in too close, and clipped a large metal rack that was intended to hold jugs of windshield washing fluid, and sent the damn rack flying straight at me. I had nowhere to go but dive in the parking lot directly in front of the truck, or attempt to leap like Otis over it, and neither of those options happened. I took the damn rack straight in the fucking guts, and got slammed against the frigging brick side of the store.
I had the wind half knocked out of me, and I doubled over holding my midsection. Patty nearly shat herself when she saw me get hit, and she leapt out screaming to lend me a hand. Mercifully, she put the truck in park before she got out. Adrenaline rocks. The damn rack was wedging me against the wall, and I hadn’t gotten it off of me yet, and Patty grabbed the thing with one hand and flung the fucker ten feet. All I could think of was the urban legend of the grandfather who lifted a tractor off his grandkid. Granted this was a little different, but she tossed that hundred pound rack like a BOSS.
She helped me into the truck just as a few more zombies started to come down the street about 50 yards away. We’d attracted attention. Patty stopped and plinked them dead with her rifle, and she drove us away.
I noticed when we were making our escape that daycare building we’d seen the day of the meeting with Brian. Now, I know that building will have undead kids in it. I mean, that’s a given, right? At his point Mr. Journal you and I both know what my luck is like, and it’s easy money that building is filled with a dozen kids permanently stuck at the terrible two’s. Little evil bastards slowly rotting away with heads filled with sharp, murderous baby teeth.
Anyway, in my delirious state of hip and stomach pain, I realized that the daycare building still had all its windows intact, and that very likely there would be baby food and possible formula inside. My greedy little nugget immediately decided that we needed to hit that place to get inside and see if anything was available. The two pregnant girls in Westfield are going to be needing a lot of baby food and formula when the kids are born.
Patty smashed a few more corpses down with the plow blade on the way home. I can’t be certain, but I think I saw some satisfaction on her face. It’d been awhile since we were able to use a vehicle to take some of these fuckers out. I know it felt good when I did it.
By the time we reached campus I was much better, and I got myself into Hall E without too much pain and effort. Of course sitting here right now ten hours later I’m feeling it. I’ve got an enormous bruise all over my side and stomach that looks faintly like the metal grid pattern on that fucking rack. I’m gonna be sore for days. Patty has apologized a hundred times already, and Abby took a couch pillow to her mom’s head for trying to kill me. Funny to watch the daughter scold the mother.
Someone once told me that as we age our children become the parents. I hope this isn’t the first sign of Patty reaching old age. She isn’t that old really. We’re all laughing about it now of course.
Oh… before I forget. While we were away Abby spent some time cleaning up outside trying to gather all the books the zombies brought onto campus with them. She seemed somewhat shaken talking about it. I guess from what she saw, there was no rhyme or reason to the books. Some were Twain, some were King, some were textbooks, some were romance novels, and there were a few coloring books as well. That tells me the books were some kind of symbol, some sort of message to someone. Likely me. I need to think on this at length.
Otis is laying here on my bed with me, across my feet. He is such a godsend for keeping me warm at night. I forget how much heat the little guy puts out. When he’s gone at night, I notice I wake up looking for warmer blankets. I know he’s snuck away and down the hall to Abby’s room a few times to cuddle with her, which is nice.
I had the wind half knocked out of me, and I doubled over holding my midsection. Patty nearly shat herself when she saw me get hit, and she leapt out screaming to lend me a hand. Mercifully, she put the truck in park before she got out. Adrenaline rocks. The damn rack was wedging me against the wall, and I hadn’t gotten it off of me yet, and Patty grabbed the thing with one hand and flung the fucker ten feet. All I could think of was the urban legend of the grandfather who lifted a tractor off his grandkid. Granted this was a little different, but she tossed that hundred pound rack like a BOSS.
She helped me into the truck just as a few more zombies started to come down the street about 50 yards away. We’d attracted attention. Patty stopped and plinked them dead with her rifle, and she drove us away.
I noticed when we were making our escape that daycare building we’d seen the day of the meeting with Brian. Now, I know that building will have undead kids in it. I mean, that’s a given, right? At his point Mr. Journal you and I both know what my luck is like, and it’s easy money that building is filled with a dozen kids permanently stuck at the terrible two’s. Little evil bastards slowly rotting away with heads filled with sharp, murderous baby teeth.
Anyway, in my delirious state of hip and stomach pain, I realized that the daycare building still had all its windows intact, and that very likely there would be baby food and possible formula inside. My greedy little nugget immediately decided that we needed to hit that place to get inside and see if anything was available. The two pregnant girls in Westfield are going to be needing a lot of baby food and formula when the kids are born.
Patty smashed a few more corpses down with the plow blade on the way home. I can’t be certain, but I think I saw some satisfaction on her face. It’d been awhile since we were able to use a vehicle to take some of these fuckers out. I know it felt good when I did it.
By the time we reached campus I was much better, and I got myself into Hall E without too much pain and effort. Of course sitting here right now ten hours later I’m feeling it. I’ve got an enormous bruise all over my side and stomach that looks faintly like the metal grid pattern on that fucking rack. I’m gonna be sore for days. Patty has apologized a hundred times already, and Abby took a couch pillow to her mom’s head for trying to kill me. Funny to watch the daughter scold the mother.
Someone once told me that as we age our children become the parents. I hope this isn’t the first sign of Patty reaching old age. She isn’t that old really. We’re all laughing about it now of course.
Oh… before I forget. While we were away Abby spent some time cleaning up outside trying to gather all the books the zombies brought onto campus with them. She seemed somewhat shaken talking about it. I guess from what she saw, there was no rhyme or reason to the books. Some were Twain, some were King, some were textbooks, some were romance novels, and there were a few coloring books as well. That tells me the books were some kind of symbol, some sort of message to someone. Likely me. I need to think on this at length.
Otis is laying here on my bed with me, across my feet. He is such a godsend for keeping me warm at night. I forget how much heat the little guy puts out. When he’s gone at night, I notice I wake up looking for warmer blankets. I know he’s snuck away and down the hall to Abby’s room a few times to cuddle with her, which is nice.
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