Red Winter

Red Winter

Drew Montgomery

Copyright © 2012 Drew Montgomery

Thursday, November 8, 2012

So...

The guys at work have been bugging me for weeks about doing this, so I guess I'll finally start a blog.
But what do I have to say that's really worthwhile? I lead a boring, routine life. Nine to five at a boring software engineering job, video games in my spare time, getting plastered on weekends and rare happy hours with friends and nerdy coworkers alike.
Maybe I should talk about politics, but there's nothing much there. Only greedy scum trying to scam you out of your hard-earned money, no matter which side you vote for. Or maybe I could talk about sports, overpaid, steroid riddled prima donnas beating each other up while playing a kid's game and the obsessive fans that worship them. Or how about my non-existent love life and the girls that ignore me on a regular basis?
God, I don't even know why I'm doing this. The internet had simply become a place where everyone thinks their opinion is worth something and there's a need to share it. Guess I'm now one of those people.
Maybe commenting on the news will be more exciting. Let's see...CNN is all up in arms over a flu scare on the border. Overreacting if you ask me, but what do I know, I'm not a doctor. Houston is far enough from the border that I don't really care until some illegal shows up sick here.
Screw this, video games are more worth my time than this.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Overblown?

After a week or so of badgering from my coworkers, I've decided to give this another go, but I suppose there's something worth talking about now.
This flu panic is starting to get out of hand. Walking home from work today (ah, the wonders of living three blocks from the office), I saw several people wearing those masks, as if that will save them from the disease. The emergency rooms are filled with anyone who has so much as a cough.
The worst part is the people coming into work. Bastard only two cubes over was sneezing and sniffling so much it was distracting. Go figure it would be the one day I forget my iPod. Seriously, people, if there's any indication of being sick, freaking stay home and rest, don't get the rest of us sick. I swear if I get sick, I'm going to track that guy down and kick his ass.
I'm glad that the news is all over this, I'm not sure where I'd be without the daily shots of people getting their shots and seeing doctors. Of course, the shots are in short supply. I'm glad the government has stated they're working on getting more shots available, they're so efficient at everything they do (sarcasm, in case you can't tell through reading).
I can't wait for this to blow over so we can get back to our normally scheduled programming. News is only worthwhile when it's something you can laugh at, like that whole balloon boy mess.
For something on the lighter side, I got a slight promotion. Nothing more than a title change, but at least I get an assistant now. Guy who had the job before me got the flu, but he had had numerous "sick" days prior, so this was the final straw. Feel bad for him, but guess those are the breaks. This job is finally shaping into something worthwhile, can't wait to get out of that cramped little cube.
I suppose I might start updating this more if I can find anything to talk about.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Still going strong

This flu strain really seems to be picking up steam. Half the office was out sick today, although I luckily haven't had any symptoms (thank God). Kind of annoying really, means a bunch more work I have to pick up.
News reports are as sensationalist as ever, but when you can tell it's getting ridiculous is when they mentioned something about a guy being dead and coming back to life. I mean, come on, this is the real world. When did all the supposedly "reputable" outlets turn into the equivalent of the National Enquirer? Isn't there already enough panic out there?
Just look at those stupid surgical masks. Just walking to and from work today, there were hardly any people I passed who were not wearing one. I tell you, I'm in the wrong business. Somewhere in the world, there's someone making a crapload of money selling cheap masks at inflated prices. I guess there's nothing more profitable than a panic.
As for myself, I've been holding out fine, which is unusual, because any time there's a flu going around, if I get so much as a wrong glance from a sick person, I'm spending the next several days moving between the bed and toilet (I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who throws up every time he gets the flu).
Vaccines are finally starting to hit the streets, not government sponsored, which is perfectly fine by me. I honestly don't trust any medicine administered by the government, that which isn't driven by money results in an inferior product. Of course, supply is short, so I should probably jump on it while I have a chance.
Well, it's getting late, going in early to take on another mountainload of work. With any luck, I can make some sort of dent in it. Can't wait for this thing to blow over.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

What's going on?

I...I'm in complete shock right now. I...Jesus Christ, I can't even type, I'm just...shaking all over. Hold on, I need a drink.

…

Okay. Okay, that's better. Thank God I keep plenty of liquor around. It only took half a bottle of Jack, but my hands are finally steady enough to type. But my nerves are still on end. Just a few hours ago, I watched my friend and coworker Ben Reynolds bleed to death.
In my last post, I discarded the rumor circling around about flu victims awakening, rising from the dead, but I saw one myself and...oh Jesus, my mind is racing. I need another drink.

!!!!!

