Dark Recollections Read online

  So I walked into honey hole and started my shopping spree. I filled up the banana box, and brought it outside. Transferred everything into the trailer and brought it inside again. By the way, if you’re curious, yes, it’s THAT banana box. Same one, still kicking like kung fu. I’m telling you if you’re not on the banana box team, get on it now.

  So I went back inside for a second food run, and filled the box again. I continued humming the Linkin Park song I had stuck in my head, and casually turned to bring load two out. When I turned, I bumped into the goddamn zombie.

  Have you ever, truly been scared? I don’t mean like when you watch a freaky movie that makes you not want the lights off at night, I mean like when someone catches you off guard, and your heart leaps into your throat? You get that immediate single POUND of the heart, and the sudden surge of adrenaline? Usually about one second later whoever scared you is laughing because of the look on your face, and then you either smack the shit out of them for scaring you, or you’re laughing with them… You know what I’m talking about, right?

  This was like that. Sans the laughter. I nearly had a heart attack on the spot, and immediately went on the defensive. I was already in the corner of the pantry so I had nowhere to go, and this thing was already pressing against the banana box which weighed a solid 50 pounds by that time. (It was filled with cans.) Only way to get rid of it was to drop it, which would put it right on my foot, or shove it at the zombie.

  The zombie was so close he had the initiative. Now they aren’t fast, but they can lunge like a fucking pro when they have you like that. This guy was on me like white on rice. He sort of came down with both hands and knocked the box free right onto my feet. Fortunately it landed on my feet and not my toes. It hurt like a bitch, but as we all know, toe pain is the worst. Foot pain is much more tolerable.

  Now the box falling on my feet sent me backwards and I hit the wall pretty hard. The frigging zombie kinda fell onto me, and bit me pretty good.

  Yeah I know. I said the B word. Curtains for Adrian, right? No way, no how Mr. Journal. Adrian gets lucky again. The zombie sunk every last tooth into the collar of the fleece jacket I had on. The fucker’s weight on me took me all the way to the ground. Cornered, on the floor, with a zombie on top of me, biting the fuck out of my collar.

  God hell he smelt to high heaven. I flat out do not know how I didn’t smell him coming. Maybe I was used to the smell of the wretched freezer in the kitchen and just tuned it out? I don’t know. Any way I look at it way I’m a fucking idiot.

  Soooo.. panic time. I’ve got a few years of Jiu-Jitsu and Karate under my belt, so I am fairly good in a scrap. Not a ninja mind you, but I could give a ninja a fucking hell of a bloody nose if one tangled with me. I think I gave the zombie a sweeping elbow right to the jaw and dislodged him from my coat. He didn’t fly off me, but it got his mouth off me, and shifted his weight enough so I could slide my hips sideways, and get a leg under his body. I kicked out and up, and tossed him like a fucking ragdoll about three feet.

  I used the wall and scrambled to my feet while the dead guy got back up. I didn’t want to waste a bullet so I yanked the sword out, and sunk it into his rotting melon head with an overhead swipe. His head came apart like an eggshell filled with rotting cauliflower. Goddamn horrid. If I couldn’t smell him before that, I sure as shit could then. It was horrible. I almost puked but choked it down.

  After a few dry heaves I checked the whole building and cleared it. Empty. All the doors were shut too, which mean this guy had been here all along and I missed him when I cleared it months ago, or he had the mental ability to PULL OPEN A DOOR! Fuck me. I’ve never seen one that smart. Usually when presented with a door that doesn’t push open, they just press against it until something gets their attention elsewhere.

  This changes things. I’m really hoping that it was scenario A, and I’m just an idiot that made a mistake. Because if it’s scenario B, then I need to really rethink where dangerous places are. I haven’t locked any of the campus buildings that have doors that pull out, or have knobs, or latches. They haven’t figured any of that out any time I’ve been observing them.

  Fucking-A man.

