Day 135 (Wednesday – Water Day)
It’s been wet and drizzly all day. Night watch said it started about 3 AM and here it is about 10 PM and the rain has progressed to a full downpour. James is on guard duty right now and will be until 2 AM. He’s just 16 years old, out on the Wall, in the pouring rain, defending us against zombies and raiders and God alone knows what else. Tell me the world hasn’t changed. I dare you.
If the rain doesn’t let up soon work on the pole walls will have to be put off until the ground dries up. That will be disappointing after today’s progress. They had a couple of false starts as they tried a couple of different techniques but Angus, Mr. Morris, and Scott believe they have a good idea how to proceed from this point forward.
First they dig a trench two feet wide by three feet deep. Then they fill the trench about half full of gravel they are hauling in from concrete and landscaping companies around town. So far they are getting it from a place right down the road on Florida Avenue which is only a couple of miles down the road.
Next they cut down a couple of pines from a stand that was planted by the utility company about 15 years ago. The trees are pretty tall but still thin. They split the pines length ways and set them aside. Next they lay 5 of the telephone poles side-by-side. They take a pine split and lay it across the bottom of the five telephone poles, nail it in place with twelve inch landscape nails, and then trim the pine split. The do the same at the top of the poles. They wind up with something that looks like a long, narrow raft.
With one end of the “raft” in the trench, they slowly lift the raft upright using block and tackle. The bottom of the “raft” stays in the trench and the top of the “raft” is secured to the top of the Wall using a couple of large eye-rings, a couple of s-hooks, and a length of sturdy chain.
The bonus of this method is that if the Wall catches on first somehow, we can unhook the chain and drop a section of poles before it ignites the rest of the Wall. It will also make repairs easier. Even better is the top of the “raft’ is higher than the top of the steel storage containers and that section can now function as a palisade of sorts. That will be added protection for Wall guards and defenders. They were able to raise three sections today even with the late start.
If or when they run out of the landscape nails they are looking at two alternatives. First is that Scott thinks he can fabricate more nails using rebar. The second is a non-mechanical solution where the men use thick wild potato vines like rope and tie the telephone poles together using knots most of them probably learned in Boy Scouts or the military.
All in all it looks like the Wall will continue to be our main barrier and defense tool; well that and our own commonsense. I can see how it will remain an important and vital part of Sanctuary for years to come.
Today was Water Day and I have to say that I’m very glad of the rain. I’ve been watering the sub-gardens by hand and running the drip irrigation on the main garden. We’ve already refilled the garden water tower and all of the in-ground pools inside Sanctuary’s Wall. From the look of things all of the retention pools outside of the Wall are refilling as well.
I was on one of the water teams with Betty and Reba. I took them to show them the locations of the water barrels outside of Sanctuary and not expecting trouble, we only went lightly armed. The women both carried rifles; I had my .22 rifle, the new Mark III long barrel pistol Scott gave me, and my trusty machete. If we had gone any heavier getting our chore completed would have been too hard.
Even so we got a pretty bad scare. Not one of the worst ones I’ve ever had but the freaky factor was right up near the top. I have a feeling that it will be a while before Betty and Reba feel comfortable going outside the Wall again though given the day and times that we live in I don’t see how they are going to be able to avoid it for long.
We are lucky to have had several pool supply companies within easy gathering distance from us we gathered and stored everything they had left in one of the houses right outside of the rear gate. The chlorine has a very strong smell, in fact you really aren’t supposed to inhale it but you still manage to get a whiff when you are adding it to the pools. We had grabbed a supply of this chlorine before heading out into the outlying neighborhood. We were in the backyard by one of the pools testing the water before adding some of the granulated chlorine. I was adding the chlorine per usual when I noticed something.
It was an odd odor. It didn’t smell like decay so I didn’t think zombie. It was that burnt, smoky smell again. I asked the other two women if they smelled it and they confirmed they did. I looked to the sky but didn’t see any sign of smoke. It kind of smelled like a cooking fire but at the same time kind of nasty. Then the smell got even stronger. Following the smell I walked around to the front of the house.
You know, I don’t like to curse but I am human and make some real chowder headed mistakes sometimes. Man, when I came around that house I lost my religion for a minute. What I saw was just plain ol’ awful in a way that is really hard to describe.
At first it was hard to put two and two together. But the human brain is an amazing organ and not just because it can become a harbinger of the NRS bacteria.
Neuron One says, “What’s that?”
Neuron Two says, “What’s what?”
Neuron One says, “That. What’s that?”
Neuron Two says, “I don’t know, ask the ears.”
