by J. L. Bourne
2100 hrs
I grabbed the NVGs and spare fuel truck keys that John and I found a couple of days earlier, and went out in the dark to refuel the plane. Weapon ready, I slowly glided across the airfield to the fuel truck, this time taking a different angle so that I could see the admin building. No sign of them. Made it to the fuel truck and climbed up to the window and looked inside, (JIC). It was clear. Opened up the door, put it in neutral. I had never tried to push a truck this big, and now I know why. You cant. I was going to have to start the engine. I assume the creatures couldnt see in the dark, but I knew they would hear me.
Reluctantly, I took the key from my pocket and put it in the ignition I hesitated and then cringing I pushed in the clutch, held the brake and turned the key. After turning it over twice, the engine came to life and I popped the clutch and shot over to the aircraft. On the way, I hit the pump controls inside the vehicle so they would be ready when I jumped out.
Parked the truck, jumped out and started walking toward the plane. I could make out something moving in the grass a hundred yards away. I adjusted the sensitivity on my goggles and saw it. It was the gimpy ghoul in the grass pulling itself toward the tower. I would have to take care of it on my way back.
Then came the blinding flash of Johns flashlight through my NVGs from the tower. It was Morse code, to be sure.
B E H I N D
I swung around to see six of them working their way around the fuel truck. I had no choice. I readied my carbine and ran to the aircraft. I jumped up on the wing and started shooting at them. I took out two of them, and missed another.
I was careful not to shoot at the two that were in direct line of sight between the fuel truck and myself. I had two more to take down before I had to carefully handle the other two. Shot another in the head. Its forehead opened up like a spring flower.
The flash from my muzzle was really playing hell in my night vision. I had to adjust the intensifier; it was much darker through the lens as I took down the fourth ghoul with a head and neck shot. There were two more. The two (that were risky to shoot) closed in. They were at the plane. Trying to climb up on the wing. I shot one in the shoulder throwing it off. The other one almost grabbed my boot before I dispatched it with another headshot.
The last wounded ghoul got back on its feet and raised its arms like a deranged Frankenstein as it came at me. I jumped off the wing opposite the monster and watched it as it started walking around the aircraft toward me. It was dark, and the thing just kept running into the wing and empennage of the aircraft. I carefully aimed, as to avoid damage to the bird and let one shot ring out. The jaw tore away from the face, letting the orphaned tongue hang freely. Even in the limited color perception I had with the goggles, it was a disgusting sight. It slumped back and kept coming at me and let out a gurgling sound in its throat. I shot the bastard again, ending its miserable existence.
After dragging all the bodies by the legs, out of the way of the aircraft, I began to refuel it. It took almost ten minutes to top it off. During this time, I could now hear the moans of the undead carried on the wind. The gunfire excited them. It was a terrible sound. After getting the aircraft refueled, I made for the tower. No detours. Once again the gimp ghoul was nowhere to be seen. WTF? Im safe inside for the night right now. The moans continue another night with earplugs.
The thought of the night; I killed six of them that leaves gimpy and another four inside the fence. Where are they?
February 8th
1822 hrs
Awoke this morning to a banging sound on the steel door down stairs. It sounded like more than one of them. John and I crept downstairs to check things out. From the sounds, there were multiple fists banging on the door. Low moans could be heard through the steel. I checked the lock to make sure it was solid. This was the only door in or out of the tower.
The only other way down was a two hundred foot drop from the balcony. John and I brought down a heavy desk to place in front of the door. I went up top and out on the observation deck. I couldnt see down because of the roof over the door area. Using my binoculars, I checked the west fence in the distance. There were more, but the fence was holding. I guessed that the creatures banging on the door were the leftovers from my battle earlier. I dont want to risk opening the door below. I dont know the best way to dispose of them.
February 9th
2142 hrs
The banging stopped last night, and the undead at the bottom of the stairs must have just given up, probably because they never saw us or heard us in here. John and I were still and quiet the whole day yesterday. There was no need to go outside today, as the plane was refueled and we still had power/running water in the tower.
I even got a chance at a shower in the bathroom one floor down. There was a deep sink and a garden hose. The floor panel was plastic and had a drain in the center and the whole room was just a janitor closet, so I rigged the hose up above my head and took a nice shower. Had to use a bar of soap for shampoo, but oh well, beggars cant be choosers, or so they say. I hadnt shaved in a few days. The razor felt good on my face. I felt like a new man after I had washed up. I did some laundry (in the sink with the bar soap) and hung it in the stairwell to dry. I told John about my little hose trick, but he wasnt interested. He just keeps getting worse and worse, grieving over his wife.
