Adrian's Undead Diary Enter the World of AUD

April 23^rd.

                Productivity up in this bitch.  I feel like superman on crack.

                YO!

                Hadn’t used that in awhile, thought I’d throw that out as a re-run for ya Mr. Journal.  As I said, I feel that’s an underused greeting.

                The last two days we have made a concentrated effort to focus more on getting things done on campus.  Well, not all of us, but a fair part of us.  We’ve split our group evenly down the middle to kill two birds with one… shit that doesn’t make any sense.  Um, burning the candle at both ends?  Fuck that doesn’t apply either.

                We will be doing two things at once.  There.  It’s not fancy, but it says... exactly what I’m trying to say.  I suck at this writing thing.  Periodically I ponder what the hell made me want to do this so much.

                Because Ollie is all hot and horny to get the damn field planted, we got the fencing started there.  This will be a serious project.  The area we are trying to fence in is huge.  Granted, we already have a lot of waist high chain fencing already, and we are trying to work that in as well, but this will still take forever.  Ollie in his infinite usefulness has built a gate already out of pressure treated lumber that was kicking around from our loot runs and campus or wherever.  I don’t know where he got the hinges, and frankly, I don’t care.  The gate is large enough to fit the tractor through, and it latches with a pin latch (I think that’s what it’s called) and is damn sturdy.  Of course a gate in the middle of a field with no fence attached to it just looks silly, but we’re working on that.

Next to the soccer field are the baseball and softball fields.  The backstops are on the soccer field side, and we started there because it formed a perfect fence side on one edge.  If you hold both your hands in front of you making the index finger + thumb gun shape, with the fingers pointing out to the sides, that’s how the backstops are laid out.  All we had to do to seal it was put up a section of fence in between the two backstops, which was maybe 65 feet or so.  For extra sturdy measure, we put up one upright pole every 6 feet, and we made sure to use our 8 foot lengths so the fence was head height. 

Now we got the entire length of fence done for that yesterday mostly because we already had the poles with concrete still stuck on the bottom.  All we had to do was use a post digger and a shovel to make the hole, then drop the pole in, straighten it out, pack it tight, and then move on.  No waiting for concrete to dry.  When we have to do that, we’ll slow down dramatically.  We also dug a small furrow in the field so we could sink the chainlink into the ground to help prevent animals from digging under it.  Ollie says that won’t stop them permanently, but it’ll slow them, and tip us off so we can plink them off later on.

Ollie and I are also going to reinforce that side of the fence because it is outward facing.  We’ve got a ton of waist high fence poles, and we don’t want to use them on the “defensive” side of the fence.  On the close side that faces the center of campus, sure.  So we’re planning on using some of the shorter poles to buttress the outer fence in the event we get mobbed.  If we place them at 45 degree angles facing outward, the fence should be very strong if a mob finds itself pressing against it.

Of course, we’ve NEVER seen a dead guy or gal coming from that direction, so that’s a sort of secondary wish.  Until we’ve got the field fenced off entirely, there’s no sense in reinforcing half a fence.  That’s like putting a screen door on a submarine.  BOO YAH MOTHERFUCKER!  THAT ONE MADE SENSE!

That was my entire yesterday.  65 odd feet of chainlink fence with Ollie.  I’ll say this about the guy.  He doesn’t know shit about what he doesn’t know shit about.  But the shit he knows, he fucking KNOWS.  He’s such an odd guy.  I equate him to the farm boy savant.  I am fairly sure he can build us a tractor out of a tampon and a RC Radio car.  However, if I ask him to explain even just the basics of how to balance a check book, he gets this glossed over look in his eye and a streak of droll runs down his chin.

It’s so strange.  Amusing though, and I’m super grateful that he’s here.  I keep finding things he’s done around campus to make things work better or to make life easier, and I’m astounded that he’s outside working alone while we’re away all day risking our lives.  It’s too easy to think he’s back here on easy street.  He is getting it done on the homefront.

Melissa is awesome too.  She’s a sweetheart.  She brought us out hot coffee in the morning, iced tea in the afternoon, and fed us lunch as well.  I apparently equate awesome with being fed.  Maybe it is true that the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? 

Still no signs of a tummy bump on her, but she and Ollie both said that she’s now getting mild off and on morning sickness.  I don’t know shit about pregnancy, but I guess that’s normal.  It did occur to me that she should probably see Lisa back in Westfield soon because I’ve been told prenatal care is like, important and shit.

