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| Introduction. |
Howdy folks. I am Robin. I am crazy. That's a given. For all that find
my website on thier own and like it congrats. For those of you that
know me. Enjoy the site. I will be posting more stuff with the other
page if I can, but I may have to start another website just to keep
this one in continuity with the other. Anywho have fun and take care.
And before I forget I am a writer, artist, musician. I am multitalented
and I can do alot. I do write alot of violent post apocalyptic/scifi so
deal with it. Thank God for Paul Verhoeven and his ability for mindless
Hollywood violence.
PEACEOUT!!!
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| Trash, Garbage and Refuse
Month 12. |
Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Part Something
12/14/07
Hello the name is Dirk Richards. I am a garbage man.
I have always been one since Nineteen Seventy-Six and now it's Two
Thousand Seven. Those early years were the good old days when. Been
living in Waco since I moved from Dallas in 1983. And yes, I am still a
garbage man here been driving my trash collector since before it
started. Now I know I am narrating to no one important but I still
gotta find something to do in my downtime. You know, while I ain't
taking out the trash.
Of course you’re probably asking, "Well why is he
talking about cleaning up garbage?" I'll tell you. I use live people to
lure the undead into the back of my trash truck the, "El Clunker." By
no means do those people die to kill a measly Thirty shitbags a truck
load. See I put an escape hatch on the top of my truck so that they can
get out quickly. Now I bet your probably wondering, "How do you lure
them into the truck?" As I said I use live people. I drive around with
the back of the truck open with a man inside the garbage hold on a
bullhorn making all sorts of noise to get them to climb in the back
after a fresh meal. Usually the noise the truck makes itself is more
than enough to draw a few hundred of the fuckers. Normally with that
many surrounding my truck I would be fucked but since I have about Five
others in riot gear with shotguns on or walking along side of the El
Clunker. It makes it a bit easier to get the fuck out of dodge when we
have a full load. Every once in a while one of my guards gets bit and
we all know that one bite or scratch is more than enough to be a death
sentence. And in that case we leave him in the garbage hold either tied
up or laying there. Usually the smell of the blood is enough to draw
those shitbags out and into the truck.
After we load up we kill a few of them, clamp the
door down on the dumb bastards, and take them to pit. Which is a 30
foot deep by 60 feet wide, dug out pit that has concrete walls so that
those bastards can't climb and claw their way out after we dump them in
there. When we arrive there are anywhere between thirty to forty guards
that kill any of the shit bags that are following me and my boys.
Occasionally we get a female to accompany us but that is rare because
there are less of them than us guys. After clean up is complete I back
the truck up to the pit and dump the fuckers down into the pit. The
sounds of them hitting them bottom of the pit will always be with me
because it sticks just like the stench of corpses. I can never get used
to the sound of breaking bones. That's why I use ear plugs. Sometimes
they don't always work. Those shit bags like to moan and scream
whenever they are near live people like me. So back to the pit. After
the first load we usually get about Ten more truckloads before sun
down. After I dump that tenth load, my part in taking out the garbage
is done.
Then it is up to the purifiers. Those guys are pyros
but then again they have to be especially for the job that they do in
our little survivor community that is East Waco. Their job is to go out
scavenging for non-fuel flammable materials that are capable of dousing
and igniting targets. We have a huge surplus of fuel but aren't about
to use it on something that can be solved with bullets and bladed
objects. The purifiers usually use various chemicals mixed with
additives so that it stick to them just as good as napalm. After all of
the people in the pit are drenched in flammables. They light them and
it's WHOOSH! Those shitbags go up quicker than the Hindenburg in hell.
The only problems with burning them is that if you don't have a hazmat
suit then you can get really sick off of the fumes and smoke. And that
is almost as severe as getting bit because it is almost pure disease
going into your lungs. It's worse than smoking if you ask me because I
will take a slow painful death over a quick immolated one any day.
Since we live at the Lipsitz compound and the pit and disposal sites
are five miles away in Bellmead. We don't have to worry about the fumes
too much unless the wind is blowing our way then it's time to pull out
the masks but that doesn't really happen too much.
Who knew that telling your life story to no one
could be soothing? I don't feel nearly as tight wound...well never mind
I have to tell those damned kids to pipe down. I'll see you guys later
for now. So take care and have fun.
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: A Brisk Walk
12/19/07
So I am back my faithful audience. The past two days
have been fairly boring. Yeah today is Friday and it's creeping up on
Christmas. If things weren't the way they are right now then I would be
out searching for gifts for my wife and son. They're dead and I'm here
and I don't really know how to freaking feel about it. Then again I
really can't afford to be blubbering like some California faggot
because if I were, I'd be dead. And I prefer living to not living. Hell
damnit it wasn't even my fault for what happened on Tuesday. It was
their own god dammed stupidity that got them killed.
Ok so let me be honest things aren't going well and
I have been taken off trash collection because of the report Sgt.C.
gave to Boss Eastland. So I have been restricted to sitting here in my
Hoover Hotel and waiting for something to happen...anything would be
great. I worked out and even gave myself a haircut with my switchblade.
I am being investigated for supposed reckless actions in a situation of
danger. This means a whole bunch of nothing. It is just an excuse to
keep me off of the streets with El Clunker. Damn fairies can't handle
the fact that they need me out there cleaning the streets up. I have
had the best record for dumps at the pit and men lost and I am getting
scape-goated for two deaths that were those own idiots faults.
Alright I need to calm down because writing ain't
gonna solve anything. I need to go for a walk. I need to leave the
compound for a while before I do something I will regret. I think I
will go across the river and maybe do some scavenging or maybe even
some looting if anyone has any objections to me taking things that are
free reign. I got six or so hours of sun. That's more than enough time
to do something besides gabbing like an old hen. I will see you folks
later.
12/20/07
I know I went out yesterday but I haven't really had
time to talk to you people since yesterday. I left the compound and
went across the bridge and up Austin Avenue. I passed up some store
front that we had looted to get furniture when we set up the Lipsitz
compound.
I checked out some smaller antique shops for
anything of use but I didn't anything worth shit. I crossed over to
Franklin, then to North 23rd and Waco Dr. I found a pawn shop the gates
were still down and there was some fire damage to the outside of it. A
few corpses were laying around the parking lot some in cars other not
but none of them shitbags in sight. So I made a quick around of the
building and found a back door that happened to be blown off its
hinges. I drew my pistol and flashlight and went in cop style. Upon
entering two of those shitbags were just shuffling around the place
like they owned. And I and my .45 took them down clean with two loud
shots. I went into the main part of the store and I was hit by the
rankest odor that I have ever smelled. There must've been like twenty
of the shitbags in there. So I turned tail and ran back outside. The
sound of my gun must've attracted a dozen or so from the surrounding
neighbor hoods. I know the golden rule to encountering shit bags and it
is if you see one that means that there is Four THAT YOU ARE NOT
SEEING. And seeing is how there was a dozen of them that means that
were easily Forty eight that I wasn't seeing excluding the ones that
were in the store.
I got the fuck out of dodge and in doing so I
must've wasted like four clips. Not all my shots were head shots
either. Most of them were glancing hits. I got several blocks away
before I realized that I had no idea where the fuck I was going. The
street sign that I was near was in the fucked condition. By my guess it
must've been buck shot that made it unreadable.
So I went up a few more blocks and realized that I
was on Morrow and 19th. I crossed over to Colcord and found a nice open
are to take a breather at the now burnt down St.Catherine's. I could
see a few shitbags shambling in the distance but they were out of
range. So I didn't bother dispatching them as it would be a waste of
precious ammo. I ate lunch, drank a half of liter of bottled water and
checked my bullet supply.
I managed to burn twenty-eight rounds. This in turn
leaves me with fourteen. That means I have thirteen rounds that I can
fire at them shitbags and one for myself should things get too bad. I
am Catholic god damnit! I will not commit suicide! I rather die from
thirst or starvation than be eaten by those fuckers. I don't even know
why I am talking about suicide because I still have a means to run.
For the rest of yesterday, I spent a majority of my
day taking back alleys and side streets all the way back to the
compound. And by the time I made it to the gates I had two bullets left
in my .45. I am glad I made it back before sundown. Now I am here a day
later and I am more than happy I have nothing to do rather than being
dead. My feet and back hurt and I am old go figure. Well there folks
it's time I get some shut eye so it's lights out for me.
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Boredom's End
12/23/07
Well folks I am back for you, the audience, to look
into my life. The past few days have been shitty and I am hoping that
if things go as planned I will be leaving this fucking junk town for an
actual military base. Let me explain. Since I got put on forced leave,
I haven't been able to collect the garbage which means I don't get
money and that means that I can't support myself. Boss Easland has had
it out for me ever since his brother bit the dust. So not only am I not
getting paid but I have gotten death threats. I don't like being
threatened; last man to threaten me was last year. I pulled some
strings and he woke up tied to the hood of a car for a Thanksgiving
meal for some lucky shitbags that wound up getting burned in the pit.
So the lesson here is don't threaten me and expect to wake up in your
bed the next morning.
So back to my explanation of the wanting to leave: I
have a better chance of survival. I used to be a marine. Semper
Fidelis! I was gung ho. Anyways I got a dishonorable discharge for
getting caught with a little weed. Everyone smoked the grass during the
Seventies. I stopped right before my son Daniel was born. That was
Nineteen Eighty-One. God rest his soul...in fact he is lucky to be one
of the dead that didn't return. He was killed in the bombing raids the
government did on all cities with populations greater than a hundred
thousand. It was completely useless as it killed more people hiding in
buildings and houses than it killed shitbags.
