Engineer Benson - 9. Engineer Benson - Chapter 9 July 23 - 24, 1993

July 23, 1993 Friday, 750 AM

We went to bed last night, and I think we were both just … processing, you know? And I'm lying there when Mark rolls toward me. "Do you think they all know?"

I sighed. This muted horror was buried in his voice that maybe everyone thought he was gay. And … it just made me so sad.

"No. I think Mister Buck was just messing with us." I rolled on my side away from him. "Goodnight."

He rose up on an elbow. "What? What is it?"

I tried to keep my voice level. "The world is ending, and you're worried that someone might think you're queer. That's what." I scrunched tighter into a ball. "Goodnight."

Neither of us moved or spoke for probably a minute, then he lay back down.

"I'm sorry." His voice was small in the darkness of the room.

I shook my head. "I just keep wondering what you think of me, if you worry so much about being gay, bi, or whatever. How you must think I'm such a … I don't know. A freak."

"No." He put his arms around me. "No, okay?"

I didn't pull away, but I remained curled up. "So is this like Toffson? You just fuck me, and then when someone else comes along that's more acceptable, you move on?" I didn't know I'd felt what I was about to say until I'd said it. "Someone like Erin, maybe?"

He froze. "Wayne, that's fucked up. No, man. Fuck." He flopped onto his back and rubbed his face. "What am I supposed to do? I'm feeling all this shit, and … dude, I don't want to. I don't WANT to fall in love with you, okay? But I don't think I can stop it, and I'm terrified everyone knows. And I know I shouldn't be afraid, but I am."

My thoughts moved so fast. "You … you're falling in love with me?"

Mark groaned. "Damn it." His hands rose then fell onto the bed, miming someone giving up. "I … I can feel it happening. I've tried just to keep things physical, but I can feel it happening."

I don't remember doing it, but I'd relaxed next to him. I rolled to face him and put my hand on his slightly furry belly. "Thank you for telling me." I swallowed loudly. "I ah, I've been trying to limit how I feel. Toffson and … a few others have taught me that men don't see me as a long-term connection. I'm here for fun, and I'm here because I'm convenient." I wet my lips. "So I've just learned to be okay with that."

"But you're not okay with it." Mark closed his hand over mine. "Are you?"

Up until that moment, I'd not thought about a real relationship with a man. Not something I could keep and count on. But the possibility swirled through my thoughts. "I guess I'm not."

"Good. You deserve more than that." Mark pulled on me until I halfway lay on him, my ear to his chest. He gently stroked down my spine, then back up, causing chills to rise over my skin. Of course, the touching and proximity made me hard. My cock dug into his hip, and he smirked. "Think you can keep things quiet if we got frisky? The girls are right across the hall."

"I think I can try."

We were not quiet enough. When we got up at six, Erin was already in the kitchen at the table, sipping a steaming mug of mint, ginseng, and sassafras tea her son had foraged the day before.

"Oh. Good morning, Erin." Mark scratched his belly under his t-shirt. "You're up early."

"Mmhmm." She considered us, her mug in hand and her head cocked. "You guys are too." The tiniest smile made her look impish. "Considering how long it took for you to sleep."

Mark audibly swallowed.

I laughed and rubbed my head. "Well, wouldn't want to prove Buck wrong about those sheets."

The expression on Mark's face was utterly priceless. From shock to embarrassment, to finally a grin and laughter.

"I have no comment!" He shook his head but had to force himself to stop laughing.

"What's funny?" Garrett peeked over the back of the couch in the living room, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Oh, nothin' hon." Erin downed the rest of her tea and got to her feet. "Wayne, could we spare enough flour for some pancakes? We brought some eggs in our supplies and probably need to use them, so I was thinking pancakes and eggs for breakfast."

And so … that's how Mark and I came out to Erin. She seemed to accept things as they are, and that put Mark at ease. I think it helped him realize that at least Erin doesn't care. And if she doesn't, maybe others won't either.

It's a fucking apocalypse. If someone does care about it when there are zombies walking around, then we don't need them here. Though, I do wonder what Mister Buck would think if he knew. People respect him as soon as they get to know him, so I hope he'd be okay with things. We'll find out. We're too close here to keep it hid, and I don't think I want to anyway.