Again, I’d just like to defend my ignorance regarding pregnancies and all things baby, and point to my penis as an excuse.  It’s not my fault.  Not that one at least.  None to my knowledge actually.  *crosses his fingers*

While Ollie and I worked the shit out of the fields, Gilbert, Patty, Abby and Gavin were off fence and lumber hunting.  Yesterday they returned to the STIG complex, and ripped up another 200+ feet of pole and fence.  That was their entire day.  They said the undead population was a motherfucker downtown again.  That once again leads me to believe that something is stirring the proverbial pot down there.  More motion in the ocean getting the undead moving back and forth seems like a shit storm waiting to happen for us.

Happily, no one was hurt during yesterday’s fence operation.  Last night we fired up the grill and cooked up some of the last tidbits of our venison.  I guess it’s almost time to pray for a deer to be stupid enough to walk near campus again.  While we were cooking, we all pitched in, and built a new home for the small wood stove we found a week or two ago.  In the center of Hall E’s large dining area, we slapped down a brick floor and backing against the wall, and made sure the floor could handle the weight.  Like I said before, the stove is small as hell, and the bricks are fairly light so there’s no issue.

We got a hole in the wall, and got the pipes fed through, sealed up good and proper, and viola, now we have a wood stove in hall E.  Heat in the event the generator or furnace shits the bed.  This will cut down big time on our fuel consumption, as we’re not in Hall E all day, so we can kill the generator for longer, and use the batteries linked up to the solar panels, which incidentally, are generating good juice.  We now have wood stoves and gas generators installed in Hall E, Hall A, and Hall B.  I almost feel like a fucking boss when I look around here now.  Straight up pimptastic survivors in the hizzy.

Today was also a busy day.  I really need to stop saying that.  When was the last time I was like “Hey Mr. Journal, sat around with my thumb lodged in my asshole today because there was nothing to do around here.  Sure do wish I had something productive to do.”

NEVER.  We’re human doings, not human beings lately.  I’d love to sit down and just… be there, chilling out.  Sipping on a mai tai, watching the sun set, perhaps jamming out to some Bob Marley or something but NOOOOOOOO.  Someone had to flip the switch and go all apocalyptic on the world.

Whoever or whatever did this…  You better have had a good fucking reason for it, because I’d love for this shit to chill the hell out.

Moving along before I incur the wrath of the almighty... Again…

                Today we had our meeting with Blake.  We promised him we’d meet him at noon at his old place of work, Mike’s Automotive, and that’s what we did.  Oddly enough, the area around Mike’s was deadly clear of anything remotely close to a zombie.  Patty and Gavin went with me, and they both pointed it out as being weird.  By the time we pulled into the small parking lot where Blake’s truck was, we had come to the conclusion that Blake was in fact living at the garage, and he was keeping quiet, and putting the few undead around down using something silent like a bat, or a wrench or whatever.

                Blake was inside the garage’s office, and he came out to meet us.  I had Patty and Gavin stay inside the HRT and Gavin’s truck (respectively) until I knew Blake was chilled out, and was willing to meet two new faces.  Almost immediately, he seemed at ease, and after we bullshitted for a few more minutes, I asked him if he was game, and he said “hell yeah!”

                Patty and Gavin came over when I waved to them, and they introduced themselves to him.  Right from the jump he took to Patty, but there was a little cold shoulder action towards Gavin.  I dunno know why.  Maybe it was his camo trousers, or his perpetual smile, or the fact that they were similarly aged guys, but Blake seemed a little, wierded out.  After a bit, I asked Gavin to pull security to make it less odd.

                Blake took to Patty.  It was like an aunt and nephew from old times.  I think Patty just wanted to eat him right up.  I can’t tell if it’s a motherly thing, and she just exuded her willingness to be a friend to him, or maybe if it was the whole failure to save Tony from STIG/loss of a son thing.  Either way you slice it, they were thick like thieves in short order and I was more than happy to see it develop.

                Alrighty.  Blake had good news, and bad news.  Bad news first.  Moving about town he has seen quite a few folks.  He guessed at maybe as many as twenty since we last saw him.  Blake said that most of them seemed like returning families, or locals who somehow had remained completely out of sight the entire winter.  That seemed unlikely to us though.