The ears say, “We aren’t sure but whatever it is keeps running into the side of the building over and over. And if we listen close we can also hear crumbling and flaking. If that doesn’t help, why don’t you ask the eyes.”
The eyes say, “Ew. Why do we want to look at something like that? Really weird. Its short, kinda blackened. Kinda looks … well, its looks like something is missing. We don’t know … roadkill?’
Neuron One says, “No, roadkill doesn’t walk.”
The eyes say, “Well then don’t look at us. Have you asked the nose?”
The nose says, “I was the one that notified you guys. That’s why you had the legs walk around the building in the first place. It smells like smoke and burnt things. If you haven’t figured it out yet go see if the heart knows.”
The neurons finally ask the heart. The heart knows but is too shocked and horrified to answer and can only pump faster and faster.
Finally the neurons give up and just decide to fire all the data off to the cerebrum. The cerebrum takes all the data, puts it together and nearly panics. It activates the fight or flight emergency response system. The medulla produces adrenaline. The legs become poised to run. The hair stands on end. The lungs pump the body full of oxygen. The eyes zero in on the threat. The mouth battles the vocal chords to hold back a scream. And the hand and arm try to work together to grab the best weapon to defend the whole body.
And all of that happens in under a second. The human brain is an amazing organ; I simply didn’t want to accept what mine was trying to tell me.
A child; or the shell of what had once been a child. If I had to guess it had been somewhere between Johnnie and Bekah’s age. Another guess might have made it a girl child but in today’s unisex hairstyles and clothing styles I wasn’t certain; not that there was much left of either one. The clothes it wore were barely charred remnants affixed to the body here and there. The odd tuft of blondish stubble was all that was left of the hair.
Its facial features were melted into an unrecognizable sludge stuck to the front of the skull. All the soft tissues was gone; eyelids, eyeballs, nose, lips, ears. It had also lost a few teeth along the way to allow me to see the tongue was also gone. It was a shambler in the truest sense; the NRS infection unable to access the once human senses because they no longer existed so it wandered aimlessly until a catastrophic bit of decay prevented further movement.
It didn’t register pain or light. It made no sound though that wasn’t unusual, none of the zombies made sounds with their vocal chords. Unlike other zombies it didn’t appear to be able to hear either. It had no reaction to my string of curses nor the gasps of the other two women.
Reba cried out in disgust while Betty begged, “Please put the poor thing out of its misery.”
I raised the Mark III to do just that. It’s a good thing I had because around the corner of the house came several similarly burned up creatures; these however apparently still had their hearing and had zeroed in on us.
They shambled only slightly faster than their deaf compatriot but they were focused. I fired at the lead zombie and got it with a lucky head shot. Behind me I felt more than saw Reba and Betty bring their own weapons to bear. We used way too much ammo to take down eight zombies in such close proximity, but our reaction made us less accurate than normal. We’ll need to work on that.
The volume of shots brought several teams running to provide back up. And still the zombie child continued to run into the side of the house. None of the ruckus had stopped its relentless attempt to go forward. It was J. Paul who stepped forward and blew its head off, finally ending its tortured existence.
He said, “We spotted another bunch o’ these burned up zombies about 45 minutes ago heading west. The big guy, Dixon, he said to let 'em go since they were headed away from us.”
That night after dinner we discussed the burned zombies. Marty, in his typical fashion, said we should start a zombie lexicon. We have shamblers, ragers, and now we have flambés. A little tacky but about as honest as anything else. It’s easier to think of them by nicknames than to think about what they really are, and who they might have once been.
We’ve all given up on the “why are there zombies” question; it’s frustrating scientifically and psychologically and the philosophical debate used to go on for hours ad nauseum. We’ve accepted that they simply are what they are. But we do still ask questions and wonder about specific zombie origins and behaviors. This time the question was why so many badly burned zombies and why were they coming out of the east? To sum up all the possibilities we think there was another Big Fire; not unlike the one we experienced in this area, but far enough away that we haven’t seen smoke or ash on the horizon. The fire must have caught a horde in mid migration. The questions none of us could answer was did the fire take out the whole horde or not? Were today’s zombies the remnants or the forerunners? Do we need to worry about another large horde heading our way out of the east? If so how soon?
By that time the rain was coming down in buckets and a bone-deep chill was in the air. The rain would make the zombies behave abnormally, and less directly threatening, so we decided to table it as a security issue for now.
