Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5) (21 page)

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
I
can't help feeling a bit smug this morning. My first idea, that we
annex the abandoned assisted living facility to better care for the
folks hit by the plague, was shot down. If you're reading this, you
know that. My second idea, however, has been accepted. In fact, it
was so easy that we should be done with the lion's share of the work
by the end of the day.
Simply put, we're using some of the
shipping containers that haven't yet been added to the structures in
the expansion. They already open on one end, and cutting doors in the
other end and slapping hinges on them isn't all that hard. Well, not
easy according to my brother but since I'm not the one who has to cut
through the metal, I can't speak as to how difficult it may be. So.
Yeah. Easy.
The plan is to line up two rows of three
containers. That's 120 feet long per row. Certainly big enough for
our current needs and beyond once we get them completely set
up.
That's the hard bit. Yesterday the actual movement of the
containers and adding the doors happened. Today we're heading out to
several of the places I mentioned--nursing homes, hospitals, and the
like--to haul in beds and whatever supplies we need to get them ready
for human use. That's going to be dangerous.
The New Breed are
out there in larger numbers than they've been averaging recently. Not
a huge increase, but noticeable and worrying. Though we only have to
travel a mile and a half at most, that's a risky seven and a half
thousand feet given the number of hungry and possibly pissed-off
undead bound to be moving around between here and there.
But
given the additional seven sick people since my last post, it's not a
thing we can avoid. Frankly, we're now beyond the point where we're
just trying to make caring for our ill more efficient for the people
doing it. We truly 
need 
the
room in a very bad way. It's getting crowded even in the tents now,
which reminds me...
We're not even the worst off of the
communities we're aware of. The Exiles have started posting single
guards instead of pairs at their outposts, and the ones they do leave
out in the field by themselves aren't looking too healthy looking.
We've received reports from most of the groups friendly to us that
mirror what we're facing. The numbers fluctuate, of course, but the
outlook isn't shiny pretty much anywhere you look. A few are still
disease-free at the moment, but they're in remote locations that
don't get much interaction with the undead or other people. They
don't trade often.
There's one community that probably won't
survive this. They started seeing cases of the plague less than two
weeks ago, yet now more than half their population is bed-bound and
incapable of doing more than moaning and taking in just enough
nourishment to survive. They've had deaths, many of them, and more
fall prey every day. Even if not another of them fell ill from here
on out, there aren't enough folks to man the defenses and still care
for the ill, much less continue to farm and pursue other needs.
And
we can't do anything to help them. It's not an issue of wanting to,
but the damage the plague is doing to everyone means our usual
cooperative support efforts just aren't applicable. We're weak, and
sending people out among the New Breed is too risky, for one. Two, we
need our citizens here to care for our own people. It's the same all
over: no one in positions to aide others can afford to. The people
whose communities are so removed from civilization that they haven't
been hit by the plague mostly don't have the resources to mount much
of an effort to help. Even if they did, who would blame them for
still choosing not to?
I can't think of too many people
willing to risk infection on such a minor chance to do any good. Not
when the stakes are this bad. I mean, you can fight most threats. You
have control over that.
What's happening now, though...there's
no way to resist it. It's a disease that can only be avoided, not
combated. Most people's plan is to stay away from it if possible, and
to suffer through it if not. Simple, but not easy.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
My
wife reminded me a little while ago that today is Memorial Day. In
the America that was, today was the day we set aside to remember the
fallen soldiers who bravely served our country. In my lifetime I saw
the holiday evolve into more; a day of remembrance, a reason to
gather and celebrate life, a reminder to thank those soldiers still
living for their service, and a time to recall the stark reminders
that not all heroes come home whole or healthy.
I think about
the day-long trip we made around town yesterday and I can't help but
feel a bit of that same emotion for the people we have around us
now.
Places like North Jackson have actual US soldiers living
with them. Those men and women never gave up their duty, though all
else crumbled around them. For a long time they were wanderers who
gathered supplies and weapons as they searched for a place to call
home. They found such a place in North Jackson, and they defend it
full-time, with all the honor and experience earned from months and
years in combat. That's a little mind-blowing to me, if I'm going to
be honest.
To follow through with your oath after the world
has fallen to pieces, that's something special. Knowing that no one
would blame you for throwing in the towel and heading for home yet
still choosing to fight the good fight for whatever citizens are left
to protect...it takes something special.
