Aunt Polly Part One

I’m afraid I’ve been out of touch w/ my “studies”, for lack of a better word. Dennis, Trudy O. and their many adventures had to be placed on hold.

I was away on family business. And goodness knows, things are a bit more difficult when traveling now. Checkpoints, quarantines, checkups and the like. A 2 week trip can take up to 5 additional days; just for the sake of safety.

Not that I have any health woes. But if you come from a large urban area, to a rural one…you can bet they’ll take their time checking. Even if you have a small scratch on your hand (as I did—a minor cut which I let go too long w/out ointment—a minor infection, but certainly not a bite or scratch from someone like Dennis—an injury from hanging art @ the gallery where I work--anyway). The detailed questionnaires and invasive tests tend to get a bit trying, but I guess it’s worth it. If there were ever another widespread outbreak (‘cause someone made it past a checkpoint—when they shouldn’t have), we, as a species, probably wouldn’t make it through again. I don’t need to remind you of how many folks we lost in the initial “problem”.

Anyhow, the reason for my absence…I have some sad news to report. I was called away from work (and my life) to attend to a sick relative.

Aunt Polly was a prominent figure in our family. My mother’s own aunt (thus, my GREAT aunt—but she was more than GREAT, she was SUPER! LOL!) was just plain getting old. It didn’t help that in her delicate condition, her nurse was stricken w/ the dreaded sickness and while bathing her, attempted to devour dear Aunt Polly. I never personally liked that nurse (Anita), but she was devoted and trust-worthy. Besides, Aunt Polly adored her. But Anita kept hidden that she had been bitten (apparently only slightly—but that’s all it takes—we still don’t know the details on how she became one of them). On top of that, Aunt Polly insisted on living in her home (in the country no less), even after old age took hold. She never wanted to move to an old folks home, wanted the memory of our extended family and all of our many gatherings in her home over the years. Can’t say I blame her. Going back to the ancient place brings back so many memories. Do you know what divinity is? I’m talking about the candy. The holiday season brought out the baking beast in Aunt Polly, and I’m telling you—that woman was a miracle worker in the kitchen. And her cherry flavored divinity was not something to miss. God bless her.

Well, Aunt Polly was always a pistol, and apparently that stubbornness didn’t fail her in her hour of need. She was able to fend off Anita with her walker (while naked and dripping from her bath), and eventually locked the wretched woman out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until a day or so later, when my uncle Roger showed up to say hello on one of his regular Monday afternoon visits, that this was all discovered. Of course, Roger immediately dispatched Anita with a fire poker (good riddance! Yes, yes, I know…I’m trying to understand these creatures, but Anita was a devil anyway!). By this time, though, my beloved Aunt Polly had fallen prey to the cold and her naked body’s exposure to the ridiculous temperatures (such frigid temps even in the middle of May—that’s the Midwest, I guess. Certainly slows down the zombie though).

She didn’t make it.

It was a blow to the entire family.

There’s definitely more to tell about my time away; mourning and “dealing” with Aunt Polly. Yes, it means exactly what you think it means. For now, let’s just say that I’m emotionally and physically exhausted.

Soon, I will explain…but I still have to formulate my thoughts. It’s a little difficult considering what the family has just been through. At any rate, I’m back. And I’m ready to resume my operations and work toward my goals anew. Dennis and Trudy O. will tell me their tales yet.

And of course, speaking of Dennis, I was given a photograph of something that had been spray painted on the wall of the 3^rd floor parking garage (discovered by Leonard) during my time away. No one is certain where it came from, who did it and who the message was meant for.

I have my own ideas.

Now, it says “Were you go”. My translation is “Where did you go?”

Stay safe, alert and unbitten.

My Return and Trudy O. Enters the Picture

It's been quite some time since I've posted. Fear not, zombie enthusiasts...I have returned.

I still intend to post my interview with Leonard, my building's security guard. When? Well, that's a damn fine question, isn't it? Unfortunately, no answers right now. More pressing matters.

I've been out of town. Work related journeys.

I asked my Mr. to keep an eye on Dennis in my absence; you know, take some notes, get some photos. Again, my Mr. isn't particularly fond of Dennis, nor of my wish to place myself in danger, even to further this "wacky" experiment. The only information I received upon my return home, was that my Mr. had ample opportunity to "take care" of Dennis.

