The house is as safe as we can make it for now.
Jess is out with Patrick, doing some last minute shopping, and I felt it was necessary to send the six foot three, two hundred eighty pound Alaskan with her, because it's getting crazy around here. The stores are being rushed, people are panicked, and while there have been only minor reports of outbreaks in Lexington and Louisville, those outbreaks mean the clock is ticking. For now I am more worried about actual riots and looters than I am the zombies.
Mom is refusing to leave her house to come stay with us. We did some quick shoring up, enough that her doors are going nowhere and the windows are secure, but I'm worried it won't be enough. Pat assures me that he will keep watch on her, try to check in. He is more of a friend than I probably deserve.
I expect it to spread here in less than two days. I truly hope that we will have to wait for the undead to walk here from the bigger cities, that some bitten person doesn't bring it to our doorstep before nature does, but somehow I doubt it. With that in mind, here is another, smaller list of things to have. (Note: we have ALL of these)
Buck knives, machetes, compound bows with lots of arrows, lengths of quality wood to make bows with (thanks, internet, for showing us how, right Here), woodworking tools, strong hemp twine, lots of rope ( we have a variety of types, to climb with, secure things, and make nets), tons of dowels for new arrows, bag of goosefeathers and glue, hatchets, axes, sledgehammer, drywall hammers, crowbars, baseball bats, shotguns, pistols, rifles, a few tasers, and an entire closet full of ammo.
We also bought some bullet molds, a bunch of gunpowder, and some lead shot. But any way you cut it, we will eventually run out of bullets, so we will likely try to perfect making bows and arrows.
It's looking like full-on panic is coming to Frankfort, and we just this morning got the portable solar panels up. We will tackle the wind turbine later, and the crank generator is getting hooked up to our stationary bike. I feel sort of bad, but the guy that owned the Green Shop in Versailles must have had kin in Ohio, because his shop was closed.
We opened it with bricks.
If he makes it through, I will pay him back for all the things we stole. But right now I have to think about myself, and my family. His battery packs will keep us cooking indoors after the gas is shut off, and any juice left over will let me tap away at my netbook, allowing some sort of record of this insanity.
For as long as we last, anyway.