clinic right about then, just as Danielle (the girl) started talking again. I should say Danielle looked about 23. Maybe 25. She had brown eyes and brown hair that was long, and needed a wash. She was fairly pretty, in that forgettable way. If that makes sense Mr. Journal.
Danielle spilled it all fast. So fast we had to stop her several times to say things again. In between nose wipes and her clutching her fresh stitches in her stomach in pain, she told a tale that I’d heard before. Remember Lindsey? Not Doc Lindsey, but Lindsey, Doug’s wife. Remember Doug? The guy who shot me in the safe house that I shot? Same Doug that visited me in a dream and led me to his wife and kids? The other Lindsey living over on Jones Road?
Lindsey’s tale of returning from the north to a safer more southern place to try and survive was recanted here. Some details were changed, but the basic idea is the same. No resources up in the mountains anymore, and the few survivors that are thriving up in that neck of the woods have had superior places to live and firepower since the jump. There’s no competing with them. No air left to breathe.
She and her small group left the north over a month ago, and headed south with the little remaining diesel and gasoline they had, and started south, returning here to the town they left back in June of the year before last. The figured they’d make it to their homes, where they at least felt safe, tough out the winter, then head really south as spring hit. Like, Florida or Georgia south. Fuck winter is the theme of their trip.
I’ll summarize. The north is being run by a few large groups of survivors that managed a modern day equivalent of a “land/resources grab.” They have it all, and fuck everyone else. Contribute to their quality of life or fuck off and die. Pretty simple really.
There was/is a mass exodus going on. Many of the folks that ran north to escape the initial explosion of undead are now starving and freezing to death this winter, and are making last ditch efforts to head south to try and find somewhere, anywhere that is better than where they were. Here where we are is better than there by the slimmest of margins. I’ll explain why in a second.
Danielle said the city was utterly and completely teeming with the dead. She said they slipped by the city going as fast as they could in their small caravan, but they saw tens of thousands of undead moving about on the city streets, doing nothing but waiting for anything alive to make its presence known so they could kill it. According to what Danielle said, they lost two people on the interstate heading south when one of their vehicles got stuck in some snow. One of the earliest snowstorms I’d wager.
She also said that without a single exception, every living person or group they encountered either attacked them, or was so defensive and standoffish they were practically hostile. No one trusts anyone anymore. When they got here and they saw lights and smoke at MGR, they avoided it as long as they could, then when things got desperate, they figured they’d attack us first before we attacked them. Diplomacy wasn’t even on their mind. Fucking sad.
Why is here only slightly better than up north? Me. Us. We’ve nearly drained every single resource from this town. The grocery stores, convenience stores, gun stores, houses, businesses, etc have all been looted by us already. There’s simply nothing left to take, and if there is something, it’s meager. Had we not killed several of their number in firefights the past few weeks or whatever, Danielle said they certainly would’ve starved anyway. It wasn't that they were so scared of us that they felt they had to attack us. They attacked us because they had no other alternatives.
99 problems Mr. Journal.
Danielle did some math for me and said that in a three house stretch on a street kind of on the very edge of town she thought there were three more people from her group surviving. One kid,
Danielle spilled it all fast. So fast we had to stop her several times to say things again. In between nose wipes and her clutching her fresh stitches in her stomach in pain, she told a tale that I’d heard before. Remember Lindsey? Not Doc Lindsey, but Lindsey, Doug’s wife. Remember Doug? The guy who shot me in the safe house that I shot? Same Doug that visited me in a dream and led me to his wife and kids? The other Lindsey living over on Jones Road?
Lindsey’s tale of returning from the north to a safer more southern place to try and survive was recanted here. Some details were changed, but the basic idea is the same. No resources up in the mountains anymore, and the few survivors that are thriving up in that neck of the woods have had superior places to live and firepower since the jump. There’s no competing with them. No air left to breathe.
She and her small group left the north over a month ago, and headed south with the little remaining diesel and gasoline they had, and started south, returning here to the town they left back in June of the year before last. The figured they’d make it to their homes, where they at least felt safe, tough out the winter, then head really south as spring hit. Like, Florida or Georgia south. Fuck winter is the theme of their trip.
I’ll summarize. The north is being run by a few large groups of survivors that managed a modern day equivalent of a “land/resources grab.” They have it all, and fuck everyone else. Contribute to their quality of life or fuck off and die. Pretty simple really.
There was/is a mass exodus going on. Many of the folks that ran north to escape the initial explosion of undead are now starving and freezing to death this winter, and are making last ditch efforts to head south to try and find somewhere, anywhere that is better than where they were. Here where we are is better than there by the slimmest of margins. I’ll explain why in a second.
Danielle said the city was utterly and completely teeming with the dead. She said they slipped by the city going as fast as they could in their small caravan, but they saw tens of thousands of undead moving about on the city streets, doing nothing but waiting for anything alive to make its presence known so they could kill it. According to what Danielle said, they lost two people on the interstate heading south when one of their vehicles got stuck in some snow. One of the earliest snowstorms I’d wager.
She also said that without a single exception, every living person or group they encountered either attacked them, or was so defensive and standoffish they were practically hostile. No one trusts anyone anymore. When they got here and they saw lights and smoke at MGR, they avoided it as long as they could, then when things got desperate, they figured they’d attack us first before we attacked them. Diplomacy wasn’t even on their mind. Fucking sad.
Why is here only slightly better than up north? Me. Us. We’ve nearly drained every single resource from this town. The grocery stores, convenience stores, gun stores, houses, businesses, etc have all been looted by us already. There’s simply nothing left to take, and if there is something, it’s meager. Had we not killed several of their number in firefights the past few weeks or whatever, Danielle said they certainly would’ve starved anyway. It wasn't that they were so scared of us that they felt they had to attack us. They attacked us because they had no other alternatives.
99 problems Mr. Journal.
Danielle did some math for me and said that in a three house stretch on a street kind of on the very edge of town she thought there were three more people from her group surviving. One kid,
Similar Books
