[Say “No!” to Zombies] Day 82-91
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.
So. The good news. We were all issued new guns to go with the ones we already had. Also, apparently “side-arm training” is…well….gun training. “Side-arms” are guns. I did a literal facepalm when we walked in and I saw the targets and everything. It was one of those “DUH!” moments.
Anyway. We were given the targets and given a chance to “test out” of dedicated side arm training. We basically had to show that we could consistently hit the target from 50ft away, headshots only, with the handguns we had already been using, and the M4 they gave us. (Funny story, I thought they called it an ‘N’ 4 at first. Had me going “huh?!” Yeah, my brain is an asshole.)
Most of the boys tested out on the first try. Jason still has to do side-arm training tomorrow, along with Abby, Roger and the Goulds (minus Jack, surprisingly enough), but we kinda expected that. Scott taught most of us to shoot, but Abby and Roger usually held back, and Jason was just too young.
Mr. Big Guns (seriously, his arms were HUGE) had a nice long chat with Abby and Liza both today. I missed most of it, cause I was on the range when it happened, but I guess they were unhappy about Jason and Aubrey being given guns. According to Karla, he told them to get over it. “They’re old enough to die, they’re old enough to fight not to die.” So yeah. They have guns. They get extra training in gun safety though, which appeased Abby. Liza…not so much. She was okay with Jack learning, was proud when he tested out on the first try, but she doesn’t want her baby girl with a gun, no matter how well trained. Aubrey isn’t all that thrilled with the idea either, but she told her mom “I’d rather be shooting a zombie than BEING a zombie.”
Anyway, after Mr. Guns said we passed muster, he handed us over to Muscles McGee (not sure what rank he is) for hand-to-hand training. He looked annoyed when Roger managed to test out immediately. He also did not find it amusing when I referred to the guy before him as Mr. Big Guns. He wasn’t happy that I didn’t seem to care about his lack of amusement, either. We did about eight hours training with him before he let us go for the day. General Williams met us afterwards, and told us our new schedule.
Those of us who tested out on the guns will only be doing two hours a day on the range, and then we will be spending the remaining eight hours on hand-to-hand, with lunch in there….somewhere. Those who did not test out immediately on side-arm training will train five hours hand to hand, then lunch, and five hours on the range. Roger will be spending two hours on hand-to-hand, and eight hours on the range, with a lunch break in there somewhere. If we get to the point where we can test out of both, we will still be required to do two hours of one and then the other every day, and then spend the remaining time teaching the other civilians how to tear up the fields and get them ready for planting.
Sounds like so much fun, doesn’t it? Yeah. Off to bed. It finally stopped storming, tomorrow is a new day, and oh my god, I HURT.
HE BIT ME. That stupid sonofabitch BIT ME!
Muscles McGee wants to fucking DIE. He was teaching us ways to snap the neck, and one of them involves something like a headlock. So here we are, practicing the moves with our own military Rock’em Sock’em people, and he calls for a break, then calls me up to the front.
I’m thinking, aw crap, he heard me call them “rock’em sock’em”’s and gonna give me shit again. But no, he wants me to demonstrate the move in front of the class. So…okay, let’s do this. Turn, duck, get behind him, go for the headlock, and OW.
Then he has the nerve to stand up and tell us, “and this is why we wear protection.” FUCK YOU ASS HAT! Sorry sack of shit, AGH!
SO. Now. We have arm guard things. They’re leather. Hard leather. He’s an asshole. Whatever. He didn’t break skin, but I have a bruise and ASSHOLE.
Fuck it. I’m..just…UGH.
Ps: HE IS NOW SARGENT SHORT DICK.
Shelly couldn’t write today. She made the mistake of referring to Cpt. Jean as “Sergeant Short Dick” to her sparring partner, and he heard her. He was her sparring partner for the rest of the day. She is currently curled up, with ice packs and heating pads…pretty much everywhere. And she has to be back up there in the morning. She says to tell whoever is reading this that his penis must be abnormally small and his brain isn’t much bigger. Also something about buying a sense of humor and shoving it up his ass. She’s got her face buried in a pillow, so I can’t really understand her that well. (Sorry Shel.)
