Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath (12 page)

Long winded aren’t I?

Here’s the payoff for that giant lead in: I didn’t see anything different. It was a little overcast and drizzly yesterday, so the pregnant ladies never made an exterior appearance. I am pleased to note that the opposite side of the house has a good view into a few second story windows where I could observe some of the women during their inside activities.

Inside, from what I could see, they were chilling. No weird activity, and honestly, nothing out of the ordinary. I observed the same guards on what appeared to be the same rotation, and nothing different or off about them.

Oh, I did notice due to the fact that I was on the side of the open farming area, that they have 11 cows. Three are calves. That’s pretty hot. They all looked delicious.

Last night ended with disappointment when I returned to campus with no interesting news other than the cow count. Blake seemed downtrodden, Gilbert was gone back to his place, and the women just slumped their shoulders. While I was out, the rest of the crew hit some houses near the pharmacy area of town again, and actually managed to pick up a fairly decent haul of usable shit. A fair amount of food, a few more weapons, a little bit of ammunition, and most interestingly, three cases of various Jello products. Cases. Not boxes.

Four packages of strawberry jello, four packages lime, four packages lemon, etc etc etc. We are now Jello-wealthy, which is sort of cool. I returned home last night to a giant tray of jigglers in the Blue flavor, which is a lot like being a kid again. I single handedly ate half the tray. Much appreciated.

Lindsey and her kids worked with Ollie and Melissa all day on farm stuff, and I guess they were productive. I really have no idea what the hell Ollie is doing on a daily basis. He seems really happy with how things are going, but that might just mean he’s a little goofy.

Today we were set to work on campus and lake area activities. I spent most of the day over working on the Manning farm to make sure it was set up and safe. I’d feel like a jackass of epic proportions if we gave them a “safe place” to live, and they wound up getting hurt there. All of the windows on the lower floor are fortified now, and the exterior doors have been replaced with solid core, windowless models from campus. Yay for maintenance having spare windows and doors. Ollie had spare chicken wire, and together a few of us got a small fence around the garden we planted there. We set the garden up intentionally so it was surrounding the rear porch door, with a path through the center. Now that the fence is surrounding the garden, it is also doubling as an additional barricade preventing a zombie incursion. Once we find some pressure treated lumber, we’re going to reinforce the chicken wire fence we have there now.

Out of all of it, hanging the doors was a bit of bitch, but as I said, I’m a JEENYUS, and I make shit happen.

Mike, Mallory, LaFrenz, Hector, and a new lady by the name of Mary made the trip from Westfield. I had seen Mary before, but hadn’t really talked to her. She’s young, maybe 24, or 25 or whatever, and she’s fairly cool. She’s pretty hardcore too, and Mike said that she was “in training” to be a member of their security force. Hence her presence today. She is definitely taking her job seriously. She didn’t talk to… anyone. Just did her rounds of campus with LaFrenz while the rest of us met, and insisted on bearing the burden of whatever needed to be done. She might be overcompensating, but I won't judge.

Mike, Mallory and Hector brought news of Westfield. Mike tried to be diplomatic. Sadly, he’s a National Guard sergeant, and diplomacy has not been part of his job duties for some time now. Long story short, Lisa would not commit any military oriented resources to anything in regards to The Farm.

Mike went on to explain that if we could bring irrefutable proof to them, she’d commit immediate resources to the fight. Hector and Mike both said they’d be on board in a heartbeat, but that was about all they could lend us. Two, maybe three shooters at most. Doesn’t sound like much, but we’ve cleared a huge portion of town with just four shooters, and half that again might allow us to do some pretty amazing shit.

Lisa, in her awesomeness as a health care giver, said that regardless of whether or not they assist with their people in violent action, she would be more than willing to support us medically. She said that if we planned something on our own, and we hit the place, she’d be willing to come here with her two medical trainees to stage a medical clinic to treat any casualties.

Reactions were as I expected. Lots of disappointment. Blake was livid, Abby was pissed, Patty was sad, Gilbert was meh, Gavin stared at Abby’s flat(ish) chest, and I was somewhat positive. Let’s be honest Mr. Journal, what were we expecting Lisa to say? “Hell yeah, bomb the joint, here’s all my soldiers?”

