American Recovery

by Joshua Guess

  Except that he wasn't. Evans was a grown man with eight years or better of college under his belt when he went overseas. That was so many decades ago. A lifetime. For all his stubborn strength and apparently tireless efforts, the old curmudgeon wasn't going to last forever. Seeing him work and hearing him talk you down like an ignorant kid made it hard to remember that behind craggy features and a lean farmer's build was a soul that had seen hard times before most of us were born.

  I probably shouldn't say this due to the weird taboo that has grown up around it, but Evans didn't turn. I only mention it because it's almost funny, given how closely he worked with wounds caused by the undead and people affected by the new plague. He died and stayed that way, as if the cranky bastard decided to spit in the face of the disease that killed his world and told it to fuck off in no uncertain terms.

  Only time will tell what losing this man will cost us. On a purely practical level we've lost one of our two doctors. Phil has learned a lot and he's damn good...but he's only one man. We're in the middle of several fights. Lives may be lost for the lack. Hard to imagine they won't be.

  But in the here and now, I see a legacy that will never be forgotten. Almost all of us have seen him at one time or another. Like many, many others I carry scars that will attest to the end of my life that I'm here because of the dedication and skill of one man. While his loss is keenly felt by all of New Haven--especially the folks who've been here the longest--we can take pride and joy in his life.

  Evans grumbled as he sewed up our wounds, set our bones, and even cut into my gut to excise a rogue appendix. For all his rough edges, you'd be hard-pressed to find a person who has been to the clinic who hasn't seen how well he got along with kids. Or the almost fatherly pride he took in checking up on babies he delivered. That first morning after he operated on me, I swear I saw a tear in his eye when he checked my condition.

  He was one of the first, and he was one of our best. He treated all of us like incompetent jackasses, but only because he was so competent himself. One minute he'd call you a dumbass, but after hours he was the first to invite you over for dinner or crack open a hidden bottle of very fine scotch.

  Doctor. Soldier. Healer. Friend. Evans was all of those things, to me at least. It hurts knowing I won't learn anything from him ever again, to see new ways to make people whole. Nor will I see the glimmer in those blue eyes he got when messing with the heads of new students.

  But I can't feel sad for him. He's free of this world now, no longer bound to the needs of so many people and under the pressure of so many fears. There is no uncertainty for Evans, only rest. Richly deserved, to be sure.

  Wednesday, October 24, 2012

  Runaways

  Posted by Josh Guess

  After I posted about Evans passing away, there was (of freaking course) a zombie attack. They come at us exactly when we can afford it in the least, though it probably didn't help that I pointed out to the enemy that our main trauma doctor was gone. This time the Exiles upped the ante a fair bit: they used the zombies as cover to move in and set a fucking ramp. I don't know where the Exiles found people either brave or suicidal enough to make the run at our wall, but it worked.

  Our people on that section of the wall were so overwhelmed with keeping the swarm--which had knocked a hole through a weak part of the buffer--at bay that they weren't able to stop the Exiles before they set up their simple but effective ramp. They were even covered in zombie gore to mask their human smell. Give them full credit for massive steel balls if nothing else.

  Long story short, a small section of the wall here in Central was overrun. It didn't last for long thanks to some clever person dropping a thermite bomb on the ramp, but for an intense ten minutes we were fending off the undead as they breasted the wall and moved house-to-house.

  In the aftermath there were a few people with very serious burns, mostly made by zombies that caught fire from the thermite and tumbled into them. Quite a few others took cuts and scratches. We lost lives. I don't know how many.

  And since Evans was gone, treatment for the injured was not optimal. People were coming in much faster than the clinic could handle them, and while Phil was doing a bang-up job, he was on his own. Way too much work for him without another doc there.

  Not long after that cloud of chaos descended on the clinic, a small group of people decided they'd had enough. I was actually over in Will's office when the six of them showed up and asked to be given a small cache of supplies and permission to leave New Haven permanently. I was pretty shocked, to be honest. Two of those folks were early joiners, here for more than two years. One of the others came from Ohio with George, and the other three were newcomers from North Jackson. They wanted out, and Will let them.

  We don't keep people here who don't want to stay. This place works because it's a willing joint effort. I believe in the power of the many united toward a common set of goals, but it doesn't work through coercion. Even at my lowest point, I never imagined really leaving here. Oh, I might die in the process of defending my home or from any number of horrible ends, but I wouldn't leave. That's because I am, as Stan Lee would have said, a true believer. Part of my own mental distress was reconciling the goals of this place and my unbreakable support for them with the awful things we've done to achieve them.

  Others may not see it the same way, and that's fine. I don't blame those folks for wanting to leave. Being here means having to deal with a laundry list of enemies and threats. It means a near certainty of being injured, and the mess at the clinic plus missing a doctor made the choice easy for them. This place is great, they said, but the risks were too high.

