I stormed out of the building, not trusting myself to be around Dietz with a loaded gun in my hand. When I got outside, Kester was waiting for me. Several of his followers were nearby, waiting to see what would happen.
“He was with you yesterday?” Kester asked. I stared at my feet.
“He said he only cut his head on a rock when the things attacked him. I didn’t know he’d been infected. I should have checked him myself.” I responded.
I realized this was my fault. Kester nodded gravely. “We’ll have to check you all now.” he told me.
We gathered everyone who had gone on patrol and stripped down in the infirmary. Janie Potts and Alison examined us all and took blood. We waited under Dietz’s watchful eye while Janie looked at our blood under the microscope.
After an hour we were all pronounced clean. Kester and I discussed more stringent protocols for the future. Other than blaspheming by firing a gun in church, neither he nor Dietz seemed to blame me. I will be more careful from now on.
Tonight there was a special service held in the church. I didn’t attend. As I sit on my bunk writing this, I can see that everyone here is on the fence about what they think of me. I doubt that I will ever “find religion.” I hope my lack of blind faith does not cause us problems here.
DAY 81
It’s funny how I never noticed that everyone here is so “God fearing.”
At breakfast I received a lukewarm reception from everyone I saw. Bible thumpers are a fickle lot. I sat with Albert and Alison and talked about it. Albert grew up Mormon, so the religious thing doesn’t bother him. Alison took Grace to service more to be social than anything else. She doesn’t seem as concerned as I am.
I went to the Clubhouse to meet with the hunter teams and was treated with indifference by them until I mentioned that I didn’t have anything against God, I just hadn’t had much of a religious upbringing. Roger suggested that I attend church Wednesday night with him so that I could “see the light.” I could feel the mood lighten when I agreed to go.
We spent most of the afternoon going over drills and protocols together. I assigned everyone a buddy that they are responsible for keeping an eye on, so we do not have another incident like Jonathan.
Word gets around here fast because by dinnertime everyone was back to treating me like I was one of the gang. Dietz approached me and told me that Preserve security matters were not my responsibility and that he had things handled in the church and didn’t need my interference again.
I wanted to tell him the only thing I saw him “handling” yesterday in the church was his dick, and that he would have gotten his ass chewed off by the time he pulled his shit together. But I let it go.
Alison suggested we cool it for a few days as someone in the infirmary said that she saw us in the garden and that it was inappropriate behavior. I feel like I’m surrounded by the Pod People from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I’m getting so paranoid I don’t even want to confide in Albert right now. Going to take Chloe out.
DAY 82
One of the ongoing concerns here is fuel.
Up until now, gas has been obtained by siphoning random vehicles found along the roadways. There are several gas stations east of here near a place called Winters, but without power there was no means to get it out of the pumps.
Albert’s battery pump and hoses will make it possible to access the petrol right out of the underground tanks (assuming there’s any left).
One of the guys here (Matt) says there is an abandoned five-hundred-gallon fuel trailer at a nearby farm (it is empty so nobody ever thought to take it). We are headed out in one hour to go retrieve the fuel trailer.
At least a dozen people have told me they are looking forward to seeing me at church tomorrow night. It’s starting to piss me off to the point I’m trying to think of legitimate excuses to get out of going.
I’m considering burning down the church.
This afternoon we drove to the farm to get the five-hundred-gallon fuel trailer.
I thought I had planned everything out pretty well but forget to consider that asshole Mr. Murphy (of Murphy’s Law fame). When we arrived at the farm, I had Team 1 (we have two teams comprised of six men each) set up a perimeter while we went up to the farm.
We found the fuel trailer in the barn just where Matt said it would be. What he forgot to tell us was that the tires were flat. That was OK because I thought to bring two of the spare tires we found the other day. What I didn’t think of was that the tires might not fit on the trailer.
Apparently, truck tires have six lugs, and car tires have five. Our spares are car tires. Of course, the stupid trailer had truck tires on it.
