2235
Location: Apartment 0
Reflections:
I need to get fitter. Life may not be worth living alone, but I will keep up the fight. I will find meaning and direction in this desolation. So help me, whatever divine being that exists.
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I ventured out today after a night of preparations. I guess this is as good a time as any to share some of the rules Zaph shared with me.
Rule #1: Find somewhere secure, and stay there. There is NO sense in following the crowd. Shit always happens in crowds. It's an all-you-can-eat buffet line for the zombies. Sit, stay.
I took this rule to heart. I've been a solitary person for most of my life. My apartment was reasonably secure, and there was only me and my cat in residence. All I had to do was to have enough food to last. However, I underestimated this bit. I've ran out of food after just 3 weeks. It is now no longer time to sit and stay. It's time I broke rule #1.
Rule #2: Never assume you are safe with your fellow humans. Learn from the boy scouts: ALWAYS be prepared. You can only count on yourself, everyone else is a liability.
Well, no danger of breaking rule #2 here. As far as I can tell, I'm all that's left here.
Rule #3: You are never safe anyway. Keep your ears and eyes open at all times. Zombies do not appreciate your need for privacy.
Alright. Deep breaths. This is the hard part. I'm not much of a survivor. I've been in exactly one fist fight, back in primary school. In all my preparation, I neglected to arm myself before my self-imprisonment.
I packed my backpack last night. Bottle of water and candy bars for energy and sustenance. Tied the wheelchair I appropriated from the hospital in the mass exodus to the bag. This is useful to carry whatever supplies I manage to raid and will be less noisy than trolleys at the supermarket. All the movies show that sound attracts the zombies. I've not met a Problematic human yet, but I'm going to assume the movies got some parts right, and it's a logical assumption in this case. A box of rubber gloves went in too, the advantages of working in the lab.
Having no magazines at home, I wrapped my forearms with thick wads of newspaper instead. Hopefully these were enough. Double layers of rubber gloves went on my hands, in case I had to grapple with a wounded zombie. Over these, I pulled on my leather gloves which I couldn't bear to trash since my undergraduate days spending winter in Australia. These are important because rubber gloves tear easily on rough surfaces. A face mask completed the ensemble, I didn't want to swallow anything from the zombie: even if it's not infectious, the ick factor is highly undesirable. I saw Brad Pitt say "I got it n my mouth" in World War Z and I was not at all eager to repeat the performance.
I armed myself with my mop and a dining chair. It wasn't the best of armaments but they were the best I owned. Locking my cat up so she won't accidentally run out, I quietly opened my wooden door. Deciding against locking anything in case I need to make a quick escape back into my apartment, I shut it quietly. Rubber shoes went on, and I took a deep breath. Show time!
It was next to impossible to unlock and open my grilled sliding door silently, so I brazened it out. It opened with the usual cacophony, especially loud in the eerie silence. I stood in the lobby of my apartment, chair and broom ready at a warding position, and waited. Nothing came. I stepped out and looked to the left and right quickly. Nothing.
Sliding the grill shut again, I pondered of the probability of someone sneaking into my unlocked headquarters and dismissed it. If there were any humans left, they're welcomed to it. I made my way stealthily to the stairway and lift lobby and considered taking the stairs. I live on the 14th floor. Electricity hadn't failed me thus far, I pressed the "down" button on the elevator. The lift opened, I wasn't ready for any potential Problems greeting me, didn't even consider it until the door opened. There was a half-eaten, decomposing corpse in there with the head and chest missing.
I gagged, fighting against nausea, and the lift mercifully closed. I realised that I didn't know what awaited me on the ground floor, at the same time, I didn't know what awaited me down 14 flights of stairs either. Fuck it. I pressed the button again and dragged the corpse out. If I was going to be overrun by zombies, I'm not going to get tripped by a corpse.
I arrived at the ground floor with a pleasant ding from the elevator system. I had my chair shield ready to rebel any boarders but I was greeted by silence. It couldn't be that deserted here, could it? My arm was getting tired dragging the chair around, and I revised my priorities. Weapons first, food supplies later. I surveyed the lobby warily and saw peaceful nothingness. The grass was getting a little long. I sent the elevator back to the 14th floor, and did the same with its twin. This way when I get back, I wouldn't get any nasty surprises, I hope.
My designated parking lot was the nearest to the lift lobby, so I hadn't needed to change my routine during my exile. It was only 30 strides to my car, but the tension made it seem miles away. I walked with my broom and chair and kept having this itch on the back of my neck thinking something was going to hit me from behind. I needn't have worried, the place seemed deserted. I got into my car with no incident.
Rule #4: Geography. Learn the terrain. Know where is zombie-free. If you haven't checked it, assume there are zombies.
We have a multi-level carpark. I decided to take a round in the car to survey every level to see if there were any lurking zombies. I turned round and round, up the carpark. There were a few cars and vehicles left here and there, but mostly it was empty of both humanoids and drivables. That might explain why I haven't been attacked.
I turned out of the carpark and drove around the apartment complex proper, nothing either. Remarkably, the boom gate was still intact so I scanned my access card to get out.
I relaxed into the drive, keeping half an eye out for any shambling figures that might spell trouble. I'd decided where to go for my first supply raid. It was a nearby shopping mall in a sparsely populated neighbourhood. It was the lowest risk area I could think of, at least until I was better armed.