Back on topic now, on Tuesday a battle group of
Marines in their hummers came blazing into town on I-35 from Dallas I
guess. There was about twenty of them each in full BDU carrying the
latest in hot shit M-4's with that fancy fucking grenade launcher on
the bottom. They found our little compound and knocked aside our
carefully placed barricades with their high falutin' Humvee's. We all
scrambled to the gates with our hunting rifles, pistols and shotguns to
see what the fuck was going on out in front. They stopped their
vehicles still running and their NCO came walking up to the gate. Our
boys just stared at them in awe. It was as if they were seeing angles.
Boss Eastland came out of his fancy fucking mansion and told him to let
the stranger inside the compound. They both talked for a few minutes
then Boss Eastland went back to his shack.
Obviously their little conversation made the Boss
unhappy. The Sergeant went back to his troops. He ordered his men to
kill the engines and get inside the compound. The Sergeant took his
helmet off and pulled out a bullhorn. He said and I quote, "Hello I am
Master Sergeant Gankin, we are the 72nd Brigade out of Hillsboro. And
we are in need of your services and abilities. This is call to duty for
you to serve our great country and defend her from the threat of being
taken over by enemies both foreign and domestic." Ok now let me
translate what he just said, "Hi I am major hardass and our platoon
doesn't have the man power to fight the shitbags so now we are
desperately looking to draft you nicely or kill you if you say no." Is
that starting to make sense? I hope so because that is a reality right
when that bastard turn the bull horn off. So being that our community
is roughly three hundred miserable souls who are looking to have a
better life. I'd say about fifty right off of the bat stepped forward
with little hesitation. When that happened I put my hand on my forehead
and shook my head in disbelief. Those stupid fuckers don't realize that
they are signing their own death warrant.
I knew that even though that Sergeant had the face
of a brick wall and he wasn't smiling. He on the inside was giddy like
a fag who found a bag of dicks. The marine were at our little fortress
for about two more hours. They took with them twenty of the fifty. And
they said they would be back for the rest who had volunteered. So I go
back to my Hoover Hotel and start packing my shit. I know that I may be
fucked if I go with them but I am fucked if I stay here. I can
guarantee you that the Boss is planning to have a tragic accident with
me involved on the receiving end. So staying here is not a wise health
decision if you know what I mean.
That brings you all up to date and its tomorrow
right now and I am waiting here in my house with my back pack and my
.45 automatic with two bullets left in it still from the other day. I
haven't really had a chance to buy more ammo as I am fucking broke
right now. The Boss said that since I got put on forced leave that he
could have one of his lackeys break into my house and steal my shit.
The joke is on him though because the second I leave they will realize
how badly they need me when the shit hits the fan. Even though I am
Fifty-Three I am in the best shape of my life and I have more training
and experience than any of those other recruits. I bet you when I get
there they are gonna confiscate my shit and take my smokes away. I
guess that the military though regardless of how gay they are they do
know how to take care of their own.
Well son of a bitch! Those military bastards are
here. I guess I will be going for a while but while I am at I think I
am gonna pull my truck around to the front because that is the only
thing worthwhile that I own besides the clothes on my back. Thanks for
letting me share my life with you there audience. I will try to keep
ya'll posted on how shitty things are going in my life whenever I can.
Actually if I can especially since I bet my shit is gonna get taken up
when I get there.
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| Trash, Garbage and Refuse.
Month 1 |
Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Let Freedom Ring
1/16/08
Well son of bitch! You folks are still here and as
am I. I got through the US Militaries god damned boot camp with flying
colors. It wasn't real boot camp in the fact that they streamlined it
to an ass load of PT and Training on how to deal with the infected. Who
the fuck calls them infected. They are fucking dead and every sense of
the word except for the fact the shitbags mostly about trying to put
the bite on our asses. They obviously think we're all stupid here in
Ol' Hickboro. For the most part I am enjoying my rank as private. I go
from having the most important job as a Garbage Man to being at the
bottom of the totem pole in the military. Yeah it feels good to rant
and rave again. They decided to give my gear back along with some new
toys, like an M-16 with the seal of Mattel on the stock and some night
vision goggles along with some new boots that are capable of
withstanding the impact of a bite from a shitbag. Trust me I don't plan
on getting bit anytime soon.
Yeah I missed Christmas and New Years but I got a
brick of bullets for the AR they gave as a Christmas gift. They are
gonna start sending us out on patrols on the outskirts of the camp.
Speaking of which this isn't really a camp it's a city twith about
six-thousand living breathing people in it. One thing I ain't got back,
that I wanna drive around for old time sake is my El Clunker. They said
that I will receive the training on how to operate vehicles in a combat
situation soon enough. Do they not understand that every time that I go
out and collect the garbage it's a combat situation. I must have killed
thousands of those shitbags and they still keep coming. Got to love the
intelligence of the military sometimes though because it's fucking
stupid as shit.
I am sitting here in the barracks right now and I am
the oldest person in the room. The fucking ironic thing is that I am in
better shape than all these fucking kids. I can out work them any day
because I don't give up like a little fucking Sierra Club pansy! I got
a chance to spar against Drill Sergeant P. Scooter. I whooped his ass
like a sissy girl. I had him on the ground in an instant. Turns out
that punching a man in the Adams Apple is more than enough to bring him
down. I didn't get sent to the brig and I got treated all special and
like for a week. Then because of my godamn attitude I kept getting in
trouble turns out they don't like lip. I ain't a sheep godammit!
So far all I do same thing now as I did in Waco
except with more exercise and more food. Occasionally if you’re good
then you get to go to a place where they set up as a movie theatre with
all the latest movies circa 2005. So I am just dying to see The Ring
Two or maybe even Hitch. I fucking hate movies. Nowadays it is always
about some jock and a whore he is love with because they slept together
once at a party. Or it's the stereotypical big budget balls to walls
shoot out with the same fucking jock and a different whore. Or it's a
pussy ass teary eyed drama comedy about a family that can't get along
and out of nowhere it turns into a comedy with Robert Fucking Deniro as
the asshole dad. Whatever happened to the years where westerns and
mobster movies ruled the day? What happened to Charles Bronson,
Charleton Heston, Clint Eastwood or The Duke? I'll tell you what
happened they grew old and died. When they bit the dust the movie
industry went to hell and the faggots turned California into the
queer capitol of the world. Now because of that we turned soft and
weak. The shitbags came and so many fucking people needlessly died
because they were too frail and incapable of defending themselves. I've
seen too many people die because of their weaknesses. That is why I
have to be an asshole.
How I got to this point I don't know, that's your
guess. I used to be a little bit nicer in the days of old. But you
folks need to understand that nice goes out the window real quick when
the world decides it's time for it to end. I am an old bitter asshole
and that's they way I like it. It keeps me on my toes. When the shit
hits the fan I am always doing something before it even registers in
anyone else's mind. I am the freaking best of the best and I am better
than the godamn rest!
All this ranting has got me hungry. I think I'm off
to the mess hall for some good old grub. I'll talk to you folks later.
Probably when something of interest happens. So happy trails to you,
till we meet again.
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: The Longest Day
1/20/08
Well howdy folks, I'm back and I am glad to be alive
for a change. I seem to have this ability to attract unwanted attention
whenever comes to saying, "It's boring as hell." See when I last ranted
you ya'll, I thought I was sitting high and mighty like I was on top of
a mountain looking down at everyone else. I was wrong. On the Sixteenth
I went into the mess hall and got me some rehydrated mash potatoes and
salisbury steak. I had just sat down enjoy my mell and then I here the
unmistakable sound of machine gun fire from some M-16's. I ignored it
at first and continued eating for about another thirty seconds. I got
lost in the act of eating. Then a much louder sound. The sound of
artillery from our artillery emplacements. Shit was hitting the fan. I
got up walked casually back over to then tent got my M-16 out, checked
my ammo and made sure it was locked and loaded. Left the barracks and
met up with a few privates who were running to the north side of the
camp. I saw them. Thousand of faces. There must have easily been about
forty thousand of those shit bags coming down the interstate at us from
Dallas. They were still several miles down the road but at number that
great it's always good to thin out the heard if you know what I mean.
The entire camp was in arms with in minutes. Several dozen civilians
that were either too young or too weak to fight, were loading ammo into
clips and carrying various gear to our emplacements scattered along the
north of our base in jolly old Hillsboro.
I wish I had been thinking past the, "Oh joy I get
to kill fuckers." That mentality gets people fucked. I along with Five
thousand nine hundred and ninety nine others were fucked. Or so I
thought, I am here talking to ya'll aren't I? For about the better part
of seven and a half hours, I and my platoon fired from our positions
into the mob of shitbags. I scored one headshot for each bullet fired.
Now grant I am over exaggerating, it really doesn't matter because we
were cutting the fuckers to ribbons. Lieutenant Hennings, our O-1, was
panicking. I could see it. I have been alive long enough to know that
look of desperation. He didn't deserve his rank or the ability to
command us. I could tell he was going to get us all killed. And when
the first wave of shitbags came within melee range it was bayonet time.
I must've killed ten before I realized that he blew his godamn brains
out with his piece, an M-1911 browning .45. I pried it from his cold
dead hands began to kill the bastards coming at me before they came
into grappling range. I took our O-1's bandolier of ammo and reloaded
the .45 so that way I had a back up weapon. I saw both of our NCO's go
down in a sea of people when they went to go rescue a fallen private.
There were six of us and I didn't know their names it didn't matter.
