Where was you?

Her twin lip piercings shone white under the industrial light of the utility room. They followed her mouth up into the curve of her cruel smile now as she muttered "bring it on you bastards."  Egging on her courage as much as she was the slowly shuffling forms of the undead with her smile and her command. She had backed herself into a corner, incorrectly identifying a storage cupboard as the door to the fire escape. There were only three of them but she preferred to run rather then fight, less chance of getting blood on her leathers that way and less chance of dying. They were nearly at the doorway now, only a foot away from where they needed them to be. She would almost feel sorry for them if they weren't trying to kill her and feast on her still warm corpse. The weapon slid out of its holster with ease, the metal cool against her grip, she held it comfortably in front of her, the butt and trigger in one hand the grip in the other. "boom" she whispered quietly to herself as the three ragged figures all entered the doorway at once. The shotgun rang out like thunder and two and a half heads were gone. Buckshot. Big fucking buckshot. She would have smiled were there any joy in living these days. The world was gone and it had taken happiness with it. 

She made her way out of the industrial district pretty quickly after that, there weren't many infected left in this part of the city but they were attracted to real noise and seemed to be able to sense their own truly dead. They moved in packs, attracted to the smell of the living, any groups left alive bigger then fifty were soon found disbanded or very very dead. They had hunted humanity to near extinction, the only options left were extreme security, extreme secrecy or constantly being on the move. She had lived on the road for too long, the company of a shotgun and a warm leather jacket hadn't done her sanity any favours. She knew she must find others the day the voices in her head had made their way to her mouth and started speaking aloud, accents, afflictions and all. She had done well to cure herself of that when she had joined Middleton's "resistance." A group of twenty strong survivors living out of some old storage units. Insanely strict and a little overbearing as a group but mostly harmless as long as you had a pulse. They didn't appreciate her little trips as much as she'd like but they were thankful enough when she found what they needed which of course this time she hadn't. Socket wrenches, a full set. Tyson their impromptu mechanic had lost his running from a pack of  the undead. It wasn't the most obscure thing she had been asked to find but it was one of the harder things, most stores and shops had been picked over many times by now so she had to move further and further out from the compound each time.

She was halfway back when she saw it. Sixteen of them in total, shambling forms huddled in a group in the middle of two intersecting streets. Some clothed some not. Years of walking had literally worn the clothes off them. When you did find them this wasn't an odd way to do it. Without real stimulus they simply stood, waiting for some indication of the living, movement, noise, Anything to give them a direction to run in for their next meal. She crouched low behind an old brown station wagon, planning her path before them, studying there forms and looking for any unknown threat. "URGATT" screamed a large brutish looking zombie in the half light of the afternoon causing shivers to rake down her spine. Two others shook violently, then turned and ran down the street, directly towards her. They hadn't heard her, they couldn't have, she thought quickly to herself, unslinging her shotgun for the second time that day. What were they doing? She flattened her body against the wagon and waited, two barrels loaded and ready should the worst occur. They grew closer, their bare dead feet slapping roughly against the broken asphalt, now only metres way from her concealed position. They brushed harshly against the rusted metal panels of the wagon, coming around the sides and continuing on. They hadn't heard her, that hadn't even seen her as they thumped down the main road. It was almost as if they were responding to the others noise as a command. She almost laughed, what a ridiculous idea. They didn't communicate, they couldn't talk let alone give commands. She let the two runners grow out of sight before she moved, the larger group still standing in the intersection, silent and unmoving. Manoeuvring herself around several abandoned cars she made her way to the building line at the edge of the street, moving three blocks down before turning back to the direction of the compound and heading home.  

Home. A strange idea when most of your friends and family were dead and still wanted to kill you. But she had one, if that's what you'd call it. A storage locker, big besa brick walls and a single roller door lockable from the inside and out. It was about as safe as things got in today's world and she had made efforts to make it her own. Band posters and clothes everywhere, an old army stretcher in the corner and a ragged armchair opposite. "ah, home sweet home" she said sliding off her pack and into the chair. She organised her haul into groups on the ground next to her. "four tinned meals, some more out of date antibiotics and a case of shotgun shells, nice" she thought to herself quietly. She needed rest, patrol duty for half the day and then her trip into Middleton had taken its toll. She stood slowly, easing her weary body out of the chair and then stripping down. Loading the last two of her batteries from the night stand into an ancient CD player. It had one speaker missing and most of the buttons gone but it still played her music. The others sneered at her for it but she always believed it was the little things that kept you sane. The music did that for her, fast, loose and loud. It drowned out the thoughts of the undead and the tension of the day, as loud as it was it helped her sleep. The compound was safe, the storage unit was locked. Her scratched and worn Korn CD echoed off the walls and kept the noise out as she slowly fell asleep.

