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

  The other project is the path to the waterfront for the last tower. We started hitting the trees again to clear the way, and I’d guess we have four or five more days to clear the way. We started ripping up stumps today with the backhoe while the tree cutters worked ahead. Good times. With all the branches and leftover wood from this we will be far more comfortable when it comes to wood for the stoves on campus here. I have been paranoid that we will run out of good, dry wood over the winter, and this makes me sleep better at night. Once we get the path clear, and we have enough lumber roughed, we’ll be all set. I am pretty sure we have enough concrete still for the base of the tower too. Remind me to ask Blake or Martin to check on that Mr. Journal. If we don’t, I remember a place I saw on the other side with Gilbert we can hit for a few extra bags. If it's still there.

  We did have a minor injury today out in the woods. Well, it wasn’t entirely minor. Fitz was working on the tree clearing crew and I guess a branch snapped somehow and a shard of wood about five inches long went right into his forearm going the long way. Wrist to elbow direction. Which if you know your anatomy, is a bad place to get a splinter that size. Fortunately Roger was there, and they were able to get the shard of wood out and get him patched up. He said it’d be a week to get him back to good health, so for the moment, it looks like Fitz is on video feed duty. I expect him to lose his mind in two or three days.

  I spent lunch over in Hall B at the school room with Michelle to check in on our rabid guest. Michelle says she’s doing much better. No violence the last two days, and with all the extra food we made for the holidays, Sylvia is eating like a beast and putting weight on. Michelle has left her with books to read, and other things that are more remedial, like coloring books and markers to draw with. She’s hoping she draws some pictures that might illuminate what happened to her. God forbid she starts writing.

  I like Michelle. She’s smart, warm, and caring. She reminds me a lot of Cassie. I think I have been trying to hang out with Michelle more lately half out of interest in the projects she has going on, and half because she makes me feel like I’m talking with Cassie. Well, Michelle doesn’t have the fire that Cassie had, but you get the point. I like her. She’s cool. She makes me calm.

  What else?

  Oh yeah, fuck dogs man. I may or may not have mentioned a few times in my recent entries that we have had a bit of an issue with dogs barking and being at the gates. Guess what? We had a few of them try to dig under the fucking rear gate the past couple days to get inside campus. One of them had to be put down, he was far too large, and one was a yippy little bastard terrier that ran around for an hour, nearly got shot, and was finally scooped up by Andrea and brought to Hall A, against my irrational wishes to the contrary. She has named him Ralph. Ralph the terrier. Whatever. I don’t think he can bite my balls, so for now, he can stay. If he even comes CLOSE to my crotch though, I’m putting 10mm’s through his yippy trap. He's on watch.

  Yeah I’m bitter. Come at me bro.

  So we formulated a plan for the dogs yesterday after fixing he fence. We have a guard posted at the back gate with a .22 rifle to make sure no dogs dig their way under. If you’re curious, the guard is Danny Jr. He turned 15 the other day, and he’s a great shooter, and he’s also committed to doing his school work during the evenings to make up for missed class time. I really like that kid. Dan and Angela did a great job with him. Angela still is. At some point here I need to give him his dad’s gun. I get the impression I’m not done with it yet. More justice needs to come out of its barrel I feel. Reaching out and giving folks a little bit of his dad’s law and order, if you get my drift.

  So the ongoing plan for the animals is to shoot any that try and get in. Beyond that, we are going to try and bring some in over the next few days to see if they are feral, and lost to us as pets or animals of use, or if they can be brought in and given a home. As it turns out, we have a rather large amount of dog food on hand. The stuff lasts if it is kept dry, and fortunately there have been enough containers of it sealed this whole time that insects didn’t get into it, and were kept dry enough that it didn't rot. I guess Patty and Abby were hoarding the shit in one of the dorm basements when they were doing house clears while I was out.

  Women.

  So yeah. Dogs. Here on campus. My groin is throbbing from bad memories.

  We still have some issues with growing undead populations downtown. MGR has been keeping a close eye on things, and they’re reporting a slow but steady increase in the presence of the dead. Things haven’t gotten out of control yet by any means, but I am still concerned. Any time movement increases there is a cause and effect. Why are the numbers increasing? What is causing it?

  There is almost a sure guarantee that whatever the cause is, it’ll be a problem for us at some point. That bitch fairy just LOVES to put it to us.

  Still worried about the survivors that attacked MGR that we haven’t tracked down yet. I am almost certain that the undead presence has been stirred up by the living moving around, and we just haven’t seen them yet. The folks over at the Factory haven’t seen anything moving near them, other than the void of undead. They’re saying the population around the building has been strangely gone the past few days, which may explain why we’re seeing more here now. Maybe a few groups of people leaving the city have dragged them this way. Who knows? Without an eye in the sky, we’re operating on guesswork. Also as you may or may not recall Mr. Journal, we've unconsciously abandoned the goal of getting a small plane in the air. Kate and Nick are obviously pissed about their primary skill sets being shelved for the season, but with all the work that needs to be done, there's no time left to dedicate labor hours to getting a plane ready for flight right now. In the spring, when we don't need to worry about plowing an entire runway, we're gonna talk again.

