And just like that as if Murphy for all of his quirks was on my side tonight, I drifted into a Pass-N-Gas just in time to search for a few liters to feed my fuel-starved Hell Beast of a motorcycle.
No telling how much longer this luck would hold out with the sun going down. With a bit of fear and apprehension, I hurriedly checked the long-abandoned gas pumps for fuel.
A howl nearby alerted me that my motorcycle wasn’t the only hungry critter out late. I couched down pulling my spear free. Normally I wouldn’t kill wolves but with the situation being what it is nowadays, a fresh kill is better than a 5-day old kill. It was him or me, and since I was still in the good graces of Murphy I may have an opportunity to relieve that snapping son of bitch of his fur and much-needed sustenance.
I crept to the side of the station and spotted the wolf silhouetted against the nearby water. I drew the spear up taking aim. With a grunt, I hurled the weapon, and with a yelp, the wolf lurched and with an ill-fated stagger pitched to the ground. I rushed to the downed thrashing wolf with my hunting knife drawn, plunged the blade through its ribs eliciting another desperate yelp the hunter had become the prey.
Strapping the kill to my motorcycle, I mounted and kicked the engine over. By the time I arrived back at the Army post darkness had begun to fall. As the night set in another pair of hungry beast feasted on wolf meat roasted over an open flame.
I found myself laying on a gurney in an Army tent. I woke up to a female voice trying to pull me out of my dazed slumber. It took a minute or two of her gently slapping my face before I realized she was there. She’s cute, a welcome sight to these sore eyes.
Like the big old hole in my life caused by this undead plague, I prodded at the fresh bloodstained hole in my BDU shirt as I sat up on the gurney. An unfortunate result of the matching large gash in my left arm awarded by an undead solder that had managed to get the drop on me. “You’re a bit torn up … I managed to sew that wound up, while you were out. I let you sleep for while to regain some of your strength.” Said the woman. “You’re lucky I found you, you would have bled out if I hadn’t come along.” She paused for a moment studying me before she continued. “You should really keep a better eye on your surroundings if you want to keep your self alive.”. “Thanks” I said through a sheepish grin as I tested the feel of my arm, swinging it slowly over my head in an arc and wincing at the stitching she had just finished. “I’m Morggin” I said as her green eyes met mine, she smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you Morggin, I’m Freya.”. “I have a small camp on top of the main building if you’re interested in staying around for a bit.” she offered. “This place is pretty fortified, I was posted here when all of this trouble started,” she said as she leaned against a medicine cabinet. “So what do you say… you’re the first scruffy nerf herder I have come across since all of this started. I could really use the company.”
My grin grew as I stood up from the gurney. “Sure, why not.” She’s the first living person I have seen since this all started, I’m not about to abandon her. Picking up a large oddly shaped spear she tossed it to me. “Here, I made this a few days ago.” I tested the weight of it. My arm screamed as I hefted the spear, pointing it out I front of me. Gingerly I shifted it to my other hand and thrust the spearhead out at an imaginary undead soldier hobbling my way. This would work much better than the stone axe or even the club I had fashioned, much better indeed.
I put together a mini bike this evening after finding the parts in a Pass-N-Gas. Lucky find? Maybe, not sure that luck will hold out if I stay here at the Fates Motel.
Something tells me the rates will be MURDER. Just look at the creepy house on the hill up behind the Motel. I wonder if life as an undead zombie has changed Norman’s temperament any? Likely not. I’m sure his mother would be more than happy to serve up a helping of Sweetbread.
All said and done it wasn’t a bad day/night.
- Built a mini bike from the parts found at Pass-n-Gas.
- Found some of the parts for Gyrocopter in the same Pass-n-Gas.
- Escaped another blood moon horde by hopping on the mini bike and rode through the night.
- Avoided certain death at the hands of Zombie Norman and his ill-tempered mother at the Fates Motel.
- Sipped on on a
Cold beer as I rode through the night.
The desert is a hot place to be sure. The proliferation of the undead and their animal cronyism is all but certain as the sun in the sky. Heat stroke is the last thing I need testing my implacability when set upon by this protracted nominalization. I recall a pastor’s bible verse from back before this all began.
“I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.”
Please dear God, bring me out of this Antidisestablishmentarianism. It’s my 7th day and I don’t want to die.
Set upon in the night I was caught by surprise as the undead had somehow discovered me. I immediately got up and started to run. Being it was still dark I had no choice but to light my torch to make sure I didn’t run headlong into a wandering party of them. Like a moth to a flame, the undead in the vicinity started running after me. Damn, they are fast. They are also … flammable! Flames didn’t seem to last very long but it was definitely entertaining to see a flaming zombie catch another on fire. That being said my fun soon ran out as they caught me on fire also. Lucky for me I was near water.
As darkness descends around me. I reflect on the day’s accomplishments and lessons learned. I woke with a note signed by some guy named Noah hastily written and placed on my bare chest. It’s a bit unsettling to know that I’m being watched, ranks right up there with the undead shuffling all around. With a few precautions, I have been able to remain beneath notice.
- Bedroll crafted from plant fiber. It’s kind of itchy but it will have to do for now. Throwing it out here under a tree offers me some protection from being seen. I figure as long as I don’t build a fire tonight I should be able to crouch and climb into the bag and not be disturbed by the unfriendly denizens.
- I was able to craft myself some clothing from more of that plant fiber as well. Again, itchy as all get-out. I’m sure after some wear it will become more comfortable. It will do, until I can scavenge up some real clothing I guess.
- I found a nice sturdy ash branch to make myself a bow from. I gathered some bird feathers (and eggs) from the bird nests around the lake shore, then proceeded to put together some arrows using some rudimentary stone arrowheads. Should go nicely with the Stone Axe I put together as well.
- Seem to be a lot of the dead walking about here in the Kiroki Mountains. I wasn’t sure if the infection had spread this far into the Mountains. I was hoping for a safe haven by coming here. Turns out it’s no different from where I came from in North Kowuti. It’s a good thing I had crafted that bow, I had to use it in short order to dispatch some the more persistent shufflers.
- The dead are tough here. I figure I can bring one of them down with four arrows if I can park them in just the right spot.
- Fire is not a good idea. I had my torch out for a bit but the dead seem to be attracted to the flame.