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Monthly Archives: April 2015

11th April

So this is it then. Possibly the last time I write in this diary. I’ll bequeath this to Adam after I write this entry. Chances are he’ll lose it, destroy it, or use it for its soft and absorbent qualities the first chance he gets, but with any luck, perhaps he’ll carry it on. Who knows, perhaps it’ll be an outlet for him.

He seems to grow more withdrawn as he gets older. Back in the days of too much sugar, television and video games, a shrink would have diagnosed him with some mental illness or deficiency. Me, I just think he’s, what’s that word? Melancholy. Withdrawn. Likes to keep his thoughts to himself, and not let too many people into that inner sanctum. The only ones who have seen a chink in that armour are myself, and Jenny. I even feel a tad envious of Jenny for that. Me: I spent the past seven plus years changing his pooey butt and cleaning up after him. Protecting him from things that wanted to slurp his innards and taught him, albeit very poorly, how to read and write, but very well at how to shoot and kill. Jenny: well she just befriended him a month or so ago and went and lost her leg in the process. It is nice that he has somebody other than me to lean on though.

I look around our rag tag group. So many familiar faces now. How many of them will make it through tomorrow. How many are just cannon fodder for the Boss? Have I taken this a step too far, and we should have just backed that train up and run? What was I thinking?

In the morning, a smaller group of mainly children, with one or two of the adults for protection, will branch off from the rest of us and seek shelter to the west. If all goes well, we will come back to find them later. If not, they are to make their own way out of the area and fend for themselves.

The rest of us, accompanied by the group from Sanctuary, and lead by Christy, will make our way into the township. We will carry the ammunition from the train, and a lot of the remaining food, at least what we haven’t already given to the children’s group, as a means of distraction. As excited as the Boss and his lot will be to have me back, and a bunch of the woman he had lost on the train, let’s not forget he now has his own town full of woman to abuse, so things such as ammo and food will be of more interest to him initially.

The plan struck me when I thought about leaving my train behind. I recalled back in the day when you travelled on a train or other public transport at your own risk. It was the days when idiots thought that religion was a reason worthy of blowing themselves and others up. When cowards strapped explosives onto their bodies and boarded public transport in order to kill as many innocents in the name of their fictional beliefs as possible. As the main instigators that had whipped them up into a religious fervour in the first place sat back in their cave, or internet cafe or beanbag and laughed at the stupidity of the idiots that believed that committing mass murder placed you in the favour of the deity of their choosing.

It was this idea, this final gasp, what American sports commentators used to refer to as the Hail Mary, that grabbed me by the short and curlies and made me think there was one final way to rid what remained of the sane-end of the planet of the insanities of that one last bastion of evil, the Boss.

So now, those of us willing to put our lives on the line for the children of the group, and for anybody in that village of Sanctuary that are being abused or hurt. For anybody that wants that town to live up to its name once more. We have built a number of improvised explosives for use should the opportunity present itself. The idea is pretty simple really. We have a bunch of small cardboard boxes which once contained bullets. Most of the bullets have since been used up, or what few remained we tipped out into other receptacles. Somebody along the way had discovered a box of fragmentation grenades and added these to the ammo store on the train – long before I had come along. Inside each box we taped a grenade to the bottom of the box and a string, tied to the pin, was threaded through a hole in the top and the box taped closed.

What, to a casual observer, will appear to be a simple cardboard box for bullets, will actually be a grenade with a simple pin-pulling mechanism. Before anybody is any-the-wiser, with any luck we’ll have popped the pin on one or two of those and dropped them in the laps of the Boss and anybody loyal to him.

For Christy and her team, all they have to do is act as if nothing is amiss, lead us into the jaws of the enemy, and stand clear of the blast radius. Leading us into the jaws of the enemy, I have no doubt they can and will do, but not ratting us out is a matter of faith and trust now.

So as I sign off now, I hand this tatty diary over to Adam. He’ll carry it now and, should by some divine act of any one of these superior beings occur and I walk away from yet another stunt, Adam will pass it back to me to write all about it. Should I not, well, here’s hoping this isn’t the last entry in this diary and that Adam takes up the mantle.

So this is to you Adam if you’re reading this: I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day. I don’t know what’s in store for you and I in the next ten years for that matter. I can’t even guarantee that one or both of us will be around in the next few days. What I can tell you is that if this stupid plan goes pear shaped and I’m hurt at all, I want you to carry on telling this story. You must carry on with this. To make sure that one day, if any humans ever make it through this nightmare, that they can read about our struggles, you and I. They can see the sacrifices that all of humanity have made to survive. To continue the species and to ensure future generations are possible.

 
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Posted by on 11 April in Zombie Philes

 

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8th April

We didn’t have much time. Our escort, her name was Christy, went and relayed our predicament to the rest of her crew and they came to a consensus. The problem was that the township knew that our train had arrived. Given the planet is dead silent these days, the rumble of a diesel engine, especially one as unhealthy as ours, and the squeak of metal on metal brakes, could be heard for miles. Given the town of Sanctuary was only a day and a half’s hike from here, they had no doubt heard us, the same way they had heard the remains of the Boss’ train when they had arrived in a similar fashion.

The senior members of my group, and a few of Christy’s team gathered in one of the carriages as the rest of the woman and children gave us our privacy and went to the other carriage. We spent a good couple of hours arguing, and at one point, shouting at each other. Neither team wanted to back down. Christy knew her and her crew couldn’t return to Sanctuary without us or they’d be killed for coming back empty handed, and didn’t want to leave the comforts and safety of Sanctuary. At the same time, I definitely had a price on my head, and the woman and children could not be allowed back into the hands of that maniac and his band of vile cretins.

