Cassie (Adrian's Undead Diary Book 8) Read online

  I never had that with Mallory. I just never did. I never really realized it until just now. I cared about her, sure. I lusted after her, definitely. But that certain spark, that desire that went beyond the needs of the flesh wasn’t there. If I fucked her, great. If I didn’t, meh. Sex was great, but there was just something missing. That connection wasn’t there.

  The last person I had that link with was Cassie, but you already knew that. One thing Mallory was great for was distracting me from the whole Cassie ordeal. My guilt, my thoughts. I dwelled on my redhead like there was no tomorrow, and I literally mean no tomorrow. Thoughts of her and what I didn't do that day consumed me. Consumes me. Eats me alive. Being with Mal gave me a respite from those thoughts. They didn’t entirely go away, but they were muted. I guess that's something positive to look at, and think on.

  I wonder if I’ll ever be able to love anyone again. I wonder how the fuck I get over Cassie? How do I get closure and move on, and enjoy my life?

  Large questions for a day when I don’t have to worry about the lives of everyone around me I guess. Something I’ve got to solve on my own I suppose as well.

  Michelle said the school is doing well. Kids are attending willingly, behavior has been great, and the folks teaching their subjects are enjoying it. I hope we can sustain it. Michelle also shared that Syl has begun to draw pictures, some with words. Most of them involve her and what appear to be her parents doing typical family things. When Syl appears agitated or scared, the pictures tend towards the violent. Based on the picture Michelle thinks one parent died and killed the other, and Syl had to kill both parents. Of course until she can verbalize that to us, we’re just guessing. Poor kid.

  Incidentally, she hasn’t bitten or hit anyone in about a week I think. Serious progress there worth celebrating. Michelle said yesterday afternoon, they let her eat with the group in Hall C’s common area, and she was a little nervous and it got a little dicey, but she ate well, and returned to her room to get some space. Also a large step in the right direction.

  Work on the waterfront tower has been slow. Freezing rain the past few days has been a bitch, and frankly, we’re all focused on working on the food situation. We’ve thrown in to help Ollie with the cows and the chickens, and a few extra folks are working with Ryan and my sister on building new hydro racks. Eta on them being up and operational is unknown, but Ryan guessed at maybe another week or so. For them to get the expansion finalized and open for business. What a success story that kid is.

  In the meantime, MGR is keeping an eye on the two visible remaining fires to the south. It seems like there are two separate groups in that direction that have taken up residence there. No violence towards us as of yet, and in another few days, if we can manage it, we’re going to make a supply run in that direction, and hopefully we can track down the source of the fires, and make contact. Ideally, peaceful contact.

  We’ll see. Gonna clock some z’s. Really feeling tired. Think I’m catching some kind of cold.

  -Adrian

  January 26th

  More conversations with our new people raise more and more concerns. It’s funny how the scope of life now can change very quickly. Danielle, Jackie and Diane have all given us absolute gold for intelligence about the north. Sadly, when you get intel that seems really bad for you, it doesn’t seem much like a fucking gift, or a helpful fucking insight. Sort of a, “Yeah, you’ve got some shit coming down the pipe, and it’s shitty shit. You should probably start masturbating now to make the pain go away before it gets too bad.”

  The discussions with the new folks here have been largely about their trip to get here. Mostly in fact about the city itself being overrun with the dead, and the terrain traveled between here and there. I really want to know what it is like in the area between the city, and town. It could be a big deal down the line, especially as we travel more and more outside the city to gather supplies that are becoming more and more scarce.

  Yesterday and today however, with the one meal we could spend each day together due to other issues that consume our precious time, I was able to hear more about the situation up north. I tell you this Mr. Journal, I do not like what they told us.

