American Recovery

by Joshua Guess

  Not that we really can do much good. The distance between our groups is vast, and anyone we'd send would have to take insanely long routes to get there because of the UAS land-grab. No supply lines would be possible, no easy communication with the Union when in the field. Basically we'd be sending people to a danger zone with conditions as against them as possible. And us sending enough bodies to thwart the UAS would strip essential protection from much of the Union. It's just not a thing we're equipped to handle.

  So, to all of you in the west who are emphatically asking us to start a war on your behalf: I'm sorry. You know we want to do everything we can, and by any reasonable measure, we are. What we can do for you is offer advice and knowledge. That's the limit.

  Wednesday, January 30, 2013

  The High Ethic

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I'm out of sorts this morning. K has offered to take over all the drudge work on the manual and even manage the record-keeping for me this morning, because I feel like crap and because my mind is running a thousand miles an hour. I'm sure I'll be back to my--our--projects tomorrow, but right now I can't stop mulling over my post from yesterday.

  Having had a night to sleep on it, I feel the need to be brutally honest. This is just me, Josh, talking now. Understand that. I'm not speaking for a single other soul out there.

  When I think about the UAS and what they claim is their right to lead, to essentially rule the rest of us, it makes me mad. That's a gut reaction to anyone trying to put themselves in authority over me for reasons I don't feel are justified. And after tossing and turning about it last night, I came to realize that the crux of my problem with the UAS is exactly that: they wouldn't be giving us anything in return.

  The plain truth is that I'd welcome them as a central authority and cede control of policy and everything else over to them if I thought they could do a decent job of it and actually provide some kind of service for the right to lead us. If they had a massive army that could be dispersed among the various communities around the country to eliminate the threat of zombies, access to technologies that would improve the lives of the people under them, hell, pretty much anything that would help people, I'd bend knee in a heartbeat.

  I like to think of myself as an independent person, and I am. But I would happily trade the fear and worry for some stability and breathing room. If it meant that our worst problems were managing to get in a third crop of potatoes for the year, I'd give up my ability to influence policy without hesitation.

  Because of this blog and the paranoia that drove me to start writing it when The Fall began, I've achieved a weird cult status. Not cultish in the sense of worship--though donations of fresh fruits and booze are always welcome--but like some internet celebrities before me. People actually pay attention to what I have to say and give it weight. Certainly not all or even most of you, but even a small fraction can make a difference.

  I'm not complaining about that, really, but I wonder if any of you realize what a burden that can be? Having to guard my words because an outburst of anger can push people toward bad decisions. I'm still stunned and grateful every day that I have the chance to make people think (or rethink, as the case may be) but after almost three years the load begins to push down on me. I'm sure the UAS would tell me to stop writing the blog were they in control. I'd probably rail against them and fight.

  But in the end I would probably do as they asked.

  Not because I wouldn't want to write this blog or help people any longer, because I still do. Rather it would be a pragmatic choice; to keep the leadership unified. This is all hypothetical, of course, since we have long since gone past the point of no return regarding the UAS, but I'd be going against my stated beliefs about being practical above all else if I said otherwise. It's not the work or the message I worry over. It's the constant fear that I'll say the wrong thing (as I have before) and precipitate disaster. That's why I took time off when I had my breakdown. I couldn't risk it.

  The highest ethic a survivor can follow is to do what is best for the tribe. I believe in the here and now that the UAS offers nothing beneficial to us, any of us, as groups or individuals. What's best for us is to avoid open conflict for as long as possible, bolster our infrastructure and reserves of food and needed items, and in general strengthen ourselves. Alone. No masters setting the rules for us, only the people we vote into office.

  If only the UAS had chosen different tactics and actually had some equivalent service to offer us, things might have gone differently. Others have wanted to kill us or take what is ours, even subjugate us cruelly.

  That has never, ever worked out well for them. You'd think the UAS would have learned from that example.

  Too late now...

  Thursday, January 31, 2013

  Supernova (Part One)

  Posted by Josh Guess

  A soldier walked in the snowy woods. That was how it began.

  She was clearly a soldier; the way she walked, carried her weapon, scanned all quarters of the area she stalked, those things said it all. She was moving ahead of her unit to scout, and what she found was pristine snow all around her. The area appeared to be clear.

  Her mistake was in that expectation. Long days in the rough, freezing most of the time and eating rations that left everything to be desired had left her...not impatient, I suppose, but willing to take the evidence in front of her at face value.

  I know these things because other scouts watched her. Granted, some of that is speculation. Seems reasonable enough considering the outcome.

  The soldier spoke softly into a radio pickup pinned to her lapel, giving the all-clear for the massive column of troops, vehicles, and heavy weaponry to follow. The idea was to swing widely north and angle onto an obscure service road that she and her compatriots weren't supposed to know about. It was far back from the main roads and clear, used by the locals as a means to get to the distant highway quickly and safely. Going twenty miles out of the way to attack a community was fairly good planning.

  The westerners planned better.

