2.8 days later – Chapter 5

Kim and I walked.  Nowhere in particular. We didn’t have a plan and I decided we should have one. So I gave it a thought or two.

What would other survivors like us do? Would they try to barricade and try holding out? Unlikely. After all, how many days could you hide before you ran out of supplies. And we still didn’t know how many days (or heaven forbid months) these walking dead could survive starvation. The survivors  would likely head to a place where supplies would last them a long time.

 A lone survivor would already have a great deal of courage, resilience and awesome luck to go with a stock of supplies and possibly a  weapon. Multiply all of that a hundred times and it gives you a fight-back and surviving chance like no other. A place that could sustain more than a handful or survivors would be the ideal location.

The more I gave it a thought, the more one survival tip came to mind.

Survival tip #4: There’s always a survival camp somewhere. That’s where you want to be.

What I didn’t know was how to find one. I would have thought the Walmart would have been an obvious choice, but I had already been proven wrong. A grocery store or mall would be a nice temporary camp, but to hold fort one needed a secure camp. A gated apartment complex, or a secured police station, maybe even a consulate office. These have a secure perimeter, strong doors and enough room to hold up to a hundred survivors. Of course supplies would have to be replenished often and that would mean a site close to a grocery store would be ideal.

I talked this over with Kim and from our combined knowledge (or not) of this part of the city, we came up with a shortlist of three such locations. All three were secure buildings with a grocery store nearby. The only problem was that the three locations were each  a day’s walk apart. There was no way of knowing if the one we head to harbored any survivors. We couldn’t take a guess. We had to know.

Walmart! They should have a public phone. And also a yellow book. We sprinted the couple of miles back to the store.

The  first two calls went unanswered. I even tried alternate numbers to no avail. The final call was to a Korean embassy. The phone barely rang twice before someone picked up. I was afraid some Korean guy would answer and say something I would have no understanding of. Thankfully an old man with a quivering voice answered in American English. He seemed really happy about us calling and wanted us to head over right away. He said the embassy had over twenty survivors holding out and they were well stocked with weapons and supplies, but when I asked to speak with whoever was in command he seemed to hesitate. We told him we would make it there in about four hours and he acknowledged with a grocery list! Yes, he literally told me to get him some canned food and juice!

I narrated the conversation to Kim and she seemed amused. I was a tad skeptical too. Twenty men with weapons and a grocery store right across the street and they wanted us to get food for them? We convinced ourselves it was probably a test of our character and survival instincts.

So we spent the next five hours trudging to the Korean embassy. Once again the walk was uneventful (really, where the heck where all the zombies?) A quick stopover at the small local grocery store got us bags full of cans, juices and energy bars. Dragging the bags behind us we approached the embassy.

I expected rifle barrels sticking out of windows or sniper scopes on the terrace, but there weren’t any. The heavy metal gate itself was unlocked and I made sure I locked it after me. We walked along the driveway and up to the main entrance and still no sign of anyone. Agreed, we didn’t look completely like zombies (yet), but I would still think the survivors would take precautions against early infections. We were just too tired to do anything but enter. The heavy wooden doors were locked, thankfully.

I rapped my knuckles hard on the door. I heard the door being unbolted and it opened a crack. A slight pause, before an old man opened the door wider.

‘Come on it folks.’ The same shaky voice who had answered the phone.

We entered, dragging our groceries along. The old man introduced us to his wife. We talked a bit while they gulped down a few cans we had brought. Still no sign of anyone else.

‘So where’s everyone else?’ I couldn’t wait any longer to ask.

The old man looked at me hesitantly. He seemed to think about it before replying, ‘Well, it’s just us actually.’

I should have been shocked, but I wasn’t. Somehow in the back of my mind, judging by the unfolding events, I knew this  was a lie. I knew there wasn’t really twenty people out here. But I had gone ahead with this. Maybe because I wanted to know the reason for the lie. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment. Maybe I didn’t care how many there were as long as the location was a safe one.

I stood up and gave the old man a stare. ‘Why? Why lie?’

Without the slightest hesitation he said, ‘Look at us. We wouldn’t survive between just the two of us. We have been starving the whole day, but didn’t have the courage to go across the street. And if I had told you the truth, you probably wouldn’t have come.’

Of course he was right. We wouldn’t have come all the way if we had known this was not survivor camp. I felt sorry for them, but I continued glaring. We had been played, obviously. We had taken a chance and at least this didn’t turn out as bad as our Walmart excursion. We were in a safe place with a strong metal fence around the property. We could replenish our supplies every day from across the street. We might be able to hold fort for a week unless we find a better & bigger group of survivors.

I sat down in thought. It was obvious to me now that there would be plenty of these small groups of people who were too scared to go outside.Their timidity would keep them alive for the time being. The brave who ventured out probably either met their end or are already at a survival camp by now.The odds of us landing at a big camp was pretty low.

My thoughts were distracted by the old woman limping towards me.

‘Son,would you be able to get us some Tylenol from the store? My joints are acting up again.’

So much for finding a survival camp with tons of people, weapons and supplies.

Time to adjust my survival tip.

Survival tip #4: There’s always a survival camp somewhere. You want to be in one which has a chance for long-term survival.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

In this series:

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

About Filya

'As you can see, we've had our eye on you for some time now, Mr. Jokhi. It seems that you've been living two lives. In one life, you're Firoz Jokhi, program writer for a respectable software company. You have a Social Security number, you pay your taxes, and... you help your wife carry out her garbage. The other life is lived in computers, where you go by the hacker alias Filya, and are guilty of virtually every computer crime we have a law for. One of these lives has a future, and one of them does not.' - The Matrix

Posted on August 29th, 2011, in Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: