Engineer Benson - 5. Engineer Benson - Chapter 5 - July 16 - 19, 1993

July 16, 1993 Friday, 1015 PM
Hey book. It's Mark again. I had Wayne lay down for a "nap," but I'm not waking him up like he'd asked. He has been going non-stop, only taking breaks to eat and piss since five am, and he is worn the hell out. He almost dropped and shattered a panel from the roof because he was so exhausted. I'm not worried about the panels - we have plenty of those. But there's only one Wayne. And if he fell off the roof and got hurt, we'd be screwed.

So, no. He stays in bed.

The situation should be better tomorrow. I got some work done on our new fence. After Wayne showed me how to set the posts, that became my job. He was on the roof most of the day getting panels mounted. The stubborn shit wouldn't stop until he'd gotten six panels on the roof, the batteries and inverter wired, the generator hooked to the electrical panel where it all meets, and then the system checked. The batteries only had a tiny bit of juice, but that should change tomorrow. It's supposed to be sunny, and that's a good thing for us.

He explained it to me, how it all works, and I read through his entry too. I get the broad strokes of it. What I know for sure is that we need the sun to land on those panels. And we gotta make sure the batteries stay in good condition. Right now, we still need the generator since the batteries are too low to run the fridge. But … I'm thinking that will stop really soon, so long as we keep other power use to a minimum. Wayne said the six panels should keep the fridge going if we have good sun. And every day, he's hoping to add a few more to the system, so we should hear that generator kick on less and less.

That's now automatic, thanks to Wayne's system he rigged. Once the fridge used up all the residual energy in the batteries, the generator started up. You gotta love those new electric-start gennies. Still, without Wayne's background, there's no way I'd have been able to get this all working. Not without some luck and a long time spent on Bob's manual.

Still … I hear that thing come on every time, and each time it does, I go out and make sure the yard stays clear. So far, I've taken care of two shamblers that came to investigate the sound. They must have wandered in from further out because my patrol around the house an hour before hadn't revealed anything abnormal. They were about the same age - maybe late thirties. Both wore rings and appeared together. The man wore overalls, and the woman jeans and a flannel shirt. I'm thinking they were married and had no injuries until meeting me. That means they both died of the fever. At least they're together now.

Wayne didn't like it, but I went back to the highway on foot. I know we talked about haring off alone, but solo, I can be quieter than most and stay unseen if I'm in the woods. And we need to know where these things are. Besides, he knows I meant that HE isn't to go off alone.

Anyway, I noticed a group - almost two dozen, moving slowly down the highway. It's weird how they move from place to place. Sometimes there's no reason I can see, but they were just shuffling along without any real intention.

That means, even if we do everything perfectly, we could end up with a herd of these things at the house. That's important to know. I told Wayne about it, and he set aside one of the panels. He's planning to rig it up to use in the van in case we get run out of the farmhouse. He said that 250 watts aren't a lot, but we'd be able to run a radio, a light, and maybe even a mini-fridge if we can find one. I like the idea of a fallback plan, so we'll be on the hunt for a mini-fridge. That'd be a worry off the list for us; then we can focus on making this place as protected as it can be.

Focus has been a problem. We're working hard, but we've both been distracted. I don't know how I feel about it. At times I try to ignore things, and I'm able to just get on with what needs doing. Then at other times, I can't. I don't know how many times I've jacked off in the battery shed now, but that only helps for a little while. We're both wound up tight, and I feel like something is gonna snap.

Yeah, even without your last entry, I know you feel it too, Wayne. I can't help but feel like I'm a horrible person for my mind going where it does. I'm married. I love Elizabeth, but god, I'm fucking tempted.

Maybe I'm just missing my wife. I've known you for so long, but I've never felt like this toward you before, not like this. But I can't ignore or pretend it's not happening. How I feel about you lately is confusing the shit out of me.

Right now, I need you to be safe and okay. I need to be near you. I don't know why I can't say these things to you. But this is easier, and it lets me get it out. I like being close to you. Even though it winds me up, and my body ends up interested in more than spooning, I don't want to stop. I really do need it, so I hope you do too.

