I think I’ve gotten rid of the Ninja shits. At least, I think I have. I’ve been wrong before though. They are…. Very sneaky. I haven’t had the shits in a few days, so I’m pretty excited. It might’ve been the painkillers though. I know many of them cause constipation as a side effect. If that’s the case, then I killed two birds with one stone. You have any fucking idea how painful and difficult it is to take a shit when your leg is fucked up? I had to crap with one leg sticking straight out in front of me, grimacing the whole time. Forget standing up afterward. Yowzas.
Something happened today that has me somewhat excited. I went outside today for the first time in a week I think. It was around noon, and it was actually pretty nice out. A pleasant 40 degrees F according to the thermometer. My leg has gotten much better and I desperately needed to get outside and get some direct sunlight and fresh air. I stood outside of Hall E, holding the door open if I needed to make a quick escape when I heard a weird, thrumming noise. It was a sound I hadn’t heard since late June.
It was an airplane.
I didn’t see it, but I heard it. It was distinct. I nearly danced for joy. Signs of educated, advanced survivors. Pilots who knew how to fuel a plane and fly, overhead. Holy shit I was, and still am excited about that. Full chubber.
The first thing I thought of was 9/11. Mr. Journal you might not remember this, but for almost two days they stopped all flights here in the states. No planes overhead except for military ones. It was weird, especially if you were anywhere near a major city with a big airport. I remember feeling weird back then when someone pointed out to me how quiet it was without the civilian planes. I’d forgotten how quiet it was again.
Who was in the plane? What kind of plane was it? Where was it going? Large planes don’t take off without a damn good idea that they can land where they’re going, which implies to me that two locations were still communicating effectively over vast distances. I’m betting my shirt it was a military plane flying from one base to another. A lot of bases use satellite comms, and as long as they have power on base, the satellites will last for a year, maybe more. Now whoever runs the orbit corrections for the comms satellites needs to stay alive for them to last though. More than likely our bases are still operational all over the world, and it was people shuffling about. Man that’s exciting. Hope for stability.
So what’s new with me Mr. Journal? Damn little, that’s what. Yesterday I spent inside yet again and tried to stay off the leg. I can get around more or less without pain, just soreness, but the less activity I have, the faster it’ll heal. I read a few books this week that I had here in the dorm from the kid’s rooms, and I also experimented with canned food recipes with mixed results. I haven’t had any venison in some time. I only really like it if I can grill it, and the grill is outside, so I’ve been skipping the meat. I’ve checked the meat twice, and it’s holding up pretty good in my freezer room deal.
I am going to have to make a trip down to the gas station as soon as I feel comfortable moving around. Maybe I can do it tomorrow or the next day. I could have done it today I think, but on the outside chance I run into trouble, I can’t risk re-injuring the leg. I’ve been burning through fuel for the gas generator like a motherfucker. It’s been really cold, so I’ve had to turn up the heat a few degrees above where I had been keeping it. Also, because I’ve been inside all day, I haven’t been turning it down a few degrees like I had been when I went out to clear houses. All in all, I’m at least halfway through big Blue already, and that’s far ahead of my schedule.
If I can just fill up my gas cans I’ll be good to go until my leg is fully healed. At least into January I think. I can’t recall how much gas is in the Tundra, but I think it’s somewhere less than a half tank. That plus the fuels cans would be terrific. It sucks being all alone when you’re hurt or sick Mr. Journal. There’s no one to bring me chicken soup anymore.
Much like the previous few days it’s been boring here. Nothing has passed through the campus, and other than hearing the plane earlier today, there’s nothing new to report. Food is good, the plants are slowly growing, Otis is his mischievous self, and my leg is getting better. 1stand ten.
More tales of the past you think? I’m getting low on stories to tell about what’s already happened to me Mr. Journal. In fact, if I spend the rest of this entry talking about the remaining time between June 23rdand when I started the journal, I’ll be flat out of shit to talk about. Not like I won’t be doing stuff in the future, but I won’t have much to talk about as it relates to the past. Is that good? I always had this notion I could talk forever about that crap. Maybe it’s because I’m putting way more entries than I planned on. When I first started this I was looking at doing entries once a week. I must like your company bud.
Oh well, all good things come to an end I suppose. After my trip back to Moore’s on July 4thI got pretty motherfucking paranoid. Realizing a pipsqueak teenager had blown the head off of my cop friend really put the fear of humanity into me. I holed up here in Hall E and moved back and forth between here and the cafeteria like I was on patrol in Iraq. Everywhere I was guns up, looking for trouble. I fully expected either a horde of undead, or a 10thgrade class of Uzi wielding assholes to jump me at every corner. Mercifully I found no hordes of undead, or submachine gun wielding teenagers.