I do not know what my long range plans will be. The world is a different place now. The range on the turboprop aircraft is just over four hundred miles. That gives us some options. For a little while today, I actually thought about finding what was left of the military. The questions that they would ask me would be difficult to answer. How did you survive on the base, son? I almost feel guilty about not dying with my comrades. It reminds me of a twilight zone episode I saw before the shit hit the fan. It was an episode about a Navy submarine that sank with one survivor. The sailor felt guilty and kept seeing his dead bloated shipmates calling him to the deep.
Please dont let me dream tonight.
February 10th
2350 hrs
The west fence could fail. There are hundreds around the perimeter. The lights of the city have drawn them. I would hate to be shopping in downtown Corpus Christi right now. I have spent most of the day with the binoculars, studying their movements. I saw birds swooping down at some of them. One of the creatures had no arms, and two buzzards were taking advantage of this by perching themselves on the corpses shoulders and pecking the flesh from its skull. The corpse just gnashed its teeth, snapping at them to no avail. Serves the bastard right.
John and I have tried to figure out what our next step will be, but the safety of the tower has lulled us into a semi-false sense of security. With the limited range on the aircraft, and some areas being radioactive (Im guessing), its tough to make a decision. I dont know how to fly a helicopter, so if we found an island, I would need a decent strip of semi-level land to take her down. It has been somewhere in the ballpark of a month since the dead walked. I see signs of decomposition in some of them, but some of them look as though they may have bought the farm recently.
Im curious as to the effects of ambient radiation on the undead. I know for certain that they would be harmful to the touch, but what effect on the corpse itself? Would the radiation kill the bacteria that caused the corpse to naturally rot? I shudder to think that the bombs dropped could have done more damage than intended good. We are running out of food. We have perhaps a week left. I am sure there is food in some of the surrounding buildings, but I am not prepared at this time to risk my life to get it, as I am certain there are more of those creatures trapped in the confines.
I have been fighting off the shock of this for some time now, and I dont know how much longer it will be before I break down. I suppose it is the natural course of things and I just dont wish to be a basket case at the wrong time. John isnt any better. I played with Annabelle today, as she needed it. She is a good little pup. She can sense that both John and I are on
edge, but she doesnt know how to make it better. John and I have decided that one of us needs to be up checking out the perimeter at all times. Going to get some rest and this is not to be confused for sleep. My shift is in four hours.
February 11th
1713 hrs
Using a variation of the square knot, I tied three lengths of one hundred-foot nylon line together to form a sort of escape line, if it were needed. Tying knots into the line every three feet (including the mating knots) caused the three hundred foot length to shorten some, but still allowed it to touch the ground when tied to the balcony and thrown over. I am almost certain these things cannot climb, but still, I pulled the escape rope up and left it neatly coiled outside the balcony door, tied to a sturdy exterior pipe.
The fence is still holding them out, but that is only because they have no evidence that food exists inside. I suppose if they were to see us, or figure out that we were here, they could knock the fence down with ease, making a bad day for John and I. I think we are too far from the west fence for them to see. Cleaned the weapons today, I also showed John how to operate the CAR-15. I also noticed a roof access on the tower. It was probably so that maintenance personnel could get up there and repair the numerous antennas and beacons. I checked it out and climbed up there. It was at least ten feet above the balcony.
I know it has been at least a month since any maintenance has been performed on any of the aircraft, so I went out today, and crept over to the aircraft and pulled out both the pilot and the passenger parachute to make sure they were in good working order. If something happened to the engine, at least John and I would have a choice. I never spotted the loose ghouls that were inside the fence (at least four plus the incapacitated gimp creature). Of course, I wasnt looking for them either. I took the parachutes back to the tower. After giving them a good visual inspection, I felt better about taking the plane (number 07) up again, when the need should arise. I keep looking west, making sure our life barrier holds.
February 12th
1913 hrs
There are dead birds on my side of the west fence. I could see them today with my binoculars. I counted six in all. They did not appear eaten; they just look as if they died there. They are on the ground, about four feet from the fence with the mass of the ghouls. I cant tell what kind of bird. They are black, so that rules out most birds of prey. Not a big deal I suppose, but I keep thinking about the black buzzards that were perched on the shoulders of the armless creature, pecking its flesh. Today was uneventful. The fence was still holding.
I am going out tonight to load the extra ammunition/supplies in the avionics bay of the aircraft. I will be especially quiet and leery of the unaccounted for dead that are lurking inside the perimeter. Only one thing drives these creatures, and that is living flesh. I have not seen them attempt to eat each other. Something must be drawing the inner perimeter creatures out of my view. Annabelle is sleeping. I wish I had the carefree thoughts of a dog right now. Ignorance is bliss.