  Remember the story that Lindsey told us when she arrived from the north with Doug? Prior to Doug shooting me, and me shooting Doug? That a batch of National Guardsman had taken over a ski resort and were taking all the supplies and forcing folks out? Well I guess that group has absorbed a few others, and they are spreading across the more remote northern areas of the state. They have a bio diesel plant at one of the resorts (if not more), and with a more or less continual supply of fuel, they are able to move far, move fast, and take what they want. In war, we are taught to death that mobility and speed wins. Out maneuver, out flank, be where you're least expected consistently, and you win. Pretty simple.

  From what they describe, their motives haven’t changed either. They take whatever they want from whoever can’t defend it. The age old principle of might making right. Diane and Danielle said they watched as less able people had their gardens “confiscated” to be relocated. They also said that one “base” of these people was being far more generous, allowing folks to keep their animals and gardens, but they had to pay a tax to the base for “protection” that never really materialized when it was needed and called for.

  This creates a whole new set of problems. Eventually these pricks are going to start moving south, especially when they really run the areas north dry. I suspect with winter being as harsh as it is right now, they’ll be running out of a lot of supplies in the coming month or two. That means they’ll head to more urban areas, and that means sooner or later they’ll be heading our way.

  Judging from what the women said about the size of the settlements these people have, and by their descriptions of vehicles and whatnot, they have at least 300-500 people in their collective communities, at the very least. After talking to Kevin, he’s thinking there are as many as 800-1000. With no eyes on, there's no way of knowing.

  As of this writing, we have about fifty eight people here between Bastion and MGR, plus the what? 30 odd folks still living over at the Factory? That’s less than a hundred people using all my fingers and toes to count. We’d be outnumbered at least 4 to 1 in any scenario. Now assuming of course that the vast majority of those people are not shooters, the numbers come back down to a far more acceptable 2 or 3 to 1, but that’s still fucking terrible. If you factor in experience, and their military grade weaponry, and the fact that at least ten of our number are fucking kids, we’re pretty much done in any large scale engagement with these groups unless we start to train, arm, and expand to match them. It’s classic escalation. They build a better crossbow, we do the same.

  How do we do that? How do we feed the potential army we might need to survive when we can barely feed the mouths we have as it is?

  Do we become predatory like them? Or do we find another solution that allows us to maintain some semblance of the humanity that I so frigging desperately need? Kevin is of course advocating for an aggressive spread out and absorb strategy, and Michelle wants us to do the same, only with hope, and food, and good wishes and such. I suspect our solution will be somewhere in the middle.

  The people fleeing these groups in the north are struggling like our new additions did. There are no gas stations with fuel left, meaning any trip you make with a vehicle is most likely a one-way trip, food is no longer easily obtained when you are on the move, and undead are clogging the roads where the navigation is already treacherous. Where there were accidents on that day, there are still packs of undead, lingering, waiting for a flat tire, or an empty fuel tank. Never mind the fact that Danielle and Diane also said that the few times they ran into the living, they were violent, and wanted their shit. No one wants to be a fucking hero, and do the right thing anymore it seems.

  Maybe that's my job.

  More news soon, hopefully.

  -Adrian

  January 28th

  Whe
n it rains, it pours. That’s the expression.

  We are dealing with three enormous problems right now, all sort of working in concert to bend us the fuck over. It seems as if our good intentions and good will has brought serious problems upon us. We are paying the price it seems for doing the right thing.

  Some kind of miserable flu bug has taken strong root here. Ethan and Roger both think that the new people brought it in with them, and that does make a lot of sense. Diane has been hacking and wheezing ever since she arrived, and it appears that whatever she had has spread beyond her.

  Ethan and Roger aren’t sure exactly what it is, but seeing as how it’s pretty catchy, they’re thinking it’s viral as opposed to bacterial. Pneumonia hasn’t been ruled out yet, but we haven’t done a lot of testing as of yet. It starts as a headache, aches, and runny nose. Within maybe five hours of that, your temperature skyrockets, and your sinuses go haywire, filling your chest with thick mucus and phlegm. Vomiting seems to be frequent when it really sets in. A couple of our sick folks also have sore throats, but that doesn’t seem to be the case across the board.

