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

by Joshua Guess

  If they do go pirate, we'll have to do something about it. We know it, they know it. We've made too many blunt statements about what behavior is acceptable from them, and to allow any leeway there is to invite disaster. Our numbers would have to take a severe hit for us to lose the will to punish the enemy for breaking the rules.

  That's what scares me. At the rate we're going that could be a few weeks from now.

  Thursday, May 17, 2012

  Dry Stretch

  Posted by Josh Guess

  In a weird stroke of luck, no more people have come up ill. As my gut gets closer to a hundred percent, I'm spending more time helping out where I can. No small amount of it is in the clinic, giving relief to the dangerously overworked people tending to those who need it.

  By any reasonable measure New Haven has been luckier than we have any right to expect. Two doctors live here, one nurse with a truly ridiculous skill set, and a smattering of people with training and education that spans everything in the healthcare field from basic nurse aide training to combat medicine. Evans and the others have spread what they know among many others. There isn't an adult in New Haven that can't stitch a wound, but more importantly there isn't a person who can't use their brain to come up with an alternative if a needle and thread aren't available.

  That's a huge part of why we've managed to beat social entropy since The Fall. As survivors we've had to learn how to think just as much as we have to gather new knowledge as we go along. The medicos here are a slice of that idea--not just teaching us to treat wounds but to consider the possibilities for any given circumstance. Creativity is the keystone upon which our survival rests.

  And that is just a smaller part of the flexibility we need to function. The world we live in is ever-changing as it always has been. The changes just happen faster and to greater extremes than before.

  I mean, take the last day or two as an example. We were seeing people fall ill regularly for several days, which put us into damage control mode. We planned out contingencies for the worst scenarios we could come up with. We totally changed the work schedule to account for sick people. Our priorities shifted to stockpiling food on the chance our workforce would fall to the disease.

  Then, nothing. No new cases to report, so we halted some of the changes and reset workers to doing other things. The best thing about the people of New Haven is that excellent ability to handle change with grace and intelligence. I'm fiercely proud of my people for not just being up to the task, but for doing what they're asked to the limit of their abilities. Whether it's learning medicine or guarding a lonely section of wall, they put everything into it.

  I'm just as proud that so many of our citizens have learned to laugh again. We live hard lives full of pain and regret, but people here have managed the impossible: normal lives. That's relative, of course, but still impressive. We go to dinner with each other, play cards, make music together. We find the small joys and squeeze every drop from them. And we truly appreciate them, I think far more than we could have before The Fall. Contrast is a hell of a thing.

  I'm sitting up in the watchtower, seeing people move about on their many-times-amended schedules without a word of complaint. Some of them are attending classes, some are about to harvest food. Whatever is asked of us, we do. Strange how universal our support for each other is. It pushes us to be better than we are, which can take us to strange places. Tomorrow may bring more illness, but today is beautiful. Today I'll take in some of the happiness around me, ignore the small negatives, and learn something new. Being better is good for me, which is good for all of us.

  Let's hope this respite keeps going for a good long time.

  Friday, May 18, 2012

  City of Iron

  Posted by Josh Guess

  On the second and last run from George's abandoned community, he and his team brought back a load of shipping containers and supplies almost equal to the first one. That was overlooked in all the worry about our sick people, but the accomplishment shouldn't be overlooked. Mainly because thanks to the bravery of George and his team and the resourcefulness of another group, we're better off now than we were a few weeks ago.

  That other team was led by Kincaid and filled out with some of his reformed marauders and long-time citizens of New Haven. Not to diminish what George and his folks managed, but you know the details. They haven't changed much from the first trip out. Dangerous as hell but nothing new to report there. Kincaid and his group need a bit of recognition as well, though. The reformed marauders who chose to give up their violent lives on the road and take a stand with us have done everything asked of them.

  Though they're guilty of terrible sins, they risked our judgment to try at a better life. Kincaid and each of his crew knew that coming here could mean death for them. More, since they've been here each of them has proven their value and dedication. When serious threats rise up Kincaid's people don't hesitate to stand tall with us and fight. They risk just as much as anyone else.

  When a quiet open-ended trip to locate supplies was brought up, Kincaid volunteered. The idea was to plan the lowest-risk to highest return ratio we could come up with. That meant from a material standpoint that we couldn't send out things we can't replace. Vehicles we have in planty, guns and ammo not so much. Kincaid's unit went out armed only with spears and bladed weapons. They were given fuel and an idea what direction they might want to go.

  We kept the whole thing very hush for the obvious reasons. We couldn't talk about sending a minimally armed group out scavenging without inviting the very kinds of attacks Kincaid and his folks used to make on others. They didn't meet any living people on their trip, but there were obviously undead to contend with. No loss of life, and in a period of three days they managed to locate what we were hoping for.

