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Monthly Archives: September 2013

30th September

Woke up around 0300 to the sound of the helicopters taking off from the airfield. About 15 minutes later there was an almighty explosion which sounded like the moon had decided to stop hanging about in the sky and had collided with the Earth. The ground shook and things fell off the shelves. Adam woke up crying and the whole household decided sleeping was for losers and got up and dressed and started dishing out the coffee to await word of what in Hades had gone on.

About 0445 my roommate came in looking a bit bedraggled and in a pretty foul temper. The story goes thusly: The SF guys headed out to the perimeter to see if they could spot anything coming our way. They had an IR camera with them and it didn’t take long to find our missing friends, about a hundred or so snotties ambling our way. The SF boys took up position on a nearby hill and radioed in what they had found. The helicopter with the home made napalm bomb took off and headed out there. As soon as they heard the sound of the chopper, the IR signature blinked out of existence. Seems the Slovs have been thinking hard after all and had come up with a plan. The SF guys radioed in the last known GPS co-ordinate, probably using those cool binoculars of theirs I had a play with a few weeks back. The chopper dropped the bomb and splattered those bogies to hell. The SF guys stuck around to pick off any survivors, but a good hundred or so were wiped out just like that. They brought back something interesting from the bomb site too. Not much of it was remaining, but they found traces of mylar, that silver foil used for emergency blankets, and bits of woollen blankets. Seems the Slovs had raided a sports shop, or hospital or something and found a heap of mylar blankets, and by covering themselves in these with a layer of normal blankets on top of them, would be nearly invisible to a sweeping IR scan. The mylar blocks their body heat and the woollen blankets both dissipates any escaping heat and takes on the ambient temperature around them, instead of leaving a completely blank hole in the IR picture. Bastards have been using the military tactics to try and sneak up on us. All the more reason not to let anyone get captured alive.

 
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29th September

Got in to see some of the top brass boys in their headquarters they’ve set up in an old farm house up the road. Turns out they’ve been thinking along the same lines as me. Looks like the Slovs have been using the knowledge of those captured and turned it against us. The concern right now is where this large group have been hiding from the Infrared. This is where I proposed my theory on the army training that they put their soldiers though in hiding from IR. This gave them a bit to mull over, so I left the brains-trust to it and went back to do a bit of PT – Physical Training, what the army boys call going for a run.

Spoke to my roommate later on and he said they’re off on an exercise tonight to test my theory. He couldn’t tell me much, not that it was a secret or anything, he just hadn’t been briefed on it yet from his CO (Commanding Officer). Guess I’ll just have to wait for him to get back and tell me what they got up to.

 
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28th September

It just struck me yesterday and I had to talk to my roommate about it: I asked about how thermal imaging works and if there are any tricks to beating it. He said that every army has training on these tools, and the techniques to beat them. In the case of infrared, it is a camera which displays the temperature of the objects it is focused on in different colours. The average human body is around 37 degrees Celsius. In the case of the infected with their constant flu-like symptoms, their temperature sits around the 39-42 degree range. Even your breath comes out at around 33 degrees. So unless you’re covered by something heat reflective and/or heat dissipating, you’re going to glow at night on IR relative to the temperature of, say, the grass or buildings around you. The SF guy went on to tell me that they have specialised gear in the Special Forces to deal with this, but even a dumb army grunt is trained in simple survival techniques such as propping a blanket up above a foxhole to dissipate the heat, or thermal blankets. It got me thinking about all the knowledge the Slovs have had to date in tracking us down and knowing our areas of weakness. And of how many army patrols have gone missing, and even the humvee gunner who knew where we were going that was captured. I need to think about this some more, but it’s got me a little nervous about under estimating these retarded zombies.

 
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27th September

The plan was aborted. The choppers went out to find the mass of Slovs that were heading this way. There were only a couple of heat signatures visible and the army guys called off dropping the bomb. Nobody has a clue where they all went to. A search was made and other than a couple of snotties, just milling about aimlessly, there was no sign of the main group. A search was done in the day time in the humvees, but no sign of them was found. The tank of napalm is now just sitting in the middle of the airfield waiting on the next sighting of them.

 
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26th September

I’ve got to say, these military minds have got ingenious ways to deal out death and destruction on a massive scale. Frankly it’s frightening the ease at which they come up with some of these things.

