Dark Recollections (6 page)

I’ll keep you updated on how things go.

-Adrian

October 12
^th

Okay, my recon mission around campus is complete. I think.

Down in the maintenance garage way in the back of campus I found three gas cans. They are whopping 2 gallons cans. I searched all over the rest of campus, each and every building that was likely to have a gas can, and no luck. I did however find another 2 gallon canister in the trunk of someone’s car though, parked in the employee lot. So that’s 8 gallons total. Not even worth a trip really.

So, plan B. Instead of taking truck #1, I’m going to take truck #2. Truck #2 has about a quarter of a tank of gas, which is more than enough to get me down there. According to the manual in the glove box, the truck has a 36 gallon tank. I figure I’ll get about 30 gallons in the tank, which I can siphon off later, and then I can get 8 more gallons in the small gas cans. If I’m lucky, they’ll have more gas cans at the store. At the very least, roughly 38 gallons of extra gas will stretch out my fuel reserves. Plus if it goes well I can start making more frequent trips and just fill up the gas tanks of the vehicles around the school. Is it an ideal solution? Shit of course not. Will it work for now until I figure this shit out? I surely hope so.

I think this will work out. I can’t imagine the area the store is at will be flooded with zombies. There’s what? 12 houses there? At absolute worst there should be no more than like 40 zombies. That’s assuming most houses are producing 3-4 zombies per house. That’s unlikely. Some of those people have to have left town, or holed up somewhere else.

I’ll guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Until then Mr. Journal, I bid you adieu!

-Adrian

October 12
^th
(2
^nd
entry)

Well I sure as shit can’t sleep. I am all kinds of nerved up over going out tomorrow morning. I definitely decided morning was best. If something does happen and I need to come back on foot, I want as much daylight as possible to make it back. Moving around in the dark now absolutely petrifies me. There’s some sense in thinking that the zombies are less dangerous at night, as their vision probably sucks ass compared to living people vision, so dark would be easier to move around. I’m still of the school of thought that my vision is compromised at night, and with these fuckers being so quiet I’d rather use daylight to have a better chance of seeing them.

So morning it is. After I finished typing today’s earlier entry I broke down all my guns and cleaned them. I’m only taking the 12 gauge and the Sig tomorrow, but I cleaned the .22 and the .30-06 as well. I’m sure I’ll fill in the story how I got that at some point.
 
Don’t feel like talking about it right at the moment though, I’m busy, and it’s kind of a sore subject still. I should have plenty of gun cleaning supplies to last me indefinitely. Pat myself on the back for grabbing the gun cleaning kit and the extra gun oil at Moore’s that day.

I guess I can try and exhaust myself by talking more about ‘that day.’ There’s still a lot to tell. So where was I? Just checked my last entry to remember and as it turns out, I left off with me being an awesome son, and shooting my mother in the face.

So I shot her in the face with the Sig, and she slumped down on top of my lap with her head leaking all over me. I’m pretty sure I was in some kind of shock for a few seconds after I got up. Didn’t last long though. As gross and weird as this sounds, shooting my mom in the face actually made it go away quicker I think. With her face gone I couldn’t like, look at her and see what I’d done. With her face so mashed up it could’ve been any old lady’s body laying in front of me. It was like she was anonymous.

So like I said earlier I thought about what my mom might have had that would be useful. Plus I knew at this point I needed to stay busy or I might start getting emotional about shooting my mother. My mom was kind of a douche to me in life, but shit, she was Mom, right? I was having trouble thinking clearly, and I knew I needed to get out of the hallway anyway, so I decided to go inside the apartment where she lived. At least I could shut the door behind me for some semblance of safety, and look first hand at her place.