I started to clean the campus up after July 4th. The heat was terrible that month and the smell in the air became entirely unbearable. I would occasionally just dry heave when I got a good whiff of it, and I couldn’t take much of that before I got up the motivation to deal with it. I found some good overalls in the maintenance barn, plus some work gloves and rubber gloves. I got the four wheeler and the little trailer all set up, and I started to move the corpses to the far end of campus, near the staff housing area. Shit what an awful process that was.
There were quite a few undead roaming the campus though after that. I think the sound of the four wheeler drew them out. I found a few extra kid zombies in the far rear of campus near the staff housing sometime in mid to late July. My gut tells me they were hiding there and starved. Unlike in zombie movies, most of the zombies appear pretty much as they appear in life, as opposed to these emaciated stick figures you see in movies nowadays. Why would zombies get skinny? It’s not like they need to eat to maintain weight, they’re fucking dead bodies. If anything, you’d imagine they’d be fat as hell after eating all the rest of us. Most of the undead I’d seen or killed looked like normal living people, just dead.
These kids I saw were emaciated though. I think they hid from me when I cleared staff housing and wound up starving to death, or OD’ing on something. I found like 6 or 8 of them, and they got handled with relative ease. I found the archery shit about… August 3rdor so, and started to put range time in. I got to be a pretty good shot with the crappy bows, and I vowed then to use them first if possible. That reminds me, as soon as I can I really need to get back to the range, even in this cold. I haven’t fired the bow in fucking forever, and with ammo as low as it is, every bullet is as precious as can be. I can get 5 or 6 shots out of every arrow if I take good care of them. I can’t say that I am that comfortable bringing the bow out as a tactical weapon yet, but I desperately need to get back to practicing with it once I’m able. Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow.
I lost a lot of weight back then. I should definitely mention that. The school food supplies were really substantial, but I was so frigging scared of running out of food I ate like a bird until mid September. I think I put myself on a 3 can a day diet once I went through or lost all the fresh foods. Like I said, I was out of eggs the first week of July, and I had to throw out so much produce it makes me angry to this day. Heads of lettuce by the box went. I wish I’d started growing shit in July. I’d have had the most bitching compost heap to jumpstart it. So many missed opportunities to make life easier for myself. Live and learn. Learn or die is more like it.
Most of August was spent laying low. It was brutally humid and rainy that month which really did nothing for my demeanor. The other side effect of the rain was causing all the blood and gore to run off the roads and sidewalks. I was so fucking afraid of the run off getting into my water supply I hoarded water and drank nothing but my stored supply the entire month. I still to this day don’t know if the… disease or whatever it is that’s causing this is transmittable. As I’ve said, I don’t think it’s a virus or a disease. It has got to be something worse. At the very least I wasn’t willing to risk drinking water that had human filth in it. One of the fastest ways to die in a warzone is getting disease from dead bodies and shit. Cholera, dysentery, diphtheria, you name it.
And Mr. Journal, dead bodies poop. I know, you wouldn’t think that would be the case, but all dead bodies poo. Once we die the muscles that control our bowels and sphincter call it a day, and if they have poo in the pipes, it all falls out. Campus was very unpleasant during the clean up. That also partially explains why the undead smell so fucking terrible. In addition to being rotting bodies, they’ve shat themselves.
Oh what a world.
Um so what happened during July and August that’s worth writing about for historical integrity? Well, I stopped hearing planes fly over sometime around June 30th. I didn’t see any parents after July 4thor so. Last living people I saw actually for some time. I can’t recall exactly, but after killing the kid downtown, I don’t think I saw another living person until I went down to the gas station in October. And even that sucked ass. Crazy ass wife pulling a gun on me.
I wonder what happened to her and the little kid? Mr. Journal if you get a lead, gimme a holler. Inquiring minds want to know.
And that’s it. Random undead, asshole parents, cleaning campus…. Oh yeah, as I cleaned campus I tossed all the kid’s rooms for usable stuff. A mother load of marginally useful shit. Lots of cologne and perfume, some snack foods, clothing, cd’s, ipods, dead cell phones… Lots of junk. Not all junk, just lots of it.
I’ve made my decision, tomorrow I’ll hit the range and get some archery time in. Day after that, if the leg is feeling good, I’ll head down to the gas station and refill my cans and try and get big blue back up to the top. I really need to make sure my fuel supplies are good, as the roads are sure to turn to shit soon, (if they haven’t already) and I don’t want to get stuck a mile down the road with a stiff leg and little to no ammunition.
Mr. Journal, I bid you adieu!