I hate him. I. Hate. Him. If he thinks torture is the way to get me to stop calling him by his EARNED NAME, then he’s got another thing coming.
He had me running today. Kept yelling, “there’s a deadhead right behind you, GET THOSE KNEES UP.”
Motherfucker, I’ll show you deadhead, get me my fucking gun, you asswipe. GET THOSE KNEES UP and kiss your ass goodbye! Fucking asshole.
He does that shit to me tomorrow, and I swear to god, I will fucking throatpunch him, and I actually know how to do it right now.
I got a letter from mom today. General Williams actually dropped it off the other day, but I was so ugh with everything, I didn’t even notice it on the counter until I got home today. Nothing new, really. Just that she hoped I was playing nice with everyone, and “please, for the love of god, try not to piss off the nice army men.” Yeah, too late for that mom. Dad added “but if you do, remember to aim for the throat or the balls.” I’m guessing he did that after she had already signed it and everything, cause I’m pretty sure she would’ve scribbled it out if she had seen it.
Have I mentioned that I love my dad?
Jason tested out on guns today! So did Keith, Roger, and Abby. The general sent over a specialist to test us on hand-to-hand, and a bunch of us passed that too. The only ones still having to do the full 8 hours with Sgt. SD are the Goulds, Abby, Jason, and Melly, and I think Melly will probably test out tomorrow. She’s got the moves down, she just needs to pick up the speed a little bit.
Aubrey might test out tomorrow, too. She’s a scrappy little thing, and she knows how to use her size to her advantage. She actually caught Sgt. SD by surprise today. He went to grab her and she dropped and rolled right between his legs…that part was planned. But she was supposed to get up quick and run to one of us, and instead she jumped up on his back and got her arm up around his neck like she was trying to put him in a chokehold. He broke the hold, of course, but he clapped her on the back for that one. Told her, if it was a zombie, she could’ve used her weight to drag it down, and then stomped on its neck to break it, but that she would need to work on directing the fall so she didn’t end up pinned underneath it, and her leg strength to make sure she could make it a clean break. He has her working with someone new, practicing the falling thing, and he gave her exercises for her legs. She’s also supposed to be working on following orders. But whatever, that was awesome.
I’m so ridiculously proud of my people today. And to make it even better, when we were walking home earlier, Aubrey came over and told me “that was payback for hurting you.” Best. Kid. Ever. Seriously. I expected something like that from Jason, not this kid. That was…just….love it.
Off to bed. Tomorrow is a short day, training wise, but then we’re gonna be helping getting things ready for planting. The general told me the crew already have shovels and rakes and such at the sites. Depending on how this goes, I might not write tomorrow. It could be another hurts too much to move night. Wish us luck.
Aubrey and Melly tested out on hand to hand today. Everyone but Liza has tested out in side-arm training, so all that’s left is for her to pass that, and then her, Keith, Jack and Jason to test out on hand to hand, and we’re done.
We got a lot more done in the fields than I thought we would. Mostly because of how rainy it’s been. It rained today too, so the ground is wet and easy to move. I suggested having someone get one of the jeeps and go mudding, basically, to tear up the grass and dirt. We got one entire field done in less than an hour, just doing that. I talked to one of the guys about starting a compost heap. Old food, rotten veggies, anything like that would be good. He went and talked to someone higher up about authorizing a trip to collect stuff from houses and stores to use. They’re supposed to be doing that tonight.
One of the doctors swung by today. She knew most of us tested out, and someone told her about my brother’s wife being due in the next couple weeks, so she was wondering if any of our people would be interested in training with them next, instead of working in the fields. Roger immediately volunteered, of course. Scott did as well, which was a shock, but whatever. Karla and Josh both went, too. Josh came home crying. A baby was born today, and he got to help out, even though it was only his first day. It was a little girl, and the mom named her “Rebecca.” She had no idea, of course, but yeah. It’s his turn in the cuddle pile again. I’m about to go join them. I think we’re all a little heart sore tonight.
