking up when I heard one of the cars parked in front of admissions take off like a bat out of hell. Some luxury import moving like a bullet. Lol. They clipped the side of a huge SUV and blew out the tire on it before speeding away. I think there were 3 or 4 people in the car when it left. Don’t know for sure.
I was pretty refreshed from getting some actual sleep. Felt like a million bucks. I checked the campus, which was all clear, checked the hallway, also clear, and made my decision to head over to the staff office house to see why all those zombies were banging on the door earlier.
Only a few more neat tales to tell about the clearing out of the campus Mr. Journal. Exciting eh? After that I think I have a few other good stories to tell about my time after that, but still before the first journal entry. Stuff like how I got more food from the grocery store. What a fricking nightmare. Plus how I got my .30-06 when I returned to Moore’s. I’m just about ready to tell that story.
Moral of today’s story Mr. Journal: Never underestimate the staggering drawing power of Lady Gaga on zombies.
Until we meet again Senior Journal.
-Adrian
November 10th
I am very tired today quite literally from sucking hose. Siphoning gas is a horrible process that tastes terrible, is surprisingly exhausting, and has left me with little to no interest in writing tonight. However, I feel guilty for not writing anything at all, so I wrote this. Thus Mr. Journal, I give you:
10 things I miss the most right now
(in no particular order)
1.) I miss meat. Like, a legitimately well grilled steak, or a pork chop. I haven’t had fresh meat since… I don’t know when. And you know what? I miss bread too. I need to figure out how to bake bread.
2.) I miss sports. I used to love watching basketball, football, and baseball on tv. I miss that a lot. I miss competition! Being alone fucking sucks.
3.) I miss my bed. We had a great frigging bed at home. I have half a mind to go get the damn thing and get it up here. The student bed I’m using is new, but it’s shitty for my back.
4.) I miss my friends. A lot. I miss joking around, and getting picked on, and picking on them.. man. I hope they’re all okay.
5.) I miss Cassie. Oddly enough though, I do not miss sex. I’m so tired all the time I wouldn’t even have the energy to get my dick wet even if I wanted to.
6.) I miss internet pornography. (reasons withheld to preserve the illusion that I am a decent human being)
7.) I miss Chinese food. General’s chicken, lo mein, spring rolls, crab rangoons. Jesus I would straight up fist a horde of zombies for some decent Chinese takeout.
8.) I miss shopping. I really miss going out for the day on a weekend with Cassie and just going to the stores we liked to see if a new movie was out, or a new CD, or if we needed a new shirt, or a comic book or something. I miss getting out.
9.) I miss being able to wear shorts and pants without a belt. I don’t go anywhere anymore without a sword, and my Sig on a belt. I miss sweatpants and gym shorts. I know that may sound stupid, but at any moment in time, I need to be able to get up, and get the fuck out. Dress appropriately.
10.) I miss the kids here at the school. They were always a source of endless entertainment. So young and naïve, but still open to the world. As we get older we seem to forget about all the wonder the world holds.
Well…. What wonder the world used to have.
-Adrian
November 11th
Good morning. Mr. Journal, it is Veteran’s Day today. I noticed it just a few minutes ago when I looked at the calendar after I got out of the shower. I think from now on I’m going to be hyper aware of holidays because of their previous significance.
You know, I’m also making a pretty big assumption that you’re an American Mr. Journal. I mean, it’s completely possible that you’re from somewhere else. Shit, you might even be an alien. Martian or Venusian. Or from one of the moons of Jupiter. How cool would that be? You could also be an illegal alien, which doesn’t really bother me anymore. There aren’t a lot of job opportunities out there to be stolen, so no skin off my back.
I digress. I wanted to put a short entry in this morning to reflect on the idea that these holidays are “still happening.” I mean, if we have a holiday, and there’s no one celebrating it, does the holiday mean anything? Wrap your head around the meaning behind that.
Thinking about the fact that it’s Veteran’s Day here in America got me thinking even more about the situation the world is in. Here in America, and in most of the “western” world, and by “western” I guess I mean any country with healthcare, infrastructure, safety etc. We are much better suited to dealing with the aftermath of this, then say a place like Somalia, or Nigeria, or the Congo, or Iraq. Imagine how fucked they are now? I mean shit was bad when I was in Iraq, and there were no goddamn zombies then. It’s probably better now though, now that I think about it. Less IED’s and VBIED’s. Zombies are an entirely different breed of insurgent.
Holy train of thought Batman! Thinking about Iraq got me back on the thought of it being Veteran’s Day. Can you imagine how fucked up it would be to be a current member of the military when all this went down? I mean a deployed member of the military? Fuck, we have tens of thousands of troops in Afghanistan and Iraq fighting. That’s not even taking into account all the servicemen and women who are stationed in all our overseas bases.
Germany, Japan, Italy, Turkey, Guam, Uzbekistan, Cuba, England, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the list goes on and on. I don’t know if that’s evidence of imperialism or whatever, but my point here today is that all the people who volunteered to serve their nation are now stuck wherever it is they were last deployed to.
They’re cut off from their families, at risk of death, lonel
y all the time, frequently stressed out, armed 24/7, and in constant danger. You know Mr. Journal, that’s exactly how it was before this all started. That’s the life of a person who volunteers to serve.
I enlisted when I was a kid because my dad served, and my grandfather served. It made me feel like I could finally measure up to my dad if I could do what he did. I’m glad I served. It was hellish at times, thought I was going to die a few times, but in the end it’s something I can be proud of. I can vote and know that I am invested in my country, and no one can take away the fact that I sacrificed my personal time, my professional time, and put my life on the line to give my fellow citizens a chance at a better life.
Serving in the military is an underappreciated sacrifice Mr. Journal. People don’t understand how much it tears families apart, and how much loneliness and separation it puts on the table. You lose years of your life to the military and to politics, not to mention the sad rate of pay many of them deal with.
I’m ranting now. I guess I am single handedly attempting to celebrate Veteran’s Day all by myself. So let me try and end this on a more positive note:
Celebrate those people who give their time, energy, and possibly their lives to sustain your freedoms and safety. Regardless of the political motivations of whatever administration is in charge of your country at any given time, we need to make sure the people who are ready to protect us at all times are rewarded with our gratitude. Sometimes the only way to ensure peace is to be ready to inflict harm on those who would take it from you.
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