And not to minimize
those people or their character, but I see some of that same sense of
honor and duty here in New Haven. The New Breed were thick in the
hard-to-see spaces near the roads yesterday, and as soon as our small
convoy left through the gates of New Haven they began to pace us
outside of bow range.
We weren't stupid, of course--we sent
people out in 'tanks'--our modified zombie-killing vehicles--to
harass and demoralize the zombie threat. Two people to a truck, one
driving and one manning whatever weapons the thing had other than the
spikes and blades attached to them. It was fascinating to watch those
teams work, running diagonal lines through the swarm as they
carefully executed maneuvers to slow down and damage as many undead
as possible.
Crafting that kind of attack and carrying it out
is an exercise in controlled chaos. It's dangerous to the extreme.
One blown tire, one too-sharp corner, and those men and women would
have died. It was undoubtedly terrifying, but they clamped down on
that fear and did the work. They kept the swarms from rolling over us
in a crushing wave.
To defend our lives, yes. But not because
we were on a mission of goodwill or trying to reach an injured child
or anything. We were after mattresses and long-term care equipment,
for god's sake. Granted, those mattresses were going to allow our
sick people to rest more comfortably and receive better care, but
it's just not the kind of thing you think about risking your life
for.
Apparently, our running guard didn't think about what
they were risking their lives for. Either that, or they saw the risks
worth it so others could suffer less. Which, again, amazes me to no
end.
All said and done, we managed it. No loss of life and no
injuries to speak of, and mission accomplished. I wish I could go
back in time and make more of an effort to thank and show love to all
the soldiers we lost during The Fall, but I can't. Instead I'll say
once more: thank you, to each of you who died and to each of you who
lived. Thanks to every one of you regardless of who you are. Thank
you for all you've given so the rest of us could live happier and
safer lives.
I salute you.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
Overnight,
a dozen people fell ill. Four others got up and walked away from the
clinic as if they'd never been sick. Two died.
We're facing an
uphill battle against an enemy we can't fight. I know I've said that
before, and recently, but as I helped prepare those bodies for their
funeral this morning, the cold truth of it hit my right in the gut.
One of the dead was a kid. Nineteen, but to me that's a kid though
I'm only a decade older. He was a handsome boy, dark hair falling
around his face, a complexion that hinted at Spanish or maybe Italian
heritage not far in his family's past. There were scars, too, and I
saw them all when we cleaned him and dressed him for the pyre.
Not
even twenty, but a veteran of many battles in what seems to be a
constant state of war. A thin line on his jaw that Evans tells me was
from a knife wound at the hands of a marauder from before we even
called them that. Justin was his name. He was one of the first to
come here. I barely knew him, to be honest.
There are a lot of
things I could be writing about at the moment, important stuff. But
again, as I've said recently, I find myself less interested in the
outside world right now. Yeah, the Exiles are hurting so bad from the
plague that they've given up manning their guard stations and have
withdrawn into the fallback point itself. And the New Breed have been
bashing themselves against our walls off and on for most of the night
and morning, I guess pissed that we got our mission done the other
day without becoming dinner. They're losing some of their
self-control, which just has to be seriously vital.
I get
that. I do. And we'll look into it. I'm just having a hard time
focusing right now. On pretty much anything.
See, Jess is one
of the people who got sick.
I'm not. Yet, anyway. Jess isn't
as bad as some people who come down with symptoms. It seems to vary a
lot from person to person, and right now she's still able to
function. Her breathing is more shallow than normal, there are noises
in it that aren't usually there, but she can walk and talk and work,
if not as much or as fast.
I feel strange about it. That first
flash of fear and pain, then just a sweeping cold feeling. I think I
should be reacting more. Maybe it's shock. I hope so.
God, I'm
scared. I love her more than anything. That sounds so hackneyed and
trite, but it's true. It's overwhelming, I guess. The worry is
hitting me, but it's not putting me in tears of keeping me from
something close to normal function. It's surreal. I recognize the
fear but it's almost analytical.
I think something in my brain
is trying really hard to process this without burning out.
Also,
it's pretty obvious now what a huge hypocrite I am. I spend all this
time talking about the community, the greater good, and how terrible
all this is for everyone, but I lose my shit when it's my wife. And
the fucked up part is that I really am worried for all of us, but the
thought of moving forward without Jess is...almost inconceivable.
Can't make a picture in my imagination of that world. I know on an
intellectual level that it could exist and that I could survive in
it.