The rest of the base was in complete bedlam. Entire
positions abandoned and the shit bags were overrunning us. I had to do
something. So I went over to the communications tent to see what the
hell was going. I killed closed to thirty of those shitbags getting
there. I reloaded as I got into the tent. An officer confronted me upon
entering the tent. He was disheveled and covered with blood and he had
his piece in his hands. He raised his gun at me and said, "Survival of
the fittest." I blew his fucking brains out the back of his godamn
skull. Survival of the fittest my ass. I will be surviving, while he's
food for the shitbags. The operators were all shot dead. Some had drawn
their weapons only to be killed by a traitor. I threw one of the bodies
to the floor and attempted to use the equipment. I tried each channel
and frequency on the radio until I got someone. The voice was old and
calm. His name was General Turner. I explained the situation and calmly
he said we have bombers in bound, they will be there at 0245. I checked
my watch that was seventeen minutes.
I sat there for a moment, and milled over my
options. I could run into the mob and get ripped apart like a gut
filled piñata, I could blow my brains out or I could go back out into
the fray and keep fighting. I choose choice number three. I collected
ammo from the fallen CO and slung my M-16 on my shoulder. I had two
.45's and fifteen clips with which to have fun. Actually it wasn't
really fun but I had a blast. Yeah I know, bad pun but what are you
gonna do about it? Nothing because you people aren't actually there. I
ran back into my platoon. They were fucking shitbags and I put them
down each with one bullet to the head. Then I had an epiphany, if I
could get some loud speakers on my garbage truck then I could use loud
noise to draw the fuckers away from the base. I ran faster than I had
ever run before in my life. I ran passed everyone to the supply house
and took a bullhorn. I grabbed a private and dragged him along to the
motorcade. Now grant it they had my keys for the truck, I had a spare
that I kept hidden in uncomfortable places should a situation like this
arise. I got to the motorcade to see it mostly abandoned. El Clunker
was still there in the same spot I had left it when they told me to
park it. I did a quick tutorial for Private Williams on how to play the
luring game. And then it was go time with eight minutes to spare.
I started my truck up and gave it gas. It smashed
throw the garage doors. I ran down a few dozen of those fuckers and the
private got on the horn. It was working the noise had those fuckers
interested in something new. Not the denizens of the military base but
the garbage truck and the noise of damnation attracting them like rats
to the tune of fast food. I had become the The Pied Piper of Hamelin
leading the rats off to river to go die. Instead of rats they were the
undead and there was a river a fire coming for them. I drove through
the mob and up I-35 with legions of the shitbags following me. All of
them moaning. I could feel my trucks tires getting gummed up with
bodies I had crushed. It was starting to slow down. Then I heard the
unmistakable sounds of bombers F-16's, Harrier's and Stealth bombers.
Then I heard the explosions and the fires came. All around me fire
spread like waves of a red tide. Just frying those shitbags like a
batch of chicken from KFC. The private was scorched instantly when the
bombs hit nears us. The paint on my truck flecked off from the intense
heat and the metal became like a boiler for me. The lack of oxygen
would have killed me but I was smart enough to keep my respirator on
while everything became cleansed. I blacked out though, it must've been
hours.
I had passed out from lack of oxygen. Some of our
reinforcements found me unconscious at the wheel of my truck. I
couldn't see because my eyes were swollen shut and I was deaf because
the bombs made me lose my hearing. They poured water on head and in my
eyes and that helped me to see. There were thousands of ashened corpses
lying across the Interstate and Country Side. And for nine miles of
road leading back up to the base there was destruction. The bombs are
shattered the pavement like fine china broken. I was taken back to what
was left of our base. The entire northern side was pounded to ruins.
There was a makeshift infirmary set up for all the over flow. And
that's where I am at now. I would get back to the barrack but there is
nothing to go back to because a Five hundred pound bomb flattened it.
I was unconscious in my truck for a little over a
day and a half. And since then I am thankful for my life. I wish I
could thank the people who found but I was too fucked up to remember
their faces. I have first degree burns on my hands, back and legs. Also
I am regaining my hearing but so far it is more lip reading than
anything else. We lost half of our command we those shit bags came to
chow down on us. Total we lost Three thousand Four Hundred and Sixty
Two with an additional Six hundred missing. Our numbers have been cut
down severely and I have a feeling we will be returning to Waco for
mass drafting soon, REAL SOON.
Well guys I am off to the land of rest. I am
exhausted from that little escapade and I need as much rest as I can
get before I attempt my next bold adventure in life. This will probably
be getting El Clunker off of the road and into a garage so that I can
repair it. See ya'll later on maybe when I got something interesting to
talk about instead of the rather drab same old, same old.
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Respite
1/29/08
Howdy again there folks! I'm back and this time my
El Clunker is back and better than it's ever been before it got
damaged. Actually I am being a bit facetious because the El Clunker is
still being worked on as I speak to you, my faithful audience. The past
few days have been hell as we repair, rebuild and reinforce our base
against invaders of the undead and unwelcomed kind. I got rolled into
another platoon. Alot of older people here this time around and no
fucking kids! When I mean older, I mean people capable of recognizing a
threat and not losing their shit when the threat is only a few feet
away from them. It never ceases to amaze me how many fucking people die
everytime a horde of undead strolls into town like they own the place.
FOR CRYING OUT LOUD THE SHITBAGS ARE FUCKING DEAD! Get used to it and
quit your bitching because it's only gonna get you killed especially if
your going up shit creek with those fuckers waiting to put the bite on
your ass at the end of the stream.
I know I sound mean right now but hell I don't care.
Actually I never care unless it involves me and my survival. I has to
be this way so that at least I make it out alive. Now grant it there
are alot of cuties here in this platoon I ain't gonna be stupid enough
to fall for any of them. No, I was not talking about the dudes. You
sick fucks. Then again who the fuck am I talking to anyways? It's just
me, the pen and the paper having a merry old time. Just jotting down
whatever shit I've been through the past few days.
That's another thing I keep forgeting to mention.
Remember when I said, "We're going to Waco REAL soon." Yeah well Waco
came to us. Alot of people got sick of Boss Easters rule and decided it
would be in their best interests to come here to Jolly Old Hillsboro.
They arrived in garbage trucks, Suv's, trucks, motor cycle's, etc, etc.
You get me. If it could be driven it came here. Almost everyone from
the Lipsitz compound and The Pit came. They brought the fuel trucks
that were our life blood back when I used to live in Waco. Well moving
on, Boss Easter tried to step up garbage days and started pissing
people off with demands that were endangering the survival of the
people. So Sgt.C, remember him? Let me get on with this, he decided
that a .44 to the cranium was a fine way to end business relations with
Boss Easter. Sgt.C rallied everyone to the beat of the military drum
and now he and about Nine Hundred and Forty Three people have come here
to Hillsboro. He's both a bastard and a smart man. Way too smart if you
ask me. His minds as sharp as a steel trap along with his will being as
tough as a shit brick house. Yeah he's bastard and I hate him in the
fact that he is a better survivor than me type of way. At least he
isn't a loner like me.
Enough of that sappy shit. I am moving on and day by
day my hearing is getting better. Damn bombs and the noise that comes
with explosions. Well at least those good for nothing pilots saved my
ass and the asses of everyone else at the base. Even though I did lead
those bastards away in the nick of time. I don't care, I don't need
their praise knowing that I kept others alive is good enough for me.
For now.
Well I think I am off to the mess hall again. My
stomach a rumbling and that means I should get a warm meal, something
to drink besides stale canteen of water and maybe a movie. I heard they
found a copy of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. In case you folks were
wondering that is one of my all time favorite movies. Actually I think
that pretty much that is my only favorite movie. I think for all of
it's historical inaccuracies it is one of the better spaghetti westerns
out there. I will talk to you folks later if I happen to do anything
monumental with my life. Ya'll come back soon now.
|
| Trash, Garbage and Refuse.
Month 2 |
Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Joyride
2/5/08
Well folks I have come crawling back like a junky to
their habit. It seems that the more I write in here the more shit in my
life changes. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worst. Right
now my life is neutral which is weird. Lately there has been more shit
to do concerning survival. Not just my survival but the survival of
everyone on the entire base. Our food and water supplies are ample and
can sustain us for months if not years. Our munitions on the other hand
aren't doing so well. After that little skirmish we had with thos
shitbags we depleted our stock of ammunition by Seventy-Five percent
which is staggering. The next time a horde of them comes, they can just
come up and knock because that's how bad it's gonna be if a sizeable
force of shitbags comes a calling.
I have enough bullets to kill about Three Hundred
and Sixty of them dumb mother fuckers. Knowing my luck I will wind up
wasting bullets like I always do on account that the pus faced fuckers
don't always die in the first shot to the face. Remember and I stress
this majorly because I saw alot of this the other day. It it falls down
and get up with half it's face then obviously it's not dead for the
second time. Your shot has to go into the head causing the brain to
liquify upon entry into the cranial cavity. In Laymens terms be sure
you blow the mother fuckers head clean off when you shoot or learn not
lose your shit if the fucker you shoot get back like you gave it a lead
laced kiss. Here's a hint, use .45 or higher caliber hollow points if
your using a hand gun, Double .00-00 buckshot if your using a shotgun
and .30-06 if your using a rifle. If you use anything smaller than I
mentioned than I suggest you bend over and touch your toes because your
fucked until further notice.
