Oct. 23, 2012 cont.
The pitch of darkness was unlike anything I have seen in recent years. The inky abyss wormed its way across the ground and worked its way up, swallowing everything it touched whole. It's sometime in the early morning. The sun isn't nearing pre-dawn, it's still black out. I can't sleep.
The moaning started to get louder as the hours rolled on by. My guess is, they still know we are here. Just before I passed out, the groaning had almost ceased.
The rhythmic, intense clanking of the chain link woke me. CLANK, CLANK CLANK...it was them trying to get out. The hands that they had shredded before, trying to get through, were now griping hold once more to try and shake the fence loose from the strong steel posts. CLANK CLANK, CLANK...the sound just would not stop. With each flesh bag lending a hand, the sound soon became unbearable. If anyone was around within ten miles, they would have heard. The sharp piercing steel sound bounced off the hill walls sent the echo shooting through the night all throughout the holler. CLANK, CLANK, CLANK...the chain was stretching beyond its limits- -The weight of over half the inmates pushing. CLANK, CLANK, CLANK... I bolted into the house and woke Misfit. CLANK, CLANK, CLANK....CLANK, CLANK, CLANK,....CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK CLANK CLANKCLANK CLANKCLANKCLANKCLANKCLANKCLANK........SNAP!
THE NEXT LITTLE BIT ALL TAKES PLACE IN LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES:
"GET THE FUCK UP...THEY ARE BREAKING THROUGH, WE DON'T HAVE TIME, WE HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW!!!!!" I screamed as I bolted into the house. Misfit jumped to his feet and grabbed for his piece. Rachel loaded her pistol and started grabbing all the bags of food. I ran down the path back to Marla and started her, ran her up into the front yard and popped on the brights. The halo of light illuminated only a small bit of the sea that stood behind the gate, there lifeless eyes gazing into the bright light, unable to see us moves behind them as we prepared to get the fuck out of dodge. Misfit, in a sheer moment of brilliance snapped up a gas can and emptied its contents all along the ground in front of the fence. I slammed the gear shift into drive and waited for Misfit. The hands of the dead were struggling to put their greedy, hungry hands, around his neck...they wanted a piece of him, hell they wanted all three of us, but Misfit gave them a reason to want to take us out. As he tossed the gas can to the ground, at the other end, Rachel stood ready. Waiting for Misfit to hurry and finish, she popped off shot after shot into the forehead until her clip was empty. I guess the thought of wasting ammo got the best of her because she didn't re-load. Maybe it was the thought of shooting fish in a barrel.
They both started to walk back the truck when they both tossed a Molotov into the fence, sending a line of flames shooting up in the face of all those who belonged behind that fence. When it snapped, they were already back the jeep and we were getting ready to take off. The zombies pushed, on the gate, on one another. Rage that had built up in their eyes, and what was left of there minds, sent them through to our side of the fence. The flesh bags on the front line had been pushed the ground, engulfing in flames, burning their flesh, and creating a bridge for the countless hundreds that that were pushing through. The rags that used to be clothes, caught fire and seemed to pass the fire through the whole crowd as I stomped on the gas and got us heading back towards 27 South.
Made it to Oneida, across the Tennessee boarder. I'll write more in the morning.
OCT. 24, 2012
The rays heaped up over the horizon, blanketing everything in a brilliant golden yellow. Oneida looks like any other city. The buildings are silent, the sidewalks are gaping and giving way to the trees, and weeds that are re-taking the city. The black windows are an eerie sight to behold. Larger buildings are crumbling, smaller buildings are now homes for all different types of wildlife. We stopped in front of what was the Scott County Museum of Local and Natural History. The large log cabin stood as a funny reminder of how far we have come, then how far we fell.
All the things in life we took for granted: cars, radios, showers, phones, and hot water. It never occurred to any of us that it would all someday just go away, and those that did see it coming some day, thought it wouldn't happen in their life time.
We kicked the doors open, marched in with guns drawn, but found it as cold and lifeless as the rest of the town seem to be. The walls were lined with stuff that used to belong to past residents; like a jaunting world that was lost, found and then lost once again. There were old school butter churns, civil war era guns and uniforms, an explanation of how, and why moon shining took place, then finally ended with stuff that was relevant to the coal miners who worked and died in those mines in the first part of the last century. My great granddad had been a coal miner in Sterns, KY at Blue Heron....also know as mine 18. It was a dirty job, but not dirtier than this one.
We took the pots off of the wall, Rachel started cooking breakfast. I had to go for a walk.