But without her, I don't know that I can call it living.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
I've
had about two hours of rest. Not really sleep as most people think of
it, just a short span of time where I didn't do anything at all. I
just lay there next to Jess, listening to her breathe and praying to
whatever gods might be listening that the sounds didn't get
worse.
Yesterday morning, Will asked me to come over to the
expansion for some work. The new office space he's using there is
finished. The council meets there when needed, and the people Dave
and I trained to run New Haven all those months ago work in an
adjacent shipping container outfitted with desks and whatnot. There's
even a nice little nook set aside for me, apparently.
I told
him no. Will didn't take that with much grace.
I told him that
if he wanted me to work on any of the weird little projects and
things he usually wants me to take a look at, I could do that from
home. Then I said that if he wanted me to do something really
important--and let's face it, most of the stuff I work on are things
other people could be doing if they worked at it--then some of the
sick people could come to my house. Jess isn't bedbound yet, is still
overseeing a lot of work, but mostly she's staying close to the house
and letting healthy people do the labor part. She's acting as a
hands-off manager for all the people and programs she manages. The
sickness came over her quickly, and our fear is that it's going to
worsen that way as well.
If she does get worse, I'm going to
be here to care for her. I can handle a lot of people at once thanks
to my experience as a nurse's aide, so if Will and the council want
me to do something important, they can send me folks to take care of.
Because I'm not going anywhere.
Of course he gave me the big
speech about how the Exiles might not be a threat at present but the
zombies outside would hit us at the first sign of weakness. He
pointed out that my duty is to the community, a view I've expressed
many times, and fiercely at that.
We argued. In the end, I got
my way. Partially because I can best serve the community by caring
for those who can't care for themselves. Should the undead breach the
walls and move across New Haven's streets as they did a few years
ago, my house is a very safe place. The sick people who come here
will be very well defended by the modifications I've built. More,
they'll have me. A man who wants to protect the person he loves most
in the world. Toward that purpose, there's nothing I wouldn't
do.
And beside all that? I'm due some selfishness if I want
it.
New Haven started out as 'the compound'. Before that it
was just my neighborhood. Jess and I were the ones to call for people
to come here. We organized the survivors that joined us, taught them
skills and learned some in return. New Haven as it is today simply
would not exist if we hadn't thrown caution to the wind and invited
anyone and everyone to join us. No, it wasn't pure altruism that
drove our actions, we knew there was strength in numbers, but the
ugly truth remains that if we hadn't done it most of our fellow
citizens would have long since been fodder for one zombie swarm or
another.
This is our home, and we've shared it without
hesitation. Even now Jess works to ensure the continued growth of our
food crops, though we have more than enough to be going on with. She
struggles to make sure our armorers, who she personally taught their
craft, are keeping up with the need for protective gear. She's sick
and tired and hurting, yet she still soldiers on. For the greater
good. For all of us.
So I'll be damned if anyone is going to
tell me I can't be here for her. I'll do what I can to support the
group within reason, but I'll be at home making sure she's got hot
food ready and whatever other comforts I can think of at every turn.
I'm not going to be bullied or strong-armed into leaving her side,
especially when doing so would have virtually no benefit. I can do
whatever work from this desk, I've done it that way often enough. I
can care for Jess and accomplish what Will wants me to do as well.
What I will not do is let anyone take me away from my wife, who is
sick with a potentially deadly illness, for the sake of making the
people in command look good.
I don't 
want 
to
defy them. Not the council and not Will. He's my friend and most of
the people backing him are as well. But they'll have to bring men
with weapons who are willing to take casualties if they want to pry
me out of this house for any reason other than a major crisis. That
might sound a bit extreme. It is. One lesson we learned from the
dangerously overconfident council that led this place while the team
and I were on walkabout a few months back is that authority must be
challenged if it's corrupt. That's how Will was elected leader in the
first place. The other lesson was to be strong and consistent when
you're in charge, which is what Will was trying to do in making me
'come into the office', as it were. He was making a point that
everyone is hurting, everyone is in danger, and that doesn't change
the responsibilities we have to meet.
I agree. I'm just not
going to risk Jess getting sicker with no one here to help her
because Will wants me to show solidarity by changing my location. I
support him and the rest of the leadership to the hilt.
I'm
just showing that support from here. I'm sure most of you can
understand that. Rant over. Sorry I kind of went nuts there, but this
is a big deal to me. I'm a grown man who knows his duty, and if I can
do it in a way that works for everyone, I won't be pushed by
politics. I won't risk leaving her side if she may need me. No matter
what else happens.