In case your wondering just what it is I have been
doing the past few days. It's trying to get on a team into Waco because
there are still munitions reserves at a few unlooted pawn shops. Namely
the one I tried to go into a month or two ago. I know of a few other
reserves that Boss Easter set up in case the Lipsitz compound became
unlivable. Nice of him to think that far ahead for himself. The only
reason I know is because of Sgt.C and he knows because he was Boss
Easter's most trusted man. Anyways Sgt.C shows up the other day and
gets a promotion to Gunnery Sergeant. How fucking stupid is that? I
mean he isn't even here for five minutes and BAMN promotion. Just like
that. I am in the fucking service for a month and I am still sitting at
a private with an accomodation for bravery. Bravery? Bah! Fuck it. I
didn't want to die, so I lead those dumb fucks away from the base so
that not everyone would die. My one good deed for the year.
Well on the First of this wonderful month, I got to
pull some Long-Ranged Vehicular Recon with my platoon on the
surrounding towns outside of the Dallas/Ft.Worth area. Mainly it was a
whole bunch of scenic driving around Waxahachie, Oak Leaf, Pecan Hill,
Ferris, Ovilla, Glenn Heights, Lancaster, DeSoto, Wilmer and Hutchins.
I saw so many nice houses that were either abandoned or destroyed. Some
of them have been sitting that way since the shit hit the fan back in
'05. I think it just fucking hilarious that all those yuppy fucks
thought they could buy their way to safety by fleeing the US of A to
Europe or Asia only to find out those shitbags were there waiting for
them in a country that doesn't and never will have as many guns as
America.
For the most part our trip was pretty uneventful. I
mean we saw shitbags but they were pretty few and far in between which
was a good thing. Our sniper had a silcened rifle so when he fired his
little shit rifle, it put the fucker down with hardly any sound past
the equivalent of a thump.
I think our sniper had about Thirty Eight confirmed kills. He was
fucking amazing, I mean anyone able to get a drive-by scoped shot is a
hardass in my book! I never took anytime to learn anyones name in my
platoon but hell when ever I get around to it, I might just ask. We got
back just in time for dinner and debriefing. I have a crazy notion that
we will be doing some more missions in that region. I am not happy
about it because it is not an area I wanna go to especially right next
to FUCKING Dallas! That place is crawling with millions of those damn
shitbags.
As opposed to then, the last few days have been a
waiting game for the next mission. I have been bugging the mechanics in
the motor pool about the repair status of my El Clunker. So far it's
coming along nicely but it will be a while. Maybe a few more weeks
tops, on account that it isn't of utmost importance to them or the
Marines. I'll be waiting like an anxious kid saving his allowance for a
mail order pellet gun. I am as giddy as freaking school except the not
being giddy or the school girl. So yeah don't you dare call me a fairy
unless you like .45 caliber kisses.
Well I think I am off to go shoot some dice with
some nice gentlemen behind the Mess Hall. I have some MRE's and extra
bullets I feel like gambling off to the gambling demon. Man I wish Las
Vegas hadn't been nuked, oh well ho hum and life goes on, right? So
that means you'll just have to wait till I feel like talking to ya'll
again. See you later there journal people.
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: A Beautiful World
2/7/08
Well folks I am rich man right now. I think gambling
can be become a lucrative business for me, if the world wasn't in the
deep condition of fucked that it is right now. So I went to the little
place they set up behind the Mess Hall for Craps and some other card
games. I got to meeting some of the boys and girls around base that set
up this little operation. The man running the dice was Doug, a
nerd with alot of time on his hands. The chick running the cards was
Darlene, quite a nice looking cutie but way out of my range considering
the whole being old enough to be her grandfather. Let me get back on
point, I made off like a Mongolian Raider. I went to go play some Texas
Hold'em with three clips of ammo for the .45, One bottle of Jack
Daniels and four packs of cigarettes. I left that gambling ring with
two fifty round boxes of .45 ammo, two bottles of Jim Bean, one box of
condoms, three hand grenades, four packs of Dentine Ice chewing gum in
assorted mint and cinnamon flavors and a .22 Derringer, which happens
to be a party ender for when you get cornered by shitbags.
Yup I am force to be reckoned with kind of like
Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry. Sans the whole having a .44 magnum or a
job as a detective. As I said I am a garbage man and I take out the
trash depending on what it is that I am dealing with at the moment.
Speaking of trash and taking out the garbage the assholes at the motor
pool still haven't gotten around to fixing El Clunker. And that ain't
too cool in my book. I actually decided to learn the name of the head
mechanic, his name is Brian. I don't bother learning last names because
I don't want to get too attached to potential zombie fodder. Trust me,
it helps when you have to put them down if they turn. Yeah turns out
Brian ain't such a bad guy especially after he lost his Derringer to me
at the gambling ring on the Fifth.
Enough of my ramblings on gambling. Yesterday, 6th,
we had supplies dropped to us from our brothers in arms from the Navy.
The must have drop closed TWO HUNDRED crates loaded with ammunition and
guns. Our munition deficit is now in surplus and we're back in business
for now. Sgt.C lead four squads worth of men to Waco where he knew
supplies were stored. He came back loaded with munitions, guns, food
and fuel. Lots of fuel. I am talking two tankers loaded with fuel. So
now we won't be out of gasoline for the cars and diesal for the trucks.
Granted that I am peon in the grand scheme of things, I have a strong
feeling the shit has already hit the fan and it hasn't blown on us yet.
Note the keyword here is yet. Whatever the man upstairs has planned is
going to be some sort of mean ass idea of a sick joke. This time, I am
not kidding.
I know I may be a Negative Fucking Nancy right now.
Get used to it, in order to survive these days you have to push hope
back and keep negativity on the forefront of your mind. So that way you
won't be surprised when the shit hits the fan. On the account of
assuming that things are safe and dandy. Meanwhile Mr. Shitbag and his
cohorts are gonna have themselves a cannible barbeque with your blood
as the sauce. Just because your happy go lucky ass assumed that it was
safe to camp up in a building that you thought was safe. Never assume
that anything is safe. Right now I am not safe as I am under constant
threat from enemies both foreign and domestic. This isn't fear that I
am speaking out of it's paranoia and the fact that I am always
right.
I hate not being able to go out and explore past the
boundaries of our base. For the most part we are on lock down kind of
like a prison except where everyone has guns. I can't wait till we do
some more vehicular reconnaissance. I can never get enough of our
platoon's sniper and his never failing, never faltering accuracy. I bet
he could hit could hit a shitbag at one thousand yards with just plain
iron sights from a BB gun. That doesn't mean I am gonna put him up to
the test. He has a dead aim and that's gift that's basically only given
by God Almighty. He uses it everytime he can though. I never talk to
him because he is always reading a book, doing push-ups or cleaning his
rifle. I think I his name is T., Bendlemen or that's at least what his
patch says on his uniform.
Well I think I am gonna go for kick back for a few
maybe head on over to the range and get some practice with my .45, in
for old times sake. Then after that maybe I will go talk to my CO and
speculate what the brass wants us to go do in terms of riskings our
lives and wasting precious time that can be spent bullshitting. And I
after I am done chatting like a hen, I might go see what I can't make
off with a the ring this time. I'm gonna mosy I will see you folks
later.
2/9/08
Bad news folks. You know the whole bit with the
chatting with my CO? I found out what the brass have been planning. It
turns out that there is Ten Thousand people trapped in Dallas. They
have been communicating with us for a period close to a few weeks now.
Did the higher up's choose to tell us sooner? NO! Instead they spill
the beans at the most inconvenient time when those people in Dallas are
besieged by a few million of those shitbags. They are almost out of
food, ammo and fresh drinking water. And within the next few days they
will be dead or dying from either the shitbags, dehydration and
starvation. So General Turner in all of his infinite wisdom has decided
to use us along with airstrikes to cut a path throught the mass of
shitbags, so that we can ride into Dallas like the Godamned Calvary.
Seems like a good plan but mind you airstrikes aren't quite effective
unless you can lure the enemy into on concentrated area for mass
saturation bombing. Now my question is how are we going to move Ten
Thousand people? We barely have Five Thousand troops and barely a
hundred vehicles right now. I hope that somehow, in someway my
questions will be answered because I am not going to let my life be
used like a leaf of toilet paper in the grand scheme of things wiping
their ass.
Now all I hear is alot of the other platoon's
speculating that Turner is going some how bring in more soldiers. But
how many more? We would need close to a quarter of million troops and
vehicles to even think about approaching Dallas with a thirty nine and
a half foot long pole. I think everyone is full of shit. If push comes
to shove I will have to pay Sgt.C a visit because he always seems to
know what to do in times like this.
This kind of reminds me of June 6,1944 but instead
of Germans firing machine guns and mortars at us. We are gonna be
overwhelmed by close to a few million shitbags. This is Normandy Beach,
Texas Style. Actually when you think about it, the situation is more
like the Alamo except Santa Anna is in the form of the Undead. Either
way I don't know what's going to happen or if anyone is going to
survive this mess that our surperiors have brilliantly planned. I doubt
they do, but hell let's just give it a shot. Maybe they might but
chances are that they won't and we will all wind up dying horribly. Aww
fuck it. I think I am gonna go get as drunk as I possibly can right
now. So that way when I hear their godamn plan I'll laugh.
See you folks later I am off to go get boozed off my
ass. Have till next time. I'll keep ya'll posted if I am alive.
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Convoy
2/13/08
I'm alive folks! I managed to make it back from the
Dallas mission and it was hell in a hand basket. I am injured again
this time I took shrapnel in the thigh. It hurts like hell still on
account of the fact that some godamn private went nuts shooting at us.
