\n \tHelen awoke to the sounds of birds singing. Day Three<\/em>, she thought, rolling to a seated position on the edge of her bed. I wonder what new horrors today will bring, eh?<\/em>
\n \tShe woke Victoria on her way to the bathroom, then – still dressed in the tiny boy shorts and thin cami she wore to bed – carefully removed her heavy luggage and opened the heat door. No zombies, thank God<\/em>, she chuckled mirthlessly, padding down the steps. The fridge still worked, and the gas stove; Helen made scrambled eggs, again, using up the last of the heavy cream and fresh red bell peppers in her fridge.
\n \t\u201cGonna miss cream in the coffee,\u201d she said, pouring herself a cup of steaming black liquid.
\n \t\u201cGo back to tea then, like a proper Brit,\u201d Victoria said. The girl grinned. \u201cI\u2019ll take Earl Gray, hot.\u201d
\n \t\u201cTwo lumps of sugar?\u201d
\n \t\u201cFour.\u201d
\n \tHelen shook her head ruefully. \u201cFour, eh? Good Lord, girl, you\u2019ll be sweeter than a peach if those zombies ever do get ahold of you.\u201d
\n \t\u201cNah,\u201d she scoffed. \u201cThanks, Helen. I\u2019m going to feed Chops and check for Uncle Jack and Aunt Starr. \u2018Kay?\u201d
\n \t\u201cRighty-o.\u201d
\n\tHelen shook her hair out with one hand as she carried her mug out to the porch. She sat in her favorite Adirondack-style chair, pulled her knees to her chest, and watched as Maple Lane came alive with people bustling about.
\n \tThere\u2019s gonna be a lot of of work to do<\/em>, Helen decided, letting the steam roil up to caress her cheeks. Someone is going to need to get an inventory together; figure out where we all stand with food and water and-<\/em>
\n \t\u201cHelen!\u201d
\n \tShe glanced toward the source of the voice. \u201cWhat\u2019s up, duck?\u201d
\n \tVictoria came loping over, her graceful stride ample evidence of the gymnastic prodigy she had been. Aleksandra, the Russian ER doctor, wanted to make a \u201crun\u201d for supplies. Victoria insisted upon coming with, and though she wanted to take bikes, because they were quieter – Helen decided they would take her Lexus SUV.
\n \tThe day was a blur of activity. The streets were crammed with wrecks and abandoned vehicles. There were no sirens, no gunshots, no sounds of traffic. In fact, it would have been one of the most peaceful, beautiful days she had ever experienced in New Cumberland\u2026 were it not for the moaning, shambling ghouls.
\n \tThey looted a gas station; Bode, the mechanic, had emptied a police car\u2019s trunk of weapons and ammunition. And, best of all, to her mind, body armor. Unfortunately, the things they were able to get from the store itself were less impressive.
\n \tHelen suspected she was going to tire of ramen noodles and packaged power bars real damn quick.
\n \tThe worst part of the day was not the fact that they had now seen so many of the undead that they could no longer pretend things might one day be normal again, but the evidence they had seen of people trapped in various places\u2026 surrounded by zombies\u2026 helpless\u2026 hopeless\u2026
\n \tFuck me, I pray that doesn\u2019t happen to me. I\u2019d eat a bullet before I\u2019d let those abominations nibble on me gigglebits\u2026<\/em>
\n \tAs she crawled into bed that night, a strange bed in a guest room at Victoria\u2019s Aunt and Uncle\u2019s house, Helen felt an odd sort of relief. She had allowed a family of so-called \u201ctent people\u201d to move into her home; she had brought nothing but the essentials with her. Her most useful clothes, her canned food, her french press coffee pot and her old fashioned campfire kettle with a large stash of tea, her bottled water, and her weapons.
\n \tAll the rest of it\u2026 everything\u2026 she had let go of it.
\n \tIn a way, it was liberating.
\n \tIts not like the power will be on forever<\/em>, she consoled herself as she lay in bed with a cooling fan blowing across her bare thighs. What do I need with a gold-plated straightener or that beautiful blower with diffuser comb and four heat settings, anyway?<\/em>
\n
\n \tHelen woke again to the sound of birds singing. She rolled onto her back, pushing her thick, dark hair out of her eyes. She was clammy and her hair was damp with sweat. Queer. Its so quiet. The A\/C must have stopped\u2026 <\/em>
\n \tAnd even as that thought crossed her mind, Helen realized that she could not hear the CD Player she had left playing in the bathroom either. In fact, except for the chirping outside her window, she heard nothing else. No sirens, no white noise from fans and electronics, nothing.
\n \tWelcome to Day Four<\/em>, Helen stretched languidly, reaching for the ceiling and then for her toes. No more adventures in zombie-dodging today\u2026 I think I shall speak with that idiot, Simmons, and Corporal Cooper about setting up some sort of inventory system. Collective goods and all that. Figure out what supplies and stuff we have. Let the big boys keep their guns and whatnot\u2026<\/em>
\n \tShe dressed in jeans and a tank, with her knee-high motorcycle boots and a cropped leather jacket. It was hot – and humid – and she was miserable, even with the arms of the jacket tied around her narrow waist, but Helen was no stranger to zombie films and she was not going to end up a meal of the undead because it was too bloody hot to wear thick garments.
