Halloween

This used to be my favorite holiday, back before everyone in the world decided to put on a permanent zombie costume. I was thinking about doing some decorations, but I don't think anyone would have gone for it, except maybe Matt. Heidi thought to get candy and stash it for today the last time we hit the drugstore. I'm not sure what we're going to do when her group splits off--she's kind of like our den mother. She always remembers birthdays and holidays and all those little things that we need to remember to try to keep some semblance of normalcy, at leastas much as we can in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

We've divided up the gear, food, and weapons. Most of Heidi's group's stuff is loaded into the vehicles. They're taking a truck and a blazer, both 4WD, so they should be able to get where they're going even if we get early snow (which is feeling more and more likely, but it's hard to tell--I really miss weather reports).

For those of us who are staying, we're planning to do some more long-range foraging and maybe see if we can make contact with the other humans we think are hiding around here. We keep getting these little hints that we're not alone, but whoever else is out there is definitely shy. Whether we find the other people or not, we need to find more sources of supplies--it's not like the stores we're hitting are ever going to be re-stocked.

Knocking over a liquor store

We've had kind of a rule about alcohol around here--never keep enough in the compound for anyone to get drunk. Personally, I don't drink. Neither does Matt. Just about everybody else does. Back in the real world, a drinker could take a Friday night to go out with their friends, have a little too much to drink, call a cab and go home. The worst that happens is a hangover, an unexplained tattoo or a sexually transmitted disease. In the middle of a zombie apocalypse, having too much to drink is a great way to kill yourself.

If you think about it, al we have over the zombies is reflexes, coordination and intelligence--three things that we willingly surrender when we have too much to drink. I made a couple of soapbox speeches about the dangers of alcohol when we first got together, but I knew I was outvoted so I settled for the "Don't get drunk rule." For the most part, they've followed it (which is really incredible under the circumstances--there's been many a night I wished I could drink myself into another world).

Anyway, all that is going by the wayside, now. When we send half of our group out on their northbound journey, we're going to tie one on like it's the end of the world (pun intended). I might even have something myself (I think I can drink whiskey or something if I mix it with coke--I hate the taste of alcohol). To pull this party off, we had to hit the liquor store.

We weren't the first to hit the liquor store, as you would imagine. The good news is, nobody ever takes much--it's just not practical, so there was plenty left for us. The bad news is that a few guys aparently drank themselves to death right in the store, because there were three fresh looking zombies in there. The problem with multiples is the sound of the gunshots. We're not sure how sharp the zombies are, but Matt says that in the army the snipers tried not to fire twice from the same location, and never three times because it would give away their position. Even the roof patrols we instruct not to fire more than two shots at a time. Anyway, this creates a real freakin' problem when you open a door and three zombies are coming at you. It creates an even bigger problem when a certain dumbass who shall remain nameless misses one of them at point blank range.

The fact that none of us got killed was a flipping miracle. One of them did manage to draw blood on me, though. Not a bite, thank God, but a cut. I hacked the zombie with a machete and I got more shoulder than neck, so it was still coming at me. The blade was embedded and I used that to keep its head away from me, but the hing was able to push me into a shelf and I got cut, I think from a broken bottle. I got to see a real old west zombie kill--Shawn broke a bottle of whiskey over its head. Okay, we really killed it with the machete, but the whiskey bottle sure got its attention. The other two went down a little easier--shotgun and axe (after a missed pistol shot).

My cut's not bad, but these days anything could be fatal, so I got it cleaned up, treated and bandaged real well when I got back. We brought back enough booze for the party, too, so I guess it's mission accomplished. It's going to be the ultimate irony if I, the tea-totaler, die from a cut I got from a bottle in a liquor store.

Better Now

Hi, it's Heidi, since my last post things went down hill fast. I stopped sleeping - the panic I felt about experiencing those nightmares . . . let's just say I was starting to hallucinate. Shawn and Roger had a talk with me and they decided to take me off duty for a few days. They set me up in a small office space with some sleeping pills and even though I was real aggitated about sleeping they promised not to leave me alone while I was out. During my 48 hour sleep I remember being woken up for broth, tea, vitamins and to use the bathroom. When I woke up the 3rd day on my own they brought me some powdered scrambled eggs. I am feeling much better now.

Shawn, Roger, Matt and I had a long conversation about our situation here. We are safe, secure and we have plenty of supplies, but for me it feels like a prison and Matt agreed. We both want to move on - we will never know what possibilities exist for the future unless we start searching.

