ImageImageImageImageImage

True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons)

Moderators: LyricalRico, nate33, montestewart

User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#41 » by Nivek » Wed Nov 2, 2011 2:27 pm

Good to hear from you doc. Glad you're surviving in your own inimitable fashion. Could have used your advice a few weeks back when stuff started going to hell. I was downtown for a meeting. Reporting to the committee on the progress of our PR initiative. After lunch, I was up at the front of the room going through the PowerPoint when the chairman sorta glazed over and started snacking on my VP. Room went fricking bonkers. I ended up braining him with the Sanyo LCD projector.

The hotel's tech guy started in on me about how I was gonna have to pay for it. Damn near brained him too. But then the ghoulies came pouring in from the lobby, and I busted out the window instead.

Everything's a mixed blessing now. Not many of those sprinter-hunter Zs -- we call 'em Lewises around my way. Most of them are just walkers. Plodding along. Reaching. Always reaching. Bright side is they're slow. Keep moving and you can out-walk 'em without too much work. Downside -- if they're freshly turned or still pretty healthy, they don't make much noise. And they don't stink much so they're always catching you by surprise.

The sprinters are a pain. Fast. Never get tired so you can't out-run 'em. Plus they're strong. You just gotta set your feet and get a good clean shot to the head. Otherwise they NEVER stop coming. Good thing they don't know how to defend themselves.

I made it out of the city with nothing but a shovel I pilfered from a road-side crew and a flashlight I took off a mostly-devoured cop. I'd have taken his gun, but shots attract the damn things. Oh yeah, also some kickass boots I got from the Comfort One on Connecticut. Place was already getting looted, and Cole Haan loafers aren't made for walking.

Stuff was a little calmer across the river in Virginia, and I made the mistake of slipping into one of those cheap condo places for some sleep. Woke up just as the front door caved and a whole pile of Zs came with. Thought I was done. Did this kinda spastic threatening thing with the shovel and ended up putting it right through the dry wall. I was right behind it into the next apartment.

Turns out, the place belonged to a Nepalese family and they had these crossed Kukri hanging on a wall. I tore 'em down and went to work. A few more headless Zs in the world.

I've been walking/driving/hitching rides ever since. Don't like hitching because it's hard to tell who's infected and who isn't until they're trying to take a bite. Best vehicle yet was this little RV with a Mercedes label. Thing was fully loaded with propane so I could cook, take a hot shower, and even have some heat at night. The engine uses diesel, which is cool because everyone else is going for the gas.

I had to ditch it four days ago, and those multiple exit points came in handy. I hadn't thought through down and distance like you had. Passed through what used to be Roanoke and set up camp somewhere that seemed remote. F-ing Zs followed. I had just finished eating when I heard the first one slam into the door. They were breaking in through the front windows while I was going out the back door.

I hear there's a safe compound at Ft. Bragg. It's probably a week or more to walk. If I don't hit any Z nests. Stay safe.
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
User avatar
BigA
Analyst
Posts: 3,041
And1: 943
Joined: Oct 05, 2005
Location: Arlington, VA
 

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#42 » by BigA » Wed Nov 2, 2011 3:39 pm

doclinkin wrote:I prefer to park in the center of a parking lot, at a stadium. This tends to keep you far away from any real population center, with good sightlines. Most people never walked to a stadium so there's no residual muscle memory groove to funnel the mob to you.


One catch is that the zombie former athletes have the muscle memory groove to head toward SUVs parked in stadium lots. You could wake up to find yourself eye to eye with zombie Rex Ryan leading his crew to "a goddamn snack." That would be you.

If you're lucky, the zombie athletes will start off banging their heads against your vehicle, providing you with a few precious seconds of warning. We call these headbangers "Frerottes."
"It starts at the top." -- Bradley Beal
User avatar
doclinkin
General Manager
Posts: 9,618
And1: 1,799
Joined: Jul 26, 2004
Location: .wizuds.

