With Spring Comes the Fall (20 page)

Posted by Treesong at 
11:32 PM

Sometimes it takes a mother's words to make you take a hard look at yourself. 

My mom and I had a talk yesterday, at her request, because she is worried about me. She has sensed that something has been different about me for a while, she says, but it only became clear to her after she re-read this blog, and finally saw a pattern. 

She pointed out to me that I mentioned in my post the other day during the fight that we lost two people, and she was horrified that I didn't even tell their names, that in my next post I acted like their deaths didn't matter, hadn't even happened. I have been reading over my own posts off and on since then, and I have come to realize that she is right: I have become isolated from most of the people around here. 

There are obvious reasons for this, of course. I have been under a tremendous amount of pressure, and my position virtually guarantees that I will see each and every  person at their very worst moments. Add to that our increased numbers and my workload, and it becomes clear that my time to get to know people is somewhere between slim and none. That is completely ignoring these damn zombie attacks that just keep getting more frequent. 

But it does not excuse me from trying to find something out about them, to create some more lasting tribute to them than "Two of our people died". That is my failing, and I take ownership of it. 

So let me do that, here and now, brief and unworthy as it is. 

Two men died on our most recent trip. Their names were Phil and Vince. I will not use their last names, as they have surviving family here, and they have asked that I do not give that information. Before the fall, Phil, 34, owned a small plumbing company in Cynthiana. He was an avid sports fan, a loving husband, and father to three. He donated money to various charities, Heifer International was his favorite. He loved to listen to and play the piano, and when he moved here, he often opened his house to others who loved music, and would serenade his visitors with tunes that ranged from old-school honky tonk to Mozart. He is survived by his wife and all three of his children. He told many that he felt like the luckiest man in the world that his entire immediate family survived, and his wife takes some solace in the fact that all of their children live because of his efforts. 

Vince, 55, was more of a mystery. He arrived here with the large group that came at the same time as my brother and his brood. He and his wife ran a small bed and breakfast near Cave Run Lake, a quiet retirement after Vince's thirty years in law enforcement were up. He was a quiet man in our meetings, but his words were always measured and concise when he did speak. He was not a social animal, preferring to spend his free time with his wife, and what activities they undertook together remain their business. It is my hope that even after so many years, they spent time learning about each other every day, and loving one another. 

I see that I need to relearn to exist with the people here, and not separate from them. My friends and family are close to me, but I have hardened my heart to becoming close to new people. Maybe because I am afraid to lose them, maybe because I don't want to put myself through the agony of remembering when they die, and eulogizing them when I must. 

My heart is fragile, no matter what the rest of you might see, and it is my fear of losing you, of failing you, that urges me to walk apart. 

Forgive me that. 

Posted by Josh Guess at 
9:59 AM

There are some days when nothing is going on around here. I exclude the background noise of a new community being built, of course; our new equipment rumbles loudly and screams as it cuts recently felled trees into wood we can build with. Hammers ring as men and women work on the wall, somewhere to the north of my house, a small crane is humming away as my brother begins work on a watchtower. 

But today, for once, nothing exciting is happening. I am in my office (the computer room in my house) taking a break from an unusually productive day of planning. An enterprising family has been making daily rounds through town, and they have discovered why the zombie attacks have been so much more frequent, and my brother and I have just finished a meeting, trying to figure out what to do about it. 

Apparently, the zombies around here are starting to hunt. Not just clump together and wander about, but they seem to be actively and intentionally searching areas. This means, of course, that they don't just happen to run into us, they find us...a scary thought, that they seem to be either learning, or at least remembering some human behaviors that help them to be better and more efficient killers. 

The question has been raised, of course, as to whether or not this means anything significant. Does it mean that these animated bodies are becoming the people they once were? Or are they something new? We want to know, and I have long had the urge to closely study them. Now it's more than idle curiosity, and more of a need to know kind of thing. We can't go on shooting them in the head if they start becoming people's grandparents, brothers, and kids again. 

Dave and I have decided on some more defensive techniques, stuff that will be very helpful and relatively easy and fast to implement. Evans, mom, Gabrielle and I are set on catching a few zombies for study. Evans wants to do an autopsy on some as well. 

All told, it's all going well right now. People are coming together on our big projects, especially the wall and the watch tower, and it is my fervent hope that building something that they have shared purpose in will help them also build common ground to work from in their lives, become more tolerant of each other. 

That is, after all, how all great societies have become so. 