Okay. We've eaten a great breakfast, and Mister Buck has some ideas for the garden. He has said if the government doesn't get things under control before winter, that it's important that we grow as much this year as possible. We hadn't thought that far ahead, but we agree with him. To that end, it looks like we might need to go out for greenhouse supplies and more plants or seeds. Even if that doesn't happen today, there's always something to do. I'll close up this book for a while, but I'll be back.

July 23, 1993 Friday, 735 PM

Well, that was close.

After a few hours of maintenance on the van outside of our fence (with Lisa sitting on the van as my watchwoman), I finished that task, then climbed onto the roof to focus on squeezing in some additional solar panels, Mark was doing his workout in the yard with Buck and the ladies joining in, and Garrett was burning the tips of his new homemade arrows to harden and sharpen them in a little firepit he'd put together beside the garden.

While Mark introduced the rest of the group to the joy of burpees, Garrett was the one to notice the birds calling and taking to the air.

"Wayne. Can you see anything from up there?" The boy still had his eyes on the birds in the sky. "Over to the north. Anything?" All activity had stopped; his tone immediately set us on edge.

I climbed up to the roof peak and looked over.

"Oh, shit." Movement all over the forest sent shivers down my spine. A vast swath of zombies ambled slowly through the woods. Most were dressed in fatigues, while a few others were either naked, dressed in medical gowns, or wore only undergarments.

I dropped back behind the roof peak and scooted toward the ladder. "Guys, we've got company. A lot of it. We need to keep it down and stay out of sight."

I descended the ladder, and we all gathered in front of the house.

"How many?" Mark asked, instinctively gripping the hilt of his knife.

"God, hard to say." I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. "Hundreds. Way more than we dealt with in town. Way more. It looks like a bunch of army guys and some of the sick folks they'd quarantined."

I said it before thinking, but Mark going white made me remember. I quietly cleared my throat. "I didn't see her, Mark. Okay?"

After a moment, he nodded. "Okay. Good."

The sound of many slow-moving feet crunching through leaves and snapping twigs gave me chills, and we all watched the early evening light shift through the small gaps of our fence as zombies shuffled by.

Erin put her arms around her kids and held on. "Are we safe?"

"So long as they don't hear us, I think so," Mark whispered. He moved silently to the southern edge of our fenceline.

It took about ten minutes for the entire herd to flow around our little settlement, migrating through some unknown mechanism. Mark watched through a gap in our fence as they moved north toward town, and I joined him. "They didn't hear us. They're not even looking back." He breathed a slow, relieved sigh.

Everyone ended up in that corner with us. After we could no longer hear the herd, Mister Buck reached and pushed on our fence. It moved slightly, and his expression showed his opinion before he even said it. "Boys, I think we better work on a stronger fence and a lookout tower so we can see the forest around us. We got lucky this time, but if those things had heard us—"

He left the rest unsaid. He didn't have to say it.

"You're right," I agreed. "I'm not the best carpenter, so any help there is appreciated."

"I do okay with wood; we'll get it done. But we're goin' to need to cut some trees." Buck nodded to himself. He turned his dark eyes to Garrett. "And you, son." He put a big, wide hand on the boy. "You noticin' the signs those things were comin' might have saved our lives. Good job."

We all repeated the praise, and Garrett flushed red but smiled under the attention. He really had done us a huge service, and we made sure to tell him so.

Now we're back inside. Buck and Mark are drawing up some plans for a new bunkhouse with a watchtower on top. They've got one of Garrett's Foxfire books, looking at the log cabin techniques, and they want to stick it in that southwestern corner opposite the battery shed. It'd also serve to strengthen that corner of our fence, just like the battery shed does to the southeastern side. I'll take a look at their plans once they're done and modify them as needed to make sure it's as strong as we can make it.

We have lots of screws and nails thanks to our trip to the hardware store, but I'm thinking we're going to have to get used to pegging things together with dowels and clever joinery. Hardware and fasteners are only going to get rarer as time goes on, so we need to figure out ways to do without them. It'll take longer, but that's how things are. Yeah, I could make brackets and steel rods out of scrap, but that'd cost us propane, and I'd rather avoid that and using our fasteners unless we need to build something fast. Though, I think beefing up the fence qualifies as needing to be done fast.

