Really damned ass COLD out here in middle of hun'rt twenty five acres of sheer boredom and plowed up sand.
Wonderin' too if the little wimmin's had got up enough game meat to put to roast for guests and friends we had planned commin' over fer the upcomin' nuptuals of Allie and Jay.
Since we had the biggest place an' best heating systems left since the Change happened, our s wuz kinda the central spot for meetin's and parties.
Tonite wuz both, menfolk plannin' on gettin' pie eyed tanked on the last of the peach an' pear brandies we put aside last year.
Wimmin's I'm damn sure wuz gonna look at us like we fools wuz in Sunday go to meetin' and actin' like dummies..
Figured with the place's diesel allotment and time I could make it back in after one more pass, be home, cleaned up and half way to drunked if things went like they oughta.
'Course you folks hearing this know what happened, and howcome's I'm here all by mahself telling this story. Kin see some new faces, I'll letcha know from my beginnin' the Battle of Five Tree Farm.
Ain't nothing like having yer own parcel of land when all yer life you been working for The Man, wages and some bonus sometimes. Even when we dun heard 'bout The Troubles and shit comin' outa the Cities, Portland, Seattle, even Boise "dyin' off" from some sickness. No one goin' there ever come back.
No one. Not one single guy nor gal, no matter how mannie guns an' shit they brung.
Stories in little communities go 'round like wildfire, and soon folks wuz tellin' spook tales about seeing men an' wimmin's both walking the cold freezin' edges of the Farms.
"Aint'a no way" was most of the prevailin' opinions and such, most folks figured them reporting such wuz spooked more than jus' a bit when we hasn't no phone, radio or innerweb for weeks on end.
Living this close to Columbia river dun made sure them big ole dams made us power. dun shot the lines going south to kali, figuring them folks could do with their own, we needed us our 'lectricties.
Got lights most of day an' night, and kin keep us hot water for most part, gas lines still push a little, nuttin' like Before tho.
Annieways, the Day the Change hit us, we wuz working hard, tractors out, trucks ready to go out and privateer us some more POL things, and mabbie some canned foods, we had a stranger pull up to our Homestead, had onna them big ole chinee containers that used ta come up from Portland in hunnerts and hunnerts.
Aint'a seen one in long while, figured that ole boy had some tradin'goods and shit we needed.
About time he had unhooked his truck from trailer, headed, we thounk to get a new one in trade from us, got ass end opened up, doors swung wide, and son of a fucking BITCH iff'n there weren't dozens of sickly lookin' groaning bodies in that damn thing.
Wimmin's run up and tried to help them that fell out firstest. Them's the merciful ones. They got bit and et as fast as them things waz swarming them.
Ain't but a few of us unarmed, but them shittin' things waz all over our kinfolks and soon alls we who wasn't bit could do is run back and tke some cover.
Soon enuff there was hunnerts of these goddamn eating machines goin' after anythin' they could swaller down. We got the kids and wimmin in the shop and upstairs, got the dogs in, and watched, took potshots at them human critters.
Thinkin' about now we watched little Lizza, who we dun seen had her neck bit in three places, kilt there, stand up..
Men an' wimmins both gasped. Her Daddy looked her in what waz left of her eyes, and said "That aint my little gal no more" and put a round outa his Ole Faithful, the 30-30, into her head.
That started the Battle here folks. Some goddamn Quisling hearded about our little spot, how we wuz doin' kinda well and not too bothered by them Zombie things.
Now? Man's gotta plan damn near to minute, worrying 'bout running loose of petrol in middle of lonely places, having to walk back with no zHund, and no radios.
Ain'ta too bad in day, see'um comin'. Night time, there ain't no place to run, few places to go when ole Unkle Zed comes lookin' for ye..