Abby tested out of hand-to-hand today, and has moved on to training with the doctors. Jack and Jason are expected to test out tomorrow, and they’ll come to help out with the fields. Keith might make it out tomorrow. He’s already stated that he wants to do medic training as well. He’s “sick of being useless,” which is fair enough. He wants to feel like he’s pulling his own weight, I can understand that. I just wish his wife would do the same. Liza managed to test out on hand-to-hand with Abby today, but she still hasn’t tested out on guns. If she doesn’t get her shit together by Monday, she’s staying here.
Got a compost area set up, and half a field tilled. Gen. Williams has his engineers working on irrigation tunnels. I suggested the greenhouse idea I thought of before for my dad, and he’s already got people working on one of those, too. I saw a bunch of people carrying in large sheets of glass earlier. I’m guessing they’re taking them from the houses, since they don’t look like car windows. Tomorrow is finishing the field tilling and getting the planting done.
OH! I met our team today. The ones who will be escorting us home. The team leader is a bit of an asshole, and had to be taken down a peg, but the rest are okay. Corporal Craphead thought he was going to be in charge of me and my people. I marched out of that meeting and went straight to General Williams to get that shit sorted out. I don’t mind him being in charge of the soldiers, but oh hell no, he is NOT bossing MY people around, and he DAMN SURE ain’t telling ME what to do.
If I can lead my people from New York fucking CITY down to HERE, I think I can handle getting us another fifteen miles, thankyouverymuch. It turned into another compromise. As long as my people don’t do anything stupid to get us all killed, they are under my jurisdiction. In return, I will stop calling Cpt. Jean “Sergeant Short Dick” and I will address all military personnel by their proper names, from here on, instead of whatever name I come up with.
Mr. Big Guns already stopped by and told me he liked the name I gave him, so I can still call him that if I want to. Personally, I find it hilarious that any of them think I’m really gonna stop calling them by whatever name I want to. I mean, really. Nice try, but no.
One of the guys in the team is fucking…wow. Hello. How the hell are you? Just…mmm. I might’ve drooled a little bit, no lie. And he might be the only one beside the general I’ll call by his real name: Specialist Richard Johnson.
No lie. His name is basically Dick Dick. (I said that earlier, and Josh said, ‘Dick, dick, goose?’ I laughed so hard I snorted.) If he had been a private, I would’ve ended up in the brig, I just know it. As it was, I was giggling my ass off every time I had to say “Specialist Johnson.” At least he has way more of a sense of humor then the rest of the guys here. He just asked me to get the dick jokes out of the way before we hit the road. Me: “That’s gonna be hard.”
He just shook his head and walked away. This is going to be so much fun…
Tomorrow is her last fucking chance. She’d better test out. She is the LAST ONE. Everyone else is done. I have to talk to the general. Maybe he’ll let us slide on this one, since she’s the ONLY one who hasn’t passed yet. Maybe I’ll agree to take another army dude with us to make up for her. I dunno, but this is…ugh.
Josh got to practice giving stitches today. He said he felt kinda sick, but he made it. Abby threw up when it was her turn, but she managed it, too. Keith passed out. He woke up, tried again…fainted again. They checked him out and he was dehydrated. It’s been hot the past couple days, so that’s not a huge surprise or anything. They pumped him full of fluids and sent him home. He gets to go back tomorrow and try again. Here’s hoping the third time’s the charm.
I’m yawning my brains out. Mr. Big Guns came pounding on the door at 3am, yelling MOVE YOUR ASSES and something about guns and a buncha other shit I didn’t half understand cause it was three fucking am. Went running outside, gun in hand, looking for something to shoot, and I hear a scream inside the house, followed up by gun shots. Go running back inside, and Liza is standing just inside the front door, shooting at something in the backdoor way, a good 30ft away. She finally ran out of bullets, and Scott goes to check it out…it was a dummy. A headless dummy.
Mr. Guns stepped around us all, looked at the walls and doorway where the dummy had been. Not a hole anywhere there wasn’t supposed to be one. Looked back at Liza: “You passed.”
Then he drug us all off to do some practice shooting in the dark. Sun came up, we did some more work in the field, and now we’re home. Liza isn’t happy with Mr. BG. Threw herself a full on hissy fit all over him. She was muttering some very unkind things about him when we left the range this morning, and I’m pretty sure she hurt herself with the shovels when she was out in the field. I saw her rubbing her shoulder and wincing. She’s supposed to be resting right now with a heating pad, but we’ll see. Aubrey definitely gets her “Imma do what I wanna do” streak from her mama. Especially when she’s in a pissy mood like she’s been in today.
