Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5) (40 page)

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
[Post
by Kincaid]
Today is the day. The council has been
deliberating for most of two solid days now and tensions are jacked
up beyond what most people can tolerate. It isn't a situation like
most before. There's no shadowy fear of unknown consequences.
Everybody knows that we could be in the middle of a guerrilla war by
this time tomorrow, fighting heavily armed people with righteous fury
on their side.
Righteous from their point of view, anyway. A
comment on Josh's post yesterday struck me funny. The comment said
that they could almost see Josh's point, but that the difference
between the disaster with the Louisville crew and what we're going
through with the Exiles is that the Louisville crew are friends, if
only casual ones. We weren't sure what their intentions were. With
the Exiles, the comment said, we know exactly who and what they are,
and they can't be trusted.
Just have to point out that New
Haven was sure what I was when I took the offer of amnesty. A lot of
communities did the same. We were murderers, thieves, abusers, some
were even sadists and rapists. Most marauders tried to weed out the
worst elements before taking the amnesty, but some were bound to have
gotten through.
I'm still not taking sides. I'm just pointing
out that there is precedent for giving the Exiles a chance. I'm just
as unhappy as the rest of you that they chose not to take the amnesty
when offered, and angry that they tried to kill over it. I'm certain
that many of the Exiles, especially the women and children, weren't
given much choice.
As for the rest? I don't think it's
impossible that they might have finally come around. Living in peace,
cooperating with neighbors, is a hell of a lot less stressful than
the life most marauders lead. We still have to fight and kill, but
it's the difference between being the enemy of everyone and having to
be afraid all the time that any one of them will decide to strike at
you, and just facing whatever problems come up. I chose the amnesty
because I was sick of living that way. I wanted something
better.
Maybe the Exiles have seen the light. I don't know.
Hell's bells, I used to be one of them and saw the light myself and
even I have a hard time believing it.
One way or another,
today is going to be one for the record books. Speaking of record
books, I have some interesting news on that front, but I'll let Josh
fill you in on it tomorrow. Starting then he'll be back on here
full-time, assuming he feels he can handle it.
Keep your
fingers crossed for us.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
Yesterday
evening, the council announced their decision regarding the Exiles.
Actually they announced two decisions, and I'll get to the second one
in a minute.
Many
of us expected a call for a general vote. I won't bore you with the
humdrum details of how the process for getting a general vote to
happen works, so let me just say that there was reason to think the
choice would be left up to us. That didn't happen. I'll admit to a
certain amount of relief that Will and the others in charge made an
executive call, the consequences of which will be on their
shoulders.
Here's how it works out
All Exiles--indeed,
all remaining marauders--are being given a chance to submit to New
Haven. Will, with Courtney and Steve's help, contacted every allied
community to try and coordinate another amnesty. This time things are
going to be a little different. More organized. We have the capacity
now to keep a large number of prisoners, and that is the plan for
anyone who takes the deal. If you come willingly, you live in a cell
and do hard labor for a year and a day. After that time there will be
individual hearings for each person to determine whether they should
be allowed in the general population.
If they are, it's five
years limited freedom. Think of it as a sort of probation. During
that long span, they won't be allowed weapons or certain freedoms
that others enjoy. They will have to work like anyone else, but won't
be asked to do more than any other person. During the probationary
period, the measures they would live under are really more for the
protection of others rather than any kind of real punishment.
Any
current prisoner who accepts this deal will start their time on
September first. Any who decline will be tried for their crimes and
punished in a manner decided by a tribunal. In some cases that may
mean death.
There is a good chance that the Exiles out in the
wild--and those few still hunkered down in the fallback point--will
band together and fight us if they find these terms unsatisfactory.
We're prepared for that possibility as well as we can be, and most
citizens seem to think this decision is a fair one. Anyone who
chooses prison and hard labor on the off chance they might get to be
under our watchful eyes for half a decade is likely the kind of
person who can move beyond what they once were.