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#43 » by doclinkin » Fri Nov 4, 2011 4:03 am

Nivek wrote:Good to hear from you doc. Glad you're surviving in your own inimitable fashion. Could have used your advice a few weeks back when stuff started going to hell. I was downtown for a meeting. Reporting to the committee on the progress of our PR initiative.
...
The sprinters are a pain. Fast. Never get tired so you can't out-run 'em. Plus they're strong. You just gotta set your feet and get a good clean shot to the head. Otherwise they NEVER stop coming. Good thing they don't know how to defend themselves.
...
I made it out of the city with nothing but a shovel I pilfered from a road-side crew and a flashlight I took off a mostly-devoured cop. I'd have taken his gun, but shots attract the damn things.
...
Turns out, the place belonged to a Nepalese family and they had these crossed Kukri hanging on a wall. I tore 'em down and went to work. A few more headless Zs in the world.
...
I've been walking/driving/hitching rides ever since. Best vehicle yet was this little RV with a Mercedes label. Thing was fully loaded with propane so I could cook, take a hot shower, and even have some heat at night. The engine uses diesel, which is cool because everyone else is going for the gas.
...
I hear there's a safe compound at Ft. Bragg. It's probably a week or more to walk. If I don't hit any Z nests. Stay safe.



Kev. God I hope I catch you before you get too far: Fort Bragg is a death trap, steer clear.

I spent a night in a dumpster with a guy who went AWOL early trying to catch up with his girlfriend. He said the current protocol is to open up on anything within sight of the perimeter fence. Seems like too many people heard the same safe-house rumor, and didn't want to wait out quarantine. Then with the exodus checked they all got caught outside. Said the woods around there are now filled with recent 'converts'. Said the brass firebombed Fayetteville and suburbs to smoke and cinders, bulldozed nearby housing to provide clear view all the way around the perimeter.

He says it's almost worse inside the fence: too many people with guns and no real plan except to wait it out and hope the lab coats or Pentagon figures something out. Waiting to starve to death.

I can't say myself, just repeating what I heard, but man, dude seemed like he knew how to handle himself. And could fight like a mother****er. Saved my ass anyway.

We both got caught leading a herd after us from two different directions, me rounding the corner after a Home Depot run, him a failed break-in to a CVS, foiled by the security shutters over the pharmacy and too many dead folks who'd had the same idea once. Anyway we both rounded a corner and saw the other coming the other way, and froze long enough to realize: a) we're both still among the breathers, and b) not for long if we don't get out the way. His crew was closer than mine, I had my BMX then and was actually deliberately drawing a mob away from my hood by keeping a block ahead. His first deader chasing was one of your Carl Lewis hellforleather sprinters, slowed only by the fact that he had his foot on backwards. Have to say I froze, but this dude waits to the last second for it to jump then yanks open a car door for it to dive into, and slams the door on it's head hard enough to pop the skull, done.

I heard his mob coming. Noise said we had maybe four seconds to react: I said "dumpster" and we dove in just in time to slam the lid and pray. Threw my bike and pack in, and me after it as quick as that. Then listened as two wave-fronts hit. I don't know if you know it, but in a frenzy like that the dead will fight each other? Insane. I'll never lose that noise from my head: like sixty alley cats fighting all at once inside a garbage disposal.

I remember in 8th grade a time when two girls fought each other in a stairwell, during the rush before lunch, with nail files, teeth, fists, scratching, headslamming hair-snatching, choking, and all the time screaming in rage. Both had to be hospitalized. This was that, times four dozen, for an hour and forty-five minutes before it dispersed. I know because I noticed military guy had a wristwatch, and, the absurd things you think in these situations, it seemed a ridiculous novelty, like: 'what do you have to be on time for'?

(Answer: he had a chart of sundown and sunrise, and wanted to be somewhere before dark every day, also it helps in navigation. Man, I got to break into a Library for a boy scout manual. My one weakness right now, the only pattern I set, is in hunting for these rare wireless hotspots. There's too few, and I keep dodging near misses. But, like, I'm greedy for google. I miss it so bad. )

Anyway. We spent a long rest in that dumpster outside the Dunkin Donuts. Comparing notes. Eating stale bagels and a rat he cooked with a lighter. Then went on our way. Just saying, Fort Bragg, I'd trust him, sounds like very bad news.
User avatar
doclinkin
General Manager
Posts: 9,618
And1: 1,799
Joined: Jul 26, 2004
Location: .wizuds.

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#44 » by doclinkin » Fri Nov 4, 2011 4:27 am

I envy you your Kukri knives. I do okay myself: I use a Ditch Bank Tool sometimes. Depends on my mission that day. But if I don't need both hands, I like it. It's like a hooked machete on the end of an axe handle. I like the chop and the option for distance. Otherwise, I don't know if this is useful to you, but two tricks I offer, maybe they work for me only:

Talking about sprinters: I can't do what you do, stand planted and let it rip. My feet get jittery and I don't trust my hand/eye coordination or timing. I always sucked at baseball. Was always better with body coordination: jiu jitsu, wrestling, aikido, soccer. Here's what works for me: "Poncho".