Yeah, prolly not happening. She made the best choice for her people, as well as the best moral choice when surrounded by a lot of potentially immoral opportunities. Show me proof, I’ll give you support in a fight. Either way, I’ll patch you up if you get your ass kicked. Pretty simple, and the right decision I think. Mike and I rephrased it more or less that way and everyone sort of came together on the sense of Lisa’s decision.

What does this change for us? Nothing really. Blake has fit in fairly well, and I think the fact that he’s around people, and able to be productive and distracted has really helped him. As long as we keep him busy, and go there every day looking for more intelligence he’ll be fine for a bit. Now if we don’t get any, then we’ll start thinking about ways to open up trade with them. Once we’re doing that, we’re bound to get more intelligence. Then we can make a decision that way, and live with it.

Mike said they’ve had a lot of excess activity in town from folks returning from other places. He’s guessing another 20 or 30 folks have moved into the area within the past couple days, which is… scary business. He said things are quiet and everyone seems to be good to go, but we both know that shit won’t last. As soon as those folks realize there is little to no food in town over there… that school or Lenny’s farm might come under attack. I mean shit, it’s inevitable after the crap that Sean pulled before everything went down. Remember Mr. Journal, most of the folks leaving Westfield early on had to deal with Sean’s flunkies raiding the town and driving around like assholes. As a result, Mike said their next earliest visit day would be the 17
^th
.

Mike and his crew are on double duty to make sure Lenny’s farm as well as the school is prepared in the event the returning locals try to do anything silly. That got me on the whole subject of just how many people they can take in there, and we can actually take in here. We have been eating leftover food from before, and that’s fine and all, but that WILL run out eventually, so when that happens, how much food can we grow to sustain ourselves?

Enter Ollie and his farming genius. (Different than Jeenyus, that’s an Adrian special)

Ollie says it takes a decent yield out an area about a hundred feet square to grow enough food to sustain a single person. Of course, that’s assuming we’re eating eggs, taking down game, fishing, etc. Not all areas of the field will produce it separately, but with all the different foods he’s growing, you mix it all up in a balanced diet, and it all comes out in the wash.

Good news, is that Ollie said we’ve adequately fenced off, made safe, and planted something in the area of just under 160,000 square feet already. That mother fucker works Mr. Journal, seriously. How he’s gotten all that done already on his own is amazing to me.

So, if you do the math, that means we should grow enough food here on campus to sustain 16 people. Add to that the garden that we planted over on the Manning Farm, which is maybe 700 or 800 sq feet, and we’ll call it 17 folks.

Interior potting over the winter will probably net us maybe, maybe another person’s food needs, and add in what we’re consuming in leftovers, and frankly, that’s a lot of food. Ollie and Gilbert both comfortably said we could house and feed 20 folks now. Granted, the crops aren’t yielding any food for us yet, other than some small ass tomatoes, but in another two months, we’ll have a fair amount of food, and could probably take on a few more people without any issue.
 

Head count. Me, Otis, Abby, Patty, Gavin, Gilbert, Lindsey, Andrea, Maddison, Blake, Ollie, and Melissa. That’s more or less capacity for us. In another month or two, once those veggies sprout, maybe we can take on one or two more. If we double our chicken count, or bag a deer every other week, then that’s a different story, but that seems unlikely.

Lenny’s farm is approximately three times the size of ours right now, plus he has the cows, and way more chickens than we do. The larger town likely also yielded more salvaged food too. Ollie said there was no reason to think why Westfield couldn’t comfortably feed 70-85 people.
 

Interesting to think we are now pretty much “full” and we probably ought not to take in anyone else. Which is ironic… because…

Mallory is sleeping next to me right now. Cat’s out of the bag. When everyone from Westfield went to leave, she politely excused herself and motioned for me to follow her. I went over, and she asked me if I’d mind if she spent the night, and I had no ability to say no.

