[Say ‘No’ to Zombies] Day 4

What happens when a person with some common sense wakes up to a “zombie apocalypse”? Shit gets done, that’s what.

Spoiler: the dog doesn’t die.

Please note: this work of fiction involves a lot of swear words/cussing and adult themes. Kiddos beware.

April 21st

Day 4
8:45am

Motherfuckingsonofabitch.

We’re all gonna die. Not only do we have THREE new people, TWO of them are dumbasses, and the third is a four year old!

Seriously, we’ve gone from “we might actually survive this” to “let’s just tie a bloody steak around our neck and swim with the fucking SHARKS.”

Jason (the oldest boy) woke Abby and I up around 6:30 because he heard a cell phone RINGING. In the HALLWAY.

He was such a smart boy about it, too. He made Timmy go hide before he woke us up. We sent him to hide and then got into position by the door (I am so glad we made up a couple cocktails last night). I looked out the peephole, and yup. Movement. No dragging sound like the troll had made, but there was definitely something out there.

Our door was locked and we had the couch pushed in front of it, but I wasn’t counting on it holding anyone back for too long.

I heard voices. Two guys were talking about the footprints in the babypowder and the lipstick X’s on the doors. Oh, I could’ve kicked my own ass. ALL of the doors were marked except for mine and Abby’s.

I’m not going to go into the long of it. Not right now when I’m still pissed off, but yeah. New members of the group. Now we’re up to seven. Maybe it will be a lucky number?

Yeah, and maybe monkeys will fly out of my ass. So very fucked.

 

 


 

Sometime after noon.

HE WANTS TO LEAD?! He couldn’t even remember to TURN OFF or at least SILENCE his phone, and he wants to fucking LEAD?!

 


 

1:17pm

Oh, he’s so fucking precious. He should be leader because he has a gun. Mmhmm. Who has the FOOD, motherfucker? WHO has the person who knows how to drive the ferry? WHO actually has a PLAN? WHO HERE IS SMART ENOUGH TO PACK MORE THAN BEER AND RAMEN?!

 


1:45pm

I love Abby. Scott was waving around his gun and yelling and being a dumbass. Abby didn’t even say a word. She just handed me one of the molotovs and a lighter.

The fellows are now cooking lunch for us ladies.


 

4pm-ish

Okay, I’m in a much better mood now, so I guess I should explain. Remember I said the couch and door wouldn’t hold long? I was right. They broke through it pretty quick.

Quick standoff, they had a gun and a crowbar. We have baseball bats and molotovs.

Cue tumbleweeds, wild west music, the whole nine yards.

Then this little girl’s voice pipes up “I’m hung’y daddy.”

Dave’s alright, but he’s shit when it comes to planning ahead.

Oh right. Dave is “daddy”. The little girl is Chloe (she’s fucking adorable. Blonde hair, brown eyes, looks like a little cherub. Abby’s little boy is in love with her.), and the dumbfuck with a gun and loud ass ringtone is Dave’s brother, Scott.

So, for those of you keeping track, we now have:

Me, Abby, Jason, Timmy, Dave, Dumbfuck Scott, and Chloe.

Yeah, good luck keeping them all straight. I keep calling Jason and Timmy the wrong names, and I have to remember not to call Scott “dumbfuck” outloud, no matter how funny it is to see him glare.

So. After lunch, we all set around and had ourselves a mature discussion about leadership and whatnot.

Scott has a gun, which is great, except that it’s noisy as hell and we don’t know how that will translate out there with the trolls. So the gun is shelved for now.

Since I’m the one with a plan/goal/brain/etc, I will be in charge of logistics. Scott will be in charge of shooting what I tell him to shoot. Abby has the most experience with kids, so she will be taking care of them and managing our supply levels (letting us know when we’re starting to get low on stuff). Dave is in charge of keeping Scott away from me so I don’t kill him.

We also set some ground rules:

  1. No yelling/screaming/arguing/making noise on the streets or in buildings that have not been thoroughly checked and/or near windows and doors.
  2. No doing anything stupid that will get us all killed (you’re allowed to get yourself killed, as long as you don’t take anyone with you).
  3. If anyone does anything stupid that puts the rest of us in danger, Scott is allowed to bash their head in.
  4. Two people are to be awake and on watch at all times. We’re working out a schedule for that.
  5. No checking to make sure a body is actually dead. If they’re on the ground, they’re beyond our help.
  6. No ASSUMING a body is dead. If it’s on the ground, it could be playing possum. Keep watch, keep your distance, and keep moving.
  7. Rations will be split up evenly. Extra rations will be given based on work.

I’m sure we’ll come up with more later. We were just trying to get the basics out of the way.

What else…

Dave and Scott did some scavenging on the lower levels, and managed to dig up a couple bookbags, but their supplies are just…no. Seriously. Beer and ramen. Dave at least thought to grab medicine crap and a crowbar.

We moved our base(?) downstairs to their apartment. Dave’s lived here for a about a year, Scott moved in with help out when Dave got custody of Chloe last month (not sure what happened there, and I don’t care. It’s not my business as long as it doesn’t get in the way of surviving this shit).

We went through the apartments on their floor again and got the guys some real supplies. Chloe’s princess backpack now holds a pink sleeping bag, instead of coloring books (seriously, Dave?), and two bottles of water.

We also now have a working plan. We’re all going to eat well tonight, and get to bed early. First thing tomorrow morning, Scott and Dave are going to scout the stairwell and the other hallways. If the way is clear all the way down, Abby and I will load up the elevator with the kids and the suitcases and stuff instead of us trying to cart everything down seven flights of stairs.