Let me explain.

I figured it out early on, when I was also caught downtown. Dupont Circle Metro. Douchey goth kid in a aussie cattleman's duster was trying to eat my actual face, for what? No reason. I jostled him at the top of the escalator or something. I had no idea. RAH! he's trying to grab my hair, I had him stiff armed under the chin with my hand on his voicebox, and this is going nowhere, so hockey style I duck his arm and pull his douchebag trenchcoat up over his head, then twist the extra fabric in a nice neat bundle to tangle his arms too. Then, I guess I panicked but it was a split second thing, not even a decision: pushkicked him onto the down escalator. Shxt. I felt horrible about it, watching him flip all the way down like a human slinky, clearly broke his neck, and everything else, flopping around. Remember, that was before all this. I still feel bad about that one. Hate that the rest has become 'normal'.

Poncho. So anyway, remember back in the day when we used to razz Antawn Jamison for his quoteunquote 'olé defense'? Shxt. It works. I have a waterproof waxed canvas tarp I modified for multiple purposes, poncho, tent, big sack or drag sled. Anyway If I get a runner it's easy to whip it off and wave it matador style, then duck out while he tackles it, wrap up his head and ride him to the ground. Then anything will do the rest: crowbar, cinderblock, whatever's handy. I always kinda chuckle to think I 'Jamisoned' the bastard, and the defense actually worked. I miss you guys. Miss caring about stupid bullshxt like basketball.

Incidentally BigA you bastard, you almost got me killed. Caught me chuckling with your Frerotte line. I walked past a subaru had a huge hole in the windshield size of a manhole, and actually laughed out loud, and said "Frerotte". And wouldn't you know I woke up a bastard who chased me for 8 blocks before I could pull the carpet on him.

Oh. The other tip: they don't sell marbles anymore I don't think, but if you can get a case of loose ball bearings from an autoparts store, or crack a supermarket vending machine full of superballs, then you can buy a couple critical seconds if you need it. Slip and slide. Runners don't zigzag all that well, and tend to faceplant if you give them a slippery surface. On tile floors or stairs a squirt of floor polish works pretty well.

Kev. Funny that you're still flacking for the RV industry. That sounds like the life, what I wouldn't give to just get on the open highway and drive somewhere where there's nobody, and take a deep breath and I don't know, cry or something. I get stuck in my little survival routines and forget there's maybe something else. It's almost like I feel I need the danger to remind myself not to relax. Stay sharp.

Shxt. Hear something. Later. I hope.
User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#45 » by Nivek » Fri Nov 4, 2011 5:54 pm

Now you tell me about Bragg?!

So I'm walking in with three live people I found along the way. Dude calling himself Barnabas was on point. Kaiser on the left, Ups (still wearing the sh*t brown unis) on the right. I'm bringing up the rear. We go past the bright orange flags fluttering in the wind. Distance markers, I guess. We're having a laugh at the signs saying, "Do not enter. Violators will be shot on sight."

Kaiser is saying, "Zombies can't read..." when his head explodes. Except I was the only one who heard him -- Barnabas and Ups...their heads blown off too. I hit the deck. Start crawling back the way I came. Then the f*cking moans start up and Zs lurch over the hill. And the grunts on the walls at Bragg open up. Zs dropping, but the shots drawing more. So many that the grunts can't quite keep up. They're advancing. Closing in on me.

So, I have a choice: stay hunkered down and become a zombie snausage or jump up and get shot. Desperation is the mother of invention or something -- I hack a leg. A Z drops, face next to mine. Snapping. Biting. I roll away, then back and HACK. Head splits. One down.

Next 90 f*cking minutes that's what I'm doing. Slash the leg, bring the Z down, then cave in the skull. Thank god for the kukri.

When it was done, I crawled out. Wished I had a nuke so I could drop it on those asswipes at Bragg.
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#46 » by Nivek » Fri Nov 4, 2011 7:47 pm

doclinkin wrote:I envy you your Kukri knives. I do okay myself: I use a Ditch Bank Tool sometimes. Depends on my mission that day. But if I don't need both hands, I like it. It's like a hooked machete on the end of an axe handle. I like the chop and the option for distance


Wouldn't mind one of those ditchbank things. Two problems with a kukri -- 1) it's not very long. Ditchbank lets you keep some distance. 2) The blades do get dull. Found me a sharpener in Fayetville right before they fire-bombed the place. Which was a stupid f*ck thing to do. Only thing kills the Zs is massive head trauma. All the fire-bombing did was set them on fire. Nothing quite like getting chased by a flaming Lewis.