The other issue was that someone had cemented steel posts into the ground on either side of the trailer and chained and locked the trailer’s frame to the posts.
One of the guys rooted around in a shed and found a patch kit and a pump. It took us almost three hours to get the trailer fixed, freed, and ready to go. By then it was almost 4 p.m. I didn’t want to be dealing with siphoning gas at a service station after dark so we returned to the Preserve. We will search for gas tomorrow.
Either I have been really oblivious over the last week or everyone here has just come out of the religious closet overnight. At dinner, I noted everyone praying before their meal. And it seems like every conversation I hear contains a “praise God” this, or a “Blessed be the Holy Father” that.
Alison could tell this is really starting to get on my nerves. We sat outside the commissary and discreetly held hands while we talked.
She finally looked me in the eye and said, “We don’t have to stay here. I’ll go anywhere with you.”
I was stunned. She saw this and laughed. She told me she didn’t care where we were; she just wanted to be with me. She’s starting to get to know me pretty well, because she knew exactly what to say to get me to quit obsessing about all of this.
I hadn’t seriously thought of leaving. Jim had put it best; where else would we go? I still want to find my dad but there’s a lot to be said for the relative safety we enjoy here at the Preserve. I guess church is a small price to pay.
As I was walking back to the dorm, Cody intercepted me. He asked me if he could join our hunter teams.
When I told him that he should concentrate on school he said, “Why? They’re just trying to turn me into one of them.”
And, just when I had stopped being paranoid, some pesky brat wound me up again. I asked him if he had any friends and he told me that everyone treats him like he doesn’t belong. Grace is his only friend. As much as I don’t want to get involved, I’m actually starting to wonder what happened to his parents. I am going to look into it…and probably regret it.
DAY 83
If this handwriting looks like it was written by a five-year-old, it is because I am still shaking from today's events.
We lost three members of our team today and I am feeling angry, guilty, and scared all at the same time. I am thinking of resigning from running our teams. I know that part of why I feel this way is my “fear of responsibility” issue resurfacing all over again, but it is also more.
I guess I should back up and document what happened.
This morning we decided to go to a gas station outside of Winters to see if there was any fuel in the underground tanks.
The trip to the station was a little hairy, as we had to drive through sections of town to get where we were going. The “super mufflers” Remy installed work pretty well, but we still attracted dozens of undead as we passed by. Our vehicles now have numerous new dents and bloodstains on them from our travels.
The abandoned Chevron food mart station we found was pretty remote and surrounded by fields. We left one of the teams down the road and up on the bridge overlooking the 505 freeway to keep an eye on things.
We approached the station cautiously and cleared the main building and surrounding area before checking the pumps and tanks. There was still power to the station, but the pumps weren’t working. Undaunted, we unscrewed the steel caps set in the pavement and proceeded to check the underground tanks.
The first tank was bone dry, but the second had fuel. We hooked up Albert’s battery powered siphon and lowered the hose as far as it would go. Matt and William monitored the process while I went into the main building to see what we could scrounge up. The store itself had been picked clean, but the two-bay garage had tools and a stack of tires that looked promising.
One of the guys from our team, Sal, was screwing around when I walked in. He saw a boom box up on the shelf and reached up and punched a button on the face of it before I could stop him.
Suddenly, several things happened at once. The Doors “Backdoor Man” blared out from speakers set up both inside and out. Out of nowhere an Infected man appeared and tackled Sal to the ground. My radio came to life and Roger Holtby warned that a “horde of unholy dead” were headed our way.
I couldn’t draw a bead on the creature all over Sal, but saw blood splattered everywhere. Sal screamed and pleaded with me to save him. I cursed to myself and then shot both of them. I
took aim at the boom box and was just about to fire when I heard glass shatter behind me. A dozen undead swarmed into the garage. The three of us in the garage opened fire on them.
