would tell themselves 'someone is more desperate than I am and they will be the 'guinea pig'. Of course most of them were right.
Farming was really the best option. Everyone knew it. Farming was sure to be safe, it would give good food, it was something that they could keep doing. They had tried to farm from very early on as a matter of fact. The problem was the outbreak was more than just an outbreak of illness, it was the complete and total break down of the world. Farming as people knew it before the outbreak was nothing like it was now. People had been spoiled by the ease of getting clean water, power tools, and vehicles. Even the acquisition of land was a different story now.
Since there were few 'zombies' they could leave their little safe haven to farm, but it didn't make the job of finding unbloodied and safe soil much easier. Once a place to grow was discovered the next challenge was how to get water to that place. It was hard, it required many filters, the desperate attempts to understand how to set up wells, and ultimately farms depended mostly on the natural elements to provide water and nutrition. The natural elements in a world that was already being systematically destroyed by humans weren't that reliable.
More crops died than were harvested and finding ways to replenish crops was a struggle. Take away refrigeration and any other form of preservation and simply put the little community was screwed.
Yet they still kept pushing. They wished that they had died long ago but kept pushing to survive now. They farmed as much as they could, hunted often, still scavenged despite knowing it wouldn't be a success, and learned to live in a constant state of hunger. It was safe to say they truly missed the days when man eating monsters were their biggest concern. Hunger didn't take away the constant fear that they had been living with, it was now just displaced on something else.
Conversations were vague, attachment to one another had ceased, it wasn't living in any sense of the word. They wanted the others to die so there would be more food.
“Maybe we should move to one of the cities,” someone said.
“There are two problems with that. One, the cities have likely been picked clean. Two, while there are few of the 'zombies' around here we don't know what it would be like in the cities,” an answer came.
“Yes but if there are people that have cleared the cities out, they might have found a better way to eat,” a different person argued.
“Then leave,” came a reply. They all knew the unspoken part of the reply, 'if you leave then we can have your food'. Despite the fact that everyone was thinking it, and everyone knew everyone else was thinking it the words were never spoken. It would break the tentative peace of the village.
After that conversation no one had a conversation for at least a week. The only words spoken were names at what their rations were for the day and jobs for the week. More than once someone would wonder if the group would simply forget how to interact with one another using words. The emotional and human part of them would lament over this possibility. A much larger part of them knew that it simply didn't matter.
The village kept functioning though. They found a way. They struggled for it, but they found it.
Finally one day they saw it. A group for three people walking down the road. Three relieved and happy faces looked at what was clearly a safe village. The guards for the village looked through their scopes. The people were fairly healthy, though had clearly been on the road for sometime. They weren't coming from another safe haven looking to combine communities. They were lost and wandering on their own.
“Hopefully they have some food,” a person said.
“And maybe some tips on where to get more.”
“It will give us some meat at least,” someone said sadly.
“Yep, let them in,” came the disgusted reply.
It was certain that in those moments they were all knew they
Farming was really the best option. Everyone knew it. Farming was sure to be safe, it would give good food, it was something that they could keep doing. They had tried to farm from very early on as a matter of fact. The problem was the outbreak was more than just an outbreak of illness, it was the complete and total break down of the world. Farming as people knew it before the outbreak was nothing like it was now. People had been spoiled by the ease of getting clean water, power tools, and vehicles. Even the acquisition of land was a different story now.
Since there were few 'zombies' they could leave their little safe haven to farm, but it didn't make the job of finding unbloodied and safe soil much easier. Once a place to grow was discovered the next challenge was how to get water to that place. It was hard, it required many filters, the desperate attempts to understand how to set up wells, and ultimately farms depended mostly on the natural elements to provide water and nutrition. The natural elements in a world that was already being systematically destroyed by humans weren't that reliable.
More crops died than were harvested and finding ways to replenish crops was a struggle. Take away refrigeration and any other form of preservation and simply put the little community was screwed.
Yet they still kept pushing. They wished that they had died long ago but kept pushing to survive now. They farmed as much as they could, hunted often, still scavenged despite knowing it wouldn't be a success, and learned to live in a constant state of hunger. It was safe to say they truly missed the days when man eating monsters were their biggest concern. Hunger didn't take away the constant fear that they had been living with, it was now just displaced on something else.
Conversations were vague, attachment to one another had ceased, it wasn't living in any sense of the word. They wanted the others to die so there would be more food.
“Maybe we should move to one of the cities,” someone said.
“There are two problems with that. One, the cities have likely been picked clean. Two, while there are few of the 'zombies' around here we don't know what it would be like in the cities,” an answer came.
“Yes but if there are people that have cleared the cities out, they might have found a better way to eat,” a different person argued.
“Then leave,” came a reply. They all knew the unspoken part of the reply, 'if you leave then we can have your food'. Despite the fact that everyone was thinking it, and everyone knew everyone else was thinking it the words were never spoken. It would break the tentative peace of the village.
After that conversation no one had a conversation for at least a week. The only words spoken were names at what their rations were for the day and jobs for the week. More than once someone would wonder if the group would simply forget how to interact with one another using words. The emotional and human part of them would lament over this possibility. A much larger part of them knew that it simply didn't matter.
The village kept functioning though. They found a way. They struggled for it, but they found it.
Finally one day they saw it. A group for three people walking down the road. Three relieved and happy faces looked at what was clearly a safe village. The guards for the village looked through their scopes. The people were fairly healthy, though had clearly been on the road for sometime. They weren't coming from another safe haven looking to combine communities. They were lost and wandering on their own.
“Hopefully they have some food,” a person said.
“And maybe some tips on where to get more.”
“It will give us some meat at least,” someone said sadly.
“Yep, let them in,” came the disgusted reply.
It was certain that in those moments they were all knew they
Similar Books