Sadly, this means he had several chances to run down Dennis with our vehicle (but didn't). There's more to that story it seems. Something underlying in his psyche which makes him despise the living dead so very much. But...that is not the news that brings me back to the keyboard (although we WILL delve deeper into that issue at a future time).

I want to introduce you to Trudy O. At my daily post, where I sell furniture to the high, the mighty, the entitled and the ludicrous, I've come across a new subject. Of course, as with Dennis, I don't know her real name, so I've taken to calling her Trudy O.

Fear not. Dennis will not be left behind for Trudy O. I have so much to learn from Dennis. The thing is...Trudy O. is far different from Dennis. Trudy O. is only infected...but not yet dead. This is an opportunity to study the effects of the infection and examine how a regular person becomes a walking corpse.

It's morbid. Perhaps immoral...watching a person go down in flames. It must be agony for Trudy O. And yet, I don't feel as though I can do anything for her. Certainly the disease she carries isn't something I want to get too close to. We all know in this day and age, that not enough is known about the various infections and bacteria that a zombie may carry...or the viruses carried around by a soon-to-be-zombie. Ohhhh. That just sounded so cold. My apologies.

I want it to be known that I wish to bring about an understanding (I've stated it before) of those dead who walk among us. Trudy O. is on the same track that Dennis must have taken. Since I'm not a scientist, there's nothing I can do to stop Trudy O.'s decline (it seems NO ONE can). But I do hope to give her (and Dennis) some humanity by telling their tales. They were just like you or I...once.

Thank you for your patience in my absence.

Stay safe, alert and unbitten.

"Father Paranoia" or "Movin' On Up"

Hello friends,

I know I've stated that Dennis has made it to the 4th floor before; but it's a rarity (or so my experience would suggest). However, on the way up the ramp to my final parking destination, I noticed that a stairwell door (one that is NEVER open) was ajar, and the door to the elevators was also open just a smidge.

No sign of Dennis, but it did make me wonder.

As my Mr. would say... "Father Paranoia..."

MY thought is, "Is Dennis' last name Jefferson?"

Stay safe, alert and unbitten.

Later.

Birthday Wishes from Dennis

My Mr. recently celebrated a birthday (he's not much younger than Dennis-lol); so I made him a little homemade artwork; based on my original little "Dennis" sketch. Now, let it be known that my Mr. doesn't take kindly to Dennis (he's even tried to run down Dennis with his car), nor does he like my dabbling in this "spy-business". The living dead are a dangerous species, and my Mr. just doesn't seem to get what I'm trying to do.

Well, neither do I; since this is all so new to me. I'm learning as I go.

The whole (what has now become known as "The Big Grey Blanket Mystery") left a sour taste in my Mr.'s mouth; and he fears that Dennis may have taken a liking to me...perhaps setting me up to believe that he likes me enough to be friends (it's just a blanket; and we DON'T know where it came from) and then pouncing for a much needed sweet treat (ME!).

It's true that I don't know a great deal about Dennis yet (other than what Leonard--security guy--see previous post--was able to impart), but I think the Mr.'s overreaction to my wonderful and splendid and completely original artwork commemorating his birthday, may be a bit much.

Anyway, enjoy the artwork, and keep your ear to the ground for my forthcoming interview with Leonard; the security guy.

Stay safe, alert and unbitten.

Later.

Forthcoming Facts

I had a chance to sit down with the doorman/security guy of our building. He's been here for about 20 years, so he knows how drastically things have changed since...well, since everything changed. I asked him questions about the building's upped security, how his job has evolved and most importantly; what he knows about our 3rd floor friend; Dennis.

I recorded the interview, so I'll be posting that just as soon as I get it loaded into the computer (and edited--Leonard has QUITE the trucker mouth).

Stay safe, alert and unbitten.

Later.

Things Change

My Mr. and I went away for the weekend. Just a short little drive to Anaheim; and on through to Disneyland.

We've all become so complacent about the zombie outbreak...it's all old hat by now; but there are those moments when you have a ghastly realization of how much things have changed since the dead returned to life; and began feeding on us...spreading disease, death and fear.