What can I
say, I'm an optimist.
There are a small number of people
(relative to our staggeringly large population now) who think the
prisoners should be used as advance units to fight zombies. The
logistics of actually making unwilling people do such a thing aside
without them just escaping aside, that attitude is exactly what I'd
expect of Exiles, not New Haven citizens. It's not surprising, but it
is a disappointment to me and it hurts me to know that even a few
dozen can still be so driven by vengeance.
Then again, I've
been pushed by that very same spirit a time or two, and I might have
felt the same way before my recent troubles. So who am I to judge?
I
doubt that we'll see much action from any resistant Exiles still out
there in the near future. Right now we're strong and watchful. If
they're going to hit us they'll do it when we're weak. Maybe during a
zombie attack (new influxes of the undead have begun streaming in
from Louisville now that there aren't many people there to stop them)
or perhaps while we're ferrying in another wave of settlers. Now that
we've begun the process of relocating the remaining Louisville people
to our hastily (but cleverly) built isolation area, there isn't a
buffer to slow down the undead. They're still a threat. As it turns
out, so are the Exiles.
Things change, but sometimes they stay
the same no matter what you do. I'm trying to stick with the mental
exercises Gabby has me doing for therapy. Trying to focus on the
positive aspects of life right now, such as how far we've come as a
community in a very short period of time. We have enough people even
now, when much less than half of the total newcomers are here, to
allow some people to work very specialized jobs without putting undue
strain on the people who keep New Haven running.
Which leads
me to the second announcement: I don't have a job anymore.
Well,
not entirely true. Kincaid has been placed in the permanent position
of Director of Offensive Operations, an office that didn't have a
nifty name like that while I was doing the job. He works under
Dodger, obviously, and for the near term will be working out of my
house. I have the office space and location, so it only makes sense.
I also want to get to know him a little better, give the guy a chance
to overcome the preconceived notions I have about him.
I won't
be wearing any of the hats I used to switch between anymore. I'm free
to work whatever jobs I want, from clinic hours to helping my brother
and his crew build stuff. But I no longer have duties as a
coordinator of any kind. I won't run things, oversee people, or be
required to do anything that will push my boundaries further than the
occasional rotation as an on-call fighter during attacks.
My
only job title now is one of those specialized ones. Will smiled as
he announced it yesterday; I am New Haven's official historian. It's
a position that can only be bestowed or removed by the council in a
supermajority vote, and otherwise it lasts for life. I honestly
thought at first that I was going to be shunned by citizens who
thought I was getting an easy ride because of my breakdown.
Hell, 
I 
thought
the same damn thing. What right do I have to mooch off others and
provide no needed services while they break their backs in the
fields? Or risk their lives on the wall? Or do one of a hundred
thankless and difficult jobs while I sit at home with my computer.
I
thought that until people began coming over and congratulating me
with smiles that held genuine warmth and joy. Many of them thanked me
for my years of service, for seeing The Fall coming (many people saw
what was happening, I am not special that way), and for a number of
other things. The prevailing opinion seems to be that after two and a
half years of doing what was necessary to safeguard others and build
a home, I had earned the right to do the one thing I love above all
else and give up a risky life.
I'll be damned, but after
losing count of the number of people that came by my house to thank
me (I stopped tracking them after a hundred) I started to think they
might be on to something. Realistically, I still feel as though I
should be contributing in a more meaningful and concrete way, but my
lingering instability makes me a liability in many situations. I
think I can fight undead without a problem, but the thought of aiming
a weapon at another living being gives me a bad case of the shakes. I
don't even think I could hunt for food at this point.
Stress
might affect me the same way, so the council decided the best thing
for everyone was to put me where I could be the least stressed out
and the most effective. I didn't miss the fact that it's also a kind
of reward. I cried a little when Will read out the news.