\n \tOnce her list was complete, and she was grateful for the help from the somewhat wimpy accountant, Al Lopez, and her tennant, Tammy McCadden, Helen retired to her room at the Honeywell house and collapsed into bed.
\n \tSurviving the fucking apocalypse is hard work, even when its just bloody paperwork\u2026<\/em>
\n
\n \tThe birds did not wake Helen on Day Five. Instead, she woke to the crushing and crashing of vehicles as the National Guardsmen used Bode\u2019s rollback to stack cars in the vague shape of a wall. It would eventually line both perpendicular streets, protecting their block of Maple Lane from uninvited people and zombies.
\n \tThey hoped.
\n \tHelen found it endlessly amusing that Victoria\u2019s weird dislike of \u201ctent people\u201d had already seemed to spread. Especially amongst the young folk. They were worried about the excess waste, the drain on already short supplies, the \u2018outsider\u2019 factor. Helen had been over the inventory she, Al, and Tammy had worked on so diligently several times already this morning – they had a lot of useful things, and a good bit of food, but it would not last.
\n \tNot for long.
\n \tHelen sat on the Honeywell\u2019s porch as the heat of the afternoon swelled, and wondered how much worse everything would be come winter. Gods, Helen, you\u2019re depressing today. Look, they\u2019re parking that bread truck at the gap to use as a gate. That bloody brilliant\u2026 or maybe idiotic. I guess time will tell, eh?<\/em>
\n \tShe wandered the block a bit, not really caring about what people were up to, yet observing the various groups as she passed. Victoria was learning to shoot; not using live rounds or actually firing, just aiming, squeezing the trigger, all that. Helen supposed she should sit in a lesson. Though she had not made it known that she carried a pistol, the skill could certainly save her life one day. She was afraid to let anyone know about the gun, lest they try to remove it from her as a precaution or as a necessity of war – to put it in the hands of a more skilled marksmen. Fuck that. It is mine and they\u2019ll pry it from my cold dead hands\u2026<\/em>
\n \t\u201cTomorrow?\u201d
\n \t\u201cTomorrow.\u201d
\n \tHelen paused, sipping from an aluminum water bottle. \u201cWhat\u2019s tomorrow?\u201d
\n \tAleksandra, Bode, and Scooter were standing beside a monstrosity – the jacked up El Camino was strange enough normally, but the two men had welded seven push-mowers to the back-end of it.
\n \tScooter lifted the dirty trucker\u2019s cap from his sweaty head and rubbed his damp hair with a grease-stained hand. \u201cGoing to rescue them poor fuckers what are in that house. You\u2019re in, yeah? Figured you two-\u201d
\n \t\u201cThree!\u201d Victoria insisted, stridently.
\n \t\u201c-would follow us. We\u2019re taking Travis and Jerry, I think.\u201d
\n \t\u201cYeah, yeah, of course,\u201d Helen said, without thinking. \u201cIts only right – gotta try and help them. Would hope someone would were it me.\u201d
\n \tNaturally, despite what seemed like a fairly solid (if risky, for Travis and Bode and Scooter) plan, nothing went as intended. By the time they returned to the block, hours after leaving to help the family in the car, Helen could hardly remember the sequence of events.
\n \tYet when she curled up in bed that night, she was sort of proud of her \u2018friends\u2019 from the block. They had rescued a sweet young mother, Sue Park, and her poor, dehydrated little girl, Ji-Tae. They had had nearly lost Travis when the poor kid hopped the median on I-83 and broke his ankle, but he was okay and between Aleksandra and the paramedic Bode had rescued – Ezra, was it? – he seemed likely to recover. Plus, Bode had managed to score a sweet military-grade Humvee.
\n \tNot bad for a day\u2019s work\u2026 Tomorrow, we\u2019ll go to that house that was totally surrounded by zombies. Must\u2019ve been a hundred of them\u2026 more even\u2026 <\/em>Helen closed her eyes. She could hear Aleksandra moving around in the next room. The Russian surgeon had sacrificed her own apartment so that Sue Park and her daughter had a safe, quiet place to recover. That second floor apartment is as safe as anywhere on the block, I guess. I do hope Alex and Ezra can help that poor child. She is such a dear\u2026<\/em>
\n \tHelen opened her eyes, staring at the shadowy ceiling above her. She had never really considered being a mother. Never really imagined she had much by way of a maternal instinct. But her girls, the ones who dubbed her Mama Oso and who loved her, would insist that she was not only possessed of one, but that it was strong.
\n \tGuess its too bloody late to start wishing I\u2019d found a decent sort of person to settle down with, make babies with\u2026 Wouldn\u2019t do to get knocked up now, would it? Didn\u2019t do Laurie much good, eh? But\u2026 still, it might be\u2026 nice…<\/em>
\n
\n
![\"Signed,](\"http:\/\/jeezjosie.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/03\/signature.jpg\")
\nNote: Image is “notes” by Just4You from SXC.hu<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Today\u2019s snippet, titled \u201cMid-Week Blues\u201d, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in Paul’s new Zombie Campaign (using GURPS for Session One, but we’re moving to All Flesh Must Be Eaten for future sessions. The intention behind this was to recap events occurring in the world, from the point-of-view of my… <\/p>\n