Scott and I had to ferry the younger kids and Sarah back to the house in our arms because of the standing water. Scott was exhausted and needed sleep because he will take the 2 am to 5 am watch. He went off to bed while I got the kids washed up, warmed up, and off to bed as quietly as possible. Everyone was more than ready to go, even my rowdiest kidlets.
I wanted to crawl in bed myself but I had a ton of planning to do. The rain made me want to just snuggle under the covers and sleep in late. No time for that kind of stuff these days. I’m running out of prepared menus and need to work up a couple of extra weeks worth. Jim leaves at first light with Angus to go to the Port, find the part needed for trade, and then make arrangements with the Tarpon Springs group. That means that I also need to work on replacing the instant mixes that they will take as part of their BOBs and daily meals.
The one thing we did make a decision about tonight is that no one is outside the Wall without what we are calling an emergency pack. It’s not a BOB per se but more a fanny pack that has some energy bars, a couple of instant soup packets, a couple of pieces of hard candy, a mylar blanket, and a multi-tool in it. Even if we are just outside the Wall like the men working on the pole wall or within sight of the Wall like I was today. It’s one of those “better safe than sorry” things my Dad was fond of talking about.
I found my dad’s deer-handled tableware he was working on. He would go to flea markets and yard sales looking for old eating utensils that were sturdy but had a broken or crappy handle. Then he would polish them up and use the deer antlers my mom’s brother and cousins would send him to make new handles. He had completed 15 place settings of knives, forks, and spoons and he had made some nice serving pieces too. My favorite pieces are the forks that have three tines and look a bit like pitchforks.
I also found the old glass butter churn that belonged to my great grandmother and the stoneware crocks my grandmother used to make pickles and sauerkraut. They should come in handy real soon. In the same box I found the stoneware jugs my great grandfather used to use for his homebrew. Scott laughed at those when he saw them on our counter. He wanted to know if I was going to revert to the ways of my ancestors and I told him maybe so.
What I really wish is that we could take the good from the “good ol’ days” and the good from the modern era and blend them so that we somehow avoid the bad from both. I had mentioned something similar when I picked up Kitty’s goat milk this morning and Mr. Morris just laughed and said, “Honey that’s only goin’ ta happen if you figure out how to get rid of most of the people.”
His granddaughter Claire, a rather morose young woman still struggling to deal with the changes in her life and the loss of a long time boyfriend said, “Haven’t the zombies and raiders already done that?”
It’s been wet and drizzly all day. Night watch said it started about 3 AM and here it is about 10 PM and the rain has progressed to a full downpour. James is on guard duty right now and will be until 2 AM. He’s just 16 years old, out on the Wall, in the pouring rain, defending us against zombies and raiders and God alone knows what else. Tell me the world hasn’t changed. I dare you.
If the rain doesn’t let up soon work on the pole walls will have to be put off until the ground dries up. That will be disappointing after today’s progress. They had a couple of false starts as they tried a couple of different techniques but Angus, Mr. Morris, and Scott believe they have a good idea how to proceed from this point forward.
First they dig a trench two feet wide by three feet deep. Then they fill the trench about half full of gravel they are hauling in from concrete and landscaping companies around town. So far they are getting it from a place right down the road on Florida Avenue which is only a couple of miles down the road.
Next they cut down a couple of pines from a stand that was planted by the utility company about 15 years ago. The trees are pretty tall but still thin. They split the pines length ways and set them aside. Next they lay 5 of the telephone poles side-by-side. They take a pine split and lay it across the bottom of the five telephone poles, nail it in place with twelve inch landscape nails, and then trim the pine split. The do the same at the top of the poles. They wind up with something that looks like a long, narrow raft.
With one end of the “raft” in the trench, they slowly lift the raft upright using block and tackle. The bottom of the “raft” stays in the trench and the top of the “raft” is secured to the top of the Wall using a couple of large eye-rings, a couple of s-hooks, and a length of sturdy chain.
The bonus of this method is that if the Wall catches on first somehow, we can unhook the chain and drop a section of poles before it ignites the rest of the Wall. It will also make repairs easier. Even better is the top of the “raft’ is higher than the top of the steel storage containers and that section can now function as a palisade of sorts. That will be added protection for Wall guards and defenders. They were able to raise three sections today even with the late start.
If or when they run out of the landscape nails they are looking at two alternatives. First is that Scott thinks he can fabricate more nails using rebar. The second is a non-mechanical solution where the men use thick wild potato vines like rope and tie the telephone poles together using knots most of them probably learned in Boy Scouts or the military.
All in all it looks like the Wall will continue to be our main barrier and defense tool; well that and our own commonsense. I can see how it will remain an important and vital part of Sanctuary for years to come.