All that said, I'm not ready to write off my wife. If anybody could somehow survive, it'd be her. She's tougher than you know, and if anybody could survive, it'd be my girl. Maybe that's delusional, but I don't fucking care. She's alive, damn it. She's alive, and I'm going to make it so she can find us.

So I don't know where that leaves things for us. I guess, so long as you're okay with it, we keep things how they are.

Anyway. Maybe knowing you're not the only one will help.

Okay. I'm closing this up and crawling into bed with you now. Boner be damned.

July 17, 1993 Saturday, 120 PM
Ohhhhh jeez. Wow. I have no idea how to even start dealing with all this.

This explains a few things. I got up to find Mark already working on the fence. He seemed pretty introspective and quiet. Thoughtful. I'd wondered if I'd upset him somehow, but now I get it.

I understand why he can't talk about it. It's … weird. Guys don't talk about this stuff. We're not supposed to be attracted to one another, right? But that's what is happening.

I hope Mark is right about Elizabeth - I really do. Maybe if we found her, we'd be able to go back to being our regular selves. He'd forget about this other stuff he's feeling if he had her back. There's no way I compare to her, and I don't want to.

Maybe I did something to lead him on. Shit. Maybe whatever the army was doing screwed us up. Instead of killing us with the "flu," we got a severe case of "faggot" instead.

Well. Maybe that's what happened to Mark. I need to stop lying, at least to myself. I've always noticed guys. That started in high school with Brian Toffson. I guess I can write it now since Mark seemed to know already.

Girls and me, we just never clicked. I used to tell myself I was picky, that I'd not met the right one. Yeah, I've had my romps with women, but nothing ever really stuck. And it's probably obvious who I thought of when I was with them.

I guess I'm a faggot. I guess I should be happy Mark still likes me, even though I'm like this.

Maybe I need to insist we sleep apart. It seems possible Mark might want something he shouldn't, and I don't think I'd be able to say no. Brian was able to drop me and date girls, but I don't know if that's true for Mark. I don't want to ruin what's left of my friend's life. Fuck. Why am I crying? Fuck.

I' have to put three more panels on the roof today. I can't do this right now.

July 18, 1993 Sunday, 9 AM
Well. I still don't know what the hell to think, but things came to a head last night. Before I get to the emotional/personal stuff, I wanna talk about the solar.

So far, I've managed to get eleven panels up on the roof. Mark already explained above that all else is ready to go, so now I just have to keep adding panels as I'm able.

If we don't go wild, this will keep the fridge powered. We're at a point where the generator didn't kick on at all last night. For the first time, the charge in the batteries from the solar was enough to avoid the failsafe triggering overnight. Though when I got up this morning, the meter at the fuse box told me we only had a few percent of usable power left. So we need more solar panels, and they're coming. Every day I plan to add two or three more until they're all hooked up. If we wait for sunny days to run the washer and dry clothes on the line outside, we should be fine.

That's a good thing. The generator still has about ¾ of a tank, but gas for it and the van will eventually be hard to come by. Pumps won't run without power, so we'll either have to take power to the pumps by hooking up a generator or siphon gas from one of the many cars littering the roads and driveways. None of those sources will last forever though. Best not to worry that far in the future; we have enough going on right now.

Okay. I guess I'm ready to write about Mark and me.

Last night, Mark had gone to bed, and I got a blanket and lay on the couch. A few minutes later, he padded barefoot down the hall. I felt him standing by the couch. Even though my back was turned, I knew he was there.

"Is this about what I wrote in the journal?"

I curled in a bit more until I lay in a tight ball. "I just think it's better if we sleep apart."

He sat on the floor beside the couch. "Tell me why."

I snorted a laugh, though I didn't think anything was funny. "Because. We're men. We shouldn't be acting how we've been acting. You wrote it in the journal - you're married and that I'm confusing you." I stubbornly remained turned away. "We have too much work to worry about this shit, so we just need to avoid it."

"Yeah?" He began rubbing my back. I stiffened under his hand at first, but he kept rubbing. "Is that what you want?"

I despised how much I liked him touching me. "Mark." I drew in a deep breath. "Please. You … you know what I am. And I'm afraid of what I'll do if you let me."

"Why are you afraid?"

I couldn't help myself. Tense muscles relaxed as he touched me.

"Because. I … want things I shouldn't. I want to do things, and sleeping together makes it easier for things to happen." I sighed deeply. "I don't want to make you like me."

