So early this a.m. I went to the supply depot which is mostly underground in the old Communications Bunker of Ft. Stevens. The ceiling has mini calcified stalactite from water sifting through the concrete for decades. Yellow glowing lights behind black bars glow ominously. Everything echoes, so I heard the Hobo before I saw him and groaned inwardly.
Wait - why do we have electricity you say? Well we're a fortress of war and have always had an independent system setup, plus we salvaged some solar as well, so yes we do have power. Fort Rilea is the same way and I have heard rumor that the Coast Guard housing in Astoria Oregon has fortified itself against the zombies and even boasts a helicopter. They keep to themselves.
A little known fact about this wild country by the ocean is that is is chocker block full of homeless people. Bums. Homeless. Hobos. Tourists try to help, churches help, organizations help - everyone helps but as one man told me once, "we're here because it's just so easy. You don't even have to go to a church to get some aid - it's like on every corner there is someone willing to give you something." Yes I'm jaded. I know that too many of them have lived lives of crime and thanks to knowing a few folks in the Sheriffs office prior to the zombs - I know some chilling stories. Hobos are to be avoided - and there was one this morning between me and my CLIFF bars accosting Jenny whose 19.
"GOD" he guffawed "YOU'RE HAVING A BAD HAIR DAY." He was missing teeth, smelled strongly of garlic and was dirty - possibly drunk. Jenny had lovely long blond hair going down her back, she was slightly heavy set but still attractive. He glowered at her in a perverse way that was making me itch toward my knife, he was in his forties. "HAIRSPRAY. DO YOU HAVE HAIRSPRAY BACK IN THE BACK" Jenny tried to force a little laugh and nod and dismiss him. She was captive behind the counter.
He came closer, I looked around then relaxed two armed guards were coming. I knew the blokes a little, in old coast guard uniforms people look a lot a like. Dark navy blues. The first guy simply punched the hobo in face. It felled him to the ground completely and he loudly started screaming incoherently but both men had an arm and was dragging him out of the depot - without any supplies I might add - and they bodily tossed him over the fence I heard later from a friend. Just chucked him over it, "good luck with the zombs." -- YOU CAN'T DO THIS. I HAVE RIGHTS!
In posterity some might find this cruel or undemocratic that he didn't get fed and housed and indulged but with the zombie apocalypse the tenor of the human heart had changed in order to survive.
Wait - why do we have electricity you say? Well we're a fortress of war and have always had an independent system setup, plus we salvaged some solar as well, so yes we do have power. Fort Rilea is the same way and I have heard rumor that the Coast Guard housing in Astoria Oregon has fortified itself against the zombies and even boasts a helicopter. They keep to themselves.
A little known fact about this wild country by the ocean is that is is chocker block full of homeless people. Bums. Homeless. Hobos. Tourists try to help, churches help, organizations help - everyone helps but as one man told me once, "we're here because it's just so easy. You don't even have to go to a church to get some aid - it's like on every corner there is someone willing to give you something." Yes I'm jaded. I know that too many of them have lived lives of crime and thanks to knowing a few folks in the Sheriffs office prior to the zombs - I know some chilling stories. Hobos are to be avoided - and there was one this morning between me and my CLIFF bars accosting Jenny whose 19.
"GOD" he guffawed "YOU'RE HAVING A BAD HAIR DAY." He was missing teeth, smelled strongly of garlic and was dirty - possibly drunk. Jenny had lovely long blond hair going down her back, she was slightly heavy set but still attractive. He glowered at her in a perverse way that was making me itch toward my knife, he was in his forties. "HAIRSPRAY. DO YOU HAVE HAIRSPRAY BACK IN THE BACK" Jenny tried to force a little laugh and nod and dismiss him. She was captive behind the counter.
He came closer, I looked around then relaxed two armed guards were coming. I knew the blokes a little, in old coast guard uniforms people look a lot a like. Dark navy blues. The first guy simply punched the hobo in face. It felled him to the ground completely and he loudly started screaming incoherently but both men had an arm and was dragging him out of the depot - without any supplies I might add - and they bodily tossed him over the fence I heard later from a friend. Just chucked him over it, "good luck with the zombs." -- YOU CAN'T DO THIS. I HAVE RIGHTS!
In posterity some might find this cruel or undemocratic that he didn't get fed and housed and indulged but with the zombie apocalypse the tenor of the human heart had changed in order to survive.
Part II The Run Today
I've begun running armed - trusty knife with me. It's good for all kinds of things but probably not zombie killing. I'm far faster on my feet then strong of arm.
The entire run today was 3 miles. Fastest mile was 12 minutes. I've lost 1.7lbs.
Thank You Reader for Reading :-)
Weird pig I found while running today. It was left in the road.
