Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5)

by Joshua Guess

  We're almost incapable of giving up. We'll struggle through. No matter how hard it gets.

  Thursday, April 26, 2012

  River Rats

  Posted by Josh Guess

  George and his people are making their way here. We've had to up the timetable given our recent setbacks and injuries, so we're getting a lot of frantic work done very quickly in preparation. It's not easy on our injured, but there isn't a lot of choice. The area where George and his people live is facing increased zombie swarms just like everyone else. They've got a nce barrier at their base, but sections of it are made from the shipping containers they're planning on bringing here.

  Those are the last ones George and his people will bring here, obviously. Can't hang around when you're snatching pieces of your defensive barrier away.

  The Exiles are seeing a marked increase in wayward zombies as well. They've been dealing with the attacks in a totally different way than we do since they haven't the same layers of protection. Without a wall they can't manage a classical defense of the fallback point, so they hole up in their buildings and use raw firepower to mow down the undead that come upon them.

  The terms of the truce mean that we couldn't lead any zombies toward them even if there were a bridge within twenty miles that wasn't destroyed, but that doesn't mean I can't wish them all kinds of fun handling the undead. I feel bad thinking that way, because there must be some people on the other side of the river that are decent folks (a thought I wouldn't have entertained at all a few months ago), but it isn't one I can avoid. After hearing the horrible description of how Scar (what we call their leader) killed a friendly guard, I have a hard time actually feeling pity for them.

  It's an interesting study in differences. Here, we use a lot of homemade weapons that we can essentially reproduce at will. Less effective than gunfire but sustainable over a long period of time. The Exiles don't have a wall that compares to ours, so they turtle up in the high buildings of the fallback point and rain bullets down upon the swarms of undead. I've spent a lot of time working with people here to assure our methods are passed around and taught to others, so we don't lose our capacity to make bows and arrows should a small handful of people die. I don't see that happening with the Exiles.

  We've got walking wounded everywhere, working to make sure New Haven is ready when George and his people start making deliveries on the river. Hopefully they'll bring it all on one trip if they've managed to wrangle enough barges and boats. The Exiles don't seem to do much for their future aside from farming. None of our watchers have seen them making weapons or trying to create their own goods.

  George and his river rats know that strength is in numbers and that long-term survival lies with choosing to trust. That's hard to do, but New Haven and many other bands of survivors have managed it. The Exiles haven't, nor have many of the remaining marauders across the countryside. When I walk (carefully, as I don't want to injure the incision in my belly) around New Haven, I see people who might have totally different ideas on god or morality or whatever working together. They tell jokes and help one another. Sometimes they work in silence and cast irritated stares. But they do it. They trust.

  Though the Exiles have put up barriers that make it hard to see inside the fallback point, we can still see enough of them to know they're a different beast altogether. People there don't cooperate much, don't seem to have any kind of normal life. The other side of the river seems more like a refugee camp in some third-world country, full of people too frightened of each other to muster the will to overcome that feeling. It's sad. Really and truly. Especially because our watchers have begun to catch sight of kids over there.

  Kids. With the Exiles. It's going to get easier, knowing that, to feel bad when they lose folk to zombies or starvation or illness. Children tend to crack the hard armor around our hearts.

  George and his people will be here soon. I'm off to do what I can to manage the preparations. I'll try to keep my mind on business, but I can't help thinking about huddled kids living in fear of men like Scar.

  Friday, April 27, 2012

  Neighborly

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I haven't gotten into the different signals we use to alert the citizens of New Haven about things, mostly because it's not that important and is actually kind of boring. I've mentioned that we ring the bells a given number of times based on how many zombies we estimate are coming at us but haven't gone much past that.

  So you know, a constant ringing bell means incoming people. The living kind.

  We have ways to differentiate between hostiles and friendlies, and this morning I woke up to the sound of a single bell ringing steadily for ten seconds. It was expected, since today is a trade day. What none of us saw coming was the large number of people that came with the caravan.

  We've been in touch with the folks we trade with to let them know what kinds of things we'll be looking for as we work on the expansion. Franklin county has a lot of resources we can salvage for the new section, but some items are a bit harder to find. We've also made it clear that given our recent troubles there might be some small delays or shortages in shipments. So, with the explanation that they're just protecting an investment, a dozen of the groups we trade with sent people to help us out.

  There are sixty of them, and they'll be here for several days. Normally the caravans only stay a short time, but this one is large and vitally important: a huge supply of homemade gauze and topical antibiotics, the first large order of the spring. Lots of people have had as hard a time with zombies as we have, and there are many injured who need dressings and medicine. It's worth the wait for them to make sure we've got enough product ready to meet their needs.

