You may be wondering why there was no update yesterday. I apologize to those of you out there who have told me that you take some solace in this blog, as a reminder that others are out there. But Saturday was a necessary exception to my "at least" daily update rule.
The reality is that once in a while, situations come up where there is simply too much to do, little warning that we have to do it, and no time to set up a back up plan...So, I missed.
Yesterday morning, before dawn, two of my best friends finally managed to get in touch with me. They live in southern Illinois, and basically, we HAD to get there to pick them up. That area of the country has been hit harder than most; I chalk it up to the incredible flatness of the landscape making it very easy for the zombies to travel.
Courtney and Steve were holed up in their house, in a bad situation: out of food, entrances weakened from constant attack, and unable to find any other survivors at all. I know a lot of people in that area, and from what I have been able to glean, many of my other friends fled.
I would have asked Pat or Little David to post something for me, but everyone was so busy trying to make this neighborhood more secure that my blog was the last thing on anyone's mind. So while the rest of the group was going into town to scavenge gas and ferry cars and supplies in, Jess and I took a long, long road trip.
There was no great drama to it. The drive used to take about five hours, and surprisingly, this time it only took about an extra hour and a half. Once we got out of Louisville, the interstate was fairly clear. We passed one other car in Indiana, but they were as wary of us as we of them. Courtney and Steve were fully capable of getting to us if they had thought it possible, but after seeing the desolation around them, I'm not surprised that they believed the trip to our little safe haven would take them days, if not weeks. And they had no supplies for that, because every store was burned down, almost every home looted, and enormous droves of zombies milled about nearly everywhere.
So we got them. More than thirteen hours of driving, skirting dangerous wrecks and having to mow down the undead half a dozen times, and they are safe at our home.
While we were gone, everyone else was busy. It's clear that the wake-up call from the looters around here has been received by my mom, David and his family, and Pat...if only Tate and the others had made it. We have to assume they never will.
Our subdivision is walled in by cars. Huge lines of them, bumper to bumper. Pat and the others packed them into every little space available, to make it that much harder for the zombies to get through. My front yard is surrounded by them, and we plan on using them as a base to make a wall. They must have worked the entire time we were gone to have done so much. I saw miles of fishing line strung between spaces, cans hidden in corners. Early warning systems, if only basic ones. Effective against all forms of threat, undead or otherwise.
Lots of work to do, but two more people to help us do it. And two of my favorite ones, at that.
I will keep them safe.
Alive, at least.
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