  Every UAS soldier and conscript in that column was on the road when the allied western forces struck. The trap wasn't complicated--though it did take a lot of preparation and work--but it worked. All down the road, stretched along two hundred yards, the UAS forces were hit all at once. Explosives planted in the road were triggered right along with dozens of charges prepared and set against trees weakened just right so they'd fall onto the soldiers. Big trees, old and spreading wide against the sky.

  From hiding places set fifty yards back into the woods, the western allies moved toward the chaos. Most of these weren't front-line fighters; they were those without much in the way of armed combat skills. They were farmers and craftsmen, but not afraid to defend themselves. In groups of three they took positions fifty feet from the road, using homemade slingshots held between two people to lob firebombs into the crowded soldiers on the road. Others launched fragile packages of thermite or pure magnesium powder. These were meant to set the fallen trees on fire, but mostly to distract. To dazzle.

  It was the main allied forces, bolstered by Ketill and his dragoons, that did the deed itself. Split into two large groups and two smaller ones, five hundred men and women backed by heavy weapons descended on that column from both ends of the road. Machine-gun chatter, rocket-propelled grenades making their deafening entrance, even improvised weapons joined the fray. The two large elements at each end of the column's position, having stayed far back on carefully camouflaged paths, shot forward to attack just as the road and trees exploded. Those large groups took heavy losses, but they held. They kept the UAS from getting free of the trap.

  The smaller ancillary units darted along the sides to kill any UAS soldier that happened to move that way, as well as to defend the men and women who had run forward initially to rain liquid metal death down on the enemy.

  Yes, our own people--Ketill and his group--were in on this. There will be consequences. Of course, we had to lie abo
ut where Ketill was and what his group was doing, but that's for another time. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the rest of the battle, of the break the UAS found in the surrounding forces and what that meant for the enemy.

  For now it should be enough to know that the critical moment has come. We are no longer safe.

  None of us.

  Saturday, February 16, 2013

  Routine Affair

  Posted by Josh Guess

  I get the feeling the UAS isn't going to back down no matter what happens. Pride is a strange thing, and while we don't suffer from the kind of criminal stupidity needed to die on the sword of pride, I can sort of understand why they're forging ahead with their plans even knowing how dearly it will cost them.

  Take this morning, for example: right there on the edge of UAS territory, where they are known to patrol heavily both day and night, hang the bodies of seven of their operators. These people were caught trying to rig a grain silo with explosives in such a way that it would topple onto a community's wall. This was a good two hundred miles inside the border, and the folks that caught these assholes yesterday had to work at it to make sure they could move and prepare the bodies.

  No, they weren't alive when they got strung up. We're hard, not cruel. Death was a given as they're enemy combatants--infiltrators, even--but they were quick deaths.

  The Union is treating this as a routine matter. We'll make the point in similar ways as often as we need to until the UAS finally gets it. Simple as that.

  I feel I should cut away here to mention that my wake-up call today was Will Price knocking on my door. I answered, sleepy and freezing cold, and he slugged me in the gut. Then we sat down and had coffee.

  Turns out the council read my post yesterday and decided a day off for Will was in order. They made it clear that no one was questioning his ability to perform his job, but others have had the same concerns I expressed. Will wasn't very happy about it--he did punch me in the stomach, after all--but he's a stickler for rules, so he is spending the day doing anything but work. I suggested he try to find a reasonably attractive person, play them with sweet words, and attempt to spend a little time pursuing mutual pleasure together.

  He gave me the flattest look I've ever seen from a human being and told me it wasn't that easy. I replied that there were plenty of people around here who'd be happy for a bit of commitment-free sex. It's not like we have video games to keep up entertained any longer, right?

  The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable, so I let off. Will left after half an hour, told me he was going to find something to do. I wonder if someone will find him hunched over looking at some men's magazine, but secretly hiding a copy of The Art of War or whatever inside it. The guy really needs a social life. If I knew more people I'd try to set him up, assuming the attempt wouldn't get me shot.

  I deserved the little love tap he gave me, but I'm no dope. I won't stick my nose in where it can get slapped off. I try not to repeat mistakes. Being human, I usually fail at that.

  We're closing in on the third anniversary of this blog, and I feel weird about that. I'm so proud of what we've managed, and of course so sad at all we've lost. It's a strange feeling to celebrate the adaptability of survivors, because like most things it has two sides. That ability to cope and align ourselves to new situations has allowed New Haven and groups like it to make great leaps forward from where we started after The Fall. But it's that same malleable nature that allows us to kill enemies and hang their corpses up as warning signs to their brothers, and to keep doing it as long as we have to.

  I can't see an end to this conflict any time soon, but I try to keep perspective. Where we've been, where I've been, and the healing that has happened for the group, the society, the race, and even just for me. It's never perfect; nothing ever is. But it's what we've got. It's what we fight to keep.

  Sunday, February 17, 2013

  Blockbuster

  Posted by Josh Guess

  Last night the UAS mounted a daring raid against Block. You remember the place, yeah? It was where the gang and I holed up for a while on our trip across the country.

  They came at dusk. A small force, three heavy attack vehicles, and less than fifty soldiers. They were aided by a team of operators that slipped the walls there, weakening the gates to allow an easy entry.

