12.10
I cant remember how long we have been on the road at this point. Most likely a few days have passed since our last stop. Days feeling like weeks, feeling like months, feeling like years. I dont even know what day it is anymore, time gauged simply by the rising and falling sun. From its position in the sky currently id wager its just past noon when we rolled up to the station. Cant tell you how fortunate we were to find this place out in the middle of nowhere. Given the remote location, there is a certain amount of privacy that we find comfort in, though it doesnt last long considering how things are. A fair amount of caution always has to be observed. Its whats kept us alive this far.
I saw a few of them on our way in, lumbering around aimlessly like they always do. Unfortunately wherever you see a few, there are certain to be lots more not far off. They tend to gather and draw to one another that way, by some unknown force. Maybe its the last remnants of their former lives they cant let go of, societal instincts ingrained over the years. Maybe its us they draw close to, our scent, warm bodies, maybe both. I shake the thoughts from my mind as we pull up to the outdated pump out front. It works and there is plenty of gas, lucky again. While the truck is refueled, a couple of us rummage around the store, grabbing what supplies we can find. There isnt much to be found and I expected as much. Most places we come across are pretty cleaned out, especially in the more remote areas like this. In desperate need of some rest, we decide to pull the truck into the large barn looking structure round back of the station to keep out of site of the others. While made entirely of what looks to be rather old wood, it feels solid enough to offer us enough protection for the immediate hours till sundown.
We pull in and take one last look around outside for anything alerted of our presence. The overall brightness and contrast of shadows even out once the doors are secured and our eyes take a moment to adjust. Thick curtains of sunlight are filtered through a few dirty glass windows along the walls. This is effect is intensified by the dust stirred up from our arrival. The interior of the building is quite spacious, sectioned off into two areas. The larger where the truck was parked is simply a big open space. Lining the walls are various farming, wood working and demolition tools. We are also extremely fortunate to find some boxes of ammunition stacked on a small table in a corner. Something like ammunition is scarce and very valuable in present times. This of course makes me question why it was left here at all. The ammo stash is thrown in the truck with the rest of the supplies and I continue about checking the rest of the barn.
There are few large hay bails laying about that the group has taken to rest on before setting out again. Staying on the move, its what works these days. Its not the most convenient means of living, but nothing is convenient anymore. The remaining space, where I now sit, is divided into stalls, for what would seem to be for horses, though obviously they had long since run off, or ended up being dinner. I sit here alone, away from the group, as I usually do. I have yet to get to know the rest of them on a personal level. I tend to keep to myself most the time. They mostly leave me alone due to the fact that im helpful and dont fuck things up.
Just as things start to settle and it seems we might get a little time to ourselves, a couple of the others start to argue. What they were arguing over im not entirely sure. When forced into situations like the ones we live day to day, its not hard to lose control. Regardless, they are starting to yell and should know better than to be making as much noise as they are. They are yelling louder now and starting to get physical. This is going to get ugly. By the time I get over to them and try to diffuse the situation, its too late. Everyone stops arguing immediately, realizing what they had done. We have all been at this a while so our reactions are efficient and able to adjust quickly. We gather our things and supplies into the truck, no time to sit around now, no time to argue anymore.
They know we are here now. All of them.
It starts with the scratching. The sound of scratching at the walls as the first couple of them shamble up to the windows. The clawing at the glass, grates at our ears like nails across the chalkboard. This is followed by the slow guttural moaning is the sign that things are officially going to be fucked soon. The first arrivals slowly work themselves into a crazed state, unable to reach us in the barn. This unfortunately is only intensified as more start to show up, sending them all into a frenzy. The boarded walls and windows now shudder violently with their increased numbers pressing up against it. The structure is not going to hold much longer. We have to get out of here.
With the extra supplies in the truck there isnt enough room for all of us. We leave any of the supplies behind and none of us are going to survive the remains of the week. Things like ammo, medicine and food are just as important as able bodies when you are constantly on the move. Either way its not going to be easy, but id rather go out swinging than starve to death or left sick in a ditch somewhere.
It is decided that myself and two others will follow directly behind the truck as it plows though the horde outside. This should clear a path for us to walk through with only minimal danger. I wont get my hopes up. Fortunately we will also have support from our friends in the truck, armed with pistols, rifles and the fresh ammunition picked up. I look over to the tools lined up against the wall and grab a large sledgehammer. Firearms would run out of ammo and we dont have proper cover to reload from. An axe or knife runs the risk of getting stuck once it cuts into something. A heavy maul has just the right amount of security and stopping force. Never runs out of ammo and is effective so long as you have strong arms and determination. Thankfully I have both. The others look to me for a few seconds, toss their guns back in the truck and decide to grab a hammer for themselves. I think they understand as well.
The dusty barn is flooded with sunlight as the truck crashes through the front doors, sending large wooden splinters out into the crowd. Some of them are taken out by the sharp projectiles, the rest thrown back by the initial force of the truck. This creates a little space behind and to the sides just as we planned, so we follow in step behind, weapons at ready. Unfortunately we underestimated the size of the mob. There are so many that the wall of bodies ahead is causing the truck to move slower than expected. We need to get the speed up if we are going to keep them in a safe perimeter. Its not happening, there are just too many. They start to close in on us. The look on their decaying, bloodied faces is not easy to forget. I bring my sledgehammer crashing into the head of the closest one. I feel a little better now. My companions quickly follow my example.
This is easily the largest group of them ive seen yet. We continue on, following behind the truck, bashing back the writhing mass of teeth and nails. It feels like hours as we wade through wave after wave of the things. The sound of gunshots and cracking bones is drowned out by their howling. The only evidence our people in the truck were even shooting is the thick smell of gunpowder in the air and seeing some of the mob randomly drop, thin mist cloud of blood revealing the exit wound. We come close a couple of times to being overwhelmed, narrowly escaping their diseased bites. All I can see is face after face being smashed in, yelling out in a rage with every swing. They just keep coming, one after another, and we keep pushing through. I decide to slip out of reality and let instinct take over for a while. Its not until there are none of them left to hit do I slow down. Once things calm down the exhaustion rapidly sets in. With hell left bloodied and broken far behind us, we have time to move some things around in the truck. They make space for us in the truck and I collapse in the back.
I dont know exactly how much time actually passed. Its easy for perception of time to blur when instincts take over and your only concern is immediate survival. It seems a miracle now that we all made it out alive. Then again, situations like these are becoming more frequent. I just hope for my sake I never get used to it. I have a feeling as soon as that happens I will be saying goodbye to the last bit of me that feels human anymore. All I can think to do now is sleep while I can. No telling how long we will be on the road before it all starts again.
2009.12.10