  As of right now, the following people are sick: Julie and Chester (Martin’s wife and son). George (but not Alex yet), Andrea (Lindsey’s little daughter), baby Jeffrey (the new kid named after the Lt from Westfield and Jeanette’s baby), Doc Lindsey, Jenna, Veronica (she of no last name), Roger the pj, Kyle (one of Kev’s guys, and arguably our best humvee wheel man that we leave behind far too often), Becky, Shelby (Becky’s daughter), stoner Ryan (I should never call him stoner Ryan, he deserves better than that), and Diane. That’s a grand total of fourteen sick I count as of right this moment. Jeanette is having a fit leaving her sick baby with Becky, but she understands the dangers of sickness. And Becky has a British accent, which makes everything okay anyway.

  We’ve got them in the clinic right now under quarantine. We didn’t have enough beds there to deal with this volume of patients, but in the basements of one of the dorms the school had some cots for emergencies. As of now, the clinic is looking a lot like a refuge camp. They’re being cared for by the sick Roger and Doc Lindsey. It makes some sense to have an ill medical professional deal with it, though I’m sure the care we’re giving them in this fashion is somewhat lacking. Fresh fluids are in good supply right now though, and that’s a huge thing. We put down three chickens this morning to make massive amounts of chicken soup for the sick people, and they’re doing their level best to consume it as we bring it to them, although over the radio it sounds like they’re cleaning up a lot of vomit as well.

  We’re hoping the quarantine measures prevent it from spreading any further.

  Helping us in the newly created quarantine department is royally shit weather. Freezing rain, sleet, and wet, thick snow have brought everything to a horrible halt. The freezing rain is a fine mist, and as soon as it hits any surface, it seems to freeze instantly. The walkways and roads here are glassy smooth ice right now. In order to get around, we have to smash our feet through the crust of ice over the wet snow. It seems to be coming in cycles with wet snow too, which is miserable, chill you to the bone cold.

  We can’t really drive anywhere at the moment because of the ice. We can’t sand or salt effectively to get around safely. Hell, walking around campus at all has cost us a few spills just within the past three or four hours. We don't have enough salt. Plenty of sand, but no salt. I was watching out the window of the common room in Hall E earlier as Angela tried to walk from Hall A to the cafeteria. She ate shit three times after just trying to walk twenty feet. Luckily she didn’t hit her head or anything, but she still turned her ass around and crawled back to the dorm.

  We aren’t staffing the gate or the guard towers tonight. It’s a risk, but there’s just no way anyone with any sense would be willing or even able to attack us. MGR and the Factory are reporting the same shit weather and icy conditions too, so I feel like the entire world has kind of ground to a halt for a bit.

  Good times.

  The third and most disturbing factor that we have on our plate is the food. We are still chewing through it, and there has been precious little progress on our hydro production front. Ryan and Becca had some of their new stuff break on them, and he’s also sick, so there hasn't been shit happening for about three days. Not that we’d miraculously have tomatoes and potatoes and green beans grown by now if we had the three or four days back, but it’s the frustration of there having been NO progress for any period of time. Becca is trying, but she's still learning.

  It pisses me off. This whole fucked up conspiracy of bullshit makes me wonder if the Jinx Fairy is a card toting union member of the Jinx Fairy local 401. That bitch might have backup. Scary thought eh Mr. Journal?

  For the moment myself I’m sitting here in Hall E, fighting the small cold that I hope doesn’t turn south on me into the plague that’s ravaging the clinic. Lucky thirteen is bad enough, I don’t want to be number fourteen. I’m drinking an assload of water, and I’ve got a pretty large thermos of that soup (mostly broth Adrian, let's not class it up too much) we made earlier. It’s really quite good.