Poncho.


Who woulda thought we could get self-defense techniques from Jamison? Next you're gonna tell me you got marksmanship ideas from DeShawn Stevenson? 'Bout the only thing I got from The Shawn was a blind-ass, fool-hardy self-confidence that damn near got me killed when I came upon a school bus filled with 35 kindergartners. Thought I could liberate the kiddies and get 'em to safety. Only problem: they'd turned. Except, their eyes hadn't got milky yet, dunno why. Maybe something to do with age. Maybe they hadn't been turned long enough.

Oh. The other tip: they don't sell marbles anymore I don't think, but if you can get a case of loose ball bearings from an autoparts store, or crack a supermarket vending machine full of superballs, then you can buy a couple critical seconds if you need it. Slip and slide. Runners don't zigzag all that well, and tend to faceplant if you give them a slippery surface. On tile floors or stairs a squirt of floor polish works pretty well.


Reminds me -- finally found a use for that black gunk that comes out of the Zs when they've been stilled. It's slippery as hell -- almost like motor oil or some...uhhh...personal lubricant. Barnabas figured it out by slipping and falling in the crap. Before the guys at Bragg got him.

Came in handy one night. We thought we had a safe place to rest -- a whole frigging herd marches up on us. We ran like hell, cutting 'em down as we went. Got a good lead on one herd, but when we got to the top of a hill, we saw another one vectoring in. We kept running -- Barnabas lugging like 6 milk jugs full of this black gunk and refusing to put it down. Finally got a cemetery and found a mausoleum. He poured this gack out all over the sidewalk and steps. Then we set up.

The Lewises got there first. Slipping and sliding and falling. WHACK! Dead. So, we got into a rhythm. Practically an industrial operation. Two guys cracking skulls, two guys clearing bodies. We must've slayed 300 Zs that night.

Kev. Funny that you're still flacking for the RV industry. That sounds like the life, what I wouldn't give to just get on the open highway and drive somewhere where there's nobody, and take a deep breath and I don't know, cry or something. I get stuck in my little survival routines and forget there's maybe something else. It's almost like I feel I need the danger to remind myself not to relax. Stay sharp.

Shxt. Hear something. Later. I hope.


Wish I could go back to flacking. Maybe when this is over.
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#47 » by Nivek » Fri Nov 4, 2011 7:52 pm

Last thing -- my battery's on E, and I won't be able to recharge until the sun comes up tomorrow.

Anyone out there who hasn't figured it out by now: get a weapon with a blade. Sharp edges. If you can't get one, make one. Figure it out. If you absolutely can't do that, get something solid. Car axle. Steel club hammer. Lawnmower blade. Something.

Do NOT try to use a golf club. The shaft breaks and you're f*cked.

Do NOT try to use a baseball bat -- either aluminum or wood. At least not for long. Craniums are hard, even for a rotting Z. Had this fat-boy we called Mickey with us. Kept telling us what a great hitter he was in softball -- SOFTBALL! Carrying this aluminum bat. He cracked a few skulls when the **** started, but then it got bent and he was swallowed up in minutes. I think Ups put him down later.

Point is -- get yourself some tempered steel with a sharp edge. Don't worry about going straight for the head. Hack off an arm or leg to slow 'em down, then the head trauma.

****, battery's dying.

Last thing, make sure...
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#48 » by Nivek » Tue Nov 15, 2011 8:01 pm

I'm still catting around Bragg while I think about where to go next. Maybe DC. I know it's crap up there, but it's home. Used to be anyway. Maybe head South for the winter. Be nice to know something and not just get rumors and stuff.

Anyway, I was between walking buddies, which means it was just me roaming solo. Advantages and disadvantages, like everything else. Don't have to negotiate where I'm going, but I also don't have anyone to stand watch while I sleep. I wouldn't mind getting a dog. German Shepherd or maybe a mutt with some hound.

So I'm checking out this IGA in Hope Mills, NC that didn't look like it had been too picked over. (Turns out I was wrong about that. Folks just went in the back. I digress.)

I'm coming up Main Street and nature's calling, so I duck into a restaurant that seemed quiet and did what I needed to do. Come out and it's one of those "quiet...too quiet" moments. So I wait. Listening.

Nothing.

Five minutes. Ten.