  Tomorrow, I am going to every building here on campus, and locking the doors. That really irks the shit out of me too. I don’t want to have to fumble with keys if I’m in a situation. I’ve seen it so many times it’s a goddamn cliché. Right up there with cars not starting when the killer is chasing you, and that the pretty girl ALWAYS falls when being chased. Fumbling with keys. Awesome. Can’t wait for that to happen. Mark my words Mr. Journal, it WILL happen. I know my luck.

  Okay Mr. Journal, moral of this story is attention to detail, and vigilance. Until all the buildings are fully locked, I clear every single one of them as if I was expecting a zombie to be inside. Further, any time I am moving anywhere outside of Hall E, I will increase my vigilance, and stop humming.

  Furthermore, every room must pass the sniff test.

  In other good news, the zombie had $350 in his wallet. That’ll come in handy.

  Sigh.

  -Adrian

  November 6th

  The campus has been locked down. Took me all of yesterday to check every unlocked building fully, but it’s done. I didn’t find anything in any of those buildings, which doesn’t prove or disprove anything. I hate this not knowing bullshit. I wish the radio would spark up and say something one of these days. It’s been silent for a very long time. I only turn it on at night for an hour or two just in case now.

  I honestly don’t think I’m ever going to get any answers to the big questions. All I can hope to do is get enough info from my own observations around here to form enough of an intelligent opinion to make good choices. The consequences for making a single bad choice could be staggering, that’s obvious enough, but there’s fuck all I can do about it.

  That’s not entirely true. I could try and find more people. Hooking up with more folks who have survived this long might be a good thing. After all, they have to be reasonably able and intelligent to have made it, and that’s got to be a good thing. Plus they might have information that will improve my situation. It’s not like I don’t have a ton of space up here. I could easily house 150 people here without giving up one inch of my own space. Feeding them would be a problem though.

  Shrug. Food for thought.

  Yesterday and today thus far have been pretty mundane since the scare of a lifetime in the kitchen. The clearing of the buildings turned out to be a pointless pain in the ass, as opposed to a dangerous string of encounters. I’ll grant you it felt dangerous as hell, and reminded me of kicking in doors in Iraq, but it turned out to be nothing. Thank God for the little things I guess.

  I figured I’d use this entry to reminisce over the day that I started to clear this joint out. June 24th was the date as I recall. A rough day in my history book. Mr. Journal I think the last thing I talked about was how I hacked my way inside the admissions building via the roof, and finally got some food. I scarfed down a couple sandwiches and a bottle or three of water out of the little staff fridge.

  I found a good office that had a single window, and a strong door, and the plan was to make a shitload of noise at the entrance to the building, somehow get them to come in to said building, scramble to the office, and theoretically trap the majority of the zombie horde surrounding the building inside the above mentioned building. All of this while simultaneously avoiding being devoured by my former students, co-workers, and random family members. Genius right? I’m sure you can predict how foolproof the plan turned out to be.

  So over the night I became positive that these things went to noise like moths to flame. Every time I stayed silent, they started to drift off, anytime there was a noise, they moved towards it. I knew I needed a noisemaker. In Amy’s little office I knew she had one of those little radio/CD players on a file cabinet. I grabbed it, moved it to the office I planned on falling back to, plugged it in, and cranked it to 10.

  Noise
maker established and ready to make noise, I went to the lobby area and started banging on the windows and hollering. It reminded me so much of that scene in one Romero zombie movie where the guys are yelling in the department store trying to get the zombies to come to the window. I mean freakishly the same. Enough that I actually found myself laughing just like them. I mean it was laughter or tears at this stage. No sense crying at this point.

  I ripped the curtains down to increase visibility as well. It seemed to work almost instantly. That side of admissions had remained pretty empty of the dead since MILFy and husband got killed, and within seconds of yanking the curtains, the windows were full of zombies, three deep out into the yard. They pressed against the glass desperately, mouths opening and closing reflexively, filthy hands leaving streaks of brown and red blood and flesh. One of the windows cracked loudly under the pressure and I got the answer to my glass question.