I move through this like it's supposed to make sense. I have no more of a clue today than I did when this whole journey began. I made my way down Chester St. The leaves on the trees were a dazzling array of gold, red, and purple. The purple came from the dogwood trees that lined the sidewalks. The houses had large maple, and oak trees in the yards. The town seemed to be completely empty. There are only a few houses on the block, small one story ranch homes in different but typical suburban colors of beige, white, and eggshell.
I stopped at a split level, white, with windows on the roof. If there wasn't anyone here, I just wanted to destroy something, hoping that it somehow get rid of these shitty feelings I've been having. I've lit friends on fire, I've destroyed cities, and nothing seems to help. I wonder if Misfit gets as lonely as I do.
I smashed in the window off the back porch at 200 Chester St. The small cozy kitchen was decorated in a country apple theme. Lots of red, and white checkers...lots of fake apples. I made my way inside and checked the cabinets...nothing. It looks like they left in a hurry.
I walked out of the kitchen to a well lit living room. The big flat screen TV was a tease, just hanging there begging to be used, but no juice in sight. The curtains were pulled back and the big picture window faced the empty lot across the way on the other side of Cooper St. In front of the large window was a table lined with 5x7s of different family members who belonged here. I picked up the picture of the mom and dad. They seemed to be so happy, all the pictures in the house did. I began to wonder about Nightshade. I wondered if she was ok. I began to wonder if J was o.k., or if he was even still alive. He wasn't the most coordinated guy I had ever met.
Maybe she left because I couldn't protect her. Maybe it was because she had been insane in whole life, or maybe it was because she just loved someone else. I bent over backward my whole life, to make sure she had it all. How was I not enough?
Through it all, I was most surprised by J taking off. He and I had been best friends since 2000, and for him to follow her lead is just something I don't get. Maybe he was still in love with her. I knew about his secret little world where he was in my shoes. I knew he was still in love with her even after we got married. It was so easy to tell, but he would deny it any time someone would give him shit for it. I bet that's why he took off with her. I can't say anything other than, because I don't know any different. I smashed all the pictures on the floor and made my way up stairs. My mind was racing with all the things that have happened, all the things that I said, and how I could have done anything different, or if I would have if I could.
The bedroom at the top of the stairs belonged to a little boy. He couldn't have been a teenager yet, there was a massive pile of toys still in the middle of the floor. His room was painted that pale baby blue that all moms think is cute. Baseball player's pictures were hung with pride on his wall, and a big Atlanta Braves banner hung over the head of the bed. Rays of the sun came bouncing in as I took a seat on the bed. I began to think about how long I have wanted kids. I thought about all the parents that lost kids, all the kids that saw their parents get run down and eaten. I was glad I hadn't had any kids with her.
I picked my sorry ass up off the bed and made my way down the hallway. The parents room was untouched. I guess they didn't bother to pack, or at least they packed light. The larger room gave me a gun cabinet...fully stocked. I found a few shot guns and one hunting rifle. The bottom drawer was stocked with all the ammo I would need. By the time I got them out and wrapped up in the bed sheets to take back, I was over feeling sorry for them, and for myself. I had to march on, if just to stay alive long enough to find other people, or to die uneaten. As usual, I lit the house up.
I made my way back to the museum in time to eat. Misfit is planning out next route out of here. I think Rachel and I will sneak off for a bit.
Oct 25, 2012
Sick to my stomach
It must have been whatever we ate yesterday. I haven't felt right since. It was before dawn when I woke up. Rachel was driving the jeep, we were somewhere outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee--Red Bank was the name of the town. The car crept to a slow stop, I couldn't get out of the red beat up beast any faster.
The cool air felt great against my skin. I felt like I was on fire, my eyes strained from the force from which I was sick. I'd rather take a beating from the l.a.p.d. any day over being sick.
My heart was racing, and I felt like I was going to pass out any minute. Each heave just wrenching further and further into my gut, clawing at the underbelly of my soul. The pain was burning deep inside. My sugar was low to boot. Lack of real food for weeks at a time, no orange juice to boost my insulin, and as tired as I was, it was easy to see why I had gotten sick...but I still didn't feel any better about the situation. Time had crawled by, and passed with great intensity, but it was about twenty minutes before I finally pulled myself back up onto the side of the road and climbed back into the jeep. It was the last thing I remember till morning.
