Living With the Dead: The Hungry Land (26 page)

Friday, July 1, 2011

Smoke Signals

Posted by Josh Guess

It's interesting to me how some of the most simple things in life can also be the most reassuring, the most hopeful. Today is a day like that, full of small signs that signify the possibility of not just survival, but of actually regaining lost ground. 

It's the smoke that's doing it. Smoke from a hundred small fires, planks of wood surrounding them. The hauls from yesterday are still being cleaned by rotating crews of men, women, and children that know how to prepare a fish for smoking. The sight of so many little pillars of smoke, each one helping make our immediate future a little easier, makes the compound look like a land of pillars reaching up to the sky. 

A bit poetic, I know, but the sheer amount of fish and other food brought in yesterday and still being brought in, is amazing. 

We're going to be eating most of this meat shortly--a small group of people that have a lot of experience curing meat are going to be working to preserve as much as possible, but most will have to be eaten. Smoked meat isn't going to last all that long, but at least we can eat it that way. So I'm told, anyway. I'm not far away from a willingness to eat it raw. I've been eating less than my current ration of food the last few days, saving up the extra just in case. 

At least our animals are eating well. We still have a ton of dry animal food left, though I don't know how long it will stay good for. Even if we run out or it goes bad, there's always bits and pieces left over from every kill from our hunts, offal and the like we can't eat. When you've got less than two dozen dogs and a handful of cats, the leavings from what feeds several hundred people is more than enough. 

I've heard that a few hunting teams have encountered packs of wild dogs, which shouldn't be surprising. With zombies roaming the land, I'd imagine the old instincts would have reasserted themselves in the abandoned pets that are victims of the zombie plague every bit as much as we are. They band together to survive, and reports indicate a pretty visible population growth. 

I haven't seen anyone eating dog yet, which isn't to say it won't happen at some point. We're treading water, but for right now things aren't to that extreme. 

The only strange thing is that, again, there's been little reaction from the homesteaders. Most of them seemed mildly happy with the results of yesterday's "fishing with dynamite" adventure, but given how ardently most of them have been supporting any kind of action that will keep our people from severe rationing, I'd have thought to see a little more jubilation from them. Hell, I'd take smarmy satisfaction and a condescending chant of "Told you so!"

Maybe they're finally getting that none of us here are enemies. Maybe they're starting to admit to themselves that while they may disagree with many of us, their fellow citizens, on many things, that we're ultimately all in this together. 

Maybe. 

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Countless

Posted by Josh Guess

We're gearing up for an all-out assault. All the hunting teams have pulled back to the compound today, as soon as word came in from our scouts that a huge force of zombies was spotted a few miles away.
We've been afraid a large number of them would give us a shot. That's always a fear, of course, but more so since losing one of our farms. We've got every available person ready to fight, and Will is seeing to the defensive measures along with Dodger.
The estimates are wide and questionable, but there were too many zombies in the large patch of woods where they were discovered to be counted. It's hundreds at the very least, and more likely thousands.
We're tired, hot, and hungry. We're frustrated and divided as a people. This kind of threat is exactly what brings us together. Too often we forget what forged us into a community in the first place. In the humdrum days of getting other work done, in the hungry times where food is our largest concern, we lose sight. It doesn't seem possible to forget, but we do.
The good news is that we've had warning which gives us time to prepare. We've still got a scout waiting within visual distance of the woods where the zombies are massing. He'll give us a call when they get moving, and since it's a few miles away we'll still have at least half an hour before they hit us. We're not just going to sit still and take the hit, either.
We're going to hit them as hard as we can. In this the citizens of the compound are a unified force. We may have our differences, but every single one of us will stand and fight.
I've got my own preparations to make in addition to supervising some of the logistics, so I'm making this a short post. I know I usually take Sundays off, but if I live through today and the compound isn't overrun, I'll be back tomorrow for a full account.
If there are thousands of them heading this way, it will probably end up being one hell of a story.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Onslaught

Posted by Josh Guess

The view from the walls is the most frightening thing I've ever seen. We thought we had some idea of what we were facing. We were wrong. Completely.

Will Price led a few sorties out into the streaming throngs of zombies when they started to show up yesterday. He and a small group of folks that have been training with our modified vehicles took some runs into the crowd of undead. The fact that there were a thousand or better in that first wave didn't really matter since most of the zombies heading toward the compound were spread out as they walked. 

Aside from Will, Dodger and four others took the risky course by plowing through them. In Will's case, it was literally plowing since that was the primary weapon on his vehicle. The goal wasn't to kill zombies necessarily, though it was a nice by-product. Breaking their legs and spines, rupturing their stomachs and spilling the stored nutrients there, 
those 
were our goals. Practicality means slowing them down or immobilizing as many as possible. 

At first it seemed like things were going well. Will and the others had worked out a game plan ahead of time to avoid running into each other and to maximize the amount of damage they could inflict. Each vehicle has a CB radio in it, the microphones rigged to be on all the time so they could talk hands-free. Those of us who were watching on the walls had our own so we could listen in, and we were running the commentary through a megaphone so the crowd of people behind us could listen. 

That was how we caught Will's observation that the force we faced was much larger than we'd originally thought. He took the position farthest from the compound, the most dangerous for how deep into the zombie hoard he went. Will was on the edge of the hill to the west, looking over. What he saw wasn't a waning trail of undead trying to catch up. His voice, magnified and echoing, had that tone of utter shock and terror that's never ignored in the world as it is now. 

He said, "Oh, Jesus."

Then he called a general retreat, signaled the gates to be ready to open, and our sortie team came back home. 