Bobby, the man nearest the bay doors, went down under a sea of creatures. Phil and I backed up onto the pile of tires in the corner, firing at anything that moved. I reached above me and felt the ledge of the storage loft. I scrambled up onto the loft floor and pulled Phil up with me. The creatures reached up for us and moaned and wailed in unison to the deafening sound of Jim Morrison’s haunting lyrics.
We made our way along the loft, pushing tires and supplies down on the monsters following us below. Several of Them were on the tire mound clawing their way up onto the ledge with us.
Phil and I shot them down. I saw a trap door in the ceiling and pushed up on it. It was locked with a padlock. I pulled out my pry-bar and frantically pried at the lock hasp. It finally gave and snapped open. I lost my balance and almost fell off the loft.
I turned the release handle and Phil and I both shoved the door open. I boosted him up onto the roof. I stopped and shot two more creatures that had made it up onto the catwalk with us. I let my weapon fall on its sling and pulled myself up through the opening. As I cleared the roof and slammed the hatch down (securing the release handle) I absently noted that the song had changed and the Doors “L.A. Woman” began its opening keyboard notes.
As I looked down onto the parking lot below I could see dozens of plague victims crowding around the building. I couldn’t see Matt or his partner William anywhere below.
My radio came to life and Matt’s voice whispered desperately, “Why did you turn music on? Turn it off!”
I looked at the covering over the gas pumps and saw Matt lying flat on the roof trying not to draw attention to himself. William was nowhere in sight. I shook my head in disbelief. It wasn’t like I had planned to provide a free concert for the undead. I didn’t bother explaining it to him. Instead, I called Roger. His news did not help. From his vantage point, he could see over a hundred of Them surrounding the station and more were coming from all directions.
Things were going to get desperate fast. I walked the perimeter of the roof looking for any possible exits. Our vehicle and trailer were surrounded. Creatures were on all sides. I saw a large propane tank at the edge of the parking lot and thought about blowing it to clear out a few dozen of the monsters. The only problem was that I didn’t know how massive the explosion might be. It could blow us right off the roof.
I calculated that we probably had enough ammunition between us all to make a dent in the population below, but that more would be coming and we would eventually run out of bullets.
As I considered our options, a loud pop resounded through the speakers and the music stopped. One of the Infected inside was probably eating the boom box. Regardless, I was thankful for the relative silence.
The moans of the undead filled the void. Roger came on the walkie-talkie and asked what he should do. I told him to sit tight and keep a look out. We settled in and stayed quiet in the hopes that the creatures would lose interest.
After an hour, I realized that they weren’t going anywhere and neither were we. I had thought about having Roger and his team drive close and get the creatures’ attention to lead them away, but wanted to save that as a last resort. I could smell gasoline fumes strongly. Through the maze of undead I could see that the gas trailer was full and that gas was spilling over onto the tarmac from the underground tanks.
I contemplated tossing a match down but realized if the flames got into the underground reservoir, I could have the same problem as the propane tank. I was about ready to take my chances when the entire crowd below stopped what they were doing and, almost in unison, snapped their heads toward the north.
That’s when I heard it too—the unmistakable sound of diesel engines. I looked toward the sound and saw three APCs (armored personnel carriers), a tank, and four Humvees coming up the road from the north. When they were one hundred yards away they all stopped. The creatures around us turned and started racing toward the military convoy, forgetting all about us.
Roger came over the radio and told us to get out of there as soon as we could, and that the military unit was not friendly. The urgency in his voice was obvious. Phil and I didn’t hesitate. We low crawled across the roof toward the front of the building and swung our legs over the edge. We both hung from the roof and dropped the eight feet to the ground, our feet splashing in puddles of fuel as we landed.
Phil fell over and soaked his backside in gasoline, scrambling back to his feet as quickly as he could. Two creatures that were still inside the store saw us and came after us. I brought my carbine up and fired three quick shots at the first plague victim, stitching her in the chest, neck, and forehead with my rounds. She fell down face first.