Not bothering with rules, I pulled up right at the entrance. There were other cars in the lots, so I assumed I'd run into some problems. I honked for 10 seconds to grab the attention of any zombies, and waited with the engine running. I was delaying the inevitable. Nobody and nothing came running, so I turned the engine off and stepped out.
The sliding doors still operated. I walked in and the stench of rot hit me like a physical entity. Clearly, there has been death here. The real question is, was there life?
Rule #5: If you need to go somewhere to do something, do it fast. Get in, get out. Snap to it. Don't dilly dally about. Shit happens when you're slow.
I was dilly dallying. The coast was clear, time to move. As my first stop, I chose the sports department. I was aiming for a hockey (field) stick when I saw something better: golf clubs. It was a no brainer to grab all the heavy looking ones and stuff them in a golf bag that was on display. I slung that over my shoulder and nearly fell from the weight. Not such a great idea, but I needed the weapons. Giving in to necessity, I removed some of the clubs and hurried back to my car to deposit my new treasures. Needless to say, the chair and mop were left behind.
Grabbing one of the clubs, I returned to the mall, this time to the hardware store. With the golf club at the ready, I ran down the aisles, looking for rope and padlock cutters. I found the former halfway down the store. I needed more than I could carry, though, so it was time for the wheel chair. I hesitated, if a zombie attacked me while I was wheeling it around, I wouldn't be armed.
No dilly dallying! Right. Just get with it, James. I left the wheelchair there to hunt for my padlock cutters, minimising the time spent vulnerable. I found what I wanted and a crowbar as a bonus. Hefting it, I had visions of me going all Half-life on the zombies. I was getting hysterical. I slapped myself, hard. Right, I had nearly forgotten about duct tape. I found the adhesives section and took some packs of super glue for some side project later tonight involving a yellow workman's helmet I saw dangling off a hook.
Gathering my finds, once again I returned to my car. I was making too many trips. My senses were overloaded. I had to keep turning around to ensure nothing was behind me. It was nerve-wracking to be out here scavenging. I eyed the mall, should I go back for food and medication? How was I supposed to carry all these home? There was still food enough back home to last a few days, should I return here then? I'm here now, I've gotten lucky so far. Do I want to return here again?
No, I did not. Not really. I was frightened and I want to curl up in a ball and cry.
That decided me. I've had it with crying. I need alcohol, goddamnit. Whiskey. Be a man.
Self-rallying pep talk done. I took a long draught from my water bottle, refolded the wheelchair, and stalked towards the supermarket with club in hand. I had a grocery list, and I'm getting it or die trying.
Rule #6: Know if the zombies are in your designated safe area. Set traps, set markers. Doesn't have to be complicated, they just have to feed you information.
Getting to the supermarket in the basement floor was no easy task. Rotting corpses, all of them semi-devoured, littered the way. With these many people dead instead of turned, there must have been quite a lot of zombies in here. Yet I have not seen a single one. The anticipation was part of the dread. I didn't know what to expect.
My shopping list was large, and I can't wheel the chair back up the stairs. I'll need to use a trolley and put them in plastic bags. I was glad this wasn't "No Plastic Day". Heh...I found my sense of humour. Fuck.
I grabbed everything on my list minus the food, since I couldn't carry that much in bags and still make good speed. Medication from the pharmacy section. Baby powder, reasons for which I will explain later. Aerosol bottles of insecticide and lighters. Matches. A portable stove, and as many gas canisters as I can carry to fuel it. All these went into my backpack in lieu of the water bottle. I was weighing myself down. Had to be careful of the weight.
Since I still had one hand available, I went on a food binge anyway. Canned foods, noodles, honey for flavoring and coffee. Couldn't live without coffee. Liquor, liquid courage. I fitted a bottle of Glenlivet and a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the loops of my backpack meant for water bottles. I'll need to grab rice on my next trip, I was running low.
Staggering under the excess weight, I made my way back to the car. The situation was still clear. This was too easy. I drove home, the clock read 1735. It was later than I had thought it was. I hadn't known I was that slow.
I rushed home and made it to my parking bay without incident. Deciding what to bring up with me was the hardest part. I still didn't trust this quiet I left the clubs in the car, justifying that I will need them with me when I next go out anyway. I did strap an extra club to my backpack and tied the bag containing food to it. I would need to return for the stuff I lifted from the hardware store.
The lifts still read "14". It was getting dark, I was getting nervous. I dinged back at the 14th floor and made sure the corridor was still empty. Back into the apartment, unload. 1830. I figured I was so lucky today I might as well push it to the maximum. I know, I'm crazy. My body was tired and strung up from the stress, and I'm still pushing it.
I went down. I left my golf clubs in the apartment. What the fuck? Ran to the car, slung the bag like a second backpack, got my padlock cutter and crowbar for self-defence. The rope, I need that. I was crazy, but not crazy enough to return for a third trip. Out came the wheelchair again, at the expense of self-defence. I got everything. Up the lift. 14th floor.
Here's where Zaph came in handy. I took two of the baby powder canisters I stole today, and dusted the corridor from elevator to apartment, push the stuff inside, and powdered a few feet the other way, where I had not explored. This way, if anything walked by and I'm not alone, I would know. It's crude, but effective. Until I get a better option anyway.
Rule #7: Don't stay out after sundown. Doesn't matter if the zombies are sensitive to light, YOU can't see well at night. Stay safe. Rest. Sleep.
I had beaten dusk by a mere 10 minutes. The stress caught up with me and I collapsed immediately. I was woken up by my cat later in the night and I started to inventory my spoils. This has been a great day. No zombies though. Why?
End log
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