  In practical terms, this means that we've got enough people to ensure our readiness for the arrival of George and his people and manage everything else in the pipeline. Our goods can be produced, our walls patrolled, and all the other details that need to be seen to don't have to suffer from lack of manpower. It's going to be busy and difficult to organize, but we'll make it work. We'd be idiots to screw up free help from folks who're willing to put in long hours out of the goodness of their hearts.

  That, and I'm sure they really do want to make certain we don't all die and stop trading with them. Completely reasonable.

  It's going to be a busy morning. I'm in charge of the group preparing our dock site where George and his people will be unloading, as well as organizing fuel and disposition of our heavy machinery, which we'll need to haul and place the shipping containers.

  If all goes according to plan, they'll be here tonight. It's not that long a trip by river. I haven't been entirely honest about the timetable, mostly because I didn't want anyone to get ideas about looking for George's group. Misdirection is the best way to make sure attacks don't happen when you suspect assholes may take advantage of transitions.

  The number of assholes in the world today is pretty damn high, too. I don't doubt for a second that there are people out there who would have hit George's group like the fist of god if they knew his people would be distracted and frantic with executing their trip here.

  If we can get all this work done without any major incidents, we should be set for the near future. There aren't any other big projects to go on about, and the new wall made of shipping containers will make work inside the expansion safe and much easier than we planned. I'm excited. Everyone here is.

  Our sincere and infinite thanks to every volunteer who came here to help. Whatever your reasons, you're fine people for doing it, and I love each of you now.

  Saturday, April 28, 2012

  Leeway

  Posted by Josh Guess

  George's river convoy is going to be here shortly. They were moving down the river at a good clip but decided to stop (which isn't easy to do with a bunch of barges and a couple large boats) last night to rest before arriving here. No great mystery to it--those people worked their asses off getting everything ready to come here. They needed time to rest b
efore the major work begins.

  That's good for two reasons. The Exiles spent a good chunk of last night patrolling along the river over large stretches and in big groups. I can't say for sure they were trying to find and intercept George's flotilla, but I don't think it could possibly be coincidence. We could sit here theorizing all day long about what their intentions may have been, but since any action against George's people would violate the truce, I'll leave speculation up to you. I don't know that the Exiles would risk it.

  And since it's a moot point anyway, I can move on. The other reason this was a good thing is because we needed the time to get ready. Even with our surprise volunteers working all day to help us get ready, there just wasn't enough time. You'd think there wouldn't be a lot of prep work needed for a patch of ground, and you would be right. But there's also setting up food and housing for those people (and the volunteers as well, together a logistical nightmare) and ensuring everyone who'll be hauling shipping containers from the rendezvous knows the game plan. AND setting up the heavy equipment needed to move the damn things around, which includes a crane that's going to eat up a huge chunk of our remaining diesel fuel.

  Oh, and the goddamn zombies.

  I mean, what the hell is the deal with them? You send out a few dozen living people--happy meals on two feet--into the open to work on flattening the earth and laying out new spray-paint lines to show where things need to go, and suddenly the undead think it's a good idea to rush well-armed and irritable guards.

  None of the attacks were by themselves very dangerous, but they added up to a ton of lost time yesterday. They came in small clusters, mostly old school zombies wandering into view of New Haven for the first (and last) time. The numbers just keep growing day to day as the weather warms, though the more recent undead have looked rougher than usual.

  It's sometimes easy to forget that we've been fighting them for two years. The change in them has been so gradual that if you don't focus on it you can miss the signs completely. Two years of shuffling around the country, never rotting but never healing, either. Wear and tear ruins their hair and clothes, though for some reason their feet never seem to suffer too badly. Many of the ones our people took down yesterday had dozens of small wounds and seemed...damaged somehow. Injuries typically don't slow a zombie down, but these ones were sluggish to a man, weak, and probably intensely hungry. After so much time foraging for prey, I'd think that most of the easy game out in the world has been devoured. Say what you will about the zombie plague, but it has done wonders for Darwinism. The wild animals that are left must be the strongest, smartest, best survivors the natural world has to offer.

  Kind of like the people that are left, I suppose.

  I've asked to have a few of the zombies killed yesterday brought to the cell where we kept our test subject zombies. I can't do a lot right now, but cutting a few of them open to see how starved they were isn't physically draining. Call it very morbid curiosity.

  Not long now before our new arrivals...arrive. Yeah. I'm running on little sleep and too much excitement. It's a big day. Let's hope all goes well.

  Monday, April 30, 2012

  Morning Glory

  Posted by Josh Guess

  The first blush of dawn is rolling across the hills. The morning is just chill enough to refresh, not cold enough to cause discomfort. Birds are chirping. I almost expect a clever talking animal to show up with a Disneyesque voice over narrating our improbably meeting.