I stepped over her body and got out my keys and let myself in. Her place was pretty normal, no mess, or signs of the struggle that evidently did her in. Probably got jumped heading here, or got pulled out into the hall if she opened the door. No idea. Her place stank of stale cigarettes. If it wasn’t for the end of the world zombie plague and getting her body torn apart I swear lung cancer would’ve gotten her shortly. At the rate she chimneyed those fuckers she HAD to have been at least a little cancerous. (physically at least, her personality had always been cancerous)

Once I got inside and calmed myself a bit I instantly remembered that my mom was a food hoarder. She was Italian, and Italians love to cook overly large meals. I knew she had canned goods out the wazoo. I headed into her kitchen and started flinging cabinets open and revealed a cornucopia of food. I actually did a fist pump when I saw she had cranberry relish. For some reason I just love that shit, and when I saw it there it struck me that I hadn’t grabbed any at the store. She also had some food beeping in the microwave, all done and ready to eat. It was some day old spaghetti with a meat sauce. I didn’t realize I was hungry until I popped the button to open the microwave, but holy shit it hit me then. I snagged a fork from the drawer and ate the whole plate standing in front of the sink. Yay mom!

I quickly did the whole room clearing deal to make sure the rest of the house was safe, and I saw a half empty banana box on the floor of her closet. Probably a leftover box from the move into here a few months ago. I would also like to make a short aside here and point out how useful and sturdy banana boxes are. Anyone who reads this, if you need a good, sturdy box, go for the banana box, it’s reliable, and has handles.

I dumped her shit out, took the box into the kitchen and just took everything. I emptied all her canned goods and her freezer as well. She had 10 of those frozen dinner meals, which I thought was pretty cool. (ironically, I had one of them for dinner earlier) Anyway, once I had the box filled with all her stuff, I knew I had to get out quick. If there were two zombies outside in this hallway alone, God only knows how many others there might be. I guess it makes sense that older people might’ve died ahead of the curve for normal deaths. Heart attacks from stress, strokes, or even just a natural death would’ve introduced a zombie to the building here and if the older folks were nearby, it’s not like they can run well to get away. Plus they are not as able in defending themselves, so really, it’s like fish in a barrel for zombies.

I figured I would be best served by clearing my exit out of the building, then taking the box out. If I was jumped holding the box I might drop it, cutting down on my reaction time as well as possible busting my banana box, and frankly, banana boxes are just too damn good to risk losing it. Lol. Oh Christ I just farted and it smells like pure evil. Fucking frozen dinner is giving me gas. Otis just got up and walked up the stairs to get away from me. I am awesome. I gotta crack a window, brb.

Much better. Anyway I checked the eyehole in the door and it looked clear. I slowly opened it, and peered out in both directions, Sig at the ready. It looked clear in both directions, and it was also quiet. I propped the door open wide enough to push the box through with my foot, and I stepped out into the hall. Mom’s body was still face down where she fell on top of me. Both the zombie bodies were still where they went down when I dropped them as well. Good shooting I guess on my part.

I brought the Sig up, and started my slow and smooth gait down the corridor.
 
I had 20 feet or so to go straight to the four way intersection, then a left to head out to the lobby area with the nurse’s station in it. I made the first 20 feet clean with no contact, but when I took the left I nearly shit myself. Not like the farts I’m dropping tonight, I mean legit underwear filling fecal slippage. The nurse’s station looked like a motherfucking butcher’s table. One of the nurses was slumped in the chair behind the counter, head all the way back with one of the elderly residents just going to town on her neck. You could clearly hear the gristle popping in the dead dude’s mouth as he chewed his way through her throat. Horrible. I noticed that she was wearing the same style of shirt and pants as the woman who got decapitated outside my condo earlier that day. That confirmation kind of felt good.

Laying on the floor in the middle of the lobby was a younger guy, probably mid 20’s and dressed athletically. He was face down and two more of the older folk zombies were lying on top of him, eating away. It was just gross. The smell alone, even from a solid 15 feet away was sickening. Entrails have a nasty smell. Earthy, a little like vomit as well, with some poo stench mixed in. Add to that the coppery tinge from all the blood and it’s enough to turn any appetite. Certainly almost made me hurl the spaghetti I just ate. Of course as soon as got within 15 feet or so the zombies either smelled me or saw me. I don’t think they can smell, so I think they saw me or maybe heard me.

