Hey guys, Mono here. You got your ears on? Damn, no communication in days. I hope you guys are safe.
I'm sitting here in my large hole in the ground, trying to wrap my head around the events of the last few days. Having some difficulty doing it. I try to conserve my small stash of aspirin since no one is making more of it. One of my plant books has the name of the plant where aspirin comes from. You make a tea out of the plant, then drink up. But it's a very mild form compared to commercial aspirin, and I don't feel like drinking an ocean of tea when three pills will do the job. Took them awhile ago. You know, most folks just don't get it. Torture isn't done to get reliable intel from others. Hell, even the guys good at it know that. It's simply done for its own sake. Sometimes to simply confirm information that's already known. But torture is done by the quiet, sick, twisted types who enjoy destroying a human-being one piece at a time.
I'm not one of those. I asked Sergay to go over and have a look at the prisoner in the shack, before I got there. Sure enough, he confirmed never having seen him before. But that just means the guy wasn't the one out of twelve who bragged about being inside. That guy could have traded with Sergay, or he could have actually snuck in. I walked in as calm as could be. No expression on my face. Introduced myself, told him I was there for information, and told him that our leader was getting fed up with keeping him alive. All true, by the way. I asked him if there were others in his group, and if they knew about the fort. His sarcastic response was predictable.
I immediately pulled out that very inexpensive tactical folder I had. Then, sliced him across the jaw-line on his left cheek. Yeah.... That surprised him. I then asked him again. Told him if he didn't tell me what I needed to know this time, I'd slice his throat. He talked. The look of pure fear on his face and in his voice were sickening to me. But I didn't show it. Called over the nurse to stitch him up. (Oh yeah, I bet that made me look like a fricking Saint in her eyes after our earlier encounter.)
He mentioned being part of a bigger group. But they had split off from the others weeks ago due to the whole cannibalism thing. So, no clue if this other group is friendly, hostile, or neutral. Just because they despise one aspect, doesn't mean they despise all of them. They might murder a man for a bag of rotten apples. The fact they don't make apple and arm stew doesn't count for much. Joshua was delighted with my success in getting the man to talk. Well, goody for him! I'm personally starting to think that with the exception of more food, and ammo; I was better off on my own. Sure, I did things I'm not completely proud of. We all have. No sense pretending there. But we all have our limits. Just how far we're willing to go before we stop. For some, that bar is set higher than for others. But Bullets, Beef, and Beer aren't worth a Man's soul. I've still got mine. If I start to feel it slipping away, I'm Bugging Out of the fort. It's no fun when you don't know who the bad guys are....
And, if the folks at the fort saw what happened the next day, they'd be confused as well. The morning started out badly. A public scene. Tanner was pissed at the doctor about something. Not sure why or what. But there was a great deal of shouting outside the medic clinic. Tanner doing all of it. Tanner got right up in the doctor's face, and threatened him. Threatened to kill him if he annoyed him ever again. The doctor was scared. He hasn't been a young man in a long time. Moe came out of the clinic. Apparently the doctor was checking on his gunshot wound. Seeing Moe, Tanner calmed down. But only a bit. Moe managed to lead him away. A good chunk of the population got a good look at what happened. Though Joshua wasn't there. Later on, I was going to be part of a scouting party going out to try to find this other group. Quite a few scouting parties were going out that day. Joshua likes to keep the same group of guys together. Yeah, I ended up with Tanner again. Mendez took over Carlos' spot. Moe was still recovering. So a guy named Kris Reiner took his spot this time. (Yeah, the dude spells it with a "K." He might have been a fricking hipster before the infection broke out.) We were out there for hours. Then.... Ray said he had to take a leak. Tanner said he did too. Off they went.
We heard a gunshot, and Ray shouted they were under fire. Miller still had visions of that pregnant girl and her daddy's rifle floating in his head. He confessed to me before-hand that it really bothered him. But there were no other shots. Ray shouted that he needed help up by his position. I stayed low and sprinted in a zig-zag pattern with the others watching my back. No more shots. Ray swore he saw someone run off. The others came up and gave chase in the direction he mentioned. I stayed with Ray.... and Tanner's body. One shot is all it takes. No more shots....