                He unfortunately reported that he had personally watched many of them get killed, repeating the same fucking mistakes that people made back in June.  He said several of them returned to the grocery store, which is now empty, as well as the police station (also empty), and the pharmacy (yet again, empty).  Basically people who left town are returning and going where there’s nothing left, hoping or expecting shit to still be there for them.  Shit, I think most of the food in town is now either incinerated in the wreckage of STIG, or sitting in our cafeteria here on campus.

                Of the twenty or so people he has seen in the past four days, Blake thinks maybe ten are still alive.  Morons have no idea what they’re doing.  Trying to clear a major group of undead with a fucking bolt action rifle, no armor to speak of, no backup, and no goddamn plan to gtfo safely.  How did they think it was going to end?

                Sigh.

                The good news is this:  stupid people die, and leave their shit behind.  Blake showed us his haul inside the gas station, and he’s picked up five rifles, and seven handguns.  I am very happy to report that one of the handguns was a 10mm, and Blake was more than happy to part with the ammo and the weapon, which suddenly made the Kimber back here a lot more attractive as a sidearm.  It’s just a fine weapon, and honestly, I’d really like to carry it at one point. 

                Blake also said that the farm has been lackluster in terms of evidence.  He pushed pretty hard for someone to join him on his daily recon mission, but we kindly backed out of that idea.  I still don’t trust him fully, and the last thing I want to do is disappear somewhere in the woods with someone who strikes me as a few letters short of an alphabet.  AEIU and pretty much never Y.

                Nonetheless, he claims that there is daily activity there, and he thinks it is very sketchy. 

                As a big thank you, we gave him a few eggs, about ten cans of various foodstuffs, a six pack of Coke, and I kicked him another ten rounds of .303.  I’m hoping I find more, as keeping him slightly dependant on me for Enfield ammo makes me think he’s less likely to do anything weird.  Of course he has other guns now, as well as ammo, so maybe that’s entirely moot, and I’m just a dipshit.

                You ever stop to think about that expression Mr. Journal?  Dipshit?  Implying that one has been dipped in shit like some kind of fucked up éclair or something?  When you break it down, it’s fucking gross.

                Blake said he’s all set for stuff, but he’d REALLY like us to hit the auto parts store so he can get the garage back up and running.  Of course I pointed out that he’d need more security there if he was making noise, and that building a fence would be a necessity.  His expression was priceless when he looked around outside after I said that.  I imagine it was a lot like the face I was making when I realized how much fucking crap needed to be done on campus.

                Sort of a “are you shitting me?” face, mixed with a “oh yeah that’s right, fuck my life” face.

                Our next meeting with the Blakester is on the 29^th, six days hence.  We told him we would do our level best on the auto parts store, and if he found any building supplies, especially ones that built chainlink fences, to give us a call.  We almost gave him a walkie today, but for some reason I bailed on it.  I dunno, chalk it up to a gut feeling.

                Oh, so the return trip back here was a clusterfuck of undead.  Downtown’s population of zombies has literally doubled, which begs the question, WHERE THE FUCK WERE THEY?  More noises and activity from locals returning is starting to interfere with my quality of life, and that’s saying something, because my life sucks.  You really need to fuck things up to make it worse for me right now.

                Highlight of the day:  Gilbert is the fucking man.  All those nights he went home and blew us off to “rest” or whatever, he was working on building weapons racks and a workbench for the reloading gear.  While we were gone earlier today he had Abby and Ollie help him move it, and install it in the new armory in Hall E’s basement.  All of our unused weapons are now stored in a cool, dark, reasonably dry environment under lock and key.  He says we can start reloading brass as early as tomorrow if we want.  Fortunately, Walt had oodles of .223 and .308 reloading supplies, and Gilbert says we’ve got at least 2,000 rounds between the two.

                That’s the best news Mr. Journal.  Straight up made my day.  More good bullets is good.

                I R GUD AT ENGRISH.

                Tomorrow I’m back on house clearing and fence acquisition duty.  We’ll see which happens after a scout of some areas we haven’t spent too much time in.  I KNOW there is a shitload of fencing at the schools, but that’s like, dead frigging center in town, and there were a LOT of undead there earlier today.  Mike is coming for more water on the 25^th too, so hopefully he has news regarding Operation Snatch.

                I’m out like a boner in sweatpants. 

                -Adrian

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