The Deal

I try my best not to lie to people if I can help it, I really do. Also, these zombies are being a huge pain in the ass. 

When I said that Jess and I were going on vacation, that was a lie. We did leave Haven, but we didn't do it alone and not for a break from working. It was a necessary lie for several reasons. One was that we didn't want the UAS to suspect we were coming their way. Another that we weren't exactly given anyone's blessing to take this trip. In fact, Will and the council pretty much forbid us. The third and most important reason was because telling that lie put enough suspicion on me here at home that Kincaid was totally able to slip under the radar and steal all the things we needed. 

Explosives, mostly. 

What the bloody hell am I talking about, right? I can hear the question all the way from where I am--which is undisclosed, but since we took the same old vehicle my people use for deep scouting, I have a mobile transmitter with me--and that's pretty far from home. We're currently riding out the storm of undead around our truck, a mob at least a hundred strong who took us a little off guard last night. We're far from patrol routes, but we're deep in UAS territory. took us two days to get here, another to set up our surprise, and then as we wait for a response this morning a swarm manages to get close to us without warning. 

It's me, Jess, Kincaid, a couple named Alex and Greg who work for Kincaid, and Becky. I think Becky is the one they're missing the most, but she's also the person who makes our most dangerous things. She wasn't going to let us get away with hundreds of pounds of explosives without her along. I'll happily testify to that at the trial. 

Why did we do this? What was the risk for? If you've been paying attention you probably already know. We think Patrick is alive, or at least that the body we found wasn't his. I tried to keep it low-key, but I put feelers out to everyone I could, asking for any of the refugees from the UAS forces if they'd seen anything within a set of criteria; big blonde guy with one hand, had they heard anything about a vital capture mission, lots of things like that. All I got back was one weak hit, but it was enough to make me believe in miracles. 

We're pretty sure Pat is being held. So like any good friend, I planted bombs around an important and somewhat vulnerable enemy facility. Was it easy? No. Not at all. It took all of us working in the dead of night, and even then we had to settle for placing the explosives in such a way that they'd cause a catastrophic rock slide rather than destroy the place directly. The security was pretty good. 

We gave them our rules: no one leaves the place, and if they do we hit the switch. No one attempts to move toward us except for a designated person waving a parley flag to let us know not to shoot him in the face. The deal is that we get Patrick back in exchange for not raining down a few hundred tons of boulders on the people inside. Which, given the fact that the place seems to be an armory, would probably not be so good for them. 

Now we wait. I suppose it's possible they could just figure out where we are and shell us or bring an army against us, but that would mean the loss of the armory. At the first sign of trouble, we push the button. Not that I expect them to be able to find us, of course. 

That's the deal: you give us one man back, my best friend, and a hundred people get to live in return. The clock is ticking, because if these zombies start to break through, I'll make sure to detonate before I die. Time's a-wasting. 

[Hiatus]

[Out of character post]

Hey, all. This is Josh (obviously) and I wanted to let you know that starting today, which is Friday (also obviously) LWtD will be on a four-day break. I'll be back to normal on Tuesday. Everything is fine; Jess and I are going on our first real vacation. I'll even work it into the story somehow. Just a friendly word so you don't get all panicky that something happened to me.

Fresh Air

There's a lot going on, but then there's always a lot going on. I have yet to hear back from any of my contacts in the east about Aaron, which in all honesty doesn't bode well. I'm still mulling over the facts about Patrick after a lot of discussion with Gabrielle and a few others on the medical staff.

Here's the deal: the planting is done for now. The next round isn't due for three weeks, when the current batch of seedlings and sprouts in the greenhouses are expected to be strong enough. Jess has been working her ass off all winter and most of the spring to get us where we are, and for the time being the rest is maintenance.

I make no claims to deserving any kind of break, but I'm taking one anyway.

The swarms of zombies are a constant problem but with so many people back home--not to mention new helping hands in the form of deserters from the UAS--we're covered. All our bases are covered. While Jess and I feel a powerful sense of responsibility to Haven and our people, the simple truth is that both of us are approaching burnout. We eat, we sleep (a little) and we work. That's it. When you're too tired to talk about your day, too tired for sex, and too numb from exhaustion to do anything but scarf down a handful of tasteless food and crash, it's time for a break.

Weird as it sounds, Jess and I are taking a vacation. Four days out of here. Not far away from Haven in reality, but no communications or contact. There are literally no problems so large they'd need us directly. Jess has trusted people working under her to manage our food production. And frankly this blog can go quiet for half a week while I recharge my batteries.

There's no need to worry, no need to fear. The wife and I will still be inside Haven's boundaries. Not within the defenses but well within the scope of our close scout groups. There's a little cabin next to a lovely pond out in the country, far away from prying eyes and swarms of dead people.

When I got married I didn't expect the need to be armed for vacations. Which just goes to show you that I had no idea what marriage was all about. We'll be back on Tuesday. Until then, be safe.

Uneven

In one place, a big chunk of the UAS army is thwarted, a smaller chunk dead as a result. In another they push through after their people spend a lot of time and effort cleaning out as many of our traps and obstacles as they can. Thus a community is taken by surprise and falls. A third of the people in it died, though believe it or not that's a pretty good number. 