I will explain that in a bit. Other than that little mishap with the
ape shit private, the mission went alot better than I previously
expected when the mission was announced on the Ninth. Here's a good
word of advice. Never go to a battlefield intoxicated, EVER!!! It was a
bitch trying to drive my transport One Hundred miles to send my fellow
troops to death.
Speaking of death, destruction and the like, General
Turner's big plan was calling in close to Five Hundred of Special
Forces. Green Berrets, Rangers, Navy Seals, Delta Force and Marine
Force Recon. These guys had been in every engagement since the rise of
the undead. These guys have killed thousands and not even broke a
sweat. Many of their compatriots perished for each one that died
however the survivors became forged in the hell that is battle. I only
saw a few of them. During the entire battle but for the most part their
presence was seen, felt and heard. Before they were dropped in Turner
bombarded the outskirts of Dallas with bombs to just a little short of
actually nuking the city to rubble. Hundreds of thousands of those
shitbags were vaporized upon the bombs impact. Others trapped in
shitboxes were crushed by crumbling and exploding buildings. A shitbox
is a building or structure that has been overrun by living dead. The
building is usually contaminated and the shitbags are rarely smart
enough to get out of it. Especially if it involve the use of doors with
handles that require turning or pulling.
So while Dallas was getting bombed back into the
stoneage, we were driving up I-35 in a modified Troop transport truck
with the appropiate modifications to make it so that we can knock
broken down, abandoned vehicles and barricades out of the way. From
about forty miles away we could feel the rumblings of the explosions,
from twenty miles aways we could hear the bombs going off and within
ten miles we could see plumes of black smoke and fires rising from
Dallas. It was hell on earth. Far worse than any carnage that I have
seen so far in my Fifty Three years of existance.
Our convoy pushed in through a field of smoldering
corpses, luckily I had my respirator/air filter mask on or else the
smell would have seriously got to me. We were on I-35 East near
Duncanville when we hit some congestion in the streets which was about
Eight Thousand shitbags all moving on us as if we were an all you can
eat buffet. My vehicle was in the middle and the four transports behind
me deployed troops. Each soldier had M203 grenade launchers attached to
the bottom of their M-16's, M-4's and CAR-15's. For about twenty
minutes all I saw was body parts and tracers flying through the air as
the shitbags were mowed down like blades of overgrown grass.
After punching a hole in the mob of undead we
mounted back up and continued up I-35 East and turned onto the Lyndon
B. Johnson Freeway and up I-20 towards our objective. All in all there
were Twelve troop transports in our convoy. Riding bitch right next to
me was Bendlemen. He had sniped about sixty of those shitbags in our
little tangle with the fuckers. I-20 was more trashed and we wound up
having to take an exit on to North Cockrell Hill Rd. We headed
Northbound entering major opposition from road blocks and more of those
undead fuckers. It was so packed out in the streets that we became
stopped by a mass of thousands of bodies. So each transport switched
out their Fifty for a flamer thrower and went to town torching the
fuckers. The screams of the undead were bad but the smell that
permeated the air was worse. I was wearing a respirator/ airfilter mask
and I could still smell it. Withing thirty minutes the mob of undead
had burned away enough that we could advance further.
Within an hour of traveling by street, I saw some of
the special forces engaging the enemy. They were outnumbered but yet as
quickly as the shitbags came they were dispatched. I only got to see
them operation for a moment as we drove by them. Boy they were really
something . Our job was to escort the civilians out of Garland. They
somehow managed to create a giant barricade to keep the fuckers out of
their little encampment. Which is a good thing but in doing so they got
themselves trapped and besieged by a few million shitbags. Smart move I
guess but a damning one at that.
Block by block, we fought our way passet hundreds of
thousands of those shit bags. For everyone that fell at least a dozen
would take it's place. We spent all of our flamethrowers fuel, then we
ran out of bullets in our Fifty. Each transport was running out of
ammo. And we were so overwhelmed that we couldn't even open the
transport up to fire in the crowds. I got on the horn and radioed base.
At first there was no response. Then about five minutes later the radio
came to life. We were getting air support . I just hoped that they will
be more discriminative in their targets or you'll have Christmas hams
roasting in these transports. And no one likes human flavored Christmas
ham like the shitbags. Within twenty minutes two AC-130 gunships came
and put several thousand rounds into the mob surrounding our convoy.
Within an hour the mob was chunky bit of flesh that mewled and moaned
as we drove over the remains of the crowd.
Our Convoy wasn't the only one in the city. There
was roughly Fifteen other convoys taking different routes into the city
to Garland. So that we wouldn't all be overwhelmed in the event that
all the shitbags converged on us upon entering the city. I think that
had we all went in at the same time at the same place then we could
have had the mission done sooner. Instead our resources were getting
stretched thin and we still had to worry about a million or more of
those shitbags coming to hold up the convoy in the event that we got
lost. And we were lost. Somewhere along the way we had taken a wrong
turn and we were about four miles off course. In Carroliton near Hebron
which was closer to Stewart Peninsula Golf Course. So I decided to
radio the other trucks in the convoy. I told them to make some room so
I could get ahead of them. And they got the hell out of my way.
I was in charge. I led convoy along the streets till
it lead us to the President George Bush Turn Pike. We followed it west
towards North Central Expressway and headed Southbound on Highway 75
towards Richardson. We were making good time until we hit some serious
wreckage. So troops were deployed to set charges and clear the road
block. All was going fine till one of the soldiers in charge of
demolition set the charges off and caused some serious bullshit. He
exploded along with the barricade. When that happened flames erupted
from the inside the transport two behind me. Which then set off all of
the munitions and other devices that could cook off in the event of a
high heat explosion. The convoy was down one transport and twelve men.
All of the other troops piled out of the other transports and set up a
defensive formation. Then it happened, some private with an M-203
"Boomstick" freaked and started shooting at us. He killed six total and
tried to blow my truck and me away. Instead he caused part of my door
to splinter and send shrapnel all in my left leg. At first I didn't
feel it on account of the being drunk. I pulled my .45 out just in time
to see Bendlemen put two between the privates eyes.
After about another hour of clearing debris we
cleared the road and continued on our path. Towards our goal. We hit
Lyndon B. Johnson Freeway again and took I-635 and turned off of the
interstate and onto Restland Rd. We continued westward till we hit one
of the barricades put up by the people besieged in Garland. The
barricade on Audelia Rd and Walnut St. was almost completely impassible
by our transports. So we turned around and hit Abrams Rd. where we hung
a left on Centennial Blvd. and made our way to North Juniper Rd. We hit
another barricade and we plowed throught it. After about thirty minutes
it dawned on me. Where the fuck are the shitbags? Where the fuck are
the people we are supposed to escort? Where the fuck are the other
troops? They must've finished the mission and got the fuck out of dodge.
Nope they were Three miles away in the thick of a
intensive battle. Fifteen thousand Four Hundred people versus close to
Six Hundred Thousand shitbags right where Garland and Mesquite border
each other. That I didn't figure out on my own. The radio was full of
paniced request for assistance and supplies. I turned the radio to a
channel Four Frequency One Four Three. And began making plans with the
others in the convoy I was in so we could be figure out how to best
support our troops. After about thirty minutes of deliberation, we all
came to the conclusion that it would be suicide to enter the fray. So
we figured the best way to provide assistance to our fellow soldiers by
sniping the enemy with rockets, grenades and long-ranged full metal
jacket kisses.
We turned around and headed South bound on the LBJ
Freeway.To try to find a secure place to begin our assault and a place
suitable for a contingency plan, so that we could get the fuck out of
Dallas in case things go horribly wrong. Although I am not a team
player, I under stand the importance of it especially when it comes to
surviving impossible odds. Eventually we hit LBJ FWay and Highway 65.
We got out and cleared the area of the immediate threat posed by the
undead. By then my injury had clotted shut. So I wasn't bleeding like a
stuffed pig. The Corpsman had to take a look at my leg anyways. He
removed a Three inch piece of shrapnel from my leg, stopped the
bleeding, sutured the cut and bandaged my leg. I still stayed at the
wheel. For about Seven Hours the troops rained hell on the untold
thousands of shitbags that were keeping my fellow marines from exiting.
Then the sound of angels can flying overhead. This time an attack group
of Twenty Apache Helicopter's came to our rescue. For four hours
straight it rained bullets, bombs and napalm on the hordes of undead.
The fires spread for miles as the fuckers tried to get away from each
other on account of the fire and the fact the contagion reanimating
them was smart enough to let the pusface's that fire is not their
friend. The most unsettling things about it though is the fact that the
mass of corpses was moving so it was a sea of flame and plumes smoke
billowing into the night sky.
After another four hours of combat we cleared enough
of the fuckers out of the convoy's way to escape. We turned around and
took LBJ Fway to Dallas North Tollway. We slammed straight through the
toll booths and continued driving like a bat of hell towards I-35 East
and Highway 77. We hit the straight away out of Dallas and away from
that infernal godamn city. We connected with the rest of the convoy
further on down I-35. And with that blessing all of the trucks in our
convoy ran out of fuel right next to Waxahachie. So there was about a
four hour wait for a refueling truck.
There were carloads of scared, tired and hungry
survivors that were fortunate enough not to get killed by the millions
of undead that nearly stopped all of us from getting away from Dallas.
My guess is that out of Ten Thousand people only about Five Thousand
made it out of the city alive. I could be wrong. Out of the Two
Thousand Two-Hundred and Twenty Eight Men sent into Dallas we lost Six
Hundred. It was a smooth operation for the most part and it appears
that General Turner knows his tactics. I will admit that I was wrong to
doubt him. And that's about it.