Mark chuckled softly. I rolled to spear him with a glare.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"Wayne. I am whatever it is that I am - with or without you. I don't care if you're gay. I've known since high school, and your thing with Toffson. Nobody mopes that much over losing someone who's just a friend, so yeah, I've known for years."

Nobody had ever said it to me. Nobody had ever actually called me "gay," and it hit me in the gut. It must have shown on my face, because he shook me slightly.

"Hey. It's okay. I don't care about that; I never have." He switched to rubbing my belly now that I'd rolled on my back. "Look, you read what I wrote. I don't know why, but I feel what I do." He cleared his throat. "Is it a problem for us to just … to just be? I don't know what is happening with me, but it is ME. I can't and won't blame you for whatever I am. It's not you, man."

I know he'd not had a chance to read my latest entry, so it's almost like he knew what I was thinking.

He continued. "You're not … corrupting me, or whatever." He shifted uncomfortably. "But knowing you're gay and that you probably don't mind my attention, I guess it makes me braver."

Silent for a bit, I finally found a few words and strung them together. "'Braver?' Brave enough for what?"

Mark considered. "I don't know, exactly. But I don't want to stop sleeping with you. Sorry, I know what I'm asking isn't fair to you."

"Wait," I sat up on an elbow. Mark's hand slid down my front to rest below my belly button, and my body certainly responded to that. I wet my lips. "Ah. Not fair to me?"

"Yeah." Mark let himself look at me. His gaze lingered on the newly formed bulge under the blanket. "I don't want to torture you, but it seems that's what I'm doing."

"I think we're both torturing ourselves." I nodded at him. "Stand up. I bet you have a woody."

His sheepish smile told me the truth of it. "Heh." He shrugged. "So, what now?"

"God, I don't know." I rubbed my eyes. "I do know I'm sore as hell from working on that roof. And … a backrub would be really nice."

"Well, setting posts has done the same thing to me, so only if we trade-off."

I laughed. "Okay. Deal."

Mark rose to his feet, showing off that boner in his briefs. He grinned without apology. "Come on."

I followed him to bed, where he rubbed my back with those strong hands of his. Then after he'd nearly put me to sleep, we traded spots, and I returned the favor.

So, we still don't have any idea what the hell we're doing. But I get to sleep snuggled up with my best friend while we figure it out.

Overall, not a bad deal.

July 19, 1993 Monday, 1230 PM
Wow. I knew what they're calling the "Knox Event" is big, but I didn't know it is this big.

This morning, after making breakfast from our dwindling supplies and after getting in from installing another panel, I turned on the radio. A recorded message from General John McGrew played. I guess it has been playing every hour since the 17th, but we'd missed it till now. Anyway, the message goes …

"This wavelength has been chosen for Emergency Broadcast. The spread of the Knox Event infection is now total. Stay in small groups. Do not travel. Assume all major urban areas have been compromised. We are doing all we can to reclaim American soil. We will come for you. This broadcast will be set to repeat. All further updates will be broadcast on this frequency. Good luck."

It's the only thing playing on the radio now. So, this thing is nationwide? Worldwide? Oh, god. I don't know if I can take this. What's Mark going to think? He has been holding on to hope for Elizabeth, and this …

Should I tell him? I have to tell him. He's out there putting up the cross-pieces for the fence, and he needs to know. He deserves to know.

July 19, 1993 Monday, 1115 PM
My poor friend. I have such mixed feelings right now, but mainly, I'm sad for Mark.

After my last entry, I went out to the yard and talked to Mark.

"Hey." I walked up, interrupting him nailing a section of the fence we had hauled out. To keep things quieter, we put the panels together in the battery shed, then take them out to install them at the posts. That way, there's only a little audible hammering out there. It has seemed to work - nothing has noticed us yet.

"Hey." He wiped his face and took a satisfied look at what he'd done so far. "Looking better all the time. If we can keep this pace, and if we have enough planks, I think we'll have the yard buttoned up by Thursday or so."

"Yeah." I shifted from foot to foot. "Hey, I need to talk to you. I had the radio on." I shook my head. "It's not good."

Mark turned his full attention to me. "Oh?"

