The Zom Diary by Eddie Austin Page B

blind I had set up some years before, to use as a watch post for the road, back when I was getting a lot of ‘visitors’.
         In the first few months after the end, things had been bad.  Dead townsfolk had converged on the farm in waves.  The first wave I dealt with by hand.  Then I picked up my first firearm; an M-4 rifle from that first day taken from that dead soldier who was probably making his way to Selma to look after family when he was bitten and turned at some point.
         When these waves became less frequent, some people decided to scavenge for food or for greed or pleasure.  I can only guess at their motives, but they hadn’t been friendly.  That’s when I started watching the road from time to time making sure that those psychos didn’t make good on me.
         From that point, almost two years hence, I shot that man from town and saw his friends run quietly back down the road and out of sight.  I was quick to grab his rifle and pack, checking his boots and clothes to see if they would serve me, then roll him up onto my shoulder, I carried him down the road past Bill’s and tossed his stripped corpse into a ditch.
         He had been carrying an AR-15 assault rifle, .223.  I have long since eaten his rations and shot some of the ammo, but the clothes and other effects are back at the barn.  It takes some searching, but eventually I find most of his bones where I had left them.  They had been picked over and scattered by animals.  I retrieve his skull, badly shattered in the back, femurs, radii, ulna, pelvis and a collection of ribs.  I place them in the bucket that had held the snake and carry them back to the barn solemnly and without much internal dialogue.
         Later that day, I gather his clothes and boots and place them in his pack with some extra MRE’s.  I take his rifle and set these things beside the couch in the big room.  I find an old duffle and place his bones therein after cleaning them with a dry rag.
         I leave these bags in the big room and feel satisfied that when it comes time to see this boy, he will have as much peace as I can give him.  I’m not looking forward to the meeting.
         The sun is already getting low.  I decide to tidy up a bit -gathering trash and throwing it to compost out back beyond the privy in a big pile.  Before the light fails me, I check Bill’s old truck.
         It fires up ok, still smoking, and I drive it back to the barn.  I siphon off the gas into a five gallon can and add some stabilizer to it.  I have some gas, but I’m not sure how long it will remain good and I need it for the chainsaw--not the damned old truck.  I unhook the battery and put my ambition for vehicle maintenance on a shelf.  The oil in the engine is getting nasty....  but rather than mess with it, I leave it for another day.
         Closing doors and kicking rocks, I walk back over to the barn and decide against a fire.  Too late.  Off to bed and maybe an early start tomorrow.  I saw deer shit by some fallen fruit yesterday and my meat supply is getting low.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
         I awaken early, having trained my internal clock to obey the whims of my mind as much as is possible.  I feel immeasurably better and decide to lay off the pot and booze for a week or so to let mind clear and to detox some.
         I check my AK and don a simple jumpsuit.  Into the grey early, early morning I go.  I stalk softly and choose a tree that seems downwind from the rotting fruit pile.  I climb and sit as comfortably as I can, my back supported by a medium sized branch.  The AK is ready to fire, and I hold it, and wait, and am as quiet as possible.
         As if on cue, a line of seven deer walk from the tall grasses beyond the line of trees and begin to take turns; one or two rummaging in the fruit while the others look around flicking their ears and looking on edge.
         I choose a smallish sized buck; four prongs, and