Still nothing.

Go back outside and there he is. Practically on top of me. Sergeant First Class Porter. Good sized dude -- probably 6-3 and I'm guessing 220 easy. Muscles on top of muscles. Recently turned; no more than a day.

He reaches for me, and I jump back, but he's got my shirt and holy crap this Z is strong. Can't break loose -- my body is tightening up, but I'm still just some schlub office worker. I whip out the khukri and chop, catching him square in the Airborne patch on his shoulder.

Black gunk pours out, but does it stop him? Hell no. I chop again, this time to the wrist. Which works. I mean, his hand was still gripping my shirt, but his hand wasn't attached to his wrist anymore.

I step back, then let rip with a wicked slash straight to the forehead. Fricking khukri breaks. Some gunk comes out of the gash, but he doesn't go down. Doesn't even feel it. Keeps coming.

Whip out the other khukri and take another hack. Same damn thing. Khukri comes apart in my hand.

So, I'm down to nothing. Except what I can find. He comes at me and I sidestep at the last second and leg sweep him. In my head I'm hearing Cosell shout, "Down goes Porter, down goes Porter..."

Before the Z could get back up, I grab a cinder block and smash his skull. The cinder block practically turning to dust. But at least he's moaning. I don't know if those things feel pain, but he wasn't feeling good. I grab up a big-ass rock -- one of those decorative boulder things that's about at the limit of what I can lift -- and CRUNCH. One re-dead zombie.

As I'm getting ready to clear the area, I notice something weird next to the rock. So, I go back and roll it off. And suddenly I know why the khukri broke. Dude must have had a head wound at some point. A big chunk of his skull was titanium.
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
User avatar
doclinkin
General Manager
Posts: 9,618
And1: 1,799
Joined: Jul 26, 2004
Location: .wizuds.

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#49 » by doclinkin » Thu Nov 17, 2011 1:58 pm

Long time no talk. The generator burned out at the Library I'd been haunting for wireless access. Nice flat roof, easy access to climb up, a few exist with no crazy parkour skills needed. The weather has been nice, but really I was putting myself at too much risk too often with this google addiction. Had to traverse a few bad news neighborhoods and had drawn too many deaders into the area by accident.

What's funny is you almost get kinda fond of the familiar faces when you see them day after day. I caught myself talking with them. Hello old Red. Hola, Chica, hold your hands? No, sorry, I'm married, you know. Hey it's Mister Innards again, hello buddy.

You almost go out of your way to catch a glimpse. I may be losing my mind.

There was one I called 'Yard Dog' because the poor idiot had gotten a loop of his guts caught around a parking meter and couldn't walk more than a few feet in any direction. I actually spent a good few minutes on a bike once spiraling in circles just to ensure he was good and wound up tight, stealing six feet of his slack. He'd stand there like snapping at flies, or just staring at me, or you know, coughing, barking the way they kinda do. I got kinda used to that marking point on my periodic commute, I got complacent.

Couple days ago, dunno, he musta hit that state of rot where things didn't hold together so good anymore. Or else I dunno maybe he chewed himself free like a fox in a leghold trap, all's I know is he greeted me in the usual way as I coasted past (kark! hark!) then a few seconds later I'm airborne over a parked car. Set off the car alarm. What saved my life is that, when I looked back before I ran I saw the the idiot was actually biting my back tire, fingers tangled in the chain and spokes. Had a look on his face like satisfaction, like the dog who chases trucks and actually manages to take one down and kill it.

I had the giggles for half a day about that. Kept seeing that face as he'd OM NOM NOM on the rubber tire in evident satisfaction. Happy as a pig in shxt. It's not really funny, but I dunno, you had to be there. Scares me though is that he did it so quiet. Almost like he had a plan. I didn't even hear the slap slap slap of his feet on the tarmac. Just laid out and hit me like Sean Taylor come back. I guess he really hated that bike.

Nivek wrote:I'm still catting around Bragg while I think about where to go next. Maybe DC. I know it's crap up there, but it's home. Used to be anyway. Maybe head South for the winter. Be nice to know something and not just get rumors and stuff.

So I'm checking out this IGA in Hope Mills, NC that didn't look like it had been too picked over. (Turns out I was wrong about that. Folks just went in the back. I digress.)