Over the hill were thousands more zombies, as far as he could see. Right now, eighteen hours or so later, they still haven't attacked. They just keep coming in, standing and watching us. They're massing in a way I've never seen as they wait for some unknown signal to finally attack. They're all around us, every side of the compound facing numbers that could overwhelm us with ease. 

All of our people made it in from the farms except for the people we've got out in Bald Knob. They're far enough away that they're probably safe, and they represent the small if unlikely chance for outside help. I don't know if they'll be able to find anyone. I find myself praying, one of the rare instances of it in my adult life. 

I don't know how we can survive this assault. There are enough zombies out there right now to build a wall of bodies all the way around the walls. The ones left would be able to do as the zombies out at the farm we lost did, and walk over the corpses of their fellows to get inside the compound. 

I'm off to the third emergency council meeting since Will called the retreat yesterday. He's got a few ideas on how we can fight, how we can defend, but none of them are enough to defend against the onslaught waiting for us just a few hundred feet away. 

They're waiting. Just out of bow shot, too far for anything but bullets we're desperately short on, they're waiting. 

So are we. 

Monday, July 4, 2011

Reborn on the 4th of July

Posted by Josh Guess

The sky overhead is slate gray, dark with what should be ominous portents. Thunder. Lightning. Clouds moving on winds that would knocks us down if they were at ground level. We should be afraid, but we're not. Not today.
There's a sense of unity at the compound that has been missing since the other refugees and I returned. You'd have to see the men and women on the walls, working with matchless precision like the gears of some great and intricate clock to understand what I mean. Part of the energy we're feeling stems from the total shock of yesterday's events, the sheer joy of realizing that we might have a chance to survive this.
We expected the horde outside, which is now estimated somewhere around five thousand, to attack as one. That seemed like the most logical thing, since a huge wave of zombies would certainly be enough to overwhelm us. We didn't get hit with that.
Instead we watched with gleeful confusion as we were hit by small groups. Well, 'small' is a relative term here. They were coming in groups of 100-200 at a time. They never hit the same part of the wall twice. Most of the first five or six waves fell victim to the combination of defenses outside the walls. Many were impaled on the stakes, more fell into the trenches. Some actually made it to the base of the wall itself in a few places. My brother, in his infinite brilliance, has made sure to cut murder-holes here and there along the wall's surface.
Small holes that a thin weapon can be thrust through. Wait for a zombie to get close, then jam a spear or similar weapon right into its head. Simple, effective, and the safest way to attack.
We've got all sorts of traps set out, and as new sections of the walls are tested by the swarm outside, we observe and judge the effectiveness of the designs. It's tremendously useful.
Yes, I said the walls were being tested. I've gotten reports of zombies staying back while the attack waves come in, watching with the cold, calculating gaze that only smarties have. I knew such a large gathering of the undead being brought against us couldn't just be chance. There's a probing caution in the attacks, and that can't mean anything good for us.
Except that we're not being overwhelmed, which means we're alive. That's a plus.
Will has a lot of little tricks and ideas for when the flood of undead does finally come. I've also got a few theories about the smarties themselves that sort of came to me fully-formed as I got the battle reports. None of that right now, though. I hear the bells ringing, and I'm due for archery duty at eight.
Will has a few surprises ready, all right. I can hear the chatter of machine gun fire right now. Guess he managed to salvage at least one of the big guns we ruined retaking the compound. If we only had enough bullets for the rest of them...

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Fire By Night

Posted by Josh Guess

It's been a while since I pulled an all-nighter, but this was worth it. Will and Dodger pulled out all the stops over the last six hours or so, and we're in a lull at the moment.
My brother and some of his carpenters threw together several catapults yesterday. That sounds like a large saga explained in one sentence but it really isn't. They aren't terribly complicated examples of the old war machines, and it didn't take a lot of work to put them together. That being said, none of us are betting that they'll hold together for all that long, but for now they work. That's what matters.
Why 
that matters is interesting.
Right now, and for the last several hours, the trenches surrounding the compound have been on fire. We moved a lot of raw liquor from the distilleries to distill down into a purer form to mix with our gas. That left us thousands of gallons of the stuff sitting around. Will got a couple of our generators going, hooked hoses up to a few pumps, and  fired away at the trenches. The trenches themselves have a lot of zombies in them, and the alcohol helped them get burning hot.
So we've been safe for the night. The waves came and went yesterday, but they didn't slow down as night came. Our people fought as the light died, and then by torchlight. We have other lights to use, but the coverage isn't total while the zombies outside the walls are everywhere.
The fire in the trenches won't last for long. The bodies there will eventually burn out. We have to ration how much alcohol we use, since we have no idea how long this siege will last. For now the blaze keeps the undead from attacking, but it doesn't do anything to reduce their numbers.
That's where the catapults come in.
We've been hurling small propane tanks out into the crowd. We've got a pretty good supply of them, and the large tanks we fill them from are still full from the last tanker we brought in. Thank god there's so many people around here who used the stuff, necessitating a number of storage facilities within easy driving range. But just like everything else we have in the compound right now, there's a limited supply. We can't go out to resupply.
Again, though, if we die because we tried too hard to conserve supplies, there'll be egg on all our faces, right?
My brother has been running around between each of the catapults all night, making sure they're not coming apart and the fittings are secure. He's also ferrying explosives around as well. We're running through our supplies pretty fast, but the propane tanks make very large explosions. The destruction has the nice side effect of driving the swarm into smaller areas, crowding them tightly together for the next shot. We're peppering them with arrows when we have to, but otherwise we've been careful about not use too many.
Overall things are going better than I'd have expected, but we're running short on things. We aren't getting any food from the farms, and god only knows what's happened to our animals out there.
Today will be a challenge even if we don't suffer a single attack. Still no word from our people in Bald Knob. I hope they're safe.
If they are, I hope they find help soon.