  More diesel fuel, of course. Kincaid brought in some other stuff his team found along the way, but this is the big one. With a tanker of juice we were able to gas up the small crane and other heavy equipment. The result has been a solid day of intense work on the expansion, which is quickly becoming a city unto itself. With all the extra shipping containers we've been able to make living spaces for a lot of people very fast. Really, all it takes is getting the things into position and cutting some ventilation in them. Heating and cooling aren't a huge concern at the moment as the weather is nice, but the people from George's community that are taking up the new housing in the expansion for their own are working on that anyway. It's kind of amazing how fast they're working even in their off time.

  Even a metal box can go from being a place to sleep to being a home with love and care. The excitement over in the expansion is infectious, even I've been over to help out. Part of my own enthusiasm comes from knowing the expansion is going to be an incredible resource for us. I'm super glad for the new housing and for George's people (and whoever comes after them) but there are so many other angles to consider.

  After all, the place is one giant set of armor. Steel is pretty damn hard to set on fire, resists bullets, and is a strong building material. Then there's the interior of the containers themselves, which can be used for any number of things. Farming (Jess is thinking we should grow mushrooms in some of them. Gross, but not a bad idea) is one possibility, storage another, and the ideas keep on going. The modular nature of the place means we can alter and move things around as we need. The expansion is like a big-boy version of building blocks, with the attending infinite permutations that come along with that.

  It's a self-sustaining cycle, hopefully. We'll be able to farm in the new area of New Haven (have already begun to, actually) and the storage will allow us to keep more food in reserve. Which means we can feed more people, which means bringing new blood in. That will lead to expanding again. This is what we've been planning for, but the last six or seven months have been a perfect storm of opportunities to make it actually happen.

  We're on the tipping point of seeing New Haven go from a colony of survivors to a budding civilization with its own momentum in
growth. The Exiles and the New Breed aren't making that easy, but despite those threats and even the new plague, we're making it happen.

  That 'something new' I've talked about survivors creating? We're on the cusp of it now.

  Saturday, May 19, 2012

  Mixed Signals

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Several things have happened in the last day, some good and some bad. For reasons Evans can only begin to guess at, two of the people in the clinic who came down with the new plague woke up from their naps yesterday morning feeling completely better. No breathing issues, no symptoms at all. As if the disease affecting the zombie plague in their lungs were just gone.

  That doesn't track with what we know of the illness, but then our information was gathered from a very small group of people initially. What we don't know could just about fill the grand canyon.

  Thing is, another four people began showing symptoms yesterday. Theirs aren't as bad as some people who've been hit with the disease. Again, I refer you to the giant chasm of things we don't know about this illness as to why that might be.

  And on top of that, while we haven't suffered any major zombie attacks recently, there is a large shift in the behavior of the local New Breed. We beat them like rented mules the last time they hit us. Time to prepare and experience in defending our home gives us the advantage, but every time they change tactics we have to adapt right along with them or risk getting our asses handed to us.

  We've got to be perfect at it or people die. Simple as that.

  The main problem is that the New Breed seem to have lost their cohesion. Instead of gathering numbers in some hidden place to come after us, they've split into small groups (much as they did when we first encountered them) and move around the environs near New Haven waiting for our people to leave. It's not as bad to deal with six or ten of them as twenty, but there are just so damn many small groups that we can't track a tenth of them. Breaking up into units means keeping eyes on the enemy went from difficult to nearly impossible.

  But they aren't attacking. I mean, they are coming after our people but not every group. Not every time. Instead, they're making runs at some folks as if they mean business (and by business, I mean eating people) while others they only seem interested in scaring. The best predators in the animal world strike when they're completely undetected by their prey.

  Human beings, though...we understand the psychology of creating fear. Maybe there's enough person left in those New Breed to grasp this concept. Putting us more on edge than the standard for the world as it is now is a good idea. Fear makes people stupid, and stupid people make mistakes. All it would take is a relatively small group of New Breed taking advantage of chaos to create enough of an opening for the rest of them to get inside.

  No more New Haven. Goodbye loved ones.

  Lucky for us that the trick only works if you don't know it's coming. It was awfully nice for the New Breed to show up so close to our home. I'm sure they haven't had time to build up the kind of numbers we dealt with before. Will wants to send out some Beaters to see how the New Breed enjoys surprise attacks.

  Sunday, May 20, 2012

  Beaten

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Ten Beaters went out yesterday to harass the zombies mulling around just outside of New Haven. Ten people trained to kill with cleverness and efficiency, aware and reactive to the danger around them.

  All ten of them died.