We were stopped on a bridge, it was the Walnut St. Bridge. It was scattered with the remains of cars that had been caught up in some kind of collision, the scattered remains of bones that had not been taken away by the lifeless drones, or the wild animals. The large steel frame had stood the test of time, and held up rather well, but we had to find another way around. Misfit started checking maps when I had the urge to get sick again. I made my way away from them and the gear and started for the park, maybe they had a bathroom I thought. Nope, out of luck, so I just went where they couldn't see me.
Afterward, I gazed into the large building I had just left my mark on when I saw something so beautiful that it almost took my breath away. It was an old, hand carved wooden carousel. It had been ages since I had seen anything that resembled fun. Since adulthood, I had no longer taken the time to appreciate the things that keep the soul young. I had done like I was told; I had gone straight into work, tried hard to be responsible, but never took the time to stop and smell the roses. Now, the roses, are dead...just like everything else.
The pain just keeps getting worse. I'm going back to sleep.
Oct. 26, 2012
I always thought I was shellfish. Somehow I was torn by the lessons that I had endured and the punishment that I had been through. I was told that if I prayed hard enough then god would hear my prayers and everything would be fine. I cried myself to sleep at night--Curled into a ball on my bed as I listened to my parents fight in the living room just below where I lay my head down to sleep. Was the life we had just not good enough?
I have no idea what happened to my father.
I use to feel sorry, guilt ed into choosing sides by a scared and angry coward who couldn't face reality. You just can't have your cake and eat it too. I tried for years to put all the pieces together, it was just how I role, but no matter how much I tried, I just could never see the big picture.
Every step that I have taken in my life, has in more than just a few ways, shown me the path that he walked. It was as if I was walking in every step, given every choice he was given...and in the end, it was always up to me. What would life have been like if I had taken the same path as he, walking the same line? And, for that fucking matter, why was I walking his line? What was so god damn perfect about his line? I've walked it, and as grand of an adventure as it has been...well fuck.
The morning was the coldest it's been yet, and were way farther south than home. I don't miss the vortex. I just miss life sometimes. We came down the mountains in the earl morning. We decided to avoid Georgia, just to avoid any headaches around Atlanta.
The clouds rolling in on the morning sky loomed with the chance for rain.
The jeep roared into Valley Head just after dawn came creeping in over the ridges of the mountains. We thought that we might be able to find some more food in a smaller town, less chance of bone bags too. We crossed a rough set of tracks, and made our way down first St. Misfit pointed out a rather large church with a fuel tanker parked in front of it. I made the quick right onto Church ST, pulling up to what was once a southern Baptist church. The tanker was parked in the lot right in front of the doors. We got out and began to scout the area. Not much was around though. Across the street was a large lot with some ball courts and a small amount of playground equipment. There was a house across the street. Misfit took his rifle and made his way over. I wondered for a minute if maybe the church had a food pantry. It looked to be the biggest building in town, so it must have been the town shelter.
Rachel and I made our way to the tanker but didn't get very close. The front door of the church came flying open, the loud smacking of steel to brick shooting an echo off into the distance.
"Now just who in the fuck do you think you are? You ain't getting any of our gas, so you might as well pack your pretty asses back up in your jeep and get on down the fuckin road." The booming voice came from behind the red dot sights of a man holding an m-16 and he and his buddy were walking our way.
"Look, sorry man, I had no idea anyone was here. We didn't mean no harm, just wanted to fill up, but if it's yours, then it's yours." I put the gas cans down on the ground, Rachel grabbed my hand... " Hey, you can put the weapon down, my not armed so can we talk?"
I was pissed scared this guy was gonna be just a little too itchy on that trigger finger.
"Yea, we can talk, but you stay right there, and my gun stays right here. Now, what do ya'll want?" he said with a sneer on his face.
"Really, we just need a place to fuckin rest, if just for a night. We wont go through your stuff, we got our own food, do you just have an extra bed. I haven't slept in a bed in weeks. I spent the better part of a week sleeping on a god damn boat. I've been sleeping in that jeep, inside a school on a desk, and once, in the kitchen of a restaurant." I began to pace back and forth. "I have been traveling for weeks, my wife left me just about two months ago, in the middle of this shit I have to deal with that; I have traveled all the way from Richmond, Indiana...walked, driven, and boated my happy ass all the way to this point, so you can either offer me a bed, or you can go back inside so I can leave, either way put your weapon down."
The man lurched forward. "And just who the hell are you to be giving orders?"
Misfit walked up behind the man and leveled his rifle to the strangers temple, "He's my friend, now put down your fucking weapon." The smile was back on misfits face.