  Will asked them why he should give them any supplies at all, and the spokeswoman for the group pointed out that they could have just left over the wall (dangerous) in the middle of the night and raided one of the emergency supply caches tucked away outside the walls. Or stolen on of the stocked escape vehicles. They didn't do that because they knew in a dire situation that choice could cost the lives of the people who expected those supplies and that car to be there. Instead they just asked up front and counted on Will being a reasonable person.

  He was. He ordered them outfitted and sent on their way. I hope it all works out in whatever safe, remote corner of the country they end up in. Sometimes I wish we could all live that way, but if we did then society itself would cease to exist. Maybe the human race, too.

  It probably sounds cold, but while I don't hold a grudge against those people for going, once they passed the gates I stopped thinking about them completely. They don't exist any longer. Will didn't seem all that upset, and I'm a bit surprised he didn't stop me from writing about it. He doesn't want anyone to think we've got anything to hide or that we'd try to keep people here against their will.

  Good luck to them. But then, we need luck too. And if I had to choose which of us would get it...

  Thursday, October 25, 2012

  Sleeper Cell

  Posted by Josh Guess

  We've been in a bit of a lull over the last day. Zombie attacks have tapered off, the injured have been seen to, and the Exiles aren't active against us. Even the Exiles across the river in the fallback point are keeping quiet, barely coming outside apart from their sparsely-manned guard shifts.

  One blip of activity that I should mention, though, is a small resurgence of the new plague. Apparently some people are carriers for it. We don't know if it's just folks who didn't get sick or what the vector for this new outbreak might be. It's not bad--not yet and hopefully it won't get that way--but it's scary. Two dozen people coming down ill over a short period of time reminds us that winter will be here soon. This is the time when people start to get all those shitty seasonal sicknesses that are so much harder to deal with now.

  Fortunately we can deal with the new plague with relative ease. People will have to keep their eyes open for symptoms, but as long as we're careful we can treat cases quickly and effectively.

  One thing I'm curious about is h
ow the council will decide to act in regards to the Louisville crew still hunkered down in the isolation area. The signs of active illness there have passed, and it would be much easier on them to live here...but this flare-up will certainly make people think twice. We've been over all the dangers so many times, I don't think anyone needs a reminder of the risks.

  ...

  You know, I'm getting pretty tired of the stress, I won't lie to you. I'm sitting here thinking about the best way to calmly share the information that a deadly disease, no matter how controlled, has reappeared and it bothers me. I've spent a ton of time talking about my own problems and dealing with the damage this shitty world has done to me. That's aside from the damage I've done to myself.

  There's a time and place to be diplomatic. I get that to build a better tomorrow we have to learn to work together and to make compromises. New Haven has always been that way. What bothers me is that to have a better future we have to be alive and sane. Those are kind of key elements, you know?

  So, in the middle of worrying about the Hunters and the rogue Exiles, people are getting sick. Which itself isn't so bad, but it reminds us that on top of all the external threats we have to worry about--oh, let's not forget the undead while we're at it--we also have to fret over influenza, pneumonia, and about a million other problems that have become nearly impossible to deal with. We're approaching our third winter in a world without over-the-counter remedies and visits to the doctor. We've been lucky as hell so far, but with our population exploding so do the chances that people carrying illness are going to share it with others.

  The stress of living in this world is a huge part of what messed me up so badly. Feeling like I couldn't do anything about it (sort of like how I felt before the end of the world about working a stressful job but still being broke) made that worse. Add to that the guilt over the lives I've taken and you've got a terrible recipe for mental breakdown.

  But I've realized something. Most of the things we're facing right now are problems we can solve. Sounds a little harsh to put in those terms, but honestly bad people have always been a problem just looking for a person with the strength to solve them. The Exiles are picking away at us, ratcheting up the fear and anxiety.

  I'm fucking done with that. I refuse to live with it any more.

  Friday, October 26, 2012

  The Whirlwind

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Sometimes it takes a while to find the right words. Yesterday I was pretty angry, that was obvious. I went to talk to Will and the council--the right word is probably that I went to confront them--about the lack of movement against the Exiles. We've had some of their people prisoner long enough to get plenty of information from them. Why haven't we used that?

  We've been experiencing a slow time for the last few days. No new attacks, no sign of the Exiles on this side of the river. And there won't be. At least not any time soon.

  Let me preface what I'm about to tell you with an explanation. When Will gave me the following information, I told him I would put it on the blog. He and the council argued with me, a lot, but I stood by that decision. I told them they'd have to lock me up to stop me. Not because I disagree with what they did, but because I felt the best way to serve the warning to our enemies and prove to our allies that we're going to be as transparent as possible is by telling it like it is.

  So. The Exiles that have been hitting us? The ones treating our half of the county like their own personal playground? They're dead. All of them.

  Will and Dodger have been carefully prepping and sending out small groups of soldiers that came down from North Jackson. Weeks of planning out scenarios and waiting for a trap to draw in careless enemies came to fruition when we took those prisoners. Over the last few days teams of soldiers have stalked the Exiles, sometimes using traditional methods, others doing creative things to get a peek at the enemy. One of our teams attacked an Exile camp the same way the Exiles have been attacking us: by covering themselves in zombie gore and leading a group of the undead at them.

