Journals of the Fall, pt. 6

Record #147-56-91

Notes From the Body of Unidentified Wanderer

50th Day after the Fall (estimated)

Day 1 - Kicked out of the group today. Fat lot of good it’ll do them to lose me. I was the only one holding them together. Mark my words, they’ll be at each other’s throats within a week, whether they turn or not.

Day 2 - Didn’t make as good time as I’d hoped. Held up by the search for water. Never considered that much before all hell broke loose. Can’t believe how thirsty I get.

Found a clean stream or spring or something. Hope it was clean anyway. Didn’t see any bodies near it, human or otherwise. Was tempted to stay a while, but I’ve got to keep moving.

Day 3 - Running low on water again. Should’ve stayed longer at that stream I found yesterday.

Day 4 - Found a pond today. It was a little murky but it smelled okay, tasted fine.

I can’t see what’s left of the city anymore.

Day 5 - A huge relief today. I came across an abandoned camp. There was some stale food there; I’ll have to use that first. What I had on me is running a bit low, but it’ll last longer than this stuff will.

The real prize was a canteen, half full. I’ll still have to find water regularly, but at least I can bring some with me now.

There’s a bunch of other gear too, but most of it will just wear me down. Got a couple of blades though. That’ll be useful.

Day 6 - Just when you think you’re starting to get the hang of survival, you realize it’s getting awfully hot and you’re not equipped to keep the sun off. I’d give half my water for some sun screen, or a hat with a brim.

Day 7 - There are buildings up ahead. I’m torn. They’re right in my path, and if I push on, not only can I make better time, but I might be able to pick up things I desperately need.

Or, I might be surrounded and torn to pieces.

Day 11 - Let this lapse for a few days. Been on the run. Figured it’d be the dead that would get me if I got too close to town. I didn’t even consider the living.

The damn town’s a fortress, or near enough. Someone’s got some people organized, and they sure aren’t looking for new friends. They’ve got guards at every watering hole I’ve hunted down. Have no choice now, have to

- The travelogue ends here. The pages were splashed with blood. The body showed signs of having been run down by a vehicle. J.T.

Journals of the Fall, pt. 5

Record #168-13-23

Transcript from The Bertrand Jamison Podcast

45th Day after the Fall (estimated)

“Good morning, everyone. All of you who are left, anyway. I can’t believe I still get comments on this, but I swear to you all, I will keep recording and publishing as long as the power and my connection holds out.

If you hear this show, I can’t stress enough how important it is to comment. This living hell we’re experiencing is hard enough to bear without thinking we’re alone. Even if you’re with a group, it’s critical to embrace the idea of community. Let your voice be heard. You’re not alone. I’m here. Others are here. Let us hear from you.

I have to spend some time thanking those of you who commented yesterday. Davis from Syracuse is holed up in his local police precinct with a band of 7 other survivors. It sounds like their situation is pretty grim. A migrating—is it migrating? Do the dead migrate? I’m going to call it migrating—anyway, a migrating horde of the dead moved into the area a few days ago and haven’t cleared the area yet.

Seana in Mississauga is reporting much more typical behavior from the dead. The numbers in her area are thinning, a relief for sure; she tells us that the greater Toronto area started out incredibly thick with them, but she’s hopeful now that maybe they’re gradually dispersing. It doesn’t sound good for anyone who was actually in the city around the time of the Fall though. If you’re in Toronto itself, or have first-hand knowledge of any survivors there, please do let us know.

Ahmed in Los Angeles successfully fought off three of the dead last night. Nobody in his shelter was injured, thankfully, and his family is still safe. This is the third time we’ve heard from Ahmed. I’m glad to hear from you again. Please keep us up to date on events in the city of … well, in the city.

Jamal in New York City—Jamal, you have my sincerest admiration for staying safe this long there—is reporting increased raider activity. There are not one, but two large gangs of motorcycle riders basically pillaging the city, raiding smaller safe-houses and looting food. He warns others in the area to be careful; he has seen members of both groups kill members of the other group, and innocents as well. It’s not all bad news though; they make a point of destroying any of the dead that they find.

And finally, I have some sad news. Daryl from the Seattle outskirts stopped commenting five days ago, after reporting increasing numbers of dead in the area. Another commenter in the area reported a sizable holdout was breached about that same time. Daryl, if you’re still out there, our thoughts are with you.

That’s it for today; be safe out there, everyone. Spread the word as far and fast as you can."

- The show was broadcast over the Internet until the North American power grid collapsed. Jamison’s enclave appears to still survive. J.T.