I paraphrased the message, as I'd only heard it once at that point. Mark listened.

"Total." He crossed his arms over his chest. "That was the word? Not nationwide? You're sure?"

"Yes. I remember he used the word 'total' and not 'Nationwide', because I wondered what it meant."

"It means worldwide," Mark said quietly. He took a deep breath and clapped me on the shoulder. "Thanks for letting me know." Turning, he picked up his hammer.

"Wait., I began. "You, ah. You don't want to talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Mark sent a nail home with three sharp swings. He scanned the perimeter for any movement, then went on to the next nail.

I stood kind of awkwardly for a minute, then I got back to my panel install. I'd be able to see anything moving in the woods from up there too, so it worked a few ways for us.

We both got on with our work and took a break for a meal around four pm. We decided to only eat twice a day with a snack of bread at night to make our food go longer. There's a lot of flour here, so we make a loaf every couple of days. We're getting used to this antique oven, and it's nice to have fresh bread. Mark is a great hunter, and we're going to have to rely on that soon once we get the power and security up to snuff. Until then, we need to watch our food stores. I figure with our current supplies, we have enough for two weeks. We could stretch it longer, but starving would make us weak, and we need to keep up our strength.

It had gotten dark, so we quit working to listen to the radio. The nine o'clock broadcast came on, and Mark listened carefully. His expression didn't change at all, but once it ended, he stood.

"I'm going to bed."

His flat affect made my chest hurt. I could tell he struggled, though he tried not to show it.

I followed a few minutes later and crawled into bed with him. He wordlessly turned, so we were face to face. Pulling me close, his warm breaths flowed over my neck.

Despite knowing he hurt, I still reacted to him. At that moment, I silently cursed my body. It wasn't the time for a hard-on, particularly since Mark had squeezed us together so tightly.

"Erm. Sorry."

"It's fine," Mark whispered. His hand slid down my back to my hip. He gripped me and ground his groin into mine.

I couldn't help the groan. Mark repeated the motion, rubbing our cocks against one another. Even through the briefs, it felt great. He settled into a rhythm, and my breaths picked up.

I loved the feel of his sandpapery face against my neck. He moved so that his lips were a fraction of an inch from mine.

Impossible to resist, I caved and kissed him. At first, he didn't return it. But then his tongue slipped into my mouth, and his groan vibrated my jaw. He rolled on top of me, still kissing and still grinding.

It happened so fast. We've both been so amped up; I guess that was inevitable. "Mark. I …" Lying back, my mouth opened in a breathy moan. And I came. Mark followed only a moment after with a grunt and continued thrusting against me. He slowly wound down, relaxing atop me, his breaths puffing against my skin.

After a moment of rest, he rolled off to lie beside me. We both lay there in a post-orgasm daze, the fronts of our briefs plastered to our groin by semen.

He was the first to speak.

"She's gone, isn't she?"

Turning on my side toward him, I put a tentative hand on his chest. "I think …" I hesitated, trying to find a way to say it gently, but not finding any luck. "Yeah. I'm sorry, but I think she's gone, Mark."

I couldn't see much in the dark, just his profile framed against the tiny bit of moonlight filtering in from the other bedroom across the hall. He took a shaky breath and gripped my hand.

"You remember? You remember what you promised?" His voice had gone rough. "If we find her, and she's one of them?"

"I remember." I got up on an elbow to look down at him. "I'll take care of it if that's what it takes, okay?"

His grip tightened on my hand. "Okay." He squeezed once more, then rolled on his side. I lay back down and spooned him. He didn't make a sound, but the heaviness in the room was palpable.

"Do you need anything?" I hugged him against me.

"Just this." He lay a hand on my arm across his middle. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

I lay with him until he went to sleep, then I got up to write.

I really don't know if I should have let that happen. He's hurting and I hope he doesn't regret things tomorrow. Now that my cock isn't in charge of my brain, I feel like I took advantage of him.

God. I hope I didn't fuck things up. He's the only thing I've got worth anything in the world. I hope I didn't fuck that up.

We're planning another trip into town tomorrow for more supplies, and maybe some gas too. At least we'll have that to occupy us, and I won't have to worry about this stuff for a while.

Wish us luck. With the way these things tend to clump up and move around, we may need it.