  I’m very tired. Kind of achy. I’m the tired where I don’t even want to masturbate. I just kind of want to lay down, and close my eyes, and let the sinus pressure drift away after I take one of these supposedly “non drowsy” sinus pills. That’s a damn joke. I take one and no matter what…. I’m loopy. The shit works though. I always feel better after taking them.

  We’re in a holding pattern yet again for the moment. I’m hoping I can check in after a day or two and happily report that we have people starting to feel better, the weather has moved off to fuck someone else over, Ryan has built more hydro stations, and Ollie impregnated a few of our cows.

  I should say that Ollie has successfully encouraged our male cows to impregnate our female cows. The way I wrote that last bit could be taken in a really dark and weird way.

  Good news would be an awesome change of pace.

  -Adrian

  January 31st

  We almost lost it all this morning. All of it.

  Every last person here could have died, and it’s only by some profoundly good graces we still have as many people living here as we do. This is my nightmare. My hands are shaking. Bad.

  Late in the night last night, the sickness that had incapacitated thirteen of our residents became fatal for someone. We don’t know who died first. We haven’t pieced that together yet, but we know who is dead now. Looking at the bright side, our winter food problems just became much more manageable.

  God I’m an asshole.

  I was woken up by the sounds of gunshots this morning just as the sun was turning the sky that faint shade of dawn blue. Just enough light so you know the day is coming, but still dark enough to know that it isn’t quite morning yet. I sat up immediately with the Kimber from under my pillow and grabbed the walkie. I asked what was happening.

  I pulled my pants on, and my shirt on while I waited for an answer, and over the radio I heard Angela’s voice, “Something happened inside the clinic, some of them died, and now they’re out. They’re moving around towards the dorms. We need help quick.”

  Undead inside the walls again. Moving about as they wished. It was like a fucking bad dream. I had an immediately flashback to the night I spent on the roof of admissions, and the afternoon in the classroom building where I shot round after round into the mob of undead here, trying to scrape out a safe place to live in this fucked up world. It seems we (I) came a little full circle this morning.

  I finished dressing as I heard more and more folks wake up to the single gunshot and join the radio traffic. The Factory and MGR joined in, asking if we were okay, and collectively we asked them to clear the air, and let us figure out what we had on our hands. I had the tactical guys get their military comms online, and we got off the wide band radios.

  We made a quick plan, and via the various comms gear we got a headcount on the people who were NOT put in the quarantine in the clinic
. Everyone was accounted for, and the only variables were the folks from the clinic. We had no radio traffic from them, which meant Roger’s walkie was never used. We’re still putting together what went down in there, and it’s hard. I'm tearing up.

  In the moment, our plan was to open windows in the buildings we were in, and fire using rifles at anything on foot that didn’t respond to verbal commands. Least amount of risk that way. I saw nothing from my bedroom window. I would’ve thought something would’ve crossed in front of Hall E or the cafeteria where my line of sight is, but nope. Angela over in Hall A, which is right next to the old admin building the clinic is in, shot four times, killing four of our own. Well to be fair, she wasn’t killing them. She was putting their reanimated bodies to rest.

  From Hall B Blake took a single shot with his Enfield, putting someone else down, and after that we saw no one and nothing from our windows. From there we formed into small teams that were dorm based, and we moved out and into the campus to scour every inch for the remaining undead or survivors. Every person had to be accounted for. I needed eye contact and an, "I'm fine," or a dead body. From Hall E I formed up with Caleb and Abby. Our plan was to sweep the campus in a rough circle shape so we weren’t converging and firing on the same spaces. Last thing we wanted was to meet in the middle, and be firing at each other. We swung south towards the clinic itself. Hall A put no team out because there just weren’t enough bodies. We crossed in front of them and immediately saw George clawing at the door that led to the apartment he shared with Alex. Angela had no window or angle to see him to shoot him, and for whatever reason, he wasn't interested in the noise she was making. Curious that he went directly to the door his loved one was behind.