Once again something just didn't seem right. Ray said he still needed to piss. He walked away from the rotten old tree he and I were standing at along with where Tanner was standing with his back to the woods. While Ray was gone, I dug out the bullet with my Steel Heart II. That tree really was rotten. There was practically no deformity to the bullet. Which surprised the crap out of me since it went through Tanner's skull first, before hitting the tree. Then again, bullets can do funny things. The guys came back. They saw no one. Found no one. Which, honestly; I wasn't surprised one bit. Okay, three funerals to preside over during the next day instead of two. We would have buried the pregnant girl, but some sort of wild animal carried away what was left of her. Considering the job Ray did on her, I'm surprised half of her didn't tear away while she was dragged away. I'll tell you guys this though, I was not going to volunteer to tell Moe. Ray volunteered to do it. But then Mendez jumped in. He and Moe are very good friends. Mendez felt the news of his brother's death would be a bit easier to take if it came from him.
When we got back, I went straight to the warehouse. Very few know that Sergay keeps reloading components there for trade as well. As in small buckets of various bullets, buckets for brass, and even some gun-powder too. Though not in buckets. I wish he'd organize those items better. Took me a good while to sort through that bucket of bullets. Found what I was searching for though. A matching bullet to the one in my pocket. It was .9mm ball ammo. No doubt about it. Despite being a wildly popular round, only one person in our little group carries a nine. (Just to be sure, I checked with Mendez and Kris. Kris uses a .22 Magnum snubby revolver with adjustable sights. Mendez, a Colt Officer's ACP in .45 ACP.) Sure, Tanner could have been shot from a distance by someone with a .9mm carbine. But I knew better. Ray had no problem following Tanner's orders down to the letter. So why kill him? Well, I knew why.
I went to the Bar. Or, what constitutes a Bar over at the fort. It was late. Just had a feeling Ray would be there. Due to the hour, the place was officially closed. Joshua doesn't want folks getting drunk late at night. But when you're one of the guys who routinely puts his life in danger by going outside the walls.... You get a few perks that no one else gets to enjoy. That also meant I had late-night access to the Bar as well. Ray barely looked at me as I walked in. Sat down next to him. He said he wanted to be alone. I told him I'd honor his wish. But first, I wanted to say something. I told him a true story that a neighbor of mine once told me when I was a bit older. He didn't want to hear it. But I asked him to do me a favor and indulge me. He did.
Once upon a time, there was a soldier named "Cobra." And no, his C.O. wasn't some dude with a metal face named "Destro." Cobra was a big, buff, Good Ol' Boy. He liked killing. He was really good at it too. Everyone in his unit knew it. One day, Cobra got real angry with the only medic for miles around. Threatened to kill the guy. Only medic for miles around. Tear his head clean off. Only medic for miles around. Unit knew he could do it. Knew he wasn't kidding. Very next mission, later that day, someone in Cobra's unit was manning the machine gun in one helicopter. Side door wide open. He looks up, and his chopper is parallel with the other one from the unit. Its doors wide open too. And, it's Cobra manning the machine gun in that chopper. His back turned since both machine guns in both choppers face the same way out the side entrance. But no doubt who it was. This soldier who sometimes had drinks with Cobra, saw an opportunity, and took it. Didn't plan it at all. It just presented itself, and he took it. He snapped that machine gun up, fired a short burst with as careful aim as he could.... and that was the end of Cobra. It was the end of the biggest threat they had to their survival. Because Cobra is the sort of guy who keeps his word, and is fully capable of killing someone. Someone like the only doctor, I mean medic, for many miles around. The only guy who can patch up gunshot wounds and other severe injuries. Someone who is vital to the survival of the unit. I mean it's easy to bandage a gunshot wound to the arm. But only an experienced professional knows how to look for signs of infection and how to properly treat it. Units need medics. Large groups of people in one place, need a doctor. It's just survival.