There’s a pharmacy on the way to the ferry, so we’re going to try and make it there and see what we can scrounge up. There’s also a couple gas stations between here and there, so maybe they’ll have a map or at atlas there.

Right now Abby and I putting the finishing touches on the suitcases. Dave and Jason went back upstairs to get the boys’ baseballs. Scott actually had a GOOD idea: if we need to distract the trolls, we can use the baseballs to set off car alarms. The sounds should draw their attention away from us.

I’m not entirely sure it will work since dad said the sound from his shotgun didn’t seem to do anything to the trolls he ran into, but it’s worth a shot.

Scott said there’s a sporting good store not too far from from the ferry. He wants to stop there and see about picking up fishing supplies. I told him it will depend on the streets. It’d be good to have fishing stuff, but not if the risk is too high. He wasn’t happy, but he saw my point.

Dave came up with a really good idea. We went through all the apartments again, and dug out the vacuum cleaners and extension cords. We cut the power cords from the vacuum cleaners and tied them together. We have over a hundred feet of rope now. We’re still going to try and get real rope, but this will do for now.

Getting a cart is even more imperative now. Chloe is sweet and adorable, but she’s also tiny. There’s no way she’ll be able to keep up with us for long, and we’re not going to be able to carry her the whole way.


 

8:35pm

Chloe and Timmy are in bed. Jason should probably be in bed too, but we need him.

We….might have a problem. The streets on my side of the apartment were pretty clear. I saw maybe 3-5 trolls an hour. The streets on the other side of the building? We counted 7 in half an hour. The lobby doors don’t open to either street (our building is strange), so there’s no telling how that road is going to look, and we’ll still have to make it from the front door to the road that is clear(er).

The guys and I are going to do some scouting tonight. See if there’s a way around this, and if there are any carts nearby. We’ll be on conference call with our phones on hands free (bluetooth headsets, A+ for this kinda shit), Abby and Jason will keep us updated on movement on the different sides of the building. I’ll be watching from one of the windows in the stairwell. We won’t have eyes on the backside (haha), but there’s nothing we can really do about that.


9:45pm

Good news: We have a cart. It’s crappy, and not big enough to carry Chloe, but it’s a cart. We’re just waiting for the hot glue to cool off, and then we’re loading it up so it’s ready in the morning.

Bad news: Scott is a fucking idiot.

Okay, so the halls were all clear of trolls. Yay, right? Then we get to the lobby, and oh look. Five of ‘em. And right outside the front door? Another three. Scott and Dave wanted to get rid of the lobby lurkers, but I pointed out that it would be a dead giveaway that there’s living people here, and the last thing we need to do is call attention to our presence, y’know?

But then Dave saw the cart. It was right outside the doors. We think someone must’ve dropped it and ran when this whole thing started. We talked it over, and agreed that it was worth the risk. So the three of us got rid of the trolls in the lobby, and while the guys were taking out the ones outside the door, I grabbed the cart. I had to fight with it a little bit, there was a bunch of crap in it that didn’t want to dump out easy, but I finally managed it.

It’s one of those folding ones, so we didn’t bother with the elevator.

And okay, I’m a fucking idiot, too. Dave and I were already four floors up before I realized that Scott wasn’t with us.

Looked out the window on the landing, and dumbfuck was darting across the street, headed right for the street with all the trolls. I know there’s a corner store over there, but there are also PLENTY of other stores on the way to the ferry, and at least then he would have backup, but noooo, he has to go now. And we can’t call him, cause we don’t know if his dumbass remembered to turn off the ringer, and we can’t risk calling attention to him.

If he survives, I might just kill him myself. Abby and Dave are watching out the side windows, I’m watching from the stairwell. We sent


 

11something pm. I’m not looking at a clock.

SCOTT IS A FUCKING IDIOT.

He made it back. His arm is a mess, but he’s back. The only reason I’m not killing him now is because he brought back some really good stuff.

We had to raid another couple apartments to find a bag for all the bottles of sunscreen and bug repellent alone. The toilet paper and the duct tape went in the backpacks, along with the medicine packets. The ten cartons of cigarettes have been double bagged and spread out through all of our bags and suitcases.

We each have a map now, and hats proclaiming our love for New York. We still need to see about grabbing meds from a pharmacy, especially since dumbass managed to cut his arm pretty bad (one of the shelves was knocked over, and he was trying to push it back up to get to the stuff underneath it). At least he was smart enough to get his ass back home, instead of still fussing with it.

His arm is wrapped up now, and we’re making him take some of the amoxicillin I found. He said he just had a tetanus shot last year, and the sites online say that the shot should last about 10 years. We’ll have to see.

I’m checking the forums one more time tonight and then it’s off to bed. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn.


12:01am

needarideinthesouthside says:

“If you’re in Chelsea, and you want out, now’s the time to go. The zombies on the south side are getting restless and headed your way.

ETA (VERY rough estimate):

Canal:  @1:45am

Houston: @2:30am

East 14th: @3:15am

Guys, this isn’t just a couple or even a hundred. I’m talking about THE ENTIRE LOWER CITY. If you can’t make it out of there before they hit, you’d better hope you’re stocked up to stay a while.”

We’re between Houston and East 14th. We need to get to Canal (the ferry boats are gone, but needarideinthesouthside said there’s two boats left at pier 26. One of them is his, if we can get it to him, he’ll guide us out to sea). If we move fast, we can still make it to a pharmacy before we reach the pier. Cart is packed, kids are dressed and ready. I’m writing this in the elevator on the way down to the lobby. Looks like it’s go time. Wish us luck.

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