Lucky for us, Mister Buck is way too humble concerning his skill with woodworking. He's a great carpenter. With his skill, my engineering, Mark's eye for strategic advantage, and everyone else helping, we'll be able to make something someone would be happy to stay in or climb on top of to do a shift on watch.

I know the fence needs reinforcing, but along with that, I'm glad we're thinking of housing. I mean, when we find more people, we'll need it. Luckily, we have room to expand. The lot we've fenced in is big enough for four houses so long as we keep the garden - and we sure as hell are keeping the garden. But … if we stick with cottages, little things that are functional but compact, then we could get a lot of housing done for little footprint. Yeah, that could work. Almost like two-story cabins, each able to bunk a person or a couple, with the main house staying as a communal area.

If we put the cottages against the fence, it'll be plenty strong too - and it'd keep the yard clear and give us space to expand the garden. Plus, I could rig up a few panels on each cottage and wire them into our mini-grid. Maybe even set them up with their own lead-acid batteries we salvage from vehicles. Then I can prioritize running the power needs of the cottages from the lead-acid batteries, then when those get low, rig up a failsafe to the deep cycle storage in the battery shed. Oh, I have to look at my supplies - make sure I've got everything I need to make a few simple inverters. I know that's far down the line, but I like it. I'm going to talk to the guys and see what they think.

There's a lot to do, but I'm putting this thing down for the evening. Man. What a day.

July 24, 1993 Saturday, 635 AM

Today is logging day.

After I closed the journal last night, Mister Buck talked to all of us about the need to gather materials. That no matter what we end up doing with them, they're needed. His vote was to strengthen the fence immediately with strategic, removable props made from small but strong trees sprinkled between the bigger ones in the surrounding forest.

He finished with, "But, it's yer place, boys. We're here through yer kindness, so whatever y'all say goes."

Mark glanced at me, then smiled at Buck. "I think we can say this place is all of ours now. It's more and more obvious to me that we need help and others around. So, no. It's not just our place anymore. We're in this together now."

"That's how I feel too, Mister Buck." I looked around the room. "This place belongs to everybody here."

Pride glittered in Mister Buck's eyes. "You boys have turned into thoughtful, good men. Thanks fer takin' us in, an' makin' us a part of what this place will be." He looked around the table. "If that's the case, then we vote on things." He raised one beefy arm. "Show of hands - tomorrow the priority is to harvest timber an' prop up the walls. All in favor?"

Hands went up all around, even the kids. They grinned, happy to be a part of this very adult process and decision.

"Good." Buck nodded. "Then we know what we're doin' tomorrow."

"I'll make something hearty for us with lots of calories," Erin offered. "I think we'll need it." She shrugged. "I'm not bad with an axe, though. Split plenty of wood over the years, so I'll be happy to help after the food is ready."

"Perfect. With the two axes we got from the hardware store, plus Wayne's that'll mean three of us can work at once while someone else rests or handles other stuff needin' doin'." Buck looked at Lisa. "You mind bein' our lookout?"

"I don't mind," Lisa said. "I'm good at climbing trees, so I can get up high to keep watch."

"Well, that's up to your momma."

Erin laughed. "She is good at climbing, and there's no stopping her anyhow. I think that'll be fine."

I leaned back. "Okay. That's settled. The sound of the axes might bring company, so we'll need someone watching." I couldn't help the yawn that came. "Urgh. Okay. It's about time for bed if we want to get an early start."

Everyone agreed, and we all retired to our rooms, the couch, and the battery shed. As soon as we got undressed, Mark climbed on top of me.

"I've been wanting this for hours." He grinned down and grabbed the lotion from the nightstand. He slicked me up, and soon I was inside him.

It took the world ending for me to feel this way, but for the first time in my life, I'm happy.

I'm important to the people around me. I have a purpose bigger than myself. And … I have a man in my life who I'm falling in love with and who I'm allowed to love.