I dunno man, DC is awful. Just awful. Way too many people, way too few safe places. I try to avoid anything familiar, anywhere that civilization used to be. Grocery stores are the worst. That's a honeytrap you want to dodge. Well, no, the worst is Target or WalMart, places that sell both food and supplies. They're even nastier since they don't have big front windows to let the daylight in. Too many people got suckered in and trapped in the rows. I've gotten pretty adept at running the top of aisles if I have to (I love big barns like Home Depot, where I can get supplies from the storage on top of the row) but in general, anywhere that you feel that tug of 'home' is probably dangerous. Too many people, too much danger.

Okay, where I am right now, I got a working cell tower, and google clearly had a robust AI running things, or an elite team of defenders, I dunno. I'll miss it if we ever lose the good god google. But here I got a solution for you. A direction. Since it's just you and me on here, or BigA if he ain't been eaten yet, I'll let you in on a little secret. What you want is a source of food that people don't generally hit. Especially a place with it's own generator. Not too many windows. Etc. Here's yours: One is 5 hours by bike, the other is 11 hours but better avoids civilization.
http://tinyurl.com/sysco-one" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
http://tinyurl.com/sysco-two" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Sysco, my man, is your Shangri La. Food distribution warehouse. Generally with a diesel powered generator, and a lot full of diesel trucks to siphon from. Usually far from residences in some backwater nowhere. Mostly empty. No windows. You just need to find a hot plate to stick in the break room and you have a home for a while.

just me roaming solo.


Saddest sentence. I'm sorry for your losses, my friend. I've got three fifths of my crew back, and the one thing that most reliably gets me out and about is TP/T&P runs: toilet paper, tampons and pampers. Otherwise I'd sit there in the warehouse and eat frozen veges 'til the lights came back on the world.

Dunno. The wife wants us to look at finding some farmhouse somewhere to fortify. At some point someone else is bound to think up the same strategy we got here. She's more worried about live people than dead ones at this point. There's more than a few bad ideas running around loose out there. Many of the people who are best prepared to survive this thing are the worst kind of people to know. And anyway I got to agree that it makes sense to try to come up with a permanent solution. I was just hoping I guess to wait out the winter in a safe place. Dumb idea maybe. If I land somewhere I'll try to drop a note on here, you can help us build the compound. I'm in Fredneck right now but we may look around at someplace even more rural.
User avatar
doclinkin
General Manager
Posts: 9,618
And1: 1,799
Joined: Jul 26, 2004
Location: .wizuds.

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#50 » by doclinkin » Fri May 25, 2012 2:50 am

Bump for nivek
User avatar
Knighthonor
Sixth Man
Posts: 1,865
And1: 98
Joined: Feb 15, 2012

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#51 » by Knighthonor » Fri May 25, 2012 7:57 am

crazy person
User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#52 » by Nivek » Tue May 7, 2013 4:43 pm

Can't believe it's been so long since I last had a hot spot. Can't believe the outbreak is still going. Had a good long stretch in one of those gated mansion places in Virginia that used to belong to a Mormon family. No wifi, but plenty of batteries, radios and cooking fuel. Lots of good reading material. Someone loved classical -- had LOADS of stuff by Mozart and Haydn and Hummel. And the food storage. Even had seeds and whatnot, so I could plant a vegetable garden. Felt like Robinson Crusoe or something. Gotta love the Mormons.

Only problem: I was alone. The days just spooled out over and over and over again. And I started thinking about family. Who might have survived. Where they might be. If they needed help. You probably know how it goes. Once you start thinking like that, you can't just stop. Can't distract yourself by reading Hume or something. That voice gets going about how YOU get to live fat, happy and comfortable, but your family...

So I started scouting the area looking for some Internet. But I couldn't find any. No power anywhere. Even if folks had fuel for generators, the smart ones stopped running them a long time ago because the noise brings the Zs. Was hoping I could maybe find someone with a solar setup.

What I did instead was bring a platoon of Zs to my castle. Don't know what's happening wherever you are, but the damn things are getting smarter down my way. They're thinking. Problem solving. Strategizing. Working together. I don't know how they communicate, but...well...they're doing it.

Here's why I'm back on the road. Went out hunting wifi like I'd been doing and stumbled into a cluster of Zs. No problem really -- after awhile, you get good at defending yourself. If the outbreak ever ends, I could probably teach a new martial art or something. Anyway...I laid out four of 'em quick, and all seemed fine. Went on with my wifi hunt (failed) and then headed back home.

Kept feeling like I was being watched as I trekked back, but every time I stopped, I found nothing around. Just chalked it up to that paranoia you get. You know what I'm talking about.