See,
before The Fall I had long nurtured a dream of being a full-time
writer. I wanted to entertain the masses and make a positive impact
on the world. I've joked before that it took the end of that world to
make my dream a reality, but the truth is that even over the last two
years I haven't been living that dream. I have done so much, things
both terrible and wonderful, and had so many responsibilities that
even this blog has become a darker place, filled mostly with news and
happenings and devoid of much of the character and love I want to see
in it.
So...that's my goal. I have complete freedom to write
what I want, when I want, and how I want. I will always update on
events here, but my troubles have shown me that having that positive
impact I'd so long hoped for isn't going to ride on news updates and
the latest survival techniques. I have a chance to reconnect with
that child of wonder inside me, the one who saw the rays of light
shining through the darkness of the zombie apocalypse. I have the
opportunity before me to highlight the love I have long ignored from
my amazing friends and family. I can share pieces of beauty and joy,
contrast them with the sad and the awful, and hopefully once again
give hope to those of you out there who need it that the world isn't
bleak and empty.
Not only will I be trying to convince you of
that fact, but myself as well. I may not be entirely comfortable with
this new reality, but over time I expect I'll be out there again,
doing things that have a material impact to balance out the morale
boost I will try to provide here.
I'll have one last post for
this month, and then I'll take the last day of August and the first
of September off to get my bearings and start anew. September second
will mark exactly two and a half years of Living With the Dead. As I
look back on all the words I've shared with you, the highs and lows,
I start to feel one of those rays of light trying to fight through
the clouds in my heart. The chance to focus entirely on writing here,
to touch lives in a more meaningful way, is the only thing besides my
loved ones that has given me hope in the last few weeks. It's tiny,
but it's there.
And really, that's what hope is, isn't it? A
stupidly small chance that we grip as hard as we can and work toward.
The journey might be fruitless and end in pain, but I begin to see
that the destination isn't as important as how you get to it. As Will
said, we make the future. We choose how we will impact others. We
might never reach the goals we shoot for, but if we don't do what is
right on the path toward those goals, we can never achieve something
better.
I choose hope, no matter how far away it may seem. I
choose life.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
It's
early morning and the wind outside is cold. For the first time in
more than a week I am in my own home. For the first time in months I
went for a jog. The breeze was uncomfortable at first, then almost
painful as the air began to cool the sweat beading on my skin.
I
kept running, though. I muscled through it and embraced the
experience. On my circuit through the streets I took new avenues,
wandering across the most recent expansions and taking in hundreds of
unfamiliar faces. Even in the gloom of predawn there were so many
people working. The bustle was a background to the noise of my run. I
focused on the swoosh of my limbs, the pounding of my heart. I felt
my pulse race as I pushed harder.
Yet I couldn't help but
notice the sharp crack of hammers meshing with distant, muted calls
as men and women coordinated their efforts. As my feet slapped
against the pavement, my eyes were drawn to the skeleton of a new
watchtower climbing into the sky, just visible against the
brightening sky. Our new arrivals began their real work today in the
darkness, and will carry on through the light.
There's
something poetic about that image. I heard laughter and cheer as
those people shed sweat and effort to create something that will
stand above what was before. My chest swelled with fierce pride that
they would forgo sleep and probably a decent meal to ensure that
much-needed work was done.
Many of them waved at me as I moved
by, and I waved back. My face isn't so special that people remark on
my handsomeness, but with my hair having grown as long as it has--a
rarity in a society that fears an enemy grabbing onto it--and my
heavy-framed glasses, I'm easy to pick out of a crowd. They greeted
me with smiles and what seemed to be nods of respect. I felt the
embers of happiness kindle inside me a bit. Acceptance can go a long
way.
When I came back home there were already guests waiting
on me. Courtney, Steve, Patrick, Becky, Bill, Gabrielle, Rachel, and
a few others. Some of them, most vocally Gabby, were worried that I'd
vanished without telling anyone. My jog took better than half an
hour. Jess punched me in the arm for not waking her up. She hits
really hard.