  I’m still very nervous about shooting, but I am better. I’ve been having bad dreams about gunplay off and on since I woke up from the other side. I see myself in situations with undead in my dreams a lot, and every time I need to, I feel like I can’t pull the trigger. Ever have one of those dreams when you were a kid where you were in a fight, and when you hit the other person, your punch did nothing? Or no matter how hard you try, you just can't get the punch to land? It feels like that. I feel impotent, afraid, exposed, vulnerable. All bad things to feel when you’re in a bad situation.

  It’s fucked up that I can’t dream of the living. I feel so alone in my dreams. I have no allies to encourage me in those moments. No Kevin, no Abby, no Michelle. Just me and my weapon, and sometimes even that isn’t there. I hate it.

  Oh well. The next time I am faced with a slowly rotting corpse that is trying to eat me, or eat those with me, I best be ready to do what is required, and fast. If I truly want my friends to stay alive this year, it will certainly come down to me making that happen myself.

  I’m off. We’ve got a lot to do the next few days.

  -Adrian

  January 4th

  From frying pan to fire, right? Fuck that fairy. I’ve decided on a resolute course of action for myself and the community here for a few days. I took a stand, let them know how I felt about things, and that’s that. Remember back when I was first talking about whether or not I’d lead by committee, or if it was my word was law or whatever? Funny that with all these people here I’m not really doing what I said I would do. Or thought I would have to do, for that matter.

  I guess that’s because I’m surrounded by people that aren’t total assholes. I was so worried I’d be surrounded by people who would challenge my authority, and do things that were dumb. I’m pretty lucky. Minus a few dicks here and there, and one head wound, I’ve been blessed with supportive people that see things the way I do. It’s made leading pretty easy. Now if I could get over the guilt of when I make a bad call, and folks get hurt or die…

  We restocked MGR earlier today, and it was my first taste of violence in some time. We rolled out in what is now our standard movement package of HRT, and double humve
es. I rode shotgun in the HRT in the lead, with Caleb driving, and we had Abby in the back. In the two humvees we had Kevin, Blake, Roger and Quan, plus Alex and George who were switching out with two folks there. We were restocking their water and food, as well as dropping off some additional weapons gear and supplies.

  MGR hasn’t been engaging any of the undead they have been observing. Noise brings in more of the dead, and with possible living people out and about, there has been little reason to risk drawing them in either. Up to this point, it has been simply safer to sit back and observe. Of course when we roll in to visit them, there are some undead milling about, and our vehicles made enough noise to draw in more beyond that, so we naturally had to deal with some action on the surface streets.

  Caleb drove over a zombie as we pulled into the parking area near the building, and we dismounted quickly to set up a perimeter. There were perhaps 4 or 5 undead danger close to the vehicles. I hopped out and walked over to the zombie Caleb had hit. I had the halligan on me from the HRT, and as Abby got on the roof of the HRT to provide additional cover for me, I took a deep breath, and brought the halligan down onto the skull of the still crawling dead man. His legs were shattered and twisted something awful, and he wasn’t any danger to anyone, most importantly me at that moment, and that’s why I did him in the way I did. I needed a bunny to get back on the gravy train, to break myself back in. The sound and feel of his skull breaking under the halligan’s weight was sickening. Like smashing a flesh covered, brain filled coconut. I tried really hard to avoid looking at his eyes. I think looking at his eyes might've been too much for me. I don't want to admit this, but it was a welcomed feeling for me.

  Abby gave me a quiet golf clap from the roof of the HRT as I pried the halligan free. I laughed at her. I was a little pissed at her, because her clap made me feel like she knew that was a big moment for me. I’m just self conscious about it. I need to face that.

  The rest of the group fanned out to make our perimeter and put down the zombies in the vicinity, and once we’d made it safe, thankfully without having to fire any shots, we proceeded with the restock.

  Not a ton of news to report on that. We took their garbage, refilled their water and food as needed, and dropped off a few hundred extra rounds. We had been waffling on the idea of upping their staff, and when we were there I made the decision we needed to. While we were inside the building I took time to check the world around it for movement, and to be honest, I saw far too fucking many undead in the streets. That's the disadvantage of being able to see the big picture: sometimes it's scary. A fair handful of them wandered over to the building while we were there, so the folks pulling security at the door had steady work on their hands.

  Something also felt… off. I can’t place what it is yet, but every time I looked out the windows there, I had the feeling that I was missing something. Ever had that feeling Mr. Journal? It’s like when you’re about to leave the house, and you just feel like you’re forgetting something? Like you left the stove on, or forgot to brush your teeth or something. Same idea. I just had this fucked up feeling that I was missing some detail.

  Anyhoo, seeing Mallory again was awkward. I don’t think she expected to see me either, because ten seconds after she saw me, she disappeared to “check on something.”

  Chicks. So much drama.

  When we cleared out I left them with the fact that I’d be back tomorrow. Thinking about McGreevy’s rifle the other day, and being on top of that building made me want to take some shots. Plus, Alex and George are there now, and they’re both decent shots, as is Mallory, so I feel pretty comfortable getting on a balcony, and putting lead downrange. I know I’ll draw in a lot of the dead, and I’m counting on that. The herd needs thinning, and I need safe trigger time.