Went inside the house, locked everything up, and went upstairs to unload my gear. Looked out the window and saw her. A mangy little Z standing in the driveway wearing a Hello Kitty nightgown. Feet about rotted off. Before I could move, she did this howl-growl thing and I just knew. Paradise was lost. Down the street, I could see maybe a dozen of the things lurching my way.

Got my emergency pack, got my cleanest gear, my best boots and my best machetes and headed for the back. Except there were like a dozen more. Waiting. Like they KNEW I'd be coming out the back. But here's the thing -- they were in the shadows under the trees by the fence line. I barely saw 'em.

It wasn't long before they were hammering away at all the doors -- front, back, side. Relentless. I could hear the wood splintering. Just a matter of time.

Went back upstairs and got desperate. Opened the window. Threw my pack into the big oak out front. Just as the front door caved, I took a flying leap out the window and just barely made the tree. Gashed open my cheek pretty good -- another inch higher, I'd be a cyclops. The Zs went roaring in while I dragged down my pack and took off. Glad they hadn't thought about a rear guard. Probably will next time.

I'm headed west now. Found a spot with a solar generator and some wifi at the Masonic building here in Cincinnati. The people seem nice enough, but...I dunno man. I've been on my own so long, their rules get on my nerves. I'd almost rather be out there.

Like now. They're telling me I gotta shut down. Why? It's solar. The Zs can't hear me. Rules.

Hope you're safe.
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
User avatar
Nivek
Head Coach
Posts: 7,406
And1: 958
Joined: Sep 29, 2010
Contact:
         

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#53 » by Nivek » Wed May 8, 2013 4:25 pm

Knighthonor wrote:crazy person


That's not much of a story.
"A lot of what we call talent is the desire to practice."
-- Malcolm Gladwell

Check out my blog about the Wizards, movies, writing, music, TV, sports, and whatever else comes to mind.
montestewart
Forum Mod - Wizards
Forum Mod - Wizards
Posts: 13,335
And1: 5,870
Joined: Feb 25, 2009

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#54 » by montestewart » Wed May 8, 2013 5:01 pm

Nivek wrote:
Knighthonor wrote:crazy person


That's not much of a story.


But a good start on a haiku. Or it could become one of those "from an idea by" credits you see at the end of movies. Keep it up, Knighthonor.

viewtopic.php?f=35&t=1015414&start=45
User avatar
doclinkin
General Manager
Posts: 9,618
And1: 1,799
Joined: Jul 26, 2004
Location: .wizuds.

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#55 » by doclinkin » Wed Jul 10, 2013 10:23 pm

Peaceful up here.

I'm in the firewatch tower at a Ranger's station. Hiked up the top of the ridge to see if there was a satellite could still get a signal. Not sure if anyone is out there but felt like checking in. Hello world.

Looks pretty from here, I'm going to rest a while before dealing with the assh*le on the ladder below. The hatch door should keep him out, tough to break in one handed and overhead. He almost got me on the way up. This one is a hippie hiker, pretty fresh, and still with the muscle memory to climb, I guess I got casual. I'm a little winded and a little nervous to check if that pain in my leg is a scratch or a bite.

Okay, bite the bullet, here goes.

Happy now: just bruises and chafing. The bastard. Hang on let me deal with him and come right back.

Back. A tip for anyone out there, guns are great but in a pinch if you can get a few lengths of surgical tubing you can make a slingshot that can put a penny through a car door or in this case a half inch bolt through an eyesocket. I'm still hearing the clung clung clungetty platch! of him falling down the tube rails of that hundred foot ladder. The bastard.

The damn hippie types are dangerous since they're usually fresh, knew how to live off the grid and stay in shape. Makes me wonder if there's some sort of compound out here, geodesic dome or mole hole encampment, I've seen three shaggy shamblers this week. But that suggests maybe that compound ain't there any more.