  Becky has been busy so much lately because, unknown to anyone outside her shop and the council, she was working on basic chemical weapons for these attacks. She couldn't tell me. No one involved with the operation was allowed to talk about it. A few months ago that would have bothered me. Knowing there are more than a hundred corpses out there that used to be living, breathing people full of potential would have bothered me.

  Right this second I'm not all that fussed about it. Call it a defense mechanism for my poor, battered brain if you want, but I'm saving my concern and anxiety for people that actually give a crap about other human beings. Far from being upset, I think this is a damn good thing. There is a time and place for playing defense and being the bigger person. The fucking apocalypse is neither.

  Playing nice and dishing out ultimatums don't matter much if you don't follow through. Long story short, we can't move forward while dealing with the same old threats all the time. Will and the council were decisive and strong exactly when we need it the most. I'm calling it a win.

  Also, a warning. If you've got the strong urge to become a charred, sticky skeleton, then please follow the example of the groups of Exiles that have been attacking us. My mother's family has a motto on their coat of arms. The Latin says "Felis Demulcta Mitis", which translates to "Gentle in peace, fearless in war." We've given the people attacking us chance after chance over the months and years. Every opportunity you could ask for to simply walk away and do something constructive. Human history is full of dumb, aggressive assholes who can't let go of bad ideas.

  We're no longer going to be gentle with you. The more we have to lose, the harder we'll fight to protect it. In this case, our people are the greatest treasure we could hope for. I suggest to anyone thinking about revenge to reconsider. Especially any remaining Exiles who aren't trying to work on a new life at the fallback point.

  No more chances. If our people catch you, you die. The end.

  Saturday, October 27, 2012

  The Train Job

  Posted by Josh Guess

  From what I understand, the idea was to take advantage of the narrow window between wiping out the local Exiles and the Hunters deciding they need to take a swing at us to keep New Haven from rallying against them. It was all planned in advance, mostly between Will, Dodger, and the leadership in North Jackson.

  The plan was to use a convoy of attached cars to haul as many people as possible from NJ in the short span of time right after the Exiles were cleared out but before the Hunters could come after us. What couldn't be planned for was the Hunters keeping close tabs on everyone. They must be very, very good to observe so many parties without being seen.

  They knew we were moving people. And that isn't a good thing.

  But being prepared for the worst is a trait that you can't live without nowadays. I mean, let's be clear: we have to worry about swarms of the undead trying to eat anyone out on the road. It's not such a huge step forward to add some provisions to deal with living people as well. It's not like we didn't see the possibility. In fact, based on how organized the Hunters seem to be, Dodger expected it.

  So when the hunters hit the caravan with a slightly larger force than their previous assault, our folks were ready for them. The Hunters learned from the last time, moving to attack from both sides of the road and in a pattern with a much wider spread. This time they were the ones firing shots from a distance first, trying to take out our drivers to immobilize the convoy.

  When the first shot rang out, one of our people blew a horn. That was the signal.

  Every person in every vehicle not designated as a combatant dropped to the floor. The lower sections were all reinforced to provide as much protection as possible. In a string of twenty trailers in the crazy, haphazard train, there were three dummy trailers put together for just such a scenario. When the horn blew, the convoy stopped. that's when those trailers--their tops left off and the four sides held together by large lynchpins--opened like flow
ers. The sides were rigged to fall at the pull of a chain, yanking those pins out.

  Three mounted guns in each trailer, three trailers in all. Crammed inside beside the gunners were some of the sharpshooters from the last attempt to bring people here. Smaller escort vehicles moving with the caravan swooped in to pick up a few others, men and women armed with precious military-issue assault rifles and the even more valuable training that makes them deadly efficient.

  People who know how to use a giant fifty-cal machine gun mounted on a frame that allow it to rotate around in a full circle are rare nowadays. It's not exactly a skill you pick up working the counter at McDonald's, you know? But NJ has never been shy in giving us help when we need it, and they don't believe in half-measures.

  The thing about the Hunters you can always count on is that they'll run in the face of overwhelming odds. They aren't a group of martyrs by any means. Our people beat them soundly, popping off heavy rounds with calm, cold precision. Last count I heard was sixty Hunters dead, eleven of their vehicles slagged. Fully half the people they sent against us. Maybe they'll learn to stop touching fire.

  They should have picked up on that already, because the tide of victory around here right now probably means that as soon as we're done moving people here and can finish the expansion, we'll turn our attention to the Hunters and taking them on at home. It's going to be a while before we're close to that, but not many people here see it as a bad move. Taking the fight to the enemy is the only real option at this point. We've gone back and forth between forgiveness and practicality in dealing with overwhelming enemy forces.

  Now we're the overwhelming force. And compassion for those who would kill us is no longer on the table.

  Monday, October 29, 2012

  Humanity