
Nothing strains a budding friendship like having a rifle trained on your melon for about 16 hours. I shouldn't be that upset...I mean, the rest of the group was doing the right thing by keeping me under constant watch. In the past, had been so easy for me to argue on the side of "he might be infected - I'll hold the gun on him" when it wasn't me who was under the cloud of contamination. So, I was set in a corner like a bad kid in school while the others took turns watching me for any signs of my turning. They did their best to try to make it feel like we were just hanging out like old pals under some strange circumstances, but when I had to cough, fart, or perform any other somewhat involuntary yet necessary bodily function, whoever had the gun got real tense real fast. When I fell asleep (the only luxury of being in this situation), I was told two of the others got into a short and hot argument as to whether or not I was dead and on my way back and if they should just get "it" over with. After what everyone felt was enough time to ensure the scratch I had received was benign, I was let out of my corner and treated to some of the day's fish fresh from the lake. There were hugs, sighs of relief and smiles, but I am going to have a hard time forgetting how easy (albeit necessary) it was for one of these guys to pick up a weapon and dispatch another member of our traveling band of survivors. Northward, ho.
Ice In / Relative Safety
While during "ice in" conditions, we holed up in a shanty. Flat ice for miles around, plenty of visibility for us to see rotters who hadn't frozen up or looters headed our way. The living who had gas left for snowmobiles were more of a threat than the shamblers, who were almost pathetic rather than something to be afraid of. The most dangerous things on legs are the park rangers - they know the Adirondack Park well and once had the authority to detain and arrest. They have plenty of gas, guns, transport, handcuffs, chainsaws, tow chains, and most anything else to use against the living and the dead. We kept them at arms length by giving them some of our fish we pulled out from under the ice. One guy with me, his father was a cop and could fast-talk the whole "we're in the same family" line of shit to those guys. On nice days, when the sun was out and the wind was low, it resembled a time we once knew, when we could fish and party, knowing a hot cabin was only a few miles walk. This photo is from early on, when we still felt able to let our guard down and make the best of the end of the world.
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