There, is where? West Virginia mountains. Figuring the fewer people the better. We've got a nice sunny patch on a south face, able to grow really well these months, gotten a ton of rain and sun, it's a good year. It's lonely though don't get me wrong and we're running low on maxipads so I suspect I'll have to hop the mountain bike and raid some gas station somewhere. Pretty soon we'll have to figure some other solution. Okay it's gross but let me see if Google is still working:

God bless robust back-up systems. And god bless google. Here's one solution I wish we could still order from amazon. Caution, hilarious but not for the faint of stomach:

http://www.amazon.com/review/R39TB4HUVK8Z6

Anyway bad review and all I feel kinda stupid endangering my life again and again on a maxipad run. When will this disaster ever end? Hard to believe there were that many people in the world for them to keep getting up and walking, even this many months, years? after. I can't keep track. Been a while since we've seen anyone else, I keep wondering if we're the last ones left. Why I risk a trek up the ridge and climb up here where I can be seen for miles if I felt like cranking the hand light. I don't though. I guess I get nostalgic. And bump into a fresh one. So I guess maybe I'm not the last. Just out here in the middle of nowhere. Which is probably what Monongahela means in Powhatan or whatever it was. If you make it out this way leave a note in the Olson fire tower, I'm up there I think once a week since I can still get a signal up this way.
JAR69
Junior
Posts: 491
And1: 98
Joined: Jul 25, 2002

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#56 » by JAR69 » Tue Mar 25, 2014 6:45 pm

Not my bag, but made me think of this thread: http://boingboing.net/2014/03/25/disney ... ie-hu.html, http://kasami-sensei.deviantart.com/gallery/48483058. Short stories at the top of the comments of the last three pieces fit nicely in the RealDisney version of this thread.
"It takes talent, strategy and millions of dollars to compete in the N.B.A. But regret is the league’s greatest currency." - Howard Beck
User avatar
Knighthonor
Sixth Man
Posts: 1,865
And1: 98
Joined: Feb 15, 2012

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#57 » by Knighthonor » Tue Mar 25, 2014 7:11 pm

we role playing now?
User avatar
AFM
General Manager
Posts: 8,374
And1: 4,539
Joined: May 25, 2012

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#58 » by AFM » Tue Mar 25, 2014 7:35 pm

Yeah, what are you wearing?
User avatar
McFilthy
Sophomore
Posts: 206
And1: 100
Joined: Jan 07, 2014
Location: Bethesda, MD

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#59 » by McFilthy » Fri Mar 28, 2014 11:29 am

So something a bit strange recently happened. I have been using my old iPhone as an iPod. It went missing, but I was not worried about it as my 5 year old son sometimes hides and hoards things like iPods (We are trying to break him of this habit.) You see, the iPods have games on them, so he feels he can have unfettered access to the games - except you have to enter a code to use the phone. He watches and sometimes figures out my code. If you enter an incorrect code a couple of times, the phone locks you out and is disabled for a certain number of minutes.

So about three weeks pass and I get a UPS package with my old phone inside. No note or explanation. I think okay that's great, but than I notice it is disabled for 23,167,464 minutes. I look at the UPS tracking and it looks like it originated in Minnesota. I have never been to Minnesota.

I have not yet contacted Apple to see if I can get my device working again.

So did someone take my old iPhone and try to figure out my code thousands of times, disabling it for an eternity? If so, how did it get to Minnesota and why would anyone send it back to me? Weird.
montestewart
Forum Mod - Wizards
Forum Mod - Wizards
Posts: 13,335
And1: 5,870
Joined: Feb 25, 2009

Re: True story, swear to gawd... (prose and cons) 

Post#60 » by montestewart » Fri Mar 28, 2014 1:17 pm

McFilthy wrote:So something a bit strange recently happened. I have been using my old iPhone as an iPod. It went missing, but I was not worried about it as my 5 year old son sometimes hides and hoards things like iPods (We are trying to break him of this habit.) You see, the iPods have games on them, so he feels he can have unfettered access to the games - except you have to enter a code to use the phone. He watches and sometimes figures out my code. If you enter an incorrect code a couple of times, the phone locks you out and is disabled for a certain number of minutes.

So about three weeks pass and I get a UPS package with my old phone inside. No note or explanation. I think okay that's great, but than I notice it is disabled for 23,167,464 minutes. I look at the UPS tracking and it looks like it originated in Minnesota. I have never been to Minnesota.

I have not yet contacted Apple to see if I can get my device working again.

So did someone take my old iPhone and try to figure out my code thousands of times, disabling it for an eternity? If so, how did it get to Minnesota and why would anyone send it back to me? Weird.

On a circuitous route, taking the back roads, a stop here, a stop there, hauling lumber, hauling gas, made its way west, made its way north, made some friends along the way, person after person trying to crack the code and give it life again. Then, some wise Mac trucker named iRubberDuck took a crack at solving the riddle. He'd punch in the code, haul him load, and play another tune on his fiddle. He dodged a cop near Petro Stop, and tried it a time or two. Then conceding defeat, he packed it up neat, and sent your phone back to you.

Return to Washington Wizards