That's about a wrap for me kiddies. My leg is still
giving me shit. Those damn surgeons removed all the shrapnel from my
leg and gave me a shitload of medication to numb the pain. I don't need
the medication. I can manage this on the own. Yeah I know this is alot
of writing and I am running out of paper in this here, journal but I
will keep on sharing my tales with ya'll. My faithful audience until
this here pad runs out of paper. I am off to now to go get me some
sleep and maybe if you folks are good enough I'll share my reflections.
Remember now same bat time, same bat channel. Whenever I godamn feel
like it!
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Trash, Garbage and Refuse: The Gamble
2/21/08
Alright folks I am back. My leg is still in a lesser
state of fucked up right now. Since I stopped taking the pains med a
week ago, I have learned to ignore pain better. No need to be doped up
in case the shit hits the fan. Shit! When it did hit the fan I wonder
how many of them fucking dopers got eaten while they were tripping out
on whatever drug they were doing before they died? Hell, I guess it
doens't matter that much. I suppose it's just my twisted sense of humor
getting the better of me.
On an off topic, about three days ago on the Eighth,
Two Hundred and Thirteen soldiers marched into camp. They were the
special forces from the Dallas mission. They marched close to a hundred
miles from Dallas through shitbag infested territory to base where a
shower, a warm meal and some ammo. Instead the superior officers had
them quarantined at gun point. Then checked for infection among the
men. Any of the infected were then shot execution style. Close to Fifty
of our compatriots in arms were murdered. The other special forces were
then washed of via water hose before they could venture further into
the base. They were cleaned up and rearmed.
Besides watching them getting embarassed infront of
everyone. I got to watch them in the mess hall while I was eating some
biscuits and gravy. They didn't speak instead they sat in their
secluded corner and ate in silence. I know what they went through and I
knew speaking to them would be a retarded idea. Bendlemen sat with
them. One of the other Privates following him was told to fuck off
politely by Sgt.C. I think that Bendlemen might have been special
forces at some point before becoming our company sniper. That explains
the calmness in the middle of a shit storm. Oh well, I suppose I am too
old to be part of the cool crowd nowadays.
Yesterday I went to the gambling ring. They know who
I am and fear me. I am a gambling champ. The only people dumb enough to
play with me now are the idiot privates who are new to the ring. I went
in with eight hand grenades, five boxes of condoms and three packs of
cigarettes. I left the ring with a weeks worth of rations, five rolls
of toilet paper, two unopened Hustlers and a sawed off shotgun with six
shots worth of buck shot. I am on a roll. Let's pray no one get's the
idea of trying to steal from me because I just don't feeling like
making an example of anyone right now. Actually hell no, I wanna test
my shotgun on someone dumb enough to try me. I don't think I will get
in that much trouble.
Well folks me and Sgt.C are getting along better. I
suppose that is a good thing. He kept his men from getting killed in
the Dallas mission. That is something worthy of getting some sort of
medal and promotion. Too bad medals don't really mean shit nowadays.
They are just a piece of metal with a design that looks pretty. Shit I
kept the men in my truck alive but chances are I will get a slap on the
ass and a grin next time evaluation comes around in a few weeks.
General Turner is supposed to be coming to our base
tomorrow. He is going to be bringing more supplies for us. I imagine
the reason for his visit is simply for morale boosting. My morale
doesn't need boosting. I need my El Clunker fixed. That's what I need
and that's what I want. Knowing my luck it will be another godamn month
before they get around to fixing it. Assholes. Godammit I sure could go
for some Jim Bean right now. If only I hadn't drank it all before that
mission. Just my fucking luck. Always coming around to let me know that
I ain't ahead of the game by much.
Hell I think I am done for now there folks. Not much
paper left in this here journal. If only I could have had real toilet
paper sooner. That comes with playing the game of life. Sometimes you
have to use that which is most precious as a means to wipe your ass.
This journal here is just my outlet. My way of getting more juice out
of life. Thank God it ain't shocked me yet. Well folks I am off to the
Mess Hall. I think we're having Chili tonight. Grant it that the food
prepared in the mess hall isn't the best tasting it surely kicks ass in
comparison to C rations. I'll catch you folks on later. And to all a
good night.
|
| Trash, Garbage and Refuse.
Month 3. |
Trash, Garbage and Refuse: The Shit Fan
3/13/08
Sorry folks, it's been a damn long time since I last
talked to ya'll in this here journal. I got good news and bads news.
And since I like my desserts first, I'll share the good news first. My
El Clunker is fixed and better than ever with a .50 mount on top and
modifications to the front and sides. So that I can plow right on
through the masses of shitbags when I have to punch it on the
accelerator. It got a new engine that makes my truck for about Ten
Miles more an hour but it guzzles gas like a son of a bitch. Well
that's it for the good news.
Time for the bad news, according to the eggheads in
General Turner's fleet out in Houston Harbor, the shitbags will take
forever to decompose. Supposedly the shit that makes a shitbag tick has
mutated and in that happening the chance of the decomposition process
of a corpse turning to walking mulch is pretty much going to be a
longer wait. Meaning that if I try to wait the fuckers out inside a
fortified position there is chance that the shitbags will be outside
the doors until the cows come home. So our new orders and training for
dealing with them is to burn the bodies of any we kill.
I ain't done with the bad news yet, so just sit
tight. That being said we are going to be getting foreign assistance
from countries who have their shit together right now. Like Australia,
Brittain, Canada and Japan. What a fucking surprise. So now I bet
ya'll are wondering, "But Dirk why does that matter?" Well it matters
in the fact that our current leaders in all their infinite wisdom have
decided to give them some of our turf and resources they find when they
begin reclaiming regions fallen to shitbags. The exception to this rule
is if the region in question maintains a population of 20% or more,
then they aren't allowed to touch shit. It belongs to the people of
that region. Since most of the states here have less than 20% of their
original population circa 2008, that means those bastards will be
hogging up all of our resources that we have worked hard to hoard over
the years.
Right now supplies are rather scarce and we need all
we can get. So coming up after we finish training, the first batch of
recruits we are going to be hitting military areas for food, munitions,
oil and other various supply storage areas in sorrounding states.
Meaning the following ROAD TRIP! They took the back off of my trust and
replaced with an area for storing goods. That means that I will be
driving again. The first state that we plan to hit is Oklahoma. Then
Arkansas. Following behind AK is Lousiana. And after that trek we get
to go all the way to New Mexico. Which means going through heavily
infested territory to get materials that will ensure our survival
provided we don't end up like an all you can eat buffet. I can picture
it now, "The Golden Colon." And the tag will be, "All the assholes you
can eat."
When General Turner visited he brought us supplies
and a few new toys by the boat load. He arrived in a air convoy that
comprised of Two C-130 cargo planes and Eight fancy hot shit planes
that looked like F/A-18 Hornets. They were carrying about a half
weapons load. I bet they toasted a few crowds of shitbags on their way
here. Some of new toys brought to us by Turner, included some M1A2
Abrams Main Battle Tanks. Man up close those things are fucking huge.
They had the main gun and a mounted .50 cal/40MM Automatic Grenade
Launcher. Which means if shit hits the fan, they have a strong chance
to clear a mob out, like a plumber cleaning a clogged pipe with a nuke.
I mean it could be some serious overkill. Damn I have penis envy of
those damn tanks and their operator's. Bastards got it luckier than me.
The Gambling Ring got shut down. So no more gambling
for me until we find a way to get past the MP's watchful eye. Assholes
don't know what a good thing is until it bites them in the ass. Pun
intended of course. Yeah that nerd, Doug got himself in some deep shit
after trying to steal from the Quarter Master. Anyways they confiscated
all goods at the Ring and made numerous arrest when it got shut down
last week. I am glad I wasn't there when it got raided. Then again the
ring was in the back room of the Mess Hall. Yeah some of the new
recruits found a damaged Ms.Pacman arcade machine. They fixed it up,
got it working and right now I see them having a blast playing it over
in the Rec Center. Damn idiot kids, I will never understand why they
can't take a situation seriously or take responsibility for the shit
that happen when it hit's the fan.
Not all the new recruits in our platoon are fucking
idiots. There is this one kid who keeps to himself. He has some paper
that he draws on and is constantly in the gym beating up on the
punching bag. If I am correct he was one of the Dallas survivors. He
looks like he could knock the head clean off a shitbag, if it got too
close for comfort. The only thing that bothers me about him is the fact
he drums on anything. It gets annoying whenever I am trying to get some
shuteye or whenever I have free time and I'm not trying to sleep or
write in this here journal.
Yeah I hope all this shit we have planned goes off
without too much of a hitch. I don't the idea of being chow. I don't
think anyone does but me especially. Dying is not on my to do list
right now. So yeah fuck dying, it's overrated. Trust me when I say that
it is when you have seen thousands die because of stupid injuries and
needless sacrifice. In this happening I have learned to appreciate my
life regardless of how shitty my life is at the moment. Right now
things are good. I have clothes on my back, two meals a day and guns
and ammo to boot.
Well folks I am getting hungry and tired like people
my age do when it's the end of the world. I think I am gonna eat some
rations and hit the hay for a bit. If anything of importance happens I
will keep ya'll updated. So have a Yabadabado! time and good night.
|
| Trash, Garbage and Refuse.