And then it struck me. There was only one way out of this, and the chances were pretty slim that I would survive it, but it was there. It relied on a whole lot of trust on both sides, and a bit of work and last minute preparation, but if there was ever a chance, this was it. Christy frowned when she heard it, and picked holes in the already swiss cheese of an idea, but in the end she shrugged, let out a few expletives, and gave me a look that I’ve seen too many times before that said: ‘You’re completely off your rocker doing that, but at least it’s you and not me’.

We had work to do, and so little time it wasn’t funny. Christy went outside and briefed her crew on the rough outline of a plan. She remained sketchy on the details partially because the details had to be worked out as we went along, but also she didn’t know how many of her crew were completely trustworthy, and who had begun to side with the Boss and his cronies for fear of being killed, or worse. Well, there goes the complete trust element of the plan.

I’ve briefed my lot as best I can. There’s a ton of prep to do, so I’m out of time to write any more. Perhaps one more update as we’re on our way to Sanctuary, then possibly no more entries in this diary. I’ll update it afterwards if things miraculously work out.

Chances are very good though that this is my penultimate entry. If so, may I just say: life is hard and horrible, but unfortunately that nasty, painful, and terrible time that consumes ninety nine percent of your life, has to be endured for that one glimmer of joy, happiness, beauty, and/or love that appears so fleetingly, like the glint of a flake of gold at the bottom of a fast flowing stream. Did you really see it, and can you hold on to that moment forever, or will it be swept from you before you are ready? Take each of those moments, bundle them up into a tight package and hold those close to your heart. They will be the strength and light you can draw upon in the darkest hours of that ninety nine percent.

 
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Posted by on 8 April in Zombie Philes

 

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6th April

Today I found out that Sanctuary was anything but.

We were less than 5 miles from the town they had renamed Sanctuary after it had been re-claimed for the humans all that time ago by that ex-military guy. They put Adam and I up for a few nights – even gave Adam a gun for his birthday. That’s where we were heading. A chance for the woman and children to finally settle into a safe home. A place where Adam and I can let down our guard once more, just for a few days, before deciding where to go next. But it’s not to be based on what we found out today.

The poor train, coughed and spluttered its way along. Sucking the last dregs of the rotten fuel I had fed it out of desperation some days back. I wasn’t really paying enough attention to where we were going. Normally I was extremely vigilant and looking out for hazards on the track, but something had distracted me. I think Adam was bugging me about something or other. Anyway, the first thing I knew, I heard a gunshot from outside the train.

I immediately ducked down and peered out the window. There was a woman, dressed in black body armour like the riot police of old, with a rifle pointing up in the air held in one arm. I quickly threw the leaver and the train started slowing with a squeak of metal brakes.

The gunshot had brought me to my senses again – reminiscent of the shots the kids had fired where Jenny lost her leg. The memory of that washed down my spine like a bucket of ice cold sick.

Once the train came to a stop, the woman ran over and banged on the driver’s door with the butt of her rifle. I looked around out the cab windows and there were a number of others, similarly dressed, with rifles and handguns pointed in my direction. They could fill this cab and me full of enough holes I thought it warranted opening the door for a chat.

She seemed quite hostile at first, obviously somewhat miffed that we were travelling along in a coughing and wheezing train, probably agitating every zom within miles and encouraging them to follow us along to this peaceful town. Her concern was probably the clean-up job afterwards.

I took the time to start at the beginning, and sensing it was a long story and that we were no threat, she waved out at the others through the cab window and the rest of her entourage relaxed. A couple of them lighting cigarettes, and generally gathering in groups to joke and chat. For my part, I tried to keep the conversation relaxed, and invited one or two of the woman through from the carriage into the cramped cab to help with my story.

A couple of times the armoured girl’s eyes lit up in recognition of something or other in my story, but on the whole she just quietly absorbed our words with a few nods and the odd questions for clarity. Once our monologue ended we were left standing around in the cab of a broken train staring at oine another waiting for the next step. She looked out at her crew then back at us a couple of times, then she said those words that keep ringing in my ears now.

“That guy you mention, the Boss? Well here’s here now, in Sanctuary.”

I could feel my face fall, and glanced at the women beside me who wore the shock and horror of that revelation on their own faces.

“What? You caught him? Is he locked up? Why didn’t you kill him?” I asked in desperation.

“No, you don’t get it. Him and his boys rocked into town a few weeks back, started shooting anyone that stood in their way, and now they run the place. You want to live in Sanctuary, you need to do whatever he says. And one of the things he says is: anybody that’s still alive, and we catch while out on patrol, is to be brought back to him for questioning.” She said looking me square in the eyes.

 
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Posted by on 6 April in Zombie Philes

 

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3 April

Some days have passed since my raid on that small town pharmacy. The train is definitely on its last legs now – nothing a decent dose of fresh diesel wouldn’t fix, but that just isn’t going to happen.

We’re close to our destination and I can feel the muscles in my neck and shoulders finally starting to relax as we do.

Jenny’s fever broke at last and the infection seems to have been knocked on the head at last. Her stump is still raw and sore, and there is a lot more healing than just physically she needs to get through in order to be the happy little girl she was before that fated outing. Adam can see the pain and anguish in her eyes too and has retreated somewhat from her. I can’t say I blame him, and do my best to keep him near me as much as possible now.

According to the map we’ve only got a couple more townships to get through and we’re there.

Please let it be how I remembered it, for the sake of the woman with me, but also for my sake as I get ready to hand them over to their new life and get some much needed rest myself.

I just hope that Sanctuary is the same place as it was a year or so ago when I was last here with Adam.

 
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Posted by on 3 April in Zombie Philes

 

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