  I won't keep you waiting: there are no survivors left in Block. Oh, they weren't killed by the UAS. Not a one. In fact not a hair on the head of a single resident of Block is even out of place. Those folks are smart and clever, having caught the infiltrators well before they could do any real damage.

  We've suspected for a while that Block would become a major target. It makes sense strategically, after all, since the place is basically a fortress anyway. It would make an excellent forward position for the UAS as they slowly creep sideways across the country into occupied territory. It's also well known that the people of block rely more on stout defenses than skill in combat or strength of numbers. Made it an obvious soft target.

  So the Union has been planning the evacuation for some time. Many of the women and children have been gone for almost a week, leaving mostly single men behind to put on a show of being populated. When the UAS showed up, a few shots were fired, enough to give the impression that the place was going to be defended. The gate was indeed weakened and easy to take down, and the small but deadly UAS force made entry in scant time.

  By then the remaining citizens were escaping through the sewer system, tunnels carefully tended for just such an occasion. I can only imagine the look of surprise on the faces of those soldiers as they hit the empty courtyard between those massive buildings. Must have set off all kinds of 'oh shit' sensors in their brains.

  Then, well...

  Then Block fell in on them.

  It's amazing what one guy who used to do demolitions can accomplish with enough TNT and time to figure out the most devastating way to use it. Sixty explosions in twenty seconds, the first few designed to cut off every avenue of escape as the towering concrete structures suddenly became shining examples of Objects In Motion.

  The infiltrators were in the top floor of the main barrack. The windows were left open. I wonder if they survived the fall long enough for their counterparts to hear them scream? Who knows.

  Block is gone. Where once a stalwart collection of buildings stood, where good people made their homes, there is now a pile of rubble that rises to an impressive height. Don't be sad for the people who abandoned it; they aren't. It was an important place to them, truly, but in the end only a place. Their lives and health--not to mention denying the UAS any useful sites or materials--are of much higher value. They've moved back to a secondary location, a prepared community built from prefab materials specifically designed for the world as it is now. It's not that far from Block, the new place, but almost impossible to find if you don't know where to look. It's safe and capable of sustaining a large group for a long time. It's a new home, and in the long run perhaps a better one.

  Ask any citizen of Block if losing their home to blunt the ambitions of the UAS and kill some of their best soldiers was a trade worth making, and I can almost guarantee what the answer would be. Just ask yourself what you'd say in the same situation. Give the enemy nothing he can use. Give him no quarter, no mercy. Above all, save your own.

  Worth it? You bet. Every time.

  Tuesday, February 19, 2013

  Paradise Lost

  Posted by Beckley

  Hey everybody. This isn’t Josh so I guess some introductions are in order. This might get long and I apologize. As you can see, my username is Beckley. I’d rather not put my full name out there just in case there are any that wish me ill for reasons that should be fairly clear in a minute. If you really need a first name, call me by my initials, A.J. It makes me sound like a frat boy, but that can be part of my penance. You probably know me better as the UAS propaganda guy.

  Yeah, that anonymous poster defending the UAS? That was me. There’s so much I want to
explain, but another part of me is horrified at how I apologized for these selfish pricks and tried to explain away their atrocities. A while back I decided to defect from the UAS and via e-mails to Josh I was able to make that goal clear. I dropped seemingly benign lines like, “I would like to see Montana” and how the Union will “tremble once again at the sound of our silence.” All lines from Hunt for Red October. I started nerdy dialogues on why Damar was the best character in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. This had the double benefit of referencing the fact that Damar was a defector, and also being absolutely true. I would off-handedly mention that I had song lyrics running through my head, which just so happened to be verses to “We’ve Got to Get Out of This Place.” I thought I was pretty clever. It went right over the heads of my UAS monitors. But Josh got it. Nerd.

  So New Haven was able to orchestrate a way for me and a few others to get out of UAS territory. I won’t discuss how or exactly when since I don’t want to endanger the operatives that the Union has roaming about in UAS territory. With this post, I do want to make a plea to the UAS, but first I feel I owe an explanation to all of you. It’s easy to judge me for being a collaborator and I’m not trying to shirk my responsibility. But things aren’t black and white out there. You know that.

  I’m not from the UAS bunker. I’m not even from the southwest. I always said, back before the dead rose, that the world would end before I’d ever move to the southwest. God clearly exists and has a sick sense of humor. I have lived a bunch of places, but I spent my childhood in New England. I lived outside of New Haven, actually. The Connecticut one. For the record, this means that I’m probably the only guy in New Haven with an actual New Haven accent. It’s pretty wicked awesome.

  The apocalypse hit me hard. Obviously that was the case for all of us, but I really didn’t take it well. I was a therapist working in Pittsburgh before this all went down. People looked to me to have answers to their problems. And when the dead rose, I just couldn’t handle it. Everyone I ever knew was dead and walking and there was nothing I could do about it. I made new friends only to watch them get bit or murdered by marauders, then rise again and get put down. I’ve done things to assure my survival in this world. Terrible things that I don't want to go into. To put your mind at ease, at least, I was never part of a marauder gang, I’m not a rapist, and I’m not a child molester. I am a murderer though. We’ve all had to become that.