Posted by Josh Guess at 
10:18 AM

The first major section of the new wall, the permanent one, is almost done. It covers the main gait, and has already proven to be quite effective against a moderate sized group of zombies. Not perfect, of course, because they can find their way around the edges of it (since it's not complete, but it works as intended.
We also got a great field test of the idea that my brother and I came up with yesterday. We were worried that the zombies were getting too smart for it to work, but we seriously overestimated them. Dave and I went out early today to line the empty grass in front of the main gate with stakes. Big ones. Angled away from the compound at about forty degrees, and sharp as tacks. The few individual zombies that were ahead of the pack managed to avoid some of them, but a great many of them were impaled, which made it really easy to pick them off. On a side note, the watchtower is positioned precisely so several sharpshooters can defend the front gate from a long distance. We are thinking of building more.
I wanted to take this quiet time around the compound to talk a little more about some of my fellow survivors. Not to judge their actions or opinions as I have done before, but simply to paint a better picture of some of the people around me, so that those of you out there that are considering a move here can know more about your possible neighbors.
To that end:
Steve. Of Courtney and Steve fame, rescued from southern Illinois by Jess and myself shortly after society fell. Steve is of average height, has medium length blond hair, a pointed chin (much like an elf), big eyes, and a straight nose (also like an elf...hmmm...) Steve is an incredibly smart guy, and has a way of connecting with people, even without words, that amazes me still, after more than a decade of friendship. Let me tell you how he became one of my best friends, and maybe you will understand.
I had moved to Illinois to be closer to my girlfriend. When she and I finally broke up, Steve was a couple of towns away, at my cousin's house. It was a brutal breakup from someone that I was head over heels for at the time, and for whom I had moved two states over for. It was late, and yet he left to come get me, and sat with me on the edge of the parking lot where I was at for almost an hour, letting me literally cry on his shoulder. At a time when I felt broken in ways I had never experienced, his understanding and sense of humor was a rock on which I could stand amid a sea of hurt.
Not legendary stuff, I know, but that's Steve. He is funny, and a HUGE nerd (and proud of the fact), and quietly strong in ways that will shock and amaze you. His empathy is stronger than that of any person I have ever met, and I continually thank god that he was able to survive, and still be the person that I have known and loved like my own brother for so long.
If you come to live here, you will see him out and about the compound. I suggest stopping him and starting a conversation about pretty much anything. You will be pleasantly surprised where it will go, I promise you that.
And he's a damned good person to have at your back in an attack. It's almost scary how quick and efficient he is in a fight, considering that he's the one that taught me Dungeons and Dragons. All it took was necessity to scratch away the soft, geeky covering that held within it a warrior.
I will do someone different tomorrow. Any requests?

Posted by Josh Guess at 
1:15 PM

Work on the wall and tower continue well. We got word from another group of people this morning that they are headed our way. They tell us that they are bringing literally tons of grains with them, as well as some supplies that we can use for our water retention systems. They are from quite a ways off--central Iowa--so I don't know when they will be here. Probably between three days and a week. They have fifteen people, so a nice sized bunch but not overlarge.
Dave is working on the tower at the moment. We have two teams cutting down trees all over the compound. As much as I would love to leave this place as green and lovely as it has always been, recent events have taught us the value of a clear line of sight (and fire).
Today, I want to talk about my brother, Dave.
He is a good man, and I'm not just saying that because we're related. Before the fall, he dedicated himself to being the best in his field, and he was. He was the youngest project manager anyone had heard of in the business of building hospitals. In less than a decade, he went from being a drywaller to running jobs worth tens of millions of dollars. Got to respect that.
But he was so dedicated because of his family, for the most part. He is a loving father and husband, and despite his outward show of manly behaviors, he is like putty in the hands of his wife and kids. Dave is one of the smartest people I know, and has an ability to solve problems and think in three dimensions that would have made him a world renowned scientist, an incredibly decorated soldier, or a famous investigator, had he chosen those paths. But Dave is something rare in society today; a man who liked to work with his hands, and possessed of a work ethic that makes robots look lazy as hell. That combination followed its natural course, pushing him up the ladder, giving him the ability to push his limits, coordinating vast numbers of men and resources, in order to create something lasting, that would help people.
He loves beer, guns, sports, and driving fast. A few days after he got here, he went on a search around town and found one of the new Camaros. It's dark blue, and he drives it way more than he needs to.
In a pinch, I can trust that he will make the logical and pragmatic choice. He is a good man with an even temper that enjoys the simple things in life, with a brain that can do complex mathematics while reading good fiction while chugging a beer. He's a contradiction wrapped in beef jerky, and I love him for that.

Posted by Josh Guess at 
11:27 AM

I was going to talk about my mom today, but something happened about an hour ago that makes me want to tell you about Gabrielle.
Gabby is a nurse, as you may remember, and between her and mom, one of them is almost always on duty, though the demands on their time have dropped since Evans got here. So it worked out that Gabrielle was out helping on the wall, learning some of the craft of building from my brother. She is especially excited to get work done on it, since the frantic pace and constant zombie attacks keep her pretty busy. The finished product will protect the compound, and greatly reduce the workload that our medical folks have.
So she's out there, swinging a hammer, getting used to the feel of nails being driven into wood, when somebody falls over the side of the wall, landing outside. You should note, at this point, that there are almost always a few loose zombies around. It is impractical to pick off every one, and the ones that leave us alone are free to roam as long as they stay away from us.
This guy falls over the edge and Gabby hears this big POP, and she knows that his femur is broken. She can see the bone jutting through his skin, even through his pants, and she knows that it is vital that he get help ASAP. Without thinking of her own safety, she tosses her hammer over the wall, climbs the edge, and jumps down. She managed to get the the guy and provide some rather creative first aid, but the smell of blood and all that movement made a few of our stray undead a bit frisky.
Gabby is working on the guy, focused on keeping him stable and safe, and several zombies go toward the two of them. Gab hears people yelling and turns, finally seeing the threat. So this woman, who is just over five feet tall and maybe a hundred and ten pounds, grabs the hammer and starts viciously beating her attackers. The whole time, she's screaming at them, and after a short time, all the zombies close to her are fully dead, and the ones not so close are edging away.
My brother relayed this whole story to me, and I thought it was at once heartwarming, hilarious, and slightly scary. I mean, it IS funny--this tiny woman is so furious that she scares mindless, walking corpses. And given her relaxed and calm demeanor, her great sense of humor, I was kind of shocked that she could be so ruthless and brutal. I have a hard time imagining her angry.
The man she jumped down to save is alive, though he will be out of commission for a long time. Gabby herself is back at the wall, hammer in hand. I think she washed off the blood.