Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5) (23 page)

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
I
spent a lot of yesterday fighting. Jess insisted I go out with the
small assault teams to clear some of the zombies away. It wasn't a
pleasant job, but every body is needed. We had to clear enough undead
away from the gates and draw large enough groups off so we could send
out collection teams for supplies.
It sucked out loud, believe
me. Patrick stayed with Jess, since he only has blacksmith duty most
days what with him having the one hand and all. His workload varies,
and the new plague has our need for freshly worked metal at a low
point. Of all the people left in the world, I trust Pat with my life
and my wife more than any other. Hell, I that much was true before
The Fall, too. Patrick Rooney is the best friend I could have asked
for. Much like Jess herself, he's more than I deserve.
My team
had the unenviable task of being first through the inner gate--the
smaller, man-sized door set into the huge front gate--to clear away
the few New Breed and old school zombies brave enough to come within
bow range. They've seen that we aren't willing to waste arrows on
stragglers at the moment and more of them edge closer all the
time.
That part was fairly easy. The rest...
It was
ugly work. Killing always is, even when it's zombies. We cleared the
stragglers from the gate enough to let out three tanks, who took over
the lion's share of the job. They led the larger forces of the undead
away while those of us on foot fought the rest. The teams left out as
we worked, and they won't be back for another day. They're loading up
on firewood, which they have to cut, and hunting for fresh meat, and
other sundries we'll need for an extended siege if it comes to
that.
New Haven has been insulated from the outside to a large
degree ever since the first perimeter defenses went up. With the
construction of one wall and then another, even better one, the
feeling that this place is an island has grown. Now that we're weaker
than we've been in a long while and surrounded by the undead, it's
almost impossible to feel any other way.
To a lesser degree,
my house was starting to feel that way as well. I want to be there
with Jess,
need 
to
hold her hand in her time of need, but I'm actually glad I got out
and helped fight. I hadn't realized how isolated I was starting to
feel after only a few days without my normal routine. I wasn't going
out for a jog or trotting to the office to hand in reports. I was at
home, working nonstop and only seeing the outside world through
windows.
Before and after the fight, I managed to have some
good conversations with my teammates. Two of them work in the annex
most of the time, and they're helping handle the gopher problem.
They've set traps and managed to capture a few of the little buggers.
Apparently gopher makes a decent stew.
Another is a guard on
the wall, and is one of the marauders who showed up with Kincaid.
Guy's name is Darryl, he's in his forties, and he joined up with us
because he wanted a safe place for his daughter. I had no idea some
groups of marauders were families, but Darryl only joined with them
for her. She's just sixteen. Though they've only been here a few
months, she fell for a local boy. They had a small ceremony just
yesterday, hands bound by ribbon and all that.
Even in hard
times, love can bloom like roses in the cracks of concrete. Hellfire,
love born in times like these? It's 
especially 
powerful,
tempered like steel.
I know I've never loved my wife more.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
Staying
inside a shipping container when the sun is out sucks very, very
badly. The interior of the thing gets hot quickly even when the air
temperature outside is mild. That makes it difficult to keep the damn
things cool and ventilated, which is a problem since we have a lot of
our sick people set up in them.
Also, because the
expansion--in all its boxy metal glory--is our new fallback point.
Which means in a pinch, every inhabitant of New Haven will have to
live in one of the things.
The first thing we considered was
trying to set up another refrigeration system like the one our big
freezer uses, but that isn't workable. One, the zombies outside the
walls are still large in numbers, making attempts to go out and
gather the supplies we'd need suicidal in difficulty. Two, even if we
could find the parts to build more absorption refrigeration units (a
big 'if', given how specialized some of the stuff is), we'd never be
able to find enough to cover all the space we need. Three: only three
people here know how to really build one, and we all have other work
to do.
Realistically, it isn't going to happen. Other
solutions, then.
I don't know what those might be, but we'll
figure something out. For the last two years we've been dealing with
the heat in our homes by opening all the windows that aren't covered
by armor (though most of the houses including mine have been modified
so the plates over the windows are removable) and letting the breeze
come through. Granted, there's a huge difference between a thin metal
box and a house with thick walls and shade.
For the moment
we're setting up fans and running small generators, but we can't do
that for long. Maybe if we use the modified genny, the one that runs
on ethanol, we can manage for a good chunk of time. Fuel isn't quite
at a premium yet, but we can't afford to use too much.
It's a
conundrum. It bugs the hell out of me.
Normally I'd be out
there looking at the problem. I'm working on it here at the house but
it isn't quite the same. Visualization is important for me as a
critical thinker. Maybe I've been too harsh and immobile in my stance
to stay home whenever possible. Might be good for my brain to get out
for a bit each day, kind of decompress and release the steam valves
some. You know--not just to kill zombies.