After a few more heated words, the man let us inside the church, offering us access to anything he had. He said the hostility was due to rival scavengers trying to get what belongs to them. Seems piracy will never truly die.
I'm gonna eat lunch, i'll write more later...
Oct. 27, 2012
I woke up this morning, and as I relished in the fact that I had slept in a bed for the first time in weeks, I was ad that J had not made it. I wondered what it was that pushed him to run off with Nightshade and her crew? I knew how she worked, and I'm sure she spun some kind of dark shadowy web, I just wish I knew what it was. J and I had been in it from the beginning. He and I would talk for hours about what would happen if this had ever really happened.
The smoked rolled across the rays of sunshine, displaying a dazzling array of designs as they moved about. I watched them, I wondered what my friend was up to now. I had harbored such a grudge about him leaving, I never really ever had time to grieve. It's his loss though. Misfit and I forged on ahead and came out on top every time, we have always done what we had to to keep the peace.
J and I had been hanging out since the 12th st. days. He was the only friend that I had, after an ex girlfriend tried to spread a bunch of lies and got all of my friends to turn against me cause I wouldn't kiss ass to her best friend at the time. It was typical psycho drama, the kind that encompassed my life since I was 14. After that, it was always just him and I. We hung out everyday, watched movies, got drunk, and just tried to move on. He and I were at the center of it all. We had enough friends between the two of us, that we just kept the party rolling for almost a full decade. I was J and he was silent bob. He was my Gerome. Even after Nightshade and I got married, he was there, almost everyday. He were best friends, then Misfit joined us and the three of us kept the legacy alive. Fuck, we cemented into the history books--No one in town could hold a candle to how bad ass our parties were.
We networked, had access to all the best stuff, smoked the best weed, only drank the best alcohol, and just fuckin lived it up. It was all about keeping the party alive. And through it all, no matter what happened, there was J. But, in the end, he did what he always did, and he ran away. My best friend left me hanging.
I snuffed out my cig. and watched as the last of the smoked danced in the morning light for me. I watched it as if wafted over and above the coves where Rachel was still sleeping. It was nice to have someone to curl up with again. We spent the morning curled up in bed, almost like nothing had ever happened. It was as if we got out of bed, then the world really had gone to shit, and the perfection we feel would be missed placed in a world that only has fear left in it. It was sometime around eleven when we finally got up, dressed and ready.
We had driven just a few miles down the road to a place I’m told is called Ft. Payne. I was expecting it to be some kind of military instillation, but such was not the case. It was another small town just down from Valley Head. The lights tore through the night, shining a small path and cutting through the murky darkness that loomed outside our windows. It wasn't long before we pulled off of the paved road and starting tear assing down a dirt road; the thunk of rocks shooting up under the truck and being tossed off into the distance.
The truck would send us bouncing up off the sits as we would just plow through the road and hit what I think was every dip in the fucking road. We followed the people we had met at the church, all this way and believe me, we weren't disappointed once we got here.
The large steel gate rolled to the left as we came upon the entrance. The tops were rolled with barb wire, and then a row of razor wire over that. The fence was heavy steel posts, then reinforced with sheets of steel from a nearby factory. Guard towers are at all four corners, and dogs roam free inside the gate.
We made our way down a small hill and then over a bridge that crossed a stream of running water. The drive led up to the first of three houses on the site. It was a two story brick with all the windows covered with large sheets of plywood. It front door was a heavy piece of steel with multiple locks on it. The next two houses were just as secure, and as I have been told, there are tunnels under each house that connect in case there compound is raided by any rival camps. A large three car garage on the front house is the resting place for most of the camps main vehicles. They have a few atv's, a dirt bike, and some heavy duty SUVs’ from what I’ve seen so far.
I've met several people while I’ve been here, which hasn't been that long. J.T. is the guy who runs this place. He is the guy we had the encounter with at the church. There was a big get together last night, we met most of the people: Sarah is J.T.'s wife, they have three kids, Elaine is a friend of there’s who has been with them since the get go, and there was this girl that was digging on misfit real bad. I have no idea what her name is.
Everyone here is trying there best to keep there hopes up, morale comes in the form of supplies. Just as dependent on the consumer world even after the end has come and gone. Most people spend the day keeping the camp up. They tend to the crops that were just harvested, gather wood for the fires that they have to light. Everyone here is working towards a common goal of surviving, and trying to stay happy. It's too bad that the world couldn’t have ever gotten this message. Rome got greedy...and bad shit happens to greedy whores.