Blog Like Its the End of the World Day

I got up late this morning. Not unusual. I logged on to my computer to read email before going to work.

Holy shit.

Now, some people on my f-list are zombie obsessed. Others are survivalists. But when even the sane ones are going "Zombies! OMG!", there's something going on. So I dragged datapard out of bed, made her turn on the news.

They were reporting "riots" in the entire Bay Area. Uh, huh. Saying to "stay inside, don't interfere with law enforcement, blah, blah."

Bullshit. Time to boogie.

Grab the cats, the cash, the bugout bags, the camping gear, the gloves, the bleach, the water, the swords, the crossbow, and lots of hand tools. Get it loaded into my new truck. Go back in for heavy leather jackets and helmets. Grab the extra propane tanks for the grill, and all of the spare lamp oil, plus the two bolts of muslin. Datapard loads up the sodas and food, too. Damn, this takes forever.

One of the neighbor kids starts toward us, and he looks, well, dead. I don't know whether it's drugs or zombification, but I'm not waiting to find out. I crush his skull with one of the quarterstaves. Then I take bleach, while in gloves, and wipe it down.

As we finish loading what we have, three more come out of the community center across the street. Yelling at Datapard to get in, I start up the truck. She futzes with her seatbelt with the door open. I yell at her to close the damn door, and hit the powerlocks when she does. Flipped a U-turn, ran over the zombies. That is such a sick crunching sound. One was still moving. Backed over him, then took off. Datapard is in shock.

I filled up on Wednesday, but I figure to see if I can top off at a gas station. It hasn't blown up yet, and the ATM pump thing is working. datapard heads toward the inside to get a soda before I can stop her. Fortunately, another "patron" starts shuffling out, and she runs back to the truck.

Thing is, where to go? East is east side, lots of stupid people zombified. Same with west. Santa Cruz mountains, or Sierras.

Screw it, head for Highway 17, maybe take 9.

I have to run over about 10 more on my way to the freeway. So much for my paint job. I'm hoping I can find an auotomated car wash somewhere, to get the ichor off my truck. Otherwise, we'll have to be real careful and wash it with bleach when we stop.

KGO seems to be off the air - just the emergency thing going off. No traffic reports today.

John "Bush Lite" McCain

Is it me, or does McCain look half dead already? He has that malnourished, last legs look.

Blog Like Its the End of the World Day, 2

So I exited in Los Gatos, hoping to head for Highway 9. Drove a through Los Gatos, which was pretty empty, but with lots of dismembered Zombies and fires around. It looked like a war zone. Turned up Highway 9, and *poof* there's a roadblock. Great. Guys in bunny suits, and SWAT teams with shotguns.

A heavyset cop (sheriff?) came sauntering up, and made motions that I needed to roll down my window. Yeah, right. So I can be a snack? I used a piece of paper and wrote "Prove you're not a Zombie!!" He laughed, waved me beyond the roadblock, and walked up with a shotgun and a torch. He made motions for me to roll down the window again.

Fuck. I complied. He chuckled and said "The damned things aren't too bright, and can't seem to handle anything with fire. You passed the IQ test. Where are you headed?"

"I'm hoping to find somewhere to bunker up up in the hills."

"Got an address? Got any firearms? Got a plan?"

"No, no, and sort of." He made like to touch the goop on my truck "Hey, don't touch that without gloves!"

He gave me the stinkeye. "Why not?"

"It's zombie blood, and I figure this thing is spread by contact with bodily fluids - spit, blood, etc - of infected victims. I haven't had chance to bleach down my truck after splattering a few."

He actually looked at me with some respect "You a doctor?"

I laughed "No, I just have some sense."

"But no guns. No ammo. Any fuel?"

"Like for torches? A little." I hedged. I didn't want to get my stuff confiscated.

"OK, here's the deal. The federal government, and fucking FEMA, have gone dark, or are chasing their tails. I heard that Obama was blasting the things with a shotgun in Ohio. I'm sure the Washington bigwigs are all nice and safe in bunkers somewhere, until this crap dies out. The state goverment is in even worse shape. The internet is up, probably because geeks tend to put their gear in bunkers. The phone net is down."

A security guard came trotting up, probably to check that the cop was OK. "Hey, I know you!! SiliCon! How the fuck did you get out of downtown San Jose? That place is crawling with brain munchers."

I pointed down at my truck "Four wheel drive, and they're just another speed bump." Datapard rolled her eyes, and looked disgusted. The cop and my friend Fred from SF&F cons laughed. "OK, so that's the global situation. What about here?" I asked, getting antsy.

They stopped laughing. "We know most of the defensible spots in these hills. We've got teams cleaning them out, or setting them up. We are outnumbered, understaffed, and need folks with a fucking clue." the cop said.

I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. He looked at me, Datapard, and my truck. "I'm afraid you're drafted."

I grimaced. "Fat chance of me doing any good." I tapped the disabled placard hanging from my mirror "We're both gimps."

"We need brai... er... horse sense more than we need grunt labor." my friend said. Shit.

The cop continued "Fred, why don't you ride with them to HQ, get them started helping with decontamination." Fred nodded.

"There's no guarantee that bleach will kill the stuff." I warned. "It may be that only incineration will destroy it."

"Yeah, well we've learned that geeks and Sci Fi people are really inventive when it comes to dealing with stuff, and we all need to work togather if we're gonna make it." He paused "Just so you know, the mayor, the city council, and the chief of police all got infected earlier this morning. Our force is front line sworn officers, the few national guard types that are stuck in the area, the off-duty fire department, any rent-a-cop we can find, and a few survivalists that were down in town. When it went out over radio what we were up against, and how to identify them, we evacuated the uninfected the best we could, and torched a chunk of Los Gatos."

My gut clenched. That was not good. He continued "On the bright side, we have a ton of weapons, a buttload of ammo, and some bright folks."

I sighed, and unlocked the door so Fred could climb in. "OK, OK. Might as well do what we can." After Fred got in, I locked the doors again. The cop handed me his shotgun, a bag of ammo, and headed back toward the roadblock. I passed the gun and ammo to Datapard, and rolled the window back up. "Fred, is there really any hope? Or is this more chicken shit?"

Fred grinned "That guy is in my gaming group. He has put half this shit together, just on brass balls alone. We'll make it, I hope."

Datapard started to cry.