  I did have a huge moment of genius right then though. I grabbed the curtains and stuffed them under the back edge of the front door. Enough blockage to trip them up when they opened the door, which might give me enough time to safely get to the office I had set up. I remember psyching myself up real quick before the glass broke again, and I cracked the door open.

  The door surged inward maybe 4 or 5 inches immediately, and the curtains hung it up perfectly. I didn’t wait to gauge any further success and got the fuck back to the office. I remember hearing the door creak further open as I slammed the office door shut behind me. Within seconds they were pressing against the interior door, and it started to rattle and vibrate in the door jam. I had no idea how long it would hold against them. My heart was throbbing up into my neck I was so jacked on adrenaline. My mouth was bone dry. Man what a rush.

  I hit play on the CD player to fully set my trap, and Lady Gaga burst forth. A little bit of me died right then. I’m not saying she sucks or anything, I just think she’s a tad bit overplayed. Flavor of the month if you will. That’s not a pun regarding her likely fate as zombie food somewhere out there either.

  You know actually I take that back, I really do think she sucks. Sorry to offend you Mr. Journal, but I have got stick to my guns on this.

  So I pushed the desk over against the door as best I could, but the closest I could get it was about 3 or 4 inches. There was a bookcase and a fire extinguisher on the walls that prevented me from getting it flush. Hopefully if the door gave in the desk would trip them up. I yelled at the top of my lungs along with Lady Gaga for the better part of a song before I started to get a bad feeling for the door’s integrity, and my nerves. I peeked out the small window, saw it was clear behind the building, and slid it open quietly.

  I’ll tell you this: hearing that door rattle so violently with all those zombies just on the other side was creepy as old man balls. Mind you, they make no noise (the zombies, I can’t vouch for old man balls), so it was just the violent shaking of the door in the frame with a slowly building rotten stench behind it. There was no audible malice on the other side. Just this… sinister, silent hunger. Freaky shit.

  Plan was this at that point: escape via window, slip around in a wide circle to my car (if it was clear enough) get my .22 and some 9mm ammo, and then find a decent place to start killing zombies. I know, shitty plan right? This is really all improv Mr. Journal.

  The windows we have were all replaced a few years back with brand new energy efficient ones so it slid up smoothly and silently. I poked my head out quickly to double check it was clear, and then basically dove out. I came up jogging. I remember realizing that it was much warmer now and much brighter too as the sun was coming up. Late June can be hot as hell here, and it was definitely going to turn hot later. You can always tell when it is really warm that early.

  I started jogging as quietly as I could around the building and behind the maintenance building thirty feet or so away. I could see a few zombies still surging mindlessly towards the door, so I knew my plan was working at least somewhat. I slid around the back of that maintenance building and came around it with my head real low to the ground so I could get a clear look at the front of admissions. I think there were maybe 8 zombies still outside the building, and with the dawn light coming in from behind me I could see the lobby area was packed to the gills. Wall to wall dead people.

  For a second I entertained the idea of just setting the building on fire to kill them, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the one thing that scared me more than a zombie coming after me, was a zombie that was set on fire coming after me. I shit canned that idea promptly. So from where I was on the corner of the maintenance building it was clear in all directions for at least 30 yards. I couldn’t see anything in any direction actually, aside from the handful of zombies at the admissions door. Smooth sailing to my car. Now remember here. I had lost my keys earlier that night. So no car keys. I would have to break a window and deal with the fallout fast. I couldn’t remember where I had left the rifle in the car either. Figure that out when I got there right?

  Low, loping run with the sword drawn. I crossed the distance pretty quickly, and didn’t draw attention. I checked the car through the driver’s window, and stayed low so a few other cars obscured me from the house and the zombies in front of it. I took the sword and using the handle, cracked my car’s driver side window. I stopped cold and waited, watching the zombies to see if they heard it, but apparently Lady Gaga fucking fascinates them. I really should do some kind of testing to see if they are attracted to different music. Might pass the time.