Ugh. It's a slow,
hot day, and I'm feeling cooped up. I think I will go out. See if Pat
will come over for a bit and keep an eye on things, and get some
perspective. I'll read reports and spend time on what should be a
simple problem when I get back. I need to stretch my legs before I
gnaw one of them off in frustration.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
This
morning has been a good one for the people suffering from the new
plague. Nine of them woke up feeling tired and weak, but otherwise
well. All of them were folks that hadn't been hit particularly hard
by the symptoms, which is the first time we've seen any uniformity in
the progression or resolution of the illness.
There were a few
good comments on yesterday's post, and we actually used one of them
as part of a solution for keeping the makeshift hospital cooler. I'm
a moron for not thinking of it myself, because there's a great
example of it right across the river: sun screens. The Exiles have
big-ass swaths of fabric to block our watchers from easily seeing
what they're doing (which still isn't a lot) but they also help
create shade for the fallback point.
We did the same, though
ours are far more makeshift. We've got a big pile of pipes marked for
eventual use, and slapping them together and sewing lots of fabric
didn't take very long. We had a dozen people doing the work, two
teams of six, and they went on for hours and hours. Made enough
surface area to help a great deal, especially since Dave cut some
more ventilation in the things.
My contribution was less
useful. I suggested that we use some of our extra tanks of compressed
air to move the muggy air inside around. It's not ideal, but it helps
a little. This is a problem that will get worse as we get closer to
July, so it's not like we're done working on it. But progress is
progress.
The zombies outside have taken to attacking weakly
guarded areas of the wall. At first our traps took a toll on them,
but we can't risk sending people out to reset and rearm them, so
there are more places in the perimeter where the undead can get close
to the wall. It has the same feeling as previous assaults, as though
they're testing us to gauge our reactions. I'm sure it isn't good
news, but for the time being the New Breed aren't making any real
effort to get over the wall. If they were, they'd be bringing in logs
to use as scaling ladders or climbing over each other to get our
people.
Since they can't really hurt us without those tactics,
our guards and sentries have been ordered not to attack. We save
every arrow, bullet, and moment of risk for a time when we can't help
using them. We're in too precarious a position to be goaded into
another offensive like the one we put on a few weeks ago.
More
people are getting sick, but not in large numbers at any given time.
Jess is still in an in-between state, not fully functional and
healthy but still able to move around and get things done. I almost
wish there would be some kind of change, just so the tension of
waiting for the other shoe to drop, constant and pounding in the back
of my head, would go away. Mind you, I want that to be for the
better, so I need to knock on wood or dance to the moon spirits or
something.
She 
is 
taking
it easier, though. With so many people ill and workloads reduced by
necessity, there's less for her to do. I can't help feeling a strange
variety of relief for that. It's terrible that we have to trim the
number of projects we're working on to keep our healthy people from
overtaxing themselves, but if it makes my wife feel the burdens of
her responsibilities less, I'll take that silver lining.
Ah,
she's awake. I hear her moving around in there. Going to go check on
her and the others before I start their breakfast.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
I've
been focused on Jess and what's been happening around New Haven a lot
lately, but some things just need a post all their own.
Our
watchers brought a report in yesterday (at great personal risk,
they've been making their way over the walls to keep an eye on the
Exiles. Brave folks, considering the zombies outside...) that some
major shifts have happened at the old fallback point. At dusk
yesterday, a large group of Exiles made their way to the broken
bridge where their leader, who I call Scar, murdered a guard who
dared show us some small measure of respect.
Many in the group
were clearly ill--pale faces, labored breathing, sweating
profusely--but they came along anyway, determined to haul their
captives right to the edge.
Yeah. Captives. Seven men and
three women, all sick themselves, were unceremoniously killed and
thrown into the river. The last of them was Scar himself, so
devastated with the new plague that our watchers weren't sure he even
knew what was going on. He didn't get a bullet like the others. Scar
had his throat slashed by a small woman, who kicked him over the
edge.
We got a message from the Exiles not long after. It was
hand-written and chucked across the river inside one of those
capsules you used to get at the drive-through at banks. I'm not going
to transcribe it here mainly because it's in Will's office, but the
gist of the thing was an explanation. Scar and his lieutenants ruled
the Exile camp through fear, intimidation, and violence. Some of it
subtle, some of it overt, all of it terrible. Turns out a lot of
people weren't very happy about that and took their chance when they
got it. The letter further explained that the large boat being
constructed was intended for piracy--traveling up and down the river
looking for people using it as we have, to ferry large shipments of
goods around. Scar was planning on breaking the truce, another mark
against him.
The remaining Exiles want to live in peace, or so
they say. As a show of goodwill, they burned the boat's skeleton last
night after lowering the screens they've got set up around their
home. As before, we'll take them at their word that they won't
attack, but we'll plan for the worst. We're a hopeful sort of people,
but not stupid.
For the sake of the ill living in New Haven, I
hope this is genuine. We haven't been shy about telling people we're
weak at the moment, and while we can still defend ourselves quite
well, doing so would represent a strain on our population that would
make things so much worse.
I've got my fingers crossed. We'll
watch and see.