  It's been a tough day since. I haven't had a wink of sleep, and a lot of other people haven't either. I could give you a detailed blow-by-blow of what happened, but I just don't have the heart for it. Our team of Beaters made no mistakes. It was those of us who sent them out that screwed up. We got cocky and those people paid for it with their lives. The short of it is this: the New Breed were waiting for us to send someone out to teach them a lesson. There must be a lot more of them pouring in over the bridges in Louisville than we realized, because the hundred or so moving around where we could see them weren't nearly all their numbers.

  The team went out and took down three times their number of New Breed, but in that time a larger swarm gathered out of our line of sight. They came out of the woods at a full run and swept over our people in a tide of bodies. There wasn't any time for more fighters to reach them. Too many undead for our riflemen to pick off, since they were mixed in with our people.

  I watched it happen from the wall. I wanted to run out there, to do something. Anything. If there had been more than thirty seconds to do it, I would have. Screw my healing gut, forget anything else. Those were our people out there. They died because of a decision I helped make.

  I screamed myself hoarse yelling orders to anyone in earshot. I told people to gear up, to move out, but the sentries and guards around me knew I was just reacting. It was plain to see our people were lost before we even had time to open the gate. Right there in front of us, yet too far away to make a difference.

  So, I spent the rest of the day and most of the night visiting the families and friends of those who gave their lives for us. Each visit was different. Some people were angry, and I let them take that out on me. Nothing less than I--or anyone else who was part of the decision to send the Beaters out--deserves. Others needed to talk, to remember their loved ones for the brave warriors they were. Some wanted to get drunk.

  I talk a lot about the effort and coordination it takes to run this place. That's true, it can be a huge task at times. But days like this last one serve as important reminders that the threats we face are real ones, that anything can go wrong at any time. Just like that, ten lives ended. In less than a minute a huge amount of damage was done to our community, with ripples and repercussions that will take a long time to settle. All the people close to the fallen went from moderately happy to grief-stricken and feeling lost.

  Three more people have fallen ill in that time, as well. Probably the worst time it could happen, when everyone is reeling from such a sudden and tragic loss. We're all much more sharply aware of how easily we can lose the ones we love. It always happens after things like this. People worry, and it affects us all.

  So...the only option right now is to do something about it. We're all grieving, and the pain and rage has to go somewhere. Dodger has been working on an idea for a few weeks now, and I think it's time we try it out.

  I'm not sitting on the sidelines for this one. To hell with staying safe. My stomach doesn't hurt anymore, and even if it did I wouldn't miss the chance to pay back the New Breed for this. Every member of the council, including Will, is ready to risk themselves. It'll be safer than ground warfare, but still dangerous. We should have waited until Dodger had it ready and let the team use it instead.

  We failed. But that just means we need to try to make up for our mistake as best we can. I don't know that anything we could do might ever wash away those ten lives, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try.

  Tuesday, May 22, 2012

  Rampage

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm kind of drunk right now. Not wasted, because I can still type with reasonable coherence (and use phrases like 'reasonable coherence') but I can definitely feel it. Why, you may ask, have I been drinking so early in the morning? Or at all considering my usual opposition to intoxication in our circumstances?

  Because I want to, that's why.

  I've had drinks with people here and there, but for once I wanted to indulge myself. I'm doing no work today other than writing this post. I'm spending my time with my wife, who is similarly accomplishing nothing. Jess went with us when we took the fight to the New Breed, and she has earned a day off with me.

  Part of it is to celebrate life. We lost good people when those ten Beaters died, and after that loss and the subsequent balls-out assault we gave the New Breed, I think the best tribute I can give them is a day spent mostly in bed trying to make the next generation happen. Yeah, that's probably way more than you want to know. But that's the truth and I've rarely shied away from that.

&nbs
p; So, do you know what you get when you take the back end of an eighteen-wheeler and turn the trailer into a mobile war platform? You get a lot of dead zombies. The idea was a natural evolution of the tactic our team and the Louisville crew used at the zoo: make a cage that can't be breached by the zombie swarms, draw the undead toward it, and give them utter hell.

  That's what we did. Outrunners moved among the horde and drew as many as possible toward the truck. We had tanks (not actual tanks, but modified vehicles outfitted with armor and weapons to mow down the undead) waiting to swoop in. We lost no one, partly due to good planning but mostly because of luck. Some of us wanted to step through the open walls of the cage as the outrunners and the zombies pulled toward us, but Will was there to rein us in. It was a damn good thing, too. Our blood was up, and we were close to going off-plan.

  It was one hell of a fight. We went though more arrows, bullets, grenades, and other gear than we really should have, but even when the New Breed realized they weren't going to do us any damage we still kept cutting them down. After we blew up a bunch of them, shot them to death, put arrows in their faces, they ran. And we followed.

  Our tanks circled them, our fire rained down in their path. We probably pushed harder than we should have and definitely went farther than we intended.