  It's that nice a morning. Made more so by the fact that from my roof, which is where I'm sitting as I type this, I can see hints of dull metal glinting against the darkness. The walls of the expansion are up, and the whole thing done in less than ten hours. It was a bitch of a ten hours, mind you, but breathtaking to watch. It was hard enough on everyone that a few people had to be kept overnight at the clinic for observation. Exhaustion can do funny things to the body.

  Not everything went perfectly. The dock we used was old and in disrepair, and about halfway through the day the damn thing started cracking under the weight of all the shipping boxes. Fortunately Dave decided that he would spend his day overseeing the most dangerous part, transferring from the boats to dry land. He knew the dock was risky to use, and the makeshift repairs he'd made in preparation weren't enough. Dave is like MacGyver when it comes to fixing things. I don't know what sorcery he used to reinforce the dock, but it only took him twenty minutes.

  By the end of the day the dock was basically trashed, but still holding together. The awesome thing about rivers is that you have an infinite space to haul stuff behind you. George and his folks pulled those barges along, small for barges but a lot more of them than he initially planned to bring. The place they moved from had big reserves of diesel fuel, most of which they brought with them. They brought some portable machinery to make moving the containers easier. Without that and the fuel we'd probably still be there.

  Seeing the light hitting the expansion is invigorating. The walls are four hundred feet on a side, each ten containers long. Most of the wall is two containers tall, though a few places aren't. Not because we didn't have enough, but because we're making them assault points for any zombie attacks. The idea is to anchor tall pieces of metal across them, welded to the box below. Slits between these shield pieces about six inches to a foot wide will allow defenders to fire down on the enemy without giving them a way in.

  A good chunk of George's people (I guess now that they live here we can call George by his real name...which is George, actually. See how clever I am? I lied by telling the truth) are already living in the expansion. Mainly because the volunteers who came to help us prepare are still taking up most of our extra houseroom. It hasn't been too cold lately, so they aren't suffering. Most of them are staying inside the wall itself. There are holes cut into the sides of the containers to allow entry.

  Jess wants to use the inside of the new wall to farm in, though I don't know if we'd be able to get enough sunlight in them to manage that. It's a fair point, though--they're hollow. We should really use that space for something.

  It's kind of amazing to see so much work suddenly done. We were planning on a long process of making bricks and building a new wall by hand. The main building we planned in the middle of the expansion is the first thing to go up, and even that's had a lot of work done on it. The base is made up of five giant metal boxes.

  Weird how so much of our lives before The Fall were affected by these things. A simple piece of transportation gear being shuttled across oceans, bringing us mp3 players, blenders, feminine hygiene products, and a million other bits of material to make our modern lives easier. Now they're trash. I use the definition of trash in its most basic meaning--an object no longer useful for its original purpose. Recycling is fun.

  We've had a hard time lately, no doubt about it. Things are certainly better right now than they were at this time last year, but life is always throwing curveballs at you. That's the way the world has always been. It's refreshing to see new faces, new blood. As far as I'm concerned, George and his people are family now. They've done a lot of work in a very short time to get here, taken a lot of risks, and are going to do it all over again. A few days to rest and George will lead his boats back up the river with a mix of his people and ours to bring back every last piece of useful material from his camp. Hopefully that means more shipping containers. There are more left, of course. Those things are so damn useful.

  I shouldn't say 'his' people or ours anymore. We're all in this together, now. I guess that's why my mood is so light this morning. There's a lot of hard work ahead of us as always, but seeing our numbers grow after so many heartbreaking setbacks makes Josh's heart grow three sizes this day.

  I'm feeling pretty good. This is the first morning since my surgery that I've awakened without pain. My gut's tight and stiff, but it doesn't just hurt for no reason right now. The air feels great blowing across me, bringing with it the smell of breakfast cooking. If not for the distant moans and groans of the unde
ad, it would be a perfect morning.

  I think even those pained echos from over the barrier that separates us from them are appropriate. No matter how beautiful the morning or how positive our outlook may grow to be we need those reminders. We have to always carry with us that we could die at any time. That forgetting the danger we live in for a moment of relieved bliss at a perfect dawn can cost us everything. It's a slippery slope from discipline to self-delusion, and it ends with us crossing the Rubicon of death and joining the undead on the other side. Maybe a little harsh given how good my mood is, but I've got a lot of practice finding the cloud in every silver lining. That's probably why I'm still alive.

  Tuesday, May 1, 2012

  Another Q&A

  Posted by Josh Guess

  A couple people from smaller and less communicative bands of survivors have been asking me questions lately. Some of these folks only have contact with the wider world through word of mouth, making it difficult for them to gain much outside information. Since things are calm and relatively boring today, I thought I'd take the time to answer a few of those questions.