So they started building a device today to deal with the massive mob of Slovs heading this way. The farm has a 5,000 litre (just over 1,000 gallons) fuel tank which in the days of farming was filled with diesel for filling up farm vehicles. This thing was hoisted down off its stand and we filled it with av-gas. To this they added polystyrene, oil, animal fat, soap, dishwashing liquid, sugar, even bits of plastic and rubber, pretty much anything they could lay their hands on that either burnt, or would make it stick to things as it burnt. Before screwing on the cap they put in a couple of incendiary grenades, with their pins rigged up to a thin, steel cable. The plan is to drop it from the troop carrier chopper on top of the mass of bad guys and the long steel cable will give it enough delay before pulling the grenade pins and it blows. An attack chopper will be in support with a couple of missiles ready if it doesn’t go off as expected.

Should be a hell of a fireworks show. Shame it’ll be several miles away from here.

 
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25th September

Shit! Shit! Shit! They’ve found us!

A routine chopper patrol picked up a number of heat signatures making a beeline this way. Who knows how they have survived this long. I suppose there must still be a bit of food around, and there’s always cats and squirrels, but you’d need to have your wits about you to catch them – these guys don’t have much in the way of wits that I’ve seen to date.

The chopper crew estimates about 75 at this stage, and there are concerns that these are the same guys that were gathering on the outskirts of the last base. How they found us we’ll never know, but somebody reminded me that one of the humvee gunners was captured when we escaped last time. Could this be how they knew where we went? It’s taken them a while to get here, but walking 300 miles in that uncoordinated way they do, it’s no wonder.

Life was finally settling down to a nice gentle pace again too. Let’s see what the brass come up with as a strategy this time.

 
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Posted by on 25 September in Uncategorized

 

21st September

Had a dream last night. Me and the Mrs were making love. Not the usual hard out, hundred miles an hour, self gratification stuff. Slow and methodical. Her on top smiling down as we get a slow, steady rhythm going. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation. When I open them again it isn’t her. Well, it is her, but she has that dead look in her eyes that the Slovs have. Her skin is pale and her face gaunt and haggard. I know she has turned. I throw her off and run from the room, out on to the street. I’m naked and defenceless, but I don’t care, I just need to get away from her – the ‘her’ that she has become anyway. She’s coming out of the house to follow me. But it isn’t her. It’s Jeff. He’s covered in mud and there’s bits of grass and splinters of wood sticking out of his hair. He’s also one of them. His fingernails are all broken and bleeding. He lurches down the steps towards me. He says: You buried me alive. I thought we were friends you bastard! I stagger back and fall and hit my head on the road. When I open my eyes it’s all dark and I feel that I’m in a box. In a coffin, buried alive. I shout out and sit bolt upright. I’m really awake now, but in my room. I gave my roommate a hell of a fright, he had grabbed his gun and was ready to do battle – being a Special Forces guy trained him to have the reactions a viper. I calm down and call out Pigeon and everybody in the house relaxes.

Pigeon was one of our passwords to get into the barracks some time back in the old camp. All us civvies thought it so stupid that it’s become our safety word since then to let everyone know things are all clear. If there was such a thing anymore it is a word that would be put into the Urban Dictionary because the vast majority of the existing human race, those with more than two functioning brain cells, use it on a day to day basis.

Adam started crying and his minder got up to settle him down again. I don’t know if I mentioned before, I’m living in one of the houses near the airport with 5 others, well six if you count Adam the baby. It’s a 3 bedroom and there are 2 sets of couples, and myself rooming with one of the SF guys. He’s not too bad. Doesn’t give two turds about anything but being out in the wilds killing things. We share what appears to have been a room for two little girls. The two single beds are too short for each of us, but beats those cold, hard army cots. Everything is all pink and frilly. The room is full of little plastic ponies with long strands of excessively bright nylon hair, stick thin dolls dressed as princesses and magic wands with glitter and stars all over which make electronic sounds when shaken about. I’ve decided to leave the place as it is. It reminds me of the humanity which once existed. An innocence we are unlikely to see again for some time. Not, at least, until Adam is old enough to appreciate things like toys and fun. Right now all he cares about is food, sleep and dry nappies. I don’t mind him waking in the night – though tonight was because I gave everybody a fright. I don’t sleep too well most nights anyway so when he does cry, it is just like an alarm to bring me back to reality and check everything is still alright around us. I’ve never really been one for kids, and my wife and I decided early on in our relationship we weren’t having any. A piece of me always wonders what it would be like to have a mini version of me running around though. Guess I’ll never find out. Perhaps Adam and I could become mates when he is a little more interactive.

 
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