Month 4. Month 5. Month 6. |
Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Lost And Found
4/15/08
Howdy Folks! I actually have time to talk to ya'll
again. I have been in a whole heap of shit since we started our
Supplies Reclaimation Campaign. At the start we hit a few supply bases
in Oklahoma and Louisianna with no trouble. Quick clearing of
opposition of the undead persuasion. In and Out like a robot. No
trouble, no hassle and no bullshit. Just the way I like it. Of course
if you experience a good thing then there is always bad to come. That
is an unwritten law of life. Go fucking figure.
So we were nearing Lubbock on our way to New Mexico.
Just putting along at convoy speed with scouts out in front, Supplie
truck in middle, Troop transports and tanks in back. Then out of the
fucking blue a truck explodes right in front of the truck in front of
me. Body parts and metal flew everywhere. I sighed. It was raiders. You
know the bad kind of survivors that like to be cock suckers. Mainly the
smarter of the criminal types that survived by taking to the roads.
Then survived by rape, killing and looting all that comes through their
pissing grounds. I heard about them and frankly, I am not terribly
impressed by their antics.
The Scouts in front of the convoy take off leaving
us, the troop transport trucks and the tanks behind. I readied my .45.
As did Bendlemen next to me riding shotgun. I could hear the distinct
sound of motorcycles coming from our flanks. Then in the rear view
mirror, I saw that they were carrying Submachine guns and machettes for
cutting people down if they were outside of the vehicles. Judging by
the amount of organization these raiders had some soldiers on their
side. If they had that sort command chain, that means commanding them
were the cowards that went AWOL when the shit hit the fan. And in that
case, killing them was a job requirement. Not to say that I like
killing but I don't like traitors. In any way, shape form or fashion.
Bendlemen was at it sniping their snipers. He has an
eye for that sort of thing. He must've killed Seven of them before they
took notice that the sniper fire was coming from my El Clunker. Then
they came on their dirtbikes. Each bike had a driver and a passenger
that hopped off the back. The Passenger then tried to take the truck
over. The fucker opened the door and I blew his godamned head off.
Bendlemen didn't see the one on his side. But he was lucky. That kid I
was talking about in my last journal entry killed the guy before he
could shoot into the cab. The kid broke the dickheads neck. One solid
twist and the head nearly made a full revolution. I couldn't hear the
snap because of all the gunfire.
The other guard on my truck got sniped trying to hop
out of the back. Bendlemen shot the fucker before he could get a bead
on the the rest of us. The kid got on the .50 and started rocking and
rolling. He was unstoppable. We managed to push past the two wrecked
trucks in front of us. And we were getting the fuck out of dodge.
Combat was real heavy towards the back of the Convoy. The tanks were
dropping armor on their artillery emplacements. We knew what we were
doing despite getting ambushed. About a mile on down the road we hit
were the scouts had been taken out. My guess was land mines or RPG's.
So I take it into reverse and heard some dude screaming. When I
finished backing up I saw one of them raider fuckers splattered. My two
ton El Clunker crushed him like Florida fresh squeezed orange juice.
I had to take it off road which meant taking the
chance that we could hit IED's. For those of you that don't know and
IED is an Improvised Explosive Device. Like remote bombs and such. Shit
that can be made in a garage or a bathroom in any country that has a
1st world economy grocery store. So I was bumbling it along then I felt
El Clunker kind rattle and die. I didn't hear anything because my ears
were ringing. I was right, we hit a mine. The rear axle was fucked up
beyond recognition. Me, Bendlemen and the kid were miraculously spared.
I guess we hit a limp mine. For a moment I sat their cursing to myself,
the steering wheel and God. It was one of those sick pranks that
bastard in the clouds likes to pull whenever shit ain't going good.
Especially then at that moment in the middle of a shit storm.
Bendlemen finally herded me out of the truck. We
gathered as much supplies as we could carry. Set a detonator charge on
our supplies. Don't want anyone pulling a salvage on Uncle Sams dollar.
And made a Beeline for the convoy. Combat was still going on hardcore.
One of the tank had been taken out by the last artillery barrage from
the raiders. There were bodies everywhere and the smell of burnt flesh
was in the air. Which meant that if there were shit bags nearby that
they would be moving in to help themselves to a snack of survivors and
the injured. We were maybe five minutes away from the last truck in our
convoy when the order was given to retreat. They took off when were
just mere steps from the back of one of the transport trucks.
We each had radios and from all the shit that
happened. We hurt those raiders in a real bad way. Kind of like what
happens when the dude who drops the soap in a prison shower winds up
doing the loving on some would be sodomizers. We ducked out for a
second behind one of our wrecked trucks. There were bodies and weapons
laying everywhere around us. Bendlemen picked up some ammo for his
sniper. And got a secondary from one of the dead. The Kid on the other
hand collected an HK MP-5 from one of the dead raiders. His weapon had
been lost in combat. For a moment we could hear sporadic gunfire. Then
after that all that was left was wind and fire.
I could hear people moaning for help. Turns out we
had some injured among all the dead. Nearest injured person from me was
a raider. He had taken a belly full of 5.56 and was in the process of
dying. He was still capable of speech. So I dragged him over to where
we were posted at and began interrogating him. He spilt the beans real
quick the second I put my .45 to the side of his head. Turns out they
were Hells Angel. Could have fooled me. He was full of shit. So I
cocked the hammer and put it right under his jaw. Then he started
telling the truth. Turns out they were the Texas Liberation Union.
Strike two. I didn't care to hear what else he had to say. I dispatched
him real quietlike with my knife.
We moved on stealthily to the south east. We weren't
on the road anymore. No need to be found and killed by angry raiders.
None of us spoke. Until we hit another stretch of highway. Turns out we
were heading in the exact opposite direction of where we were intending
to go. We were on North Bound Highway 84. Which meant we were in a
territory with no intelligence. The situation wasn't good. At least it
wasn't at it's worse. After about Six hours of humping across hills we
came across a Texaco. It was relatively intact. There was a car parked
at the pumps. It was dirty and the drivers side door was open. The
store itself had no power but it hadn't been looted or touched by
anyone for at least a year if not more.
We moved in and took a well needed rest. After a
more thorough search car at the pumps was dead. It was stained with
dried blood and smelt badly of mildew and rot. There were supplies in
the back seat. Who ever had this car was killed here. And they had been
dead for quite sometime. The inside of the store was clear. I took the
time to permanently borrow a Texas Road Map. After a brief search the
nearest town to us was Anton. It was a long shot at the time but it
would be smartest for us to make our way over there. Possibly find a
sturdy vehicle maybe some working long range radio equipment.
After about six hours of rest. We were back on the
road again. It was before dawn. Dark enough so that we could see with
the night vision goggles. So were at a tactical advantage. So far me
and my team were moving without opposition. We hadn't encountered any
of the raiders or other survivors from our convoy. So it was safe for
us to assume we were alone for at least a Twenty Five mile radius. It
took us close to Eight hours to make it to Anton. Upon reaching it we
noticed that there were signs of civilization. A barricade of wrecked
cars and barbed wire was at the entrance facing us. For about half the
day we watched through our binoculars. They looked to be relatively
friendly survivors. So I moved in on Anton first. I hatched a plan and
The Kid and Bendlemen would stay back just in case the shit hit the fan.
Like clockwork I was ordered at the barricade to
stand down. I did and two men in guille suits came from my flanks. They
took my ammo and let me keep my weapon. Then I was questioned. They
asked if I was alone and I shook my head yes. Bendlemen and The Kid
were still in the sniper spot. Unseen and Unheard. If shit happened
then they would be able to bail me out of trouble.
Upon entering Anton, I noticed that there was power.
And if there is power then there's electricity which meant that these
people have been living a life of luxury out hear in west Texas. Lucky
fuckers. Kids were playing out in the streets. Old people were sitting
in front of their houses. And civilization was undisturbed here. I was
escorted to their security office. It was the sheriff's office of Anton.
It was a Twenty minute wait. Then their head came
into town. He was Sheriff John Henderson. By my guess he was my age
except a fatass. Age had molded him into a position of lazyness. He
smelt of stetson man cologne and wore a car salemen grin on his face
when he saw me. He was too polite, I knew he was up to something even
before he spoke. Which meant that he was all butt buddy with those
raiders. You know, the ones we fought the day before I waltzed into
Anton. Then my suspicions were confirmed. His little militia men pulled
their guns on me.
The Sheriff told me to sit back, relax and kick our
feet up. He said I would have friends coming to get me. He sold me out
to those fucking raiders. Which meant he was a traitor. Sheriff John
was a dead man.
An hour passed while I was in the Sheriff's office, I heard the rumbling of bikes of all types.
I was right again. Sheriff John was grinning at me like I was some sort
of meal ticket. I was stripped of the gear that I had carried with us
into town. And the biker's went to town knocking me around for a little
bit. I took it. I knew Bendlemen and The Kid were working their way
into the town. He probably had to kill their to two guards in the
guille suits before they could advance.
If guessing right was a game show then I would be a
millionaire right now. Too bad money doesn't mean shit. They were all
sorts of working together. They knew we were moving into west Texas to
hit supply depots. So they set an ambush for us. They openly shared
that info as if it were going to be the last thing I was going to hear.
The biker's were exmilitary. Some were deserters others were veterans.
Either way they were traitor's to humanity. Bastards. At least we
killed well over half of them before the convoy pulled out.
They tied me up in the center of town and let the
populace spit on me and throw rocks. I was hanging there for well over
three hours. I was fucked up. After the people of Anton had fun with
me. I was taken back to the sheriff's office. The cleaned my wounds and
handuffed me to my bed in the jail cell. Still where the fuck was
Bendlemen and The Kid?
