cross-eyed freaks

Posted: April 19, 2014 in Dark Silo News

DSC_0641Wes B. is a student at Polaris Expeditionary School in Fort Collins, Colorado. Polaris is a school of choice, and if they encourage this sort of insanity, then Wes made a wonderful choice indeed. The following story reads like the opening to a novel. Notice the way Wes mixes characters, scenes, lists and song lyrics to create an authentic voice for his post apocalypse.  (Special thanks to teacher Ryan Grindle for providing another wonderful piece of student genre fiction.)

W 6/8 (night)

We have been planning this trip for a long time. Z and I will walk from our homes in Fort Collins, CO to the Commune in Chicago, IL; a 1000 mile distance. My friend R lives there and has been trying to get us to visit him for years. We will travel primarily by foot, but we will accept rides from whoever will give them to us.

Our parents have advised against this trip as there have been many reports of homicide in the Midwest this last week, and they are worried for us.

We are prepared for the journey and it will be a lot of fun. In my pack I have:

  • 6 pairs of wool socks
  • 2 pairs of synthetic pants
  • 1 rain coat
  • 4 t-shirts
  • 7 bandanas
  • 4 pairs of boxer briefs
  • A headlamp
  • My camera
  • My hatchet
  • My sleeping bag
  • A sleeping pad
  • A big bag of trail mix
  • A bag of tortillas
  • A jar of peanut butter
  • A block of hard cheese
  • 3 of my hats
  • (And a toiletry bag.)

Z 6/8 (night)

Tomorrow we leave on our much anticipated journey to Chicago. I am starting this journal on W’s behalf as he would like to make a scrap book type thing upon our return. BlahdyBlah this is some stupid shit, but the trip will be great. My pack has a lot of stuff in it. I have 3 knives, 2 hatchets, a trowel, a box of strike anywhere matches, 50ft of rope with a monkey’s fist tied to the end, a pack of American Spirits, and a big bag of cake mix that I’ll be eating for forever.

R 6/8 (night)

W asked me to start a journal preceding his and Z’s expedition to visit my humble abode. I think it’s a pretty decent idea, but whether W will have the time to finish the book that he wants to write is beside the point. Shit’s been going down here in Chicago lately, lots of people dying in the streets (more than usual). People are freaking out. Lots of riots. The pastors are encouraging all of us to pray for peace, but as they say that, there are guns being fired outside the wall of our side yard.

W 6/9 (night)

Today we left walking, and we kept hearing moaning coming from the forest on the side of the road. It was hard to ignore, but we did anyway by loudly singing our favorite folk punk songs. AJJ and Johnny Hobo were featured prominently, but a new favorite for Z was the song Lets Get Eaten Alive by Wally Tusk and the Film Club. We added verses in order to keep singing for a long while.

We are now camped along the side of the highway under a blue tarp.

Z 6/9 (night)

I was walking through a park once

When I saw a man

Getting disemboweled by squirrels

With a note in his hand that read

I’m sick of being hurtful

I’m tired of being used

Sick of being judgmental

Stubborn and rude

And if I can’t be a good person

Then at least I can be food!


Lets get eaten, get eaten, eaten alive

Chew on my flesh baby, slurp out my eye,

Let’s get eaten, get eaten, get eaten alive

It’s the only thing that makes sense

R 6/9 (night)

The number of dead is increasing. The reports of reanimation are circulating as well. W gave me a decent book for Christmas a few years back called The Zombie Survival Guide. I believe the newscasters when they say that dead are walking, I believe them when they say that the dead are eating the living. I believe them when they say we should evacuate.

The pastors do not believe the media and they want us to stay to continue our ministry with the local homeless population. All of the young men are now required to take a guard shift at one of the four locations; community front door, community back door, the route to the shelter and the shelter entrance. I chose route duty twice a week. We are supposed to be unarmed, but I will be taking my big knife.

S 6/10 (morning)

Although the events leading up to this journal have been tragic, I feel as if they would make a good film, so I will be writing down the everything that takes place in order to make a film about this disaster after I finish school. Things will be better then.

I am writing this entry in the morning before my first route guard duty. I shall be taking my Bible and this journal and a pen. My mother has insisted that since I am Hemophilic, I should wear long sleeved thick fabric clothing and a helmet. I love my mother dearly, so I will of course do as she asks.

W 6/10 (night)

Z and I are currently camped just north of Sterling, CO.

During lunch we watched the news in a Diner off of the Grand Army of the Republic Highway. The food was pretty much completely awful, but it might have been worthwhile just for the TV. The news guy talked something awful about mass murder and cannibalism throughout the Midwest. And since this was Fox News, they also talked of how the dead and infected were reviving with crossed out eyes and continuing the spree of chaos. It’s kind of like all of those George Romero films I watched in G’s class. I don’t believe the news guys, but Z does.

Z 6/10 (noon)

There are Zombies. I have a hatchet. I will kick Zombie ass, and survive. We will get to Chicago, the most devastated city in the United States and I will save R and the rest of the Commune. It is my promise; I will not stop until we are safe.

R 6/10 (night)

Today during guard duty we had an encounter with the zombies. We were escorting two women and a child to the shelter when a man appeared in an alley. He was big and walked with a limp, but the thing I remember were the crosses through its eyes. Bloody red crosses on the dark holes in its skull. He wasn’t the only one; after I looked around I saw that there were at least 50 of them in the area, and that our small group of 5 was the only human group nearby.

The zombie guys shuffled closer to us. I struggled to pull my knife out of my hiking boot. S took his Bible out of his pocket, I looked at him in as demeaning a way as possible and then as the ex-guy hunched over to bite our kid. S shoved the Bible into its mouth and knocked it to the ground. S then proceeded to stomp its head repeatedly, spilling buckets of blood across the asphalt. He picked up his Bible and said something like “fight like a man, scripture in hand.” I laughed. By now I had my knife out, so we were in decent condition to reach the shelter. No great tragedy for me.

W 6/11 (night)

Shortly after entering Nebraska, we decided to leave the road for a while and walk through the woods. We walked for a few hours before reaching a clearing which contained a buffalo herd. I didn’t want to walk through it, but Z convinced me by saying that as we weren’t wearing roller-skates we would be fine.

Near the center of the herd we started hearing a low gruff moan. I looked around and saw a pale looking cowboy standing with his head down. As he looked up I saw that he had bloody crosses through his eyes and a horse leg in his mouth.

He shambled toward us, but before I could react much at all Z jumped in the air and smacked the cowboy’s hat off with a hatchet. The cowboy lunged forward and grabbed Z’s arm, I quickly threw my backpack off onto the ‘zombie’ and pushed down with all my strength. The cowboy zombie struggled for a long time as Z tried to smash its skull with a hatchet. It was hard to crush the skull so Z kept hitting and spraying blood all over everything. The Buffalos didn’t like this at all and walked away revealing even more of the cross eyed freaks. We were completely surrounded.

After finally crushing the skull of the cowboy Z put the hat on his head and pulled his army trowel out of the brain of his pack.  I grabbed the hatchet and one of my knives. We spent the next three hours decapitating and stabbing zombies. It was tiring…




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