Journals of the Fall, pt. 2

​​Today brings several more days of journals, and in addition, the beginning of JuNoWriMo 2013. This means way more updates and longer stories each day as I once again try to reach the goal of 50,000 words in one month. Wish me luck!

8th Day after the Fall

People are getting kind of cranky today. We spent the whole day crammed in the truck, only a couple of breaks to stretch and relieve ourselves, and that was maybe 5 minutes at best.

Toward the end of the day, someone really freaked out, started screaming and wouldn’t stop. Must’ve gone on for fifteen minutes before they pulled the truck over and let us out. I’m not sure what happened to the guy. I am sure I don’t really want to think about it too hard.

Phil said he saw them lead him out into the woods, but didn’t see him return. I just know the rest of the trip was kind of quiet. It was a relief after the sounds from yesterday.

We haven’t heard any of them today. Small mercy, I guess.

9th Day after the Fall

Another day just spent traveling. It’s taking a toll. We’re packed in pretty tight to the truck, can’t move much, and we’re going over bad roads for at least twelve hours.

Tempers are starting to get pretty bad. A few fights have broken out. They stopped the trucks again off schedule. This time I saw a couple of people led away. I recognized a neighbor this time. He’d been in my truck. He definitely didn’t get back in when we left.

10th Day after the Fall

If we don’t get where we’re going soon, I’m going to kill someone, I swear. I hurt from head to toe, just from standing in this moving, bumping, damned truck all day, being pushed shoved all the time.

During the first break today, someone complained to the soldiers. She couldn’t take it anymore, I guess. Can’t really say I blame her. She didn’t take it too well when they refused to extend the breaks. Went into hysterics. I don’t know what happened to her. I haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s on one of the other trucks now.

11th Day after the Fall

We arrived today. None too soon. And now I know why we hadn’t been hearing them. They’re all here. Must be hundreds, thousands maybe.

The military have a huge compound all blocked off with walls and fences. They had to shoot a way clear for us to get through the gates, and then they just drove the trucks right over the bodies. Maybe that’s why we haven’t gotten much to eat. I’d have lost it over that sound, over how it felt. I’m going in for processing soon. I’ll write more when that’s over with, if I have a chance.

Little Things, pt. 3

His mind raced. The smell of the blood would draw the dead as quickly as the mosquitoes, and the dead were more tenacious by far. “Let’s move out, quick!” he whispered. “They’re not far, they’ll smell this and be on us.”

He cringed even as he said it; he didn’t know exactly what he’d cut himself on. Taking care of the wound was their second priority. Leaving it any longer than absolutely necessary was as certain a death sentence as being caught by the dead. If they didn’t track them down by it, he’d die of infection.

They moved as quick as they dared through the broken street, avoiding rusted, rotting lumps that could only rarely be identified as cars. They were spurred on by the eerie, inarticulate vocalizations that were all the dead could produce. The moon was still hidden away behind thick clouds.

“We need more light,” Oliver growled as he nearly gashed his own leg open on some sort of rod of metal jutting up from the ground.

“Can’t, too risky. They’re too close on us as it is.” He was grateful they were so slow. These were old dead, bodies dried out, slow moving husks.

“I know. Didn’t say I was gonna open it up, just said I wish we could.”

“If wishin’ did any good, the dead would all be gone.” They had to be almost there. They had to be. Nothing looked at all familiar though, and Jake found himself wishing for more light in spite of his own advice.

Little Things, pt. 2

“Damned ‘squitos are worse than the dead,” he muttered.

“Just deal. At least all they want’s a little blood.”

They kept to the road, picking their way across the broken surface. They hadn’t been maintained since the fall of civilization a decade before, and it showed; so many plants had pushed their way up through the asphalt that calling it a ‘road’ was little more than being polite. Some of the sprouted trees were surprisingly mature.

The only sounds they heard were their own footsteps, occasional muttered and stifled curses, and the droning of mosquitoes that got too close. Jake banged his shin hard on the remains of a roadside barrier and fought to contain a shout. He felt a slow trickle of liquid and felt a shiver course down his spine. Just great; as if their anti-biotics weren’t tight enough.

“What’re you doing stumbling around like that, Jake?” Oliver whispered harshly. “Quit messing around, we’re out too late as it is.”

“I’m hurt, man. We got any ointment left?”

“Shit. How bad is it?” His tone was instantly serious.

“Bleeding. Not too bad.” The mosquito drone grew a bit louder as more of them were attracted to the scent. A shuffling sound far off the road jerked Jake’s attention off his leg. His heart began to pound. Not now, damnit, not now.