  I popped the door lock and swung the car door open. Immediately Otis started meowing and purring desperately from the back seat. I got the chunk of turkey out of my pocket and tossed it into his carryall and grabbed the rifle, which was on the seat. I checked to make sure it was loaded, grabbed the spare clip for it, and snagged a box of 9mm and a box of .22 cal. I did another check around me, saw it was clear, and reloaded the spare clip for the Sig. Otis needed a safer place for the moment, so I hit the trunk release, picked his thing up and set him down in the back amongst all the stuff I’d grabbed earlier. Right on top of the crap in the trunk I saw the grocery bag that had the energy bars I got at the store the day prior and snagged a few of those as well. I clicked the trunk closed as quietly as I could.

  Armed and dangerous right? When you learn how to kill people in the military one of the most important things is a good view of your battlefield. High vantage points give you a clearer view of targets, shows you avenues of approach, and gives you more time to make your shots. I knew with the .22 I had range across most of campus, but I needed a good spot to set up that was safe to shoot from, had a good view of what I was shooting at, and yet was still easy to escape from.

  The tallest building on campus was the school house. Three floors. I immediately thought of Dr. Potter’s classroom across from Mrs. Goodell’s on the third floor. It was empty yesterday, was probably still empty, and had the fire escape should the room get assaulted and I was overwhelmed. Hopefully the way up to the classroom was more or less clear.

  I was off. Otis was safe in the trunk, I had the rifle, my pistol, the spare clips for each, and hopefully enough ammo to last. That’s such a vague term right? Long enough to last for?.... The day? Enough to last until they were all dead? I dunno. I scampered across the campus towards the school house staying as low as I could, and made my way through the same glass doors I had the night earlier.

  I shouldered the .22 and cleared the first floor again. I should point this out now so folks can visualize it better. The rifle I got off of Phil was a very fine weapon. It’s a Mossberg rifle called the Tactical .22 It looks an awful lot like the M4 rifle that’s standard issue to US troops. The clip is a lot smaller, just 10 rounds, but you get the idea. I felt good using it, it felt familiar.

  The second floor was squeaky clean as well. There were a lot of blood smears on the stairs, and in the foot path where people would go up and down the stairs, but it was clear. I didn’t run into anything unt
il I started up the stairs to the third floor. I saw Dale first, and didn’t hesitate. He was covered in blood, and his entire face was smeared red from gorging on someone. He was about six steps above me in the stairwell, and I leveled the iron sights on his forehead, and popped him once. The crack of the .22 was damn near deafening in the stairwell. The bullet hit him low, going in under the jaw. His head whipped back, then he tilted face first and tumbled full force down the steps. His head split open on the steps and I had to juke sideways to dodge his body.

  Time was a factor now. I was making noise that could be heard over the music. I ascended the stairs as fast as I could while keeping the rifle aimed steadily at head level. As if on cue, students started rounded the corner at the top of the steps, coming right at me. I stayed calm, remembered my training. Fire, evaluate. Fire, evaluate.

  I am a good shot.

  I waded through the handful of zombie corpses and moved down the hallway towards Mrs. Goodell’s room again. Hall was clear, but I found one more zombie in her room. It was the girl who had been tied up with Dale the day before. She was clearly dead, but I still recognized her as Dale’s girlfriend. One of the new underclassman this year. Pretty, impressionable. She was struggling meekly against the bonds the teacher and kids had put her in. I can remember exactly the blank stare her whitish eyes gave me when we locked gazes. There was nothing there. Dead eyes. The moment someone dies and their life fades away, you can actually watch the life go. There’s no way to describe it really. A lot of veterans know what I’m talking about here. Not a fun look at all, and she had it.