I was interrogated for about Five hours. I answered
with half truths and bullshit. The dumb fuckers hung on every word I
said. Then I was allowed to sleep. At around Three A.M. The explosions
started. Then the gunfire. The calvary had finally came to back me up.
They moved into the Sheriff's office killed the guards. Rearmed me and
I got my gear out of storage. It was completely dark outside. Bendlemen
and The Kid weren't alone there were others with them. They must've
retreated and gotten picked up by the Convoy.
Well finally I was wrong, they ran into the Army and
the Airforce. Turns out a force from Cannon Air Force Base had plans to
hit Anton. They too had been assaulted by the raiders. After we kicked
their ass they then had the opportunity to move in and finish the
raiders off. Which is what happened. They massacred any person with a
gun that wasn't on the friendly list. By the time I was extracted,
there were bodies and burning buildings everywhere.
We were taken back to Cannon, AFB. I got some
medical attention for my bruised ribs. And now I sit here in their
barracks writting in this here journal. It seems everytime something
happens to me I usually get injured from kicking ass. I guess it's a
fair trade. I get to live and a whole bunch of despicable assholes get
to die. A good trade indeed.
In the next couple of days me and my compatriots
will be meeting up with the Convoy. Lucky for us, that we got help from
our brothers in arms. I think it will be easier for us to move around
West Texas now. I am not 100% certain of the geography here but I can
learn fast. I just pray that all this combat hasn't gotten the shit
bags riled.
Now that things are in perspective again. I can go
get some grub at the mess hall and get some much deserved rest. I need
it. Have a good night folks, I'll catch ya'll later.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trash, Garbage and Refuse: Out of Paper
4/29/08
Well folks I have been too fucking busy as of late.
The whole survival job is one you can't joke with especially when you
got everything trying to kill you. Those nice military folks I was
working with for such a long time are almost all dead. You see thing is
that we ran into close to million of those shitbags on the New Mexico/
Texas border. And for miles and miles all you could see was a sea of
people. Grant it that we had close to a Thousand troops and ammo to
boot. Bullets and bombs don't do you any good whenever your comrades in
arms die from fatigue. We surrounded for the better part of two weeks.
How we got circled is anyone's guess but we were besieged. The
commander being the genius he was decided that it would be best to
stand and fight. We circled the wagons so to speak and let the shitbags
know what a last stand is like first hand.
Seeing is that I said last stand, I mean that is
what happened to everyone who tried to stay for reinforcements from our
big brave leader General Turner. I tried to stick around but once I saw
that after Eight days of no water, food and ammo running low. I did the
only thing I could do, I left. I wasn't alone. I had
Bendlemen and the Kid were by my side along with a few other marines.
But the unamed generally die. I never did take the time to learn their
names because we never had time to talk. It was a constant fight as we
made our way out past that circled convoy. We killed thousands of them
shitbags. We made are way to the outer ring of them fuckers and ran out
of ammo. So we booked it as fast as we could north west. There wasn't
much of a choice, because those shitbag fuckers were following us.
We were on are feet for about four days straight
without sleep. I didn't even get a chance to take a piss break. I wound
up relieving myself on the march. We found a small town in New Mexico
called Portales. We came marching in on I-70. Were exhausted. The skin
on my feet on was tender and when I finally got to change socks I wound
having to bandage them. Don't me wrong that shit fucking hurt like a
mother fucker. The Kid and Bendlemen collapsed, in an abandoned
furniture store. I hadn't been looted, but weather tore into it pretty
bad. The city was dead. Some of the buildings had been looted. There
were some smashed police cars up the street on S Main Ave and W 1st
Street. After a four hour respite I was on my feet. Bendlemen had me
covered with his sniper. He had three bullets left. I suppose it was
his logic that if we ran out of luck he would have a means to end it
all for us. When I got their there was blood stained into the pavement.
Inside one of the cars was a shotgun locked into the dash board. I
broke it off of the latches, then I pried to trunk open. There was some
Kevlar vests and some boxes. A roadside assistance kit, a first aid
kit, a twelve pack of Coca Cola and some boxes containing some shotgun
shells and another first aid kit. So it was like a Five Finger Discount
Christmas.
I checked the other car and found a baton, a Twelve
Gauge shotgun and the shit in the trunk had been smashed completely in
by what I assume was an 18-wheeler. Of course there wasn't an
18-wheeler in sight but I assume thats what smashed in the back ends of
these cars. This entire town, could be covered to from one side to the
other in a matter of a few hours. So it was podunk, and that's good.
That means that we don't have to worry about any other massive mobs of
shitbags other than the ones that were on our asses.
After we assessed our current situation we made
plans to go back to the convoy to see if anything was salvagable. It
was a long shot that our comrades would still be alive but if they were
then we could possibly provide some form of back up. All we needed to
do was rest then find a suitable means of transportation. Then if the
police station had a sizable armory then we would load up all the gun
and ammo. If there was Pawn Shop/ Walmart then we would hit there so
that way we could stock up on more weapons and more ammo. Then head
back to the convoy and take a larger vehicle all the way back to
Hillsboro Base.
We got about another Eight hours of rest before the
search for a faster means of escaping our pursuers. Now at first we
were looking for fast, then something moderate that didn't guzzle gas.
Then we thought of something heavy. We found a whole bunch of abandoned
cars with dead batteries. So we continued searching and found another
fucking garbage truck. I know a little bit about mechanics for garbage
trucks. So after checking it out, I realized that once we slap a new
battery in it, change the spark plugs and the oil. We would have the
most badass means of zombie evasion. So we mosied over to the autozone
took what we needed to fix it up and get it running again and got to
work. After four hours we got everything in the green. Dumped the
garbabe out and stole some diesal from an abandoned Fina.
After the transportation issue was resolved, we
checked the police station out and loaded up on ammo and guns we could
find. Then we hit the Wal Mart for guns and ammo. Put the newly
procured in the in bin in the back. Due to the fact that since I have
joined the military, I have started caring about my fellow soldier. Me
and my crew were in the process of suicide running ourselves back to
the convoy. Bendlemen rode up top and kept watch just in case there
were shitbags nearby. We hit the road and with luck we were hoping that
our brothers and sisters in arms weren't all dead yet. We gunned it
back to them. After Six hours of driving we got to the besiegement and
saw the convoy. They were holding tight. The shitbags were still
coming. I heard Bendlemen poping shots off at the ones he could hit.
Then we plowed straight through the mob. I didn't worry about my wheels
getting gummed up from all the bodies my truck was crushing. I swung
the truck around to back in and wedged in so that way when I hit the
cargo release they could see the goodies we had for them.
They were rather happy, to see us. There were dead
bodies everywhere. Most of them were shitbags but alot of them were
soldiers who had died from dehydration and starvation. The commander in
charge of our convoy had disappeared. But I bet that piece of shit went
AWOL. I hope the bastard got ripped to shreds. So as if by clockwork
Turner's help came, Planes came and dropped bombs and pulverized the
hills surrounding us. Plumes of smoke and flame barreled into the sky
and the screaming got louder. Everyone, including myself still inside
the convoy wall were too fucking tired to enjoy the light show
presented to us by the US government. The best use of Two Hundred
Thousand Dollars ever. Once the mobs of undead had a path cut through
them those remaining loaded up in to the still functioning vehicles and
hit the road. I followed. We gunned it back as fast as we could back to
Cannon, AFB. I was in ruins. It had been bombed. There were charred
corpses everywhere. They too had been besieged by the undead and were
rather unfortunate to have been bombed back into the stonage. But I
suspected something was wrong. The bodies were melted to their weapons,
some were melted to AA guns. There was something up. Then as if like a
wildfire the rumors started and right now we have a strong feeling that
our allies were behind it. I have my suspicions that it was the
Japanese that did it, maybe even the Australians. The British are too
far up north right now to be too close to us. So it must be one of
those two. Either way the situation couldn't be helped. So we collected
what we could and pushed back to Hillsboro with our heads down. This
mission in it's Third Act was a failure. Sixty-five percent casualities
and the loss of over Thirty percent of our vehicles.
Upon arriving back at Hillsbor outpost we found it
abandoned. There were shitbags milling about but none of them were in
uniforms. They were dispatched. We scrounged together what supplies we
could and got moving again. We had a working communications center in
one of our transports. We are One Hundred-fifty soldiers right now. And
we need to find the rest of our comrades. It doesn't help that I am
running out of paper in this godamn journal right now. I have maybe a
fourth of a page left. So folks until I get a new journal I will have
to go. Until something important happens. It was a nice run there
audience and someday when this shit gets undercontrol I will make a
movie of this. Goodbye until then.
5/5/08
I just wanted to say happy Cinco De Mayo there
folks. Everything is ok for the moment. We have found a temporary
outpost back in Waco. We had to clear out alot shitbags. The Lip Sitz
compound is ours again. Good bye.
5/23/08
Sgt.C returned with Thirty men. Turns out that the
Japanese are behind this. Damn dishonorable bastards. We are moving
further south towards Mexico. Right now we are on the out skirt of
Austin. Yeah we will be meeting up with Turner for some reinforcements
and supplies. He is leaving the Gulf of Mexico and going to meet up
with Britain. They are going to launch an offensive against the
Japanese while they have the homefield advantage still.
6/4/08
We are in Loredo right now. Fully stocked, armed and
awaiting orders to hit a Japanese listening post. Something seems wrong
though and I can't explain. I am out of paper. Wish me luck folks.
6/7/08
Mission success. We are at war with shitbags and the Japanese. Damn communist bastards.
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