As soon as she said she wanted to crash, my pecker went haywire, and the decision had been made for me. She laughed, and told Mike she’d drive back in a day or two with the third vehicle they’d brought. (Which also explained why they’d brought a third truck, and she conveniently produced an overnight bag complete with underwear, toothbrush, and a loufah)

Women. I swear.

Soooo. Yeah, when the others left, Mallory pretty much made herself at home here, and when I went to explain to everyone around that she and I were kind of “seeing each other” everyone looked at me like I had a giant dick dangling between my eyes. Mallory and Abby flat out laughed at me, and Patty and Gilbert just shook their head, muttered some derogatory phrases about me being a dumb shit, and that was it.

Oh, Gavin high fived me. There might’ve been a knuckle bump involved in there as well.

After dinner Mallory and I dug out a box of condoms, and retired up here to casa de Adrian. That was three hours, and a very good time ago. She’s a minx that one. Also, this new bed is total magic when it comes to getting busy. Great for sleeping and great for screwing on.
 

I don’t know about the idea of her moving here. It’s really early to even think that, but it’s really nice to share a bed with her. There’s something special about watching a woman sleep. I realize this is a terrible aside, but I wanted to get that off my chest. She’s sleeping on her side, on my right, and she’s facing away. There’s just a sheet over her, and it’s following the curves of her shoulders, and hips. It’s draped just right to show off all the good stuff. I can see the gentle rise and fall as she sleeps away, and I can smell her hair from where I’m sitting next to her without moving.

Call me crazy Mr. Journal, but the fact that she’s so comfortable to share a bed with me, and sleep right beside me, so vulnerable, just... I don’t know. Makes me feel good. Makes me feel wanted. Makes me want to curl up behind her, and press my body against her to share that feeling all night.

Speaking of which…
 

I’ll talk to you soon.

-Adrian

May 12
^th

Drama bukkake.
 

Drama yogurt grenade.

The plot thickens like gravy. I spent all day yesterday as well as today over at The Farm, and officially, there is poop SOARING off that fan. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. There’s definitely shit and a fan in the same room, and the shit keeps getting closer and closer. It’s almost like, hovering, dropping a few little turds here and there onto the fan that then launch and cause little tiny exploding poo messes, instead of a single gut wrenching, wall destroying fecal explosion.

I love being colorful. I hope my insane ramblings make sense to you Mr. Journal.
 

Mallory left for home yesterday, so there’s no sex talk to be had. I think she was frustrated that I was going to be so busy, so she just decided after our romp the other night that she’d just remove herself as a distraction. Thanks, I guess. I sort of miss her. Not sure what to make of that.

Alright. I spent all of yesterday and all of today at The Farm, scoping the joint out. Yesterday and today I went the route of the logging road instead of the rail bed. Mixing up avenues of approach is always a good idea when possible.
 

All was normal, quiet, and boring. Until about 2pm yesterday. I observed three people on foot approach the farm stand at The Farm. They looked haggard as shit. I saw a set of adults (graying hair, late 40’s, maybe 50’s), and a teenage kid, maybe 14-16. Through the scope there was a clear family resemblance to one another via the kid, so I assumed it was mom dad and son.

The family approached The Farm cautiously, and were told to halt by the male guard that was on duty. The stopped in the center of the road, and within a minute or two, the old man who supposedly owned the joint appeared with another guard, and they walked together up the farm stand. It appears that the farm stand is operating as a quasi gate house. The family shuffled over to a small window covered in what looked like chicken wire and plexiglass, and they engaged the old man on the inside in conversation for something like 30 minutes.
 

I noted that the two guards split themselves up. One covered the road and the back of The Farm while the other paid close attention to the family. Neither guard left the interior of the heavy duty fence and nor gave the family a clear shot at them. Obviously they had a system to cover visitors.

Somewhere around 25 minutes into the conversation the mother and father became noticeably animated. The son pulled away from the parents as they clearly became disappointed with the old man inside, and after a few minutes of what looked like pleading, they left. At no point did the guards become elevated, so I think it wasn’t an issue of violence or threats. I thought perhaps the terms of a trade had gone bad.