We've had a breakfast of egg and cheese sandwiches, so we're fueled up and ready to go. Oops. Speaking of which, they're waiting on me. Okay, time to show these guys how to swing an axe.

July 24, 1993 Saturday, 415 PM

We're worn out, hungry, and we got a lot done, though the axes did draw some attention.

It was just after noon. We had felled a few dozen 4-6" diameter trees, I had started on another when Lisa's voice carried down to us from her perch almost thirty feet up a gnarled oak.

"Three! Headed this way!"

Buck wiped the sweat from his eyes and strode forward, the axe in his hands.

"Wait." Garrett calmly picked up his bow. Now we saw them exiting the thicker forest edge and making a beeline straight for us. Garrett took three chunky arrows from his homemade quiver, their tips were dark from burning, and they'd been sharpened into rough points. Two he jammed into the ground at his feet where he could reach them.

The young guy drew the hickory bow he'd made, waited until the creature came just a bit closer, and let the arrow fly.

With a sickening sound, the projectile lodged in the first zombie's skull and sent it to the ground. Garrett proceeded to drop the other two, with the last only thirty feet from us. It took three shots. He hadn't missed.

At the time, Buck, Garrett, and I were out logging while Mark had taken a break and Erin worked to limb the trees felled with a hatchet.

"Son!" Buck goggled. "Where the hell did you learn to shoot?"

Erin relaxed and grinned at her boy. "He has been making and shooting bows and arrows since he was nine years old." She laughed. "Never thought that'd come in handy. Good job, son."

He nodded. "Thanks. After I learned they need to be hit in the head, I don't need more than one shot." It wasn't a boast, he was simply stating a fact.

"Lisa, any more coming?" I asked.

"No." She settled back into the cloth sling we'd rigged up for her stint on watch. "It's clear."

"Good."

Buck and I walked with Garrett to the zombies while he retrieved his arrows. First, we wanted to make sure they were really dead. Second, we wanted to get a closer look at them.

"Look." Mister Buck pointed at the boots one wore. "Those are almost new. Looks like they're about Garrett's size too."

Garrett paled. "Zombie boots?"

"Your hiking boots won't last forever, son. We'll clean 'em good." Buck took the boots off the dead creature and admired the footgear. "Steel-toed Wolverines are hard to come by, so we can't be choosy."

From another, we took a thick denim jacket that'd seen better days. But with some repair work, it could be pretty good protection from bites or scratches.

We took a look at their IDs. All had addresses in Rosewood, north of us, which meant they had either been displaced by the feds, or they'd fled the town, trying to get away from the hordes. All had defensive wounds on their hands and arms. Bites and scratches. They'd all survived the fever, only to die from the infection from those who hadn't.

"Poor bastards." Buck shook his head. He straightened with the boots in hand. "I'll take a little break an' take these inside. Maybe spray 'em with a bit of bleach."

"Good plan." I stood with him. "Can you take the jacket too? We'll need to wash it before we fix and wear it."

"Yep." Buck took the jacket and winked at Garrett. "Good shootin' Tex."

The boy grinned. "Thanks, Mister Buck."

We spent another four hours rotating into the axe crew, then out again to rest until we finished with an impressive pile of logs. I'm sure we'll be able to prop up the fence and make it nearly impossible to push over with what we've got. It's the lateral stress I'm worried about the most, and if we can get that handled, I'll feel better. That means the only weak point will be the gate. But I'll think about that and work out a way to reinforce it with something strong but easily moved. Hrm. Yeah, I'll think about it.

Oh yeah. We can't check it out today, but Lisa spied some smoke to the east. Buck said he thinks there's another farm out that way. The smoke had been wispy and blue, so most likely woodsmoke. Mister Buck, Mark, and I are going to check it out tomorrow. Of course, I want to believe it's a sign of more survivors. I mean, where there's smoke, there's fire. Where there's fire, there's people. Or, at least I hope so.

Okay. Buck has taken a turn at dinner and is trying to use up our perishables so they don't spoil on us. That means a few thawed steaks, some green beans, and baked potatoes are on the menu, God it smells amazing in this house. I'm gonna go for now.

Till next time.