The room is spinning now, but I've got a good buzz going and I am a lot calmer now. Here goes.
Ben and I had ducked out for a quick lunch. We've both been worked stupid over the past few days, trying to keep up with almost an entire department's work. We had both put in vacation for the next two days, planning on an impromptu trip somewhere, Vegas probably, or even just Louisiana to gamble and relax some. It had taken a lot of coaxing, but we got it out of Linda (our boss for those not keeping score).
I'm getting off track, though. As those of you in the area know, it was a nice day today, lower 60s, clear, although there was a decent breeze. Living here my entire life, anything below 70 is painful, so I was wrapped up in a jacket over my usual polo, which probably saved my life. Ben, of course, is a Yankee, so he was in short sleeves, enjoying the weather.
We were walking to a small deli down the street from our building, a local joint owned by an irritable Italian named Gino, who knew us by name and still treated us like crap, although in a seemingly affectionate way.
Agh, getting off topic again. The sidewalks were unusually empty, maybe a person or two on the other side of the street, but the flu has really depleted the pedestrian population, people just want to stay indoors, I guess. Ahead of us was someone in a hospital gown. St. Mark's isn't far from our building and every once in a while, someone manages to escape, but this one was different, he seemed really sick, and was wandering aimlessly, his head twitching and his right foot dragging along the ground, chaffed from the concrete against his bare skin and leaving a trail of blood with each step.
I don't remember what we were talking about, but Ben stopped me in mid sentence.
"What's that guy doing?" he asked.
"Huh?" I hadn't noticed him until Ben said something. "Oh, just a runaway, don't worry, the police will probably pick him up soon."
"I don't know, he looks pretty sick. We might want to call and stay with him."
"I'd rather not get sick right now," I said, really wanting nothing to do with the guy.
"I thought you Southerners were supposed to be nice," he said with a smirk, as we approached the patient.
"We are," I muttered, then without him hearing, said, "Just not me."
We approached the patient, who was looking down at the ground. Ben put his hand on the patient's left shoulder and leaned in slightly, saying, "Hey, you okay? Anything we can help you with?"
The patient continued looking down and Ben looked at me. "Call the police, Chase, we need to get him back."
As he said this, I noticed the man looking up, his eyes empty and his teeth stained with blood. I tried to speak, to warn Ben, but my throat closed and no noise escaped.
Ben must have seen my face change because he looked up and tried to fight the man off with his free hand. But the man was too fast or too strong or too something because in a flash, his teeth were wrapped around Ben's neck, tearing through the skin and his jugular. With a disgusting rip, a chunk of Ben's neck was gone and blood was leaking down, staining his clean, neatly pressed white shirt.
The man then turned to me, his empty gaze focused on my eyes, freezing me in horror. Ben lay bleeding to death on the ground, a rabid man was about to attack me, and I couldn't move to save my life.
When his hands grasped my left arm in an iron grip, I was suddenly broken out of my trance and began to fight. I couldn't break his grip and began to panic. With my free arm, I was pushing off his face, keeping his snapping jaws away from me.
What saved my life was the combination of a cheap jacket and the typically uneven Houston sidewalk. In my struggles, I shifted over an uneven crack and slipped, turning my ankle. But what directed my attention from the pain that would inevitably come was a ripping noise. A quick glance revealed the seam along the zipper beginning to burst. I pulled again and the seam ripped further.
With one final pull, the jacket was completely torn and the man fell, landing square on his ass, holding my jacket in his hands while I still stood. As I backed away, I saw him rise to his feet, his bloody mouth forming a gruesome sneer. I backed away further, preparing to run when I heard a deafening bang and saw the man's head explode.
As the body collapsed to the ground, I saw Gino standing there, smoking shotgun in hand. I don't think I've ever been more relieved to see the old bastard more in my life.
"Chase, are you alright?" he asked in that thick accent, but I ignored him and rushed to Ben. It was too late for him, though. The blood was already congealing in a pool beneath him and his eyes gazed lifelessly into the sky, but I wouldn't believe it.
"Gino, call the police, quickly!" I exclaimed.
Gino rushed away as I grabbed up the remains of my jacket and tried in vain to stop the remaining blood from leaving Ben's body, a fool's errand.
So here I am not, and if you're reading this, STAY INDOORS. Something's happening, something awful. I haven't turned on the news, I'm afraid to, so maybe I'm out of the loop, but...Jesus Christ. I don't know how I'll survive this.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Gone to Hell

I'm fine.
It took almost a week, but I've finally collected myself. A week of left over pain pills from the car accident last year (past the expiration date, but I don't care) and booze, but last night I finally had a restful sleep. I still dreamed of Ben dying on the ground in front of me, but it didn't seem as bad for some reason.
I also finally gained the courage to turn on the news this morning. Seeing as work didn't even bother calling me on Monday, I could only assume the worst.
And of course, the worst has come. The emergency broadcast system is running with that god-awful tone, but no one comes on. I have the TV set up right by my computer and on mute, but after several hours, there is still nothing. Maybe someone can clue me in, or maybe there's no one left to.
I still haven't looked out my window, but I guess I should. I need to get out to get supplies at some point.
But...what if this is all in my mind? What if the attacker was simply a mental patient who couldn't be controlled? What if everything is really okay, that this is just a bad flu season?
No. No, no matter what I tell myself, that's not true. There was something I left out of my last post, something about Ben's death that made it worse. I had felt his neck, felt for a pulse and found none. None on his wrist or beneath the bicep either. No heartbeat, nothing.
But when the authorities came and zipped him up in that body bag, I saw him move. I told myself at the time that it was just grief, just my mind playing tricks on me, expecting him to jump up, laugh at the joke and continue on with our lives, but that's not the case. I saw him move and deep down, I know that ambulance did not make it to the morgue.
There hasn't been much noise outside my apartment. Even on the ninth floor, there is always the noise of people, of cars, of sirens. But the past few days have been silent. It's unsettling. I never thought I'd miss all the racket of downtown, but right now, I'd give anything for noise, even that stupid dog that the owner has no control over.
And yet, I still cannot bring myself to look out the window. Not yet. Maybe I'll write again when I do, but for now, I'll leave with this: be careful, anyone who may be reading this. There's something going on out there, something big.