  We also discussed the temperatures. It’s been really quite cold, and MGR isn’t staying all that warm. We still have that wood stove from Sylvia’s cabin, and I’m bringing it back to MGR tomorrow. Ethan has agreed to come to the tower with me to stay while I’m there, and that’ll make getting the stove in and up the stairs to a central location that much easier. Martin will come back a few days later to get it all hooked up. I don’t think one stove is enough though. Being there for a couple hours earlier today showed me the building is not designed to stay warm without lots of electricity. I don't know how the folks who lived there as long as they did managed life. I’m thinking after I get done with a few days there putting dead down, we launch a mission for those bags of concrete, and a couple wood stoves I know are out there in folk’s basements.

  Disadvantage of putting of wood stoves in a fourth floor apartment? Visible smoke. Also, we'll need wood on the fourth floor of a building.

  Campus is bland. We are dealing with dogs now in a remarkably positive way. We are opening the outer gate at the rear of campus, and bringing out a small amount of food. When we feed the dogs that approach, if they take the food in a calm and friendly way, we know that they can be rehabilitated. Brought in as pets, warning alarms, whatever. What do they call it? Food bowl aggression I think. One of the dogs tried to bite the hell out of Angela today while we were gone, and she put it down on the spot. I and my two swinging testicles celebrated a small victory on that one.

  We’ve only taken in one dog, a mutt that looks like it might be part Rotty. I don’t like it, but we’re keeping it near the barn where the cows are, and that’s a good distance from where I tread typically. The dog that got put down was a small thing. I didn’t see it, but Angela said it was like a beagle mix or something.

  Angela also said they’ve counted the dogs, and there are 11 left that have been somewhere near Bastion regularly. I don’t know why they’ve suddenly made their way to our home like this. My worst worry is that whatever brought the undead back into town has scared the animals into the outskirts.

  I wonder what might’ve led the undead to town, or stirred them up? You know I'm sitting here thinking about it, and I wonder if Sylvia had been feeding them at her dilapidated cabin in the woods all this time? It makes sense.

  Headed to MGR in the morning with Ethan. I’m bringing the trusty laptop there in the event I can’t sleep. At least I’ll have something to do. I’ll be shooting by noon if all goes well.

  -Adrian

  January 6th

  Shooting from an elevated position with a high powered rifle is an art. Working with Ethan the last couple days here at MGR has showed me exactly how little I know about long distance shooting. Happily, I can report that he has educated me quite a bit, and I am now a far more technically precise shooter with the Savage.

  There are so many variables that go into shooting long distances. Wind at the barrel, wind halfway there, wind at the target… Then there’s the heat of the barrel itself, because a cold barrel fires differently than a hot barrel. Let’s not forget estimating the range accurately, the relative elevation of the target to you, as well as little things like the actual rotation of the earth. Because if you didn’t know Mr. Journal, when you fire a bullet a really long distance, the earth is still rotating during the bullet’s flight, and when the bullet gets to where you wanted it to go, they might have moved. BECAUSE THE EARTH MOVED UNDER THE BULLET.

  Crazy shit huh?

  I don’t pretend to be a sniper. Actually, I have talked some shit like I was a serious sniper, even though I'm not. (My apologies for talking shit.) That’s Ethan’s job, and he is motherfucking good at it. Watching him on the roof and balcony working his rifle the past few days has been a real eye opener. I’m a good shot. Shit, I’m a great natural shot, but he is a professional with natural skill to boot, and training out the fucking ass. He can get the dope on a shot in seconds, adjust, fire accurately, and move to the next target without even thinking. He can easily kill someone from a thousand meters away if he wanted to. Easily. And the sonofabitch keeps a shot log for every shot he takes. It's a little green notebook with all the information relevant to the shot. He's detail oriented in a murderous way.

&nb
sp; I am so frigging glad he is on my side.

  We arrived very early at MGR yesterday driving a humvee. We managed to fit the small cabin stove into the back hatch, as well as the chimney pipes. It felt a little strange going anywhere in a single vehicle group, but the roads were pretty safe, and with the camera feeds we can actually see a LOT of the trip before we even make it now. I’d say maybe 40% of the way to downtown is visible on cameras for us.

  We arrived and found the area around the base of the tower largely empty of undead which was a pleasant surprise. We fully expected a prolonged pain in the ass engagement to clear (see: Jinx fairy), but there was only two or three and we were able to smash their heads in safely. I put the last one down myself, which was a nice confidence booster. The folks at MGR helped us get the stove inside and up the stairs to the top floor where it sits waiting for Martin and Blake to make sweet, sexy love to it. The two of them are coming tomorrow morning to install the stove somewhere, and when they are done, we’ll road trip back to Bastion with them. Incidentally, it is cold as a bastard in this building at night. Well hell, it’s cold during the day too. The people who live here were not exaggerating at all. There just isn’t enough heat to keep all the spaces they’re using warm. They need this stove, and at least one more and I think that's the barest of kindnesses we can offer them. Of course that raises the issue of stocking them with frigging wood too… Sigh.