Zombie Currency

It's interesting to see how our little society has been resolving day to day issues. One of the big ones that we never really thought about was compensation. Obviously, money is useless, so we needed a new value system. We pretty much had a share and share alike mentality here when we were smaller, but as the group has grown we got into a lot more "How come she gets two bags of chips" and "He uses too much water to wash up." Well, we've worked out a ration system for the food and water and bullets and all, but there was still a need for barter, with people trading what they don't want for what they do. This led to the interesting development of a universal currency--labor. Everything here can bought by taking someone's patrol time or foraging time or latrine-digging time. It's funny because it's not like we've got great options of how to use our free time, but we still value our free time. I guess the natural human state is laziness and we always trend towards that., even in a zombie apocalypse.

Heidi's Nightmares

I've not been feeling well lately. Matt and I have been doing 16 hour shifts on the roof for the last few weeks and I have been having nightmares. The sleep deprivation has caused this fog in my brain which is creating a feeling of doom.

The nightmares all involve zombie attacks and my getting bitten, lots of blood, missing arms, legs, screaming. Sometimes I'm being chased, trip and fall, other times it's a surprise attack like the one I had in the school bathroom. I wake up in a cold sweat and can't go back to sleep. I won't talk to anyone about this because I don't want to freak people out - I can't shake this feeling that this is how I'm going to die.

I need to get back on the roof now.

Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Depression (PAZD)

I'm sorry I haven't been writing lately. I've coined a new term: "Post-apocalyptic zombie depression." Not to be confused with "Post-apocalyptic zombie stress disorder," which is what Matt (and maybe Heidi now, too) have. I've definitely got it (PAZD). I just look around and see nothing but death. I can't hear anything anymore except Matt and Heidi taking shots at zombies so far away that I can't even see them...That and the sound of those damn cats. The smell seems to be getting worse, even though everything around us should have decayed months ago. Sometimes, if the wind is right...It's enough to drive you crazy. I'm tired of canned food. I'm tired of rationing electricity and water. I'm tired of taking a gun with me every time I go to use the bathroom (figuratively speaking--where I go is far from a bathroom). This sucks. This whole thing sucks. I wish I would just wake up and be back in my living room watching a Bears game with...

Okay, I'm going to stop that line of thinking right there before I really do go crazy. Let me go back to what I do best--practicality. It got cold here last night--really cold. None of us have really come up with an answer to the question of what we're going to do when winter hits. We've talked about electric heaters and kerosene heaters and woo stoves and all that, but for those to work, we're going to need to get in a much tighter space. And we're going to have to start getting them together--and fast. I don't know what the heck Heidi is thinking--taking her group further up north just in time for winter. I guess it's partially my fault. She wanted to leave over a month ago, but I kept finding reasons for her and "her group" to stay around. I feel like Luke's Uncle Owen from Star Wars. It's time now. They'd better go or we're all going to end up holed up in here all winter and we'll probably kill each other. We're going to need to have some sort of a going away party or something, though. I guess we'll need to go shopping again. I wonder how late the liquor stores are open these days?

The Sound of Silence

Living in rural Wisconsin the evenings were fairly quiet. Sure there was the occasional dog barking, crickets, owls, chickens, cows and the neighbor coming back from bowling league - the usual evening farm sounds. When I was 15 the family moved to Janesville to be closer to Dad's job. We lived about half a mile from I-90, it took a long time to get used to the constant hum of traffic. When I lived in Chicago I was 2 blocks away from a hospital - that was definitely worse.

When the zombie attacks first started happening the noise was horrendous. Car crashes, weapons being fired, sirens, screaming, horns honking, gas explosions. It was what I imagined being in the middle of a war was like. But now it has become silent. No traffic noises, no sounds of humans or animals, no white noise like the hum of electric lines, just silence. It's been months since we've heard a vehicle. We've become acutely aware of how loud our voices are, so now we whisper and use hand signals when outside so as not to draw attention to ourselves. Every day that passes makes me feel more isolated. I really hope we move on soon.

I Hate Cats

You know what I'm seeing a lot of lately? Cats. I've got a theory on that. Dogs, being loyal, faithful, loving creatures, probably stayed with their owners to the bitter end, sacrificing themselves in the process. Cats, well the minute there's trouble a cat is pretty much on to the next meal ticket. And a living human usually can't catch a cat, so the odds of a zombie catching one, well, forget about it. Now that humans aren't around to spay or neuter those little whiskered psuedo-pets, they're breeding like crazy. At least we may have found a renewable food source, assuming they don't turn into zombies when we shoot them. I'll have to make sure Heidi takes all the cat lovers with her when she goes.