Whatever, I’m just glad she passed. I have to talk to General Williams later about when we can leave. If I had my say, we’d be leaving now, but I don’t think he’s gonna go for that. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know he needs dad’s help, I’d be worried about him making up one thing after another to keep us here.
About to eat lunch and then I think I might take a nap. I’m worried I won’t fall asleep tonight if I do, but as tired as I am…we’ll see.
No rest for the wicked. Or for us, apparently. It started raining right after lunch yesterday, and Sergeant SD decided it would be a good time to practice our hand-to-hand. Liza started whining about how we were all tired, and she was hurt, and blah blah blah, but – and I absolutely HATE saying this, BUT – he brought up a good point. The trolls aren’t going to wait for us to get a nap or recover from a wound before they mob us. We’re gonna have to learn to fight, no matter what state we’re in.
I’m honestly not sure who was more surprised when I sided with him…Liza or Sgt. SD. The look on his face was almost worth it. We worked with him for a couple hours, ate dinner then worked with Mr. BG. All of it in the rain. By the time we got home, most of us just stripped and fell into bed (and if Abby thinks I didn’t see her and Dave go into the same room together…the ship sails on, my friends!).
No training today. We leave tomorrow morning, so we’ve been told to rest up. Everything is packed and waiting at the edge of town. Since it SHOULD only take us about three days to get there, maybe four, depending on the trolls, we ditched a lot of the crap.
We’ve kept three of the larger tents, the shovels, the chickens, the cooking stuff, the handguns and rifles, of course, our box of molotovs, tools, food and water. Oh, and the sleeping bags. Mostly to lay on since it’s been so warm lately, but yeah. We put the chickens in the wagon with the crap, and the kids are gonna ride in the other wagon along with the med kits and emergency supplies. The idea is that, if need be, we can drop everything else and take off with the kids and stuff that we can’t do without.
Supposed to meet up with the general and Corporal Craphead later to go over some last minute crap, and then we’re gonna move from the apartments we’re in now, over to a place closer to where the wagons are. It’ll just be Scott, Dave and I in the meeting, so the others will be moving what little stuff not in the wagons over to the new place. I guess the general has arranged for someone to bring us all food tonight and in the morning.
No lie, I’m starting to get excited. I’m almost home.
Still excited, but now a little more confident…and bit worried. Cpl. CH said that there’s a lot of activity between here and home. He’s not sure if it’s because of the sounds both communities are making as they build up defenses, or if there’s something else going on, but either way, we’re gonna have to be careful and extra quiet.
The wagons are getting an extra helping of oil tonight, and we’ll be taking some with us to apply everyday before we leave. The general has sent out a couple teams to north and to the south along the road we’ll be taking to be a distraction. Basically, they’re gonna go out here and make a bunch of noise to draw the trolls away from us. There’s still a chance of us getting caught by a horde moving towards either of those, so we’re also carrying flares and something, I don’t remember what it’s called. It looks like a rocket launcher, so that’s what I’m calling it.
They have already secured a mile down the road, and they’ve set it up so we’ll have cover fire, if needed, for at least another quarter mile. They also sent a small team to dad’s place to try and secure as much of the road coming this way as possible, and to provide cover fire – again, if needed.
The sheer amount of support they’re putting out there is kinda scary, hence the being worried, but I also found out that five of the people they’re sending with us are either green beret or delta, so um, can you say BAD ASS?! (Specialist Dick is one of them. So he’s a bad ass with a nice ass, hell yeah!) One of the others is an engineer, Specialist Gray, I think? Anyway, she’s going with us to take a look at what dad and them have so far, so she can make a list of what’s needed.
So excited, people. So. Friggen. Excited.
Also, Corporal CH isn’t quite so crappy anymore. After the meeting, he was leading us to the new place, and I referred to him as “Corporal Craphead” without thinking. He gave me this dirty look and told me he expected me to have a more creative name for him by morning.
Been thinking of new names for the past hour, but the fun’s kinda gone out of it. I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Right now I just want to sleep.