Today was Water Day and I have to say that I’m very glad of the rain. I’ve been watering the sub-gardens by hand and running the drip irrigation on the main garden. We’ve already refilled the garden water tower and all of the in-ground pools inside Sanctuary’s Wall. From the look of things all of the retention pools outside of the Wall are refilling as well.
I was on one of the water teams with Betty and Reba. I took them to show them the locations of the water barrels outside of Sanctuary and not expecting trouble, we only went lightly armed. The women both carried rifles; I had my .22 rifle, the new Mark III long barrel pistol Scott gave me, and my trusty machete. If we had gone any heavier getting our chore completed would have been too hard.
Even so we got a pretty bad scare. Not one of the worst ones I’ve ever had but the freaky factor was right up near the top. I have a feeling that it will be a while before Betty and Reba feel comfortable going outside the Wall again though given the day and times that we live in I don’t see how they are going to be able to avoid it for long.
We are lucky to have had several pool supply companies within easy gathering distance from us we gathered and stored everything they had left in one of the houses right outside of the rear gate. The chlorine has a very strong smell, in fact you really aren’t supposed to inhale it but you still manage to get a whiff when you are adding it to the pools. We had grabbed a supply of this chlorine before heading out into the outlying neighborhood. We were in the backyard by one of the pools testing the water before adding some of the granulated chlorine. I was adding the chlorine per usual when I noticed something.
It was an odd odor. It didn’t smell like decay so I didn’t think zombie. It was that burnt, smoky smell again. I asked the other two women if they smelled it and they confirmed they did. I looked to the sky but didn’t see any sign of smoke. It kind of smelled like a cooking fire but at the same time kind of nasty. Then the smell got even stronger. Following the smell I walked around to the front of the house.
You know, I don’t like to curse but I am human and make some real chowder headed mistakes sometimes. Man, when I came around that house I lost my religion for a minute. What I saw was just plain ol’ awful in a way that is really hard to describe.
At first it was hard to put two and two together. But the human brain is an amazing organ and not just because it can become a harbinger of the NRS bacteria.
Neuron One says, “What’s that?”
Neuron Two says, “What’s what?”
Neuron One says, “That. What’s that?”
Neuron Two says, “I don’t know, ask the ears.”
The ears say, “We aren’t sure but whatever it is keeps running into the side of the building over and over. And if we listen close we can also hear crumbling and flaking. If that doesn’t help, why don’t you ask the eyes.”
The eyes say, “Ew. Why do we want to look at something like that? Really weird. Its short, kinda blackened. Kinda looks … well, its looks like something is missing. We don’t know … roadkill?’
Neuron One says, “No, roadkill doesn’t walk.”
The eyes say, “Well then don’t look at us. Have you asked the nose?”
The nose says, “I was the one that notified you guys. That’s why you had the legs walk around the building in the first place. It smells like smoke and burnt things. If you haven’t figured it out yet go see if the heart knows.”
The neurons finally ask the heart. The heart knows but is too shocked and horrified to answer and can only pump faster and faster.
Finally the neurons give up and just decide to fire all the data off to the cerebrum. The cerebrum takes all the data, puts it together and nearly panics. It activates the fight or flight emergency response system. The medulla produces adrenaline. The legs become poised to run. The hair stands on end. The lungs pump the body full of oxygen. The eyes zero in on the threat. The mouth battles the vocal chords to hold back a scream. And the hand and arm try to work together to grab the best weapon to defend the whole body.
And all of that happens in under a second. The human brain is an amazing organ; I simply didn’t want to accept what mine was trying to tell me.
A child; or the shell of what had once been a child. If I had to guess it had been somewhere between Johnnie and Bekah’s age. Another guess might have made it a girl child but in today’s unisex hairstyles and clothing styles I wasn’t certain; not that there was much left of either one. The clothes it wore were barely charred remnants affixed to the body here and there. The odd tuft of blondish stubble was all that was left of the hair.
Its facial features were melted into an unrecognizable sludge stuck to the front of the skull. All the soft tissues was gone; eyelids, eyeballs, nose, lips, ears. It had also lost a few teeth along the way to allow me to see the tongue was also gone. It was a shambler in the truest sense; the NRS infection unable to access the once human senses because they no longer existed so it wandered aimlessly until a catastrophic bit of decay prevented further movement.
It didn’t register pain or light. It made no sound though that wasn’t unusual, none of the zombies made sounds with their vocal chords. Unlike other zombies it didn’t appear to be able to hear either. It had no reaction to my string of curses nor the gasps of the other two women.