The fact that we were all supposed to sit down
and have breakfast had totally slipped my mind. Pat and his nieces
were cooking--something they liked to do for us now and again--while
Pat's little girl was passed around like an adorable, crying
football.
We all sat down in my living room and ate together.
Deer steak and eggs are a staple food here, and one most people tire
of after eating it every day for weeks at a time, but the company
around me added a certain something to the repast. Friendship and
good times are a spice that makes life much sweeter. The bonds we
share are powerful things.
Like anything else, those bonds
take work. Ask any circus tightrope walker and they'll tell you that
a net is only as good as the time you put into servicing it. If you
ignore what could save your life, what supports you (and in this
case, the people you support in return), the whole thing can
fray.
That's why mornings like this are so vital. Shared
experience is important, but not just the random events we all have
to live through. To knit ourselves closer, to secure what binds us
together, takes deliberate choice. That's why we decided on a big
meal together. Not only to remind me that there are people who care
to lean on when I need them, but to simply enjoy one another. To make
new memories together, adding to the rich collection of them that
defines our friendships.
It's that way all over. Everywhere
throughout New Haven and spreading to communities of survivors
wherever they're found. That curious element is the focus of all our
endeavors. To grow and fight for a better way. To rely on each other
to set our course straight when we begin to veer. Love strong enough
to bear the guilt and anger of being brought back down to earth when
rage and arrogance pushes us in the wrong direction.
And in
the simplest possible terms, concrete and down-to-earth, the force
that pulls a man back from the edge of self-destruction. These
people, my loved ones, are the reason I'm here right now. Only time
can help salve the guilt I feel for ignoring them for so long, but
they've given me the strength and encouragement I need to face that
struggle. The gratitude I feel is...
There aren't any words.
It's too much.
I lose track of the number of times I've said
this, but some messages bear repeating. We will face enemies, human
and zombie alike. We will likely face sickness and starvation, war
and death. We will disagree--sometimes violently--and we will falter.
Bad things will happen, and they will chip away at us. I'm living
proof of that.
None of those things are the end of the world.
You might have noticed, but we've been there and done that.
When
one of us begins to fall, there will be another to hold us up until
our strength returns. On the small scale as with my own recent
experience, all the way to the vast assortment of communities that
support one another already. As we move past the hardest times we've
faced, the first few years after The Fall, we begin the times that
will truly test us.
Once survival isn't the desperate struggle
it once was, we begin to lay the framework for the future. Not just
the next few years and not just in the physical sense. We are
creating the first stage of a new age of human existence. We lay the
literal and metaphorical foundations for the infinite time ahead.
Small things now will have a larger impact decades or centuries down
the line than we can possibly imagine. We owe it to ourselves, to
each other, and to the untold generations we hope to see born, to out
our best effort into it.
And the only way to do that is
together. That may mean swallowing our pride and taking in enemies as
allies like we've done with some of the Exiles and many, many
marauders. Chances are we'll badly misstep here and there in the name
of justice, but with any luck there will be others to call us out on
our mistakes.
But not 
only 
call
us out. It's my hope that all of us, the entirety of human beings
we're in contact with, will always strive not only to point out these
flaws we so easily miss in ourselves, but also offer solutions.
Self-correction on a massive scale, arcing over years and decades and
centuries.
I hope for that, even though hoping is a fool's
game. I have to be a fool, because if I saw the unity of purpose and
the powerful compassion around me as just some fleeting thing, I
wouldn't be able to face this world another day.
We 
will 
soar above
even the hopes and dreams we have now. Our legacy will be the choice
to be better than we were before, in every way that matters. As our
homes and technology improve, so must our commitment to one another,
and to the uncounted tomorrows our children will share. A higher
moral fiber, a greater code of ethics, and a future bound by mutual
achievement and cooperation. Those must be equally important goals
moving forward.
Otherwise, all we have lost and all we have
done to rebuild is a waste. Separately we will fail and
flounder.
Together, we will rise.