The UAS didn't take many chances with Pearson, the little town they hit. Shelling from a distance, they released several volleys in short order. The people in Pearson  were alerted a few minutes before the attack came thanks to a few brave scouts. Their evacuation plans were excellent and the people no-nonsense about following them. Losing a third of the population is hard and terrible, but in this situation it's a best-case scenario. Nothing short of science fiction could have stopped those mortar shells from hitting, and the damage they did was catastrophic. I have a sneaking suspicion that casualties would have been close to 100% if the good people hadn't leaped into action the way they did. 

From what I understand the UAS targeted the side of the town farthest from their position. Makes sense. That must have seemed like the most likely escape route. Pearson is part of the Union, though. We've all had way too much experience trying to get out of tight spots to trust just one major avenue of escape. That's part of why so many people got away; the bolt holes and hidden doors built all through their walls. Those people scattered into the night. 

The reason Pearson was targeted is clear. Being the closest agricultural center to UAS territory, with hundreds of acres of crops, the place was almost destined to be hit fast. Faster than we expected, clearly. But not faster than we planned for. 

I imagine the UAS thought the people would run in fear, keep moving through the night, and leave the town and its environs in enemy hands. And why not? Hadn't they just lost a huge portion of their friends, family, and neighbors? That expectation is rational. It's not at all what happened, but I get it. Because the UAS, no matter how much time they spend fighting us and dealing with us as a reality, never seem to learn the fucking lesson. 

The Union is full of people, civilian and former military alike, who have had to toughen up beyond all reasonable expectation. We can watch a friend become a wet conglomeration of flesh chunks and bone from a mortar shell and keep on walking, never letting the mission leave our minds. We'll weep about it later and lament his passing, but our people do so only after the job is done.

Which is why most of those hundreds of acres are still on fire as I write this. We've got a whole third of the nation to plant in. We've been at it for a while. Hell, we even have contingents of people from the eastern communities setting up farms out in the boonies. Large-scale operations that will feed many, many thousands. We've got backups for our backups where food is concerned. 

You can come at us all you want. We can't stop you. But you'll have to kill every single human being in the Union to be free of us, and to be sure we don't do the same to our other crops. In the end you might win, but all you will take is the scorched earth we leave behind and an unending war with the scattered remnants of our people. That I can assure you. 

Consider it. 

Life Chaotic

A lot of things happening at once. So hard to manage it all.

If you read my last post, you know I have suspicions about Patrick. I don't want to get my hopes up, so I'm putting a pin in that for today. Someone posted a comment yesterday asking about Aaron, and whether I'd heard from him in a long while. Somewhere in the bustle and insanity over the last few months--longer, really--we lost touch. I've heard bits and pieces, rumors that he died, rumors that he lived, but nothing concrete. Shitty friend that I am, I spent my time worrying about my own life and not inquiring about his. I've sent out feelers and hope to know more very soon.

Much bigger, so big that I have to once again brush those personal issues aside to report it, is the movement of the UAS across our territory. I said they were taking it slow, which makes total sense given our penchant for laying traps, the huge swarms of zombies, and the fact that they don't have to fight anyone to take new ground at the moment.

We set back their ability to homestead by a good bit by destroying the ones they were building, but the raw numbers they have will overcome the deficit soon enough. What matters this afternoon, and sorry for this post being so late, is that they've sped up their flight deeper into Union territory.

So much that they weren't being as careful as they should have been. Oops.

I admit to being a little saddened to learn they've proven quick learners at how to effectively manage large numbers of zombies. My hope was their momentum would be blunted by the sheer weight of bodies. Turns out snowplows are pretty good at cutting a path through crowds. Simple, effective, and honestly kind of brilliant. I never thought of that.

That being said, there's just no way for them to catch everything our people have thrown at them. They thought the front lines were thick with traps, but those were the outer regions we only started prepping after we found out the UAS was going to be a threat. The inner areas of the Union have been held by us for much longer. All major paths and a lot of minor ones are laced with traps. Most were intended to stop the undead, but not a few are aimed to kill living enemies. Every one of them are a victory, no matter how small. Picking off soldiers one at a time is grim and necessary, but the dark thrill of knowing you just reduced the threat to your home by one is no less satisfying for how wrong it feels.

The biggest part of the story is the loss of nearly two hundred soldiers and a few dozen vehicles on a bridge in northeast Arkansas. Let's be honest here: they've read this blog, the UAS. They know our tricks. Granted we had our people be subtle about it, piling the explosives underground next to the bridge supports with antenna for the signal a good distance away and connected by a buried wire, but still. You'd think they'd have been a little more cautious about bridges.

Not so much.

At the cost of one very bored observer tucked away in a blind and only relieved from his post every two weeks, we cut the advance units of the UAS army badly. Not enough to kill the larger force but sufficient enough to slow them out of fear, to make them more cautious. Also forced them to find another bridge, and you can bet they checked the damn thing top to bottom before risking more lives than the person searching it.