2122 hrs
Im shaking right now. I havent been afraid of the dark since I was a child, however my fears were renewed tonight. I loaded the items into the bay of the aircraft. It was cloudy out and barely a moon, so it was pretty dark. It was then that my goggles went black. I had some batteries with me if this happened, but I didnt anticipate the goggles would die that quickly. I fumbled with them in the dark. I was well over a hundred yards from the tower. As I sat there in the dark trying to find where to insert the batteries, I kept hearing shuffling sounds. My mind was playing tricks on me.
The fear was mounting. I finally got the batteries inserted correctly and slammed the NVGs over my head and adjusted the intensifier. As soon as the grainy green image came in, I checked my perimeter. Nothing. This shit is getting to me. I ran back to the tower, up the stairs and sat there. John was looking at one of the charts we had found a few days before. Looking over his shoulder, I saw a place that he had circled. Mustang Beach was not very far from us at all.
February 13th
2013 hrs
Its dark outside, and very cold, especially up here in the tower. I suppose if we were to turn on the lights it would warm things up, but it would also excite the creatures on the other side of the west fence. Im sure they would see it. I went up to the roof access at sundown, and marveled at the stars. There werent any lights on inside of the perimeter, (John and I had taken care of this when the dead started massing on the west fence) and this made for a fine view of the Milky Way.
I think John is pulling out of his emotional low, and starting to recover. He actually joked around with me today. I didnt leave the confines of the tower today, but I do need to get those parachutes back to the aircraft so we have less to carry when we leave. Im still sort of freaked out about last night, so I guess it can wait until later. It is still puzzling to me why the creatures are on the west end of the fence, and no other. I would love to have some real food. When monitoring the radios today, John heard a broadcast from an Air Force aircraft scouting the area. One key thing that John noted that disturbed me, the pilot had to turn back to base because he wanted to conserve his fuel. The pilot remarked about the limited supply back on the base. This tells me they are rationing jet fuel; therefore, they are confined to an area where it is not readily available. The government (or this part of it) is trapped just like we are.
An island off the coast of Texas is starting to sound better and better. The only problem is that supplies would be difficult to come by with just the two of us scavenging.
February 14th
1440 hrs
The fence is buckling inward and I dont know how much longer it will hold. Its today or nothing. Looking at the windsock, there is a strong wind blowing east to west toward the airstrip. We will take to the air as soon as
Tower
February 15th
2243 hrs
Situation is dire. My bleeding has stopped, but Im still light headed from all the blood loss. It must have been right before I was writing my last entry yesterday when they broke through. I did not notice they were inside the perimeter until 1445, by then it was too late. John and I saw them. The fence was down in about a hundred-meter section and they were pouring into the airfield like runner ants.
We gathered the necessities (what we thought were needed anyway) and started out the door to get in the bird and leave. As we reached the bottom and opened the door, there were four of them there waiting on John and I. We slammed the door shut and pushed the desk in place in front of the entry that we had brought down days before.
We were fucking trapped like rats and those bastards could sense it. It wasnt long before the moans of hundreds could be heard below and the constant banging on the only exit door started. This tower was over two hundred feet high and only one way out. I went outside on the balcony, and my suspicions were confirmed.
There were literally three hundred of them congregated around the exterior door as well as the covered area of the tower. John muzzled Annabelle, because she was starting to go nuts. I grabbed the rope and looked below to see where it would hit when I threw it. No joy. Sadly, I pulled the rope back up on the balcony, as there was no way we were making it down that rope without a hundred of them seeing us and taking us out before we even touched the ground.
It was then that the situation worsened. The sound of bending, aching steel could be heard below. There were so many of them, the masses were pushing their way through. At that moment, I knew we were fucked. I looked at John and told him, Im not ready to die yet. He said, Me neither. and we both rushed over to the door that led down the stairs and started throwing TVs, desks and chairs down the stairs. That would buy us a little time. We then shut the door It opened outward, thank god.
The upstairs door was not as sturdy as the bottom exterior door. Just as we got the door shut and the last remaining desk in front of it, we could hear the metal clanging of dress shoes on the stairs. John shoved Annabelle i
n his backpack and zipped her up to her neck. I motioned for John to get to the top of the ladder and wait for me to start passing up supplies.
John waited with Annabelle in his pack at the top rung. She could sense our fear and was whimpering. First, I passed him the two most important items of my plan The two parachutes that I never put back in the aircraft! Then I passed up a six-pack of water bottles, then the NVGs, then a few packs of MREs. Just for some odd novelty, I passed up my case with my small laptop. Lastly, all our weapons and much of our ammunition, although shooting every last round would still leave hundreds here to deal with.