The one already standing eating the nurse’s neck was the closest, and quickest to respond. I took a few steps in his general direction and squeezed off two rounds at his head. I remember the first round hit him squarely in the neck and punched a dark hole right where his Adam’s apple was. The second hit him in the nose, and he went down immediately. The other two zombies were pretty much jerked into motion from the sound of the gunshots. They were more or less in a prone position though, and being older, they were slow to get up. Finishing them was easy. A few steps closer, and two 9mm shots put them down for good. I did a quick survey, saw nothing else between me and the glass exit doors, and decided to go back for my haul. Here’s where I made my first few major mistakes of the day.

I grabbed the box, stuck the Sig back in the holster, and started a slow creep back to the lobby. Hallway was clear for me, just like the first time, but as soon as I made the corner heading out the lobby I was nearly knocked over by the fucking nurse who had her neck eaten apart. I totally forgot to put one in her head before walking away. Somewhat fortunately, the banana box was between me and her when she kinda stumbled against it, and I was saved. I took a few steps back, dropped the box as gently as I could, drew the pistol and popped one in her forehead. She fell so hard that her head nearly came disconnected from her spine. Really jarring visuals, seriously, the image frequently haunts me.

By that point I realized there was another un-dealt with body in the lobby. The kid. This guy was younger too, so he would likely be quicker and stronger than these older folks. Not that the nurse was old, but she was kind of a big girl, and not that young.

I made the corner again, this time leaving the box behind so I could deal with the kid. As soon as I took the turn at the four way I could see he was getting to his feet. Coming up slowly, like he was a sore athlete doing push-ups. It was nasty though, because his guts were coming apart underneath him. I made a snap decision to shoot him before he fully got to his feet. I took a few quick jogging steps at him, and drew a bead on the back of his head as he was halfway up. Of course that was when I realized my second great mistake. The gun clicked dry. I was like two feet from this fucking zombie, and my gun was empty.

Tired now. I’ll finish after my trip to the store tomorrow.

-Adrian

October 13
^th

The best laid plans of mice and men right? I hate my fucking life.

Alright so the maintenance dump truck I grabbed started fine, no problem. I gathered up my gas cans, the Sig, the shotgun, and my short sword. It’s the smallest high quality sword I own, and if possible, I would rather use that first. However, driving with a sword sheathed on your hip is really awkward. I totally can see why a cop would take a nightstick off their belt when driving. I wound up just tossing it on the seat beside me.

So I was up early to get down there. About 8am. I’m pretty fortunate in that my girlfriend bought me one of those self winding watches that always stay running as long as you’re moving. You know I bet there are a shitload of these watches that are gonna run forever on the arms of zombies. How weird is that?

So I grabbed a good sized bite to eat (frozen bagel with jelly, can of beans, and two glasses of OJ from concentrate) and set off down the road to the gas station. The campus is pretty high in altitude relative to the valley we’re situated next to. We’re almost on a plateau really. What that means is our road (well, I guess it’s just MY road now) is pretty steep going downhill, and has a few ups and downs. The truck made it about two miles before it started hiccupping and coughing, and came to a halt. I pulled over after the power steering died (which if you’ve never done it is a pretty herculean task)
 

Turned the key off, tried to start it, and it tried real hard, but just sputtered and died. Lather, rinse, repeat a few times, and still a dead truck. So I had to make a decision, walk back and scrap the trip? Or walk back, get truck #1, and do it with that one. I’d be missing out on a lot of fuel doing that way, but at the very least it’d be a recon mission. I decided to do that. I got out into the cold morning air and immediately felt some burning fury and frustration. This shit always seems to happen to me. Always the crap that should NEVER go wrong, goes wrong. I should’ve expected this shit.

I started a slow jog. I had 2 miles, mostly uphill, and I didn’t want to gas out on this unnecessary and unexpected jog. I paced myself, and everything was fine until I got to the nice cape home that’s about a half mile from campus. It was on the right side of the road, set back about 50 feet with a long, curved driveway. It had lovely crème color siding and a very nice veranda connecting the garage to the main house. It also had two zombies meandering in the yard , one in the wilting center flower garden, and one right in front of the garage. I only noticed them because I happened to stop jogging right next to the house and glanced absently sideways. Had I not stopped, I would’ve jogged right past them. Well they sure as shit noticed me. When I finally took them in, they were both shuffling with their stiff, clumsy walk at me, arms sweeping, feet dragging.