My heart hurts a bit to know so many people lost their lives needlessly, marching forward under orders that came down the chain like shit rolling downhill. This whole war is pointless and avoidable, but my own dark streak felt some satisfaction at thinning the enemy down without losing even one Union life. It's a weird contrast of emotions, and it bothers me continuously.

But you know? I can live with it. I really can.

The Day After Mother's

Yesterday was Mother's day, and I wish I had posted something moving and inspirational about her. You all know she was a huge part of my life, the single best influence I had and the strongest guiding force in every way I can think of. I wish I had said those things then, but something came up that left everything else in the dust.

The advance scout unit that found the remains of Patrick and the others came here to return them to us. I didn't want to look, but I had to.

Funny thing, though...

Pat was, at that point, mostly a skeleton. Big and missing a hand, and at first looking at his body was not the same as looking at a zombie. In every important way they are identical; dead people (except one moves and the other doesn't) who have moved on from the world. I forced myself to be in the room as Gabrielle systematically took him apart, examining him in the process. We don't have a lot of free space for graves--mostly our people get cremated--but Pat's daughter should have a place she can visit, even if only a plot the size of a few shoe boxes where his bones can rest.

Oh, the funny part. Right. Pat's hand was gone, yes, but you may remember me telling the story about the time he was stabbed a whole bunch. If not, a short refresher: he was working in a gas station and got robbed, stabbed thirty or forty-something times, and rose up like some bloody spirit of vengeance to scare the shit out of the men who attacked him. He always laughed about it despite the obvious difficulty he had with the memories.

Once he even gave me a detailed list of the worst stab wounds. The scar on his face was the most obvious and thus got the most time dedicated to it. As I looked down on those bones, the first thing that came to mind was that I could see the jawbone perfectly. Clean as a whistle, you might say. Pat told me more than once that the steak knife--who the fuck uses a steak knife to rob a place, anyway?--was one of those thick ones with heavy serrations on the edge. That he felt it grind against his jawbone as it went through his cheek.

Deep enough to leave a furrow. Obviously that kind of thing might not be visible to the naked eye, so out of morbid curiosity I asked Gabby to fire up the old portable X-ray machine and take a snapshot. If nothing else it would make a dark (and amusing) picture to share with people who knew him. The kind of thing Pat himself was known for. Might be hard to understand if you didn't know him personally, but it fits.

Here's an interesting fact about bones and X-rays: once a bone heals from a break or really any sort of damage, the healed part comes in more dense than the area around it. X-rays work by differentiating densities of materials, so no matter how old the damage it's always obvious in the light of radioactive pictures.

The part that made me giggle? There was no sign of that furrow in the jawbone of that body. Not so much as a graze.

Interesting, don't you think?

Bits and Pieces

Seems the remaining UAS infiltrators (and doesn't that just sound so very James Bond, calling them that?) weren't as careful as they should have been. After a week of hunting them down Kincaid gave up the chase. The guys were just too good.

Now they're dead. Explosives have a way of doing that to people.

I'm less interested in the details than I am expressing the profound relief all around that this threat is gone, but because some of you will want to know, we did it by setting traps. The rain over the last week has been off and on, but when it has been going it's for hours at a time and never anything as simple as a drizzle. The undead have been using the rain for cover as they attack, and we knew it would only be a matter of time before the infiltrators took advantage of that again.

So we created a few weak spots. Places in the wall where, from the outside, our defense appeared weak. Less people on those sections of wall, damage unnoticed and not repaired. It was a gamble on our part but Dodger and Kincaid were certain it would work. And wouldn't you know it? Presto. Dead enemies.

I wish I knew who was watching from the hiding places, but those names haven't made it this far and probably won't. I'd like to thank whoever it was for braving the outside world, the undead, and managing to stay hidden long enough to observe our enemies coming at us. And further, to thank them for having the fortitude to hit that switch when the time came. It's a hard thing to coldly end lives, even those of our enemies.

It was a risky solution, and one that unfortunately won't work against the larger UAS army. Things on that front have been quiet for a variety of reasons. They weren't going to chase our people back from the front lines, of course, not after all the traps we set for them in the first place. They learned that lesson in blood and death and human suffering. Also because the same problems we're facing here, they're also dealing with: shitty weather and lots of zombies. It's another example of the difference between us. Our people have had to learn the hard way to function without infrastructure and machinery. We can survive out in the wild if we have to, and we know all the little tricks for dealing with zombies.

The UAS is a force definitely powerful enough to crush us if they could hit all at once, but like most traditional military structures--which is a loose comparison, I assure you--they are chained to their vehicles, their supplies, and the support apparatus. Actually, that's false: they're much more attached to those things than the old US military would have been. At least those people were soldiers; these are mostly normal folk pressed into service.

God, I wish we could solve the UAS problem on the large scale the way we took out these men. They're progress across the Union is slow and unsteady, but whatever roadblocks are in their way won't stop them. They're slogging through the mud, mowing down the undead, and working their inexorable way toward our outlying communities. First contact could be as little as a day away.

Then the war stops being 'out there' and begins being at our doorstep.

God help us.