(based on the Blog Like It's The End of the World meme)
If there was anything I can credit this president with, it's the lifting of the 10 day waiting period for guns yesterday.
If Devon's still alive, he must be laughing his ass off that I'm holding in my hands the device that sparked such contention between us. Then again, it's not exactly as if I'm turning it on the living. I like to keep telling myself that.
The fact that I still have internet access and cable gives me hope that some of my friends are still out there. When I first heard of the problem a few days ago, I thought it'd be all right. Even though my flat is surrounded on three sides by cemeteries (Graceland to the south, Calgary to the north, and about three or four to the west of me), I figured it was still containable. The percentages of dead rising from the grave is still statistically small. In Graceland, they're infinitessimal. Potter Palmer's dusty bones weren't going to break out of the mausoleum any time soon. It had to be the -recently- dead.
Reading Brad's blog on infection rates and contamination spheres was what pushed me to my current state. That, and the shutting down of the El. Calgary meant that Howard Street was going to fall fast. Graceland meant Wilson. From those tight packets, it was going to go crazy.
I've met a lot of new friends in my building. Unsurprisingly, most are college students. En masse, we made a supply push to Dominick's on Howard and back. The activity was still relatively minimal. The fights were more within Dominick's with the living. I'm really not proud of what I did. A few of us pulled the same stunt over at some of the gun shops on far Devon. The further we got from our building, the scarier it became.
Both entrances to the building are under an armed barricade. We've blocked the windows on the ground apartments, and moved everyone up into the upper floors. I'm blessed with not having a sudden roommate. The agreement is volunteer four hour shifts. In our neighborhood, we're not unique. The large apartment building just east of the El stop is a fortress. At last, the gangs are doing something useful, even if it's protecting their own.
We've despaired of rescue. Most of the national guard and reserves are out in the desert. We're not getting much straight news, but the rumor is our entire military in Iraq is literally being eaten alive. It seems the Lancet study was more accurate than people gave it credit.
So I'm here with Tama, my new Glock, and a ton of ammunition. Tama, unsurprisingly, is a mess. The tension all around him keeps him yowling non stop. From my kitchen window, I can see the street, so I'm getting target practice in when I get twitchy. Other than that, it's games and cable right now, games when the cable goes, and books when the electricity goes. Internet-wise, my obsession can't keep me from the compiliation of survivor blogs
that are building up. I'm stocked officially for a month. Given community need, I figure it's a week. Food is where it's going to get really ugly in my neighborhood. The smaller sources have got to be wiped. And the big ones...The risk is -so- great, and I'm certain the gangs have the Howard Dominick's by now.
I wish I knew if any of you are still around. I can't bear the thought of any of you changed like the staggering masses I've seen outside, but it's all that's going through my brain. I envision Brenda having a valiant, bladed last stand. Kevin plowing through unnamed dead before they yank him out of the car he finished buying. Joe with bushmills in one hand and a shotgun in the other. My family in the hills of California. My brother in the valley. Before my cell reception went, Puppy'd assured me he and Bunny would be okay. Puppy's smart. I trust him. If any of you -are- still out there, leave a message on the journal.
I know only one person recently dead in my circle. And intellectually, I know that his family buried him in traditional funeral attire. But all I can see in my mind is Yuri Tsukino, clad in a lycra bodysuit, and a Sailor Venus costume, shuffling with the rest of the hungry dead, a painted smile on her fiberglass face, and a nightmare underneath the mask.
UPDATE: The rumor is over a half million dead attacked the living in Iraq From the locations of the bodies, the infection to the civilian population is ridiculous. We're losing soldiers like crazy. I'm waiting for more information. Maybe an airstrike?