She was forever getting in trouble for not checking in. They all knew she was back, anyone who walked past her "unit" could hear the music seeping through the walls but it didn't matter. Protocols were protocols. Blake was an ex army sergeant who always seemed to forget the army had disbanded three years after the mass infection. He was their leader of sorts, making the small day to day decisions for their troupe and taking his place at the head of the table when it came time for group meals and major meetings. He was also the one currently tearing her a new one for not informing him of her return. "You are one of the few we send out alone! You are supposed to be setting example to the new recruits, show them how it's done and how to stay alive. Not to slink back in without a word and hide away in your cave!"
He smelt like pickles. "Yes Blake, sorry Blake" she could barely keep her eyes from rolling
"So you should be, you have two extra shifts of patrol this week, and I expect it done without complaint. "
He smelt like pickles and he spat when talked. "Yes Blake" she answered again.
"You're dismissed"
She walked out without another word. It was almost time to leave this hellhole, she had had enough of the false democracy and bullshit rules. With the rations and ammo she had stored away she could leave when she wanted, and Blake had just given her the perfect excuse.
I finally decided to post this after I realised I was never going to finish it. It was fun to write but it was never really going anywhere, so here it is for all of you to see and hopefully comment on. Positive or negative, some feedback is always better then no feedback.

Like the dead sea...

Keep away. The lighters, the woman, the feels, the people, all the things that drive me crazy. Lock me in a room and leave me there forever. Its what I need. Time? Maybe. Peace? Definitely. Some quiet in the one place I cant turn the volume down.

So do you turn the music up to block out the screams and the confusion or do you turn it off and sink into the insanity that waits. A bit overdramatic Lee. Definitely that too, its what I'm good at. I've tried explaining it. maybe you get it, maybe you don't, but ill never be able to believe anyone truly gets it. Maybe one, but they are a long way away from where they need to be. That's selfish and still true.

Paragraphs are hard. This isn't going to flow the way I want it to so each time it stops in my head I'm going to end it and start down another track before I get really bogged down.

Its go time people, Lee the great motivator! that's what they'd call me if anyone actually felt inspired by the ridiculous shit I sprout at work. I love the idea of getting every geed up for work or anything really. Caffeine and chocolate does it sometimes but I wish words were enough. One of them told me to stop being so energetic today, I told him I wasn't energetic I was keeping myself moving, that's how I have to work. the same as it is here, if I get bogged down I end up somewhere else, somewhere dark and fucking scary and I cant function there, so I roll my sleeves up and work as hard and fast as I can, maybe not physically because at the moment if one thing isn't broken it feels like another will be soon, but mentally I'm always on the move in that place. always jumping form one task to the next and then back to something I picked up and forgot about. Its not a perfect system but its the only one I have that works at the moment. Hopefully after tomorrow I'll start getting better again, either way there are tough times ahead. I need to push harder and just cop whatever comes my way. Its going to get interesting quick but I've always been able to handle it in the past.

So the infamous A.P. just rang and distracted the hell out of me but I'm trying to reign the wild horses now crashing through my headspace in.

An oddly good friend of mine recently made me realise some things I've been doing when it comes to any form of romance in my life.

"Can I say one thing tho? You are too available. We don't want dicks. We just want someone to treat us like we are different. The things you are doing for these girls is nice but a girl has a way of sensing if a guy is doing something because there is a crazy connection or because the guy just does this for women. Dave treats me like a princess and says he would do anything for me...he would do anything for me...but he would do anything for any woman he was dating...he falls fast despite personality's. A girl shows him love and says a few nice things and he would follow them to the ends of the earth. And that's easy to sense" - A person who is way way way smarter then I am.


and my exact response to this was

"Fuck

...

So that's what's going on.

...

That makes a lot of sense.

...

Goddamnit"

 

Of course the information blows, because it shows that I am the problem... which actually didn't come as much of a surprise as I wanted it to. But in a way it is also good because if I am the problem I can fix it.

Which brings me to the other thing I keep telling myself, I need to work on me. Its one of those things I think people say a lot and never stick the but the problems and evidence are stacking up really quickly that I am causing the majority of my own problems, which is okay, but only if I am working to fix them.

 

Its funny in a really dark way how similar working on myself and joining the army are in my head. What happens if I find I am too broken to be fixed? I'm functional but by no means am I happy. The same thing occurs to me for the army, what if I am simply not cut out for it?

One of my favourite pieces of internet are says fear makes the wolf bigger. You are damn right it does, but what are you supposed to do when the thing you fear the most is yourself? What if I'm not the man I want to be, what if I cant be that person? What if the world throws its will against me and I shatter into a thousand pieces, if I break down again. Become this husk of who I am every time I'm challenged in my head.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well I'm shit out of sugar and I've got more then enough lemonade to drown in.