Reba cried out in disgust while Betty begged, “Please put the poor thing out of its misery.”
I raised the Mark III to do just that. It’s a good thing I had because around the corner of the house came several similarly burned up creatures; these however apparently still had their hearing and had zeroed in on us.
They shambled only slightly faster than their deaf compatriot but they were focused. I fired at the lead zombie and got it with a lucky head shot. Behind me I felt more than saw Reba and Betty bring their own weapons to bear. We used way too much ammo to take down eight zombies in such close proximity, but our reaction made us less accurate than normal. We’ll need to work on that.
The volume of shots brought several teams running to provide back up. And still the zombie child continued to run into the side of the house. None of the ruckus had stopped its relentless attempt to go forward. It was J. Paul who stepped forward and blew its head off, finally ending its tortured existence.
He said, “We spotted another bunch o’ these burned up zombies about 45 minutes ago heading west. The big guy, Dixon, he said to let 'em go since they were headed away from us.”
That night after dinner we discussed the burned zombies. Marty, in his typical fashion, said we should start a zombie lexicon. We have shamblers, ragers, and now we have flambés. A little tacky but about as honest as anything else. It’s easier to think of them by nicknames than to think about what they really are, and who they might have once been.
We’ve all given up on the “why are there zombies” question; it’s frustrating scientifically and psychologically and the philosophical debate used to go on for hours ad nauseum. We’ve accepted that they simply are what they are. But we do still ask questions and wonder about specific zombie origins and behaviors. This time the question was why so many badly burned zombies and why were they coming out of the east? To sum up all the possibilities we think there was another Big Fire; not unlike the one we experienced in this area, but far enough away that we haven’t seen smoke or ash on the horizon. The fire must have caught a horde in mid migration. The questions none of us could answer was did the fire take out the whole horde or not? Were today’s zombies the remnants or the forerunners? Do we need to worry about another large horde heading our way out of the east? If so how soon?
By that time the rain was coming down in buckets and a bone-deep chill was in the air. The rain would make the zombies behave abnormally, and less directly threatening, so we decided to table it as a security issue for now.
Scott and I had to ferry the younger kids and Sarah back to the house in our arms because of the standing water. Scott was exhausted and needed sleep because he will take the 2 am to 5 am watch. He went off to bed while I got the kids washed up, warmed up, and off to bed as quietly as possible. Everyone was more than ready to go, even my rowdiest kidlets.
I wanted to crawl in bed myself but I had a ton of planning to do. The rain made me want to just snuggle under the covers and sleep in late. No time for that kind of stuff these days. I’m running out of prepared menus and need to work up a couple of extra weeks worth. Jim leaves at first light with Angus to go to the Port, find the part needed for trade, and then make arrangements with the Tarpon Springs group. That means that I also need to work on replacing the instant mixes that they will take as part of their BOBs and daily meals.
The one thing we did make a decision about tonight is that no one is outside the Wall without what we are calling an emergency pack. It’s not a BOB per se but more a fanny pack that has some energy bars, a couple of instant soup packets, a couple of pieces of hard candy, a mylar blanket, and a multi-tool in it. Even if we are just outside the Wall like the men working on the pole wall or within sight of the Wall like I was today. It’s one of those “better safe than sorry” things my Dad was fond of talking about.
I found my dad’s deer-handled tableware he was working on. He would go to flea markets and yard sales looking for old eating utensils that were sturdy but had a broken or crappy handle. Then he would polish them up and use the deer antlers my mom’s brother and cousins would send him to make new handles. He had completed 15 place settings of knives, forks, and spoons and he had made some nice serving pieces too. My favorite pieces are the forks that have three tines and look a bit like pitchforks.
I also found the old glass butter churn that belonged to my great grandmother and the stoneware crocks my grandmother used to make pickles and sauerkraut. They should come in handy real soon. In the same box I found the stoneware jugs my great grandfather used to use for his homebrew. Scott laughed at those when he saw them on our counter. He wanted to know if I was going to revert to the ways of my ancestors and I told him maybe so.
What I really wish is that we could take the good from the “good ol’ days” and the good from the modern era and blend them so that we somehow avoid the bad from both. I had mentioned something similar when I picked up Kitty’s goat milk this morning and Mr. Morris just laughed and said, “Honey that’s only goin’ ta happen if you figure out how to get rid of most of the people.”
His granddaughter Claire, a rather morose young woman still struggling to deal with the changes in her life and the loss of a long time boyfriend said, “Haven’t the zombies and raiders already done that?”