When I was done I walked into the main area with the others, covered in blood, and asked, “Does anyone know why I’m killing people?”
They were stunned. I wish I had been kidding.
“You mean you forgot why you were killing them?” the Doctor asked.
“Yes, I knew I had to keep doing it, but I didn’t know why.”
“My God,” the Doctor said. “Get cleaned up and read your journal.”
The others were still stunned, looking at me like, like I was one of the monsters out there.
From the journal of Timothy Lorne
12/25/2012
Joe and I tossed the bars out the window so that they would land near the van, but we couldn’t do that to the welding rig so we used sheets to strap that to me, I guess so I would have my hands free to fight if I needed to. He didn’t even need to explain to me what was going on, he just nodded his head like “You ready?” gave me a kitchen knife in a cardboard sheath that he’d fashioned so we could tuck it into our pants, and I grabbed Susie while he got his spear and we were off.
I knew what he had been doing over at the gate but I still wasn’t prepared for the mess. Holy snike it was a vernal smorgasbord of carnal decorum. It was like, like, nothing I had ever seen, like maybe what the corner of a butcher’s office or a meat processing plant might look like. The area where they throw the leftover shit that’ll be hot dogs that you feed your children on picnics someday. You couldn’t even tell they had been people except the last couple of bodies that I guess he’d killed and there had been no one left to tear them up and eat them.
He went first and kicked bones and guts and some other stuff to the sides then turned to tell me to follow and made a funny side to side motion with his hands. I didn’t know what he was trying to say until I stepped past the gate and started sliding on the blood of other human beings. Christ, what a holocaust. This was worse than the medical ward in the other building had been, and the fact that they were crazies really didn’t seem to make it any better.
We got past it and went slow and quiet down the stairs. He was shooting for stealth this time. We made our way down two floors with no worries, being extra careful near the doors on each floor. The affected in there were trapped, so that wasn’t a problem, but I knew they’d start making noise if they saw or heard us, and that could bring some that weren’t trapped up the stairs. If there were any more left down on the first floor.
But after two floors our luck ran out and one of them near the gate saw us and started chanting. Others on that floor ran at the gates, but couldn’t get through, so we started running down the stairs. The other floors had all come to their gates too, screaming and chanting in unison at the top of their lungs. If there were any loose, they would be coming now. And, of course, there were.
Just one at first, running up the stairs, and Joe speared him like a fish, right through the head. But two more were hot on his heels and it took him the spear and his knife to down them. We ran some more when we heard more on the way. It sounded like a whole herd but these things just made a lot of noise, I guess, like they say coyotes do, and it was only five. I stepped in with sweet Susie this time and helped Joe out, then we made it all the way down to the first floor before coming across a couple more that seemed surprised to see us and we were home free.
From the journal of Jude Guerrero
12/25/2012
Once we got down to the docks I motioned Tim Tom to wait while I checked outside, then went back in and gave him the thumbs up. The yard was clear, and there weren’t even any affected past the fence, though I’m sure some would wander by eventually, that’s why I had tossed down the sheets.
There were loads of them, plenty of extras, up on our floor, so I figured I could shield what Tim Tom was doing a bit. Keep any curious crazies from trying to climb the fence, ’cause you never knew when one might succeed, or enough of them might try in the same place and bring the fence, down, which would be a disaster. The thick doors and gates and barred windows would keep them out pretty damn well, but having two rows of tall fences topped with razor wire is the only thing that would allow us to move around outside and work on these vans. It was a shame we couldn’t hole up here longer, it was damn near perfect, but we would eventually run out of food, and probably water too, and these fences and doors weren’t going to keep out any smoke or fires, which would probably be coming soon. I could see the smoke from the plant, something was smoldering over there and it was only a matter of time before it spread and more tanks blew or the wind shifted and we were all breathing toxic shit smoke. The boat would at least give us a chance. Shit, I remember there’s a boat, but I can’t remember what kind. Better go back and read the journal again soon, and do some updates.
I hung the sheets on the fence as best I could to try to block the view in while Tim Tom started welding the grates from the windows to the vans. Then I just kept a lookout and worked I my journal until he yelled, “Hey Joe, look at me. I’m B.A. Baracus.”
He’d finished the first van. The bars didn’t fit perfectly but he’d done a damn good job of bending them on the top and shaping them to fit over the windows.
“I pity the fool that try to get in my van.”
Fucking Tim Tom.
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, knowing he couldn’t understand me, so I also held my finger to my mouth.
“OK, OK.” He grinned and went back to work after adding, “Hannibal.”
It didn’t take him long at all to get the next one done, and then the delivery van. But it was all I could do to keep him from yapping the whole time, alerting every chanter in the area to our presence.
Only a couple of curious ones heard him and both came close enough to the fence that I was able to spear them in the head before they got too loud.
I was surprised at how fast he worked, and excited. I was wondering if we were going to have to wait another day before the second phase of our plan. I looked in my journal on my notes on him as he worked and it said he’d been in construction, and he’d been injured on the job. Something went straight through his head, that’s why he was the way he is now, why he couldn’t understand what I was saying, and why the Doctor had brought him here. The Doctor had told me he was another rare case, like me and Eric.
OK, now we had to make it back up, and I wasn’t sure if there were any more left. While the rest of the building was nice and secure, the lobby had glass doors which had been shattered, and didn’t have a fence outside it. It looks like it had depended on guards to protect it, and of course, they were all off duty now.
We were as quiet as we could be, and with a lighter load since I had left the welding rig in one of the vans. Since it was quiet for now I decided to make the going easier for us when we brought the rest of the group down. I had Tim Tom help me move some furniture, and some heavy fucking file cabinets, into the hall that led to the lobby, the only place that didn’t have a door. It took us a while, longer than I would have liked, but now the whole way down would be secure, unless there were any more loose ones on the stairs or somewhere above us. I knew there were still plenty more in the building, but they were trapped behind locked doors and gates that they didn’t know how to get through.
By the time we got back to our floor I had to check my journal… again.
From the journal of Dr. Montgomery Gates
12/25/2012
I was a bit surprised, after only a few days, at how much I was having to fight sleep. I still had enough stimulants to keep me awake for quite some time, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle it. As it was I was already finding myself drifting a bit, even while standing, and once I had seen a shadow suddenly turn into a black dog before coming to my senses. I found I had to stand and walk around as much as possible, and keep my mind busy, which wasn’t difficult considering the large amount of material I had printed off the internet to go through. More and more I was confirming what I already believed; that the phrase was somehow responsible, and also that the lack of sleep was the only thing keeping Eric and myself from succumbing. It was hard to argue against that point with the affected chanting it over and over.