Others knew what that soldier had done to Cobra. When the investigation started, all of a sudden; those who knew.... said they had no clue what happened to Good Ol' Cobra. No clue at all. It wasn't something that needed to be talked it. Just survival. You're starving, you see a rabbit, you shoot it, kill it, skin it, cook it, eat it. It's just survival. No actual need to ever talk about it. None at all....
I reached into my pocket and placed Ray's bullet on the counter. He looked over at it with barely any interest before slowly putting it away in his pocket. The bartender was cleaning up on the far end of the counter. I called him over, and told him to get my buddy another beer; on me. Wished Ray a good night, and walked out. The funerals the next morning went more or less smoothly. I picked my words very carefully at Tanner's. Though funerals are easy if you just remember to emphasize the good things a man has done while completely ignoring the bad. The Brew-master doesn't mind that I keep borrowing his full-sized Bible. That's good at least. Oh yeah, then things got even worse!
I was down by the makeshift firing range with Miller. Only room to accommodate two shooters at a time. I needed more practice with my Mini-14. The one crappy mag is great for practicing clearing jams. Miller was really bothered by what took place. Can't blame him. Wanted to ease his pain a bit. But like I said to Ray, It's just survival. No actual need to talk about it. He was getting much better with Carlos' lever-gun. It was on the way back that my gut flared up again. One of the guys had found a clever way to protect plants from the Rabs. We could plant food outside the walls now. The Rabs only eat meat, but they'd trample over everything. Well, this clever fellow found a way to prevent that. It also kept uninfected critters away too. So, Joshua started up teams of workers, sent outside the walls. Guarded by armed men on the look-out for Rabs. Things seemed to be going well. But as Miller and I left the range, I noticed one group that had just returned. Everything seemed fine at first. But my gut went off. I noticed a guy in a plaid red shirt acting nervous. He kept pulling down one sleeve of his shirt even though it was already down.
A thought occurred to me. I whispered to Miller, and he nodded. I went up to one of the armed escorts, and asked him if all the workers were checked before being allowed back inside. He said no, but added they encountered no Rabs. Therefore no need to check. I asked if anyone had been left alone. "No," was his reply. I then asked if anyone had gone off to pee by themselves during the day. That got me a different reaction than a quick "No".....
I then ordered all the workers against the wall. I told them they were going to be strip searched. Now the workers were all those who are not part of Joshua's group. (As I later learned, none are part of the group that supports Joshua and his men either. Okay, so there's favortism going on. Not all that shocking.) They protested. But when Miller chambered a round by working the lever on Carlos' rifle, and I pulled back on the bolt of the Mini-14, those protests stopped. Red shirt made a run for it! He didn't get far. One of the guys who was assigned to watch the group on the outside, heard what was happening. He just assumed that Red shirt must have somehow gotten infected, tried to hide it, then made a run for it when he realized he was going to be found out.
His assumption proved correct. We found a bite mark on his arm. Not too severe. Most likely, he went off to pee, got attacked by a lone Rab who bit into his arm as he turned around to face it, and he must have somehow killed it before it could tear off a chunk of flesh. But not before infecting him with the bite. I had made it clear that all group members were to be searched before being allowed back in. Those orders were ignored. The guards were punished. The one who gunned down Red shirt was punished too. Just not quite as badly as the others. Seems both Miller and I earned some big browne points with Joshua for that one. It would have marked the first time the virus got inside the walls and spread. It still happened. Just not the second part. The other members still had to strip. They just didn't argue about it now.
Crap, it's just past Midnight here. I'm going to stay up a bit and then hit the bed. "Why, are you angry at it?" Just a lame joke an ex-coworker used to make all the time at one of my different security giggs. Obviously not one of the ones where I worked alone. Just popped into my head. I guess it's better than a bullet popping in there....
Talk to me guys. Let me know you're still alive out there. Tanner isn't. And his brother is pretty much dead inside.