Just as with 9/11; everyone was on board and gung ho and "let's go get 'em" right after it hit. Same thing here. Once the novelty of "survival" and looting and the idea of "the apocalypse" wore off; we were back to being cheap, inconsiderate boobs with no compassion and no concerns beyond the almighty dollar. This whole zombie thing has died down (if you'll pardon the expression) now; has become commonplace and frankly; boring. Not that we don't have cause for fear; or at least alertness.

Anyway.

We didn't make it to Disney's California Adventure; only took in Disneyland proper. The moment that struck me hard (outside of Disney's brilliant manipulations) was when we were waiting in line to enter the park. We can all recall how long and winding the lines used to be; but the new scanning and bag checking and health surveys awaiting you at the wonderful gates of Disney; are still a bit disconcerting; not to mention the barbed wire (even Disney Imagineers can't hide that completely) and armed guards (albeit in Disney costume) posted around the perimeter.

They do their best to conceal all of this rigamarole, but when an elderly man has completed his health survey and medical scan; and is then denied access (something about his bad heart), there's no denying that things have really changed. I can't necessarily complain. Who'd want to be stuck in a one of the "doom buggies" at The Haunted Mansion when that geezer kicked the bucket? "This is indeed the happiest place on earth. I love you granddaughter and now I'm going to devour you; right here in front of Madame Leota."

Well, we had a wonderful time, and I do have to give credit to the Disney people. Once you're past the barbed gates and intimidating name-tagged guards (nice gun, Louis!), they are able to make you forget how things are so different now. To them; for that...KUDOS.

You're probably wondering what became of my evening stakeout; from late last week. Let's just say that the cold I've been battling left me a bit on the tired side. Not to mention the over-the-counter drugs I've been taking to ease my pain.

Don't get me wrong. I DID make it to my "safe corner" (it was tested and it worked). But the drugs took over and left me open to attack.

For goodness sake...I fell asleep while in duty.

What finally woke me up; was the gentle buzzing of my phone. It was the Mr.; and he was calling to check on me (not very covert; I know).

It didn't dawn on me until after I had completed my brief conversation with the Mr...still a bit groggy...but...

Let's just say that I had dressed for a cold evening; and brought only my knapsack; notebook, coffee and water. I'm a light packer.

I really don't know how to reveal what happened.

Um...

There was a blanket over me.

A heavy wool blanket; almost like one of those old army blankets. Grey.

It smelled a bit; and it definitely wasn't one of my own.

There was no sign that anyone had been around me; and we saw no sign of Dennis during our departure to Anaheim and our return home.

I'll leave it at that.

For now.

Later.

Preparations

It'll just be for an hour or so; but I'm going to do some spy work this evening. I didn't see Dennis at all today; either to or from work.

No confirmation on the bloody mess I reported on most recently. It was cleaned up on my most recent pass-by. Something more to be learned there. Actually, now that I think of it; I did see a sign posted near the mailboxes; regarding a missing dog. Ugh.

Well...I've got a notepad (I've ordered a new camera--which was delayed due to a billing error--so that will have to be put on hold), a warm jacket (it's windy in LA today!) and my trusty sidearm...

I'm waiting for 1 am; so that the traffic in the garage will be minimal.

I've found a corner (only driven by--I know) which I've never seen Dennis frequent. Okay, okay...so I haven't had a chance to really check it out; and confirm if it has easy escape possibilities, or traps, or whatnot. I'm just gonna go for it.

Well...this writing has gotten me thinking. Perhaps I should just take a quick look before setting up shop. Ah, hell. I can just go w/ my pack and see what happens. If it seems unreasonable or dangerous, then I'll junk the evening.

You're all laughing at me. I know. I have no military training folks. I took some classes to make sure I would be capable of handling my firearm (we ALL did...once the shit hit the fan, it was put into law)...but other than that; I've got nothing. Hmm.

I've got to get a bit of rest. The Mr. has put on a pot of coffee; and I have my beloved thermos ready to go. A few hours sleep will set me up; refreshed.

I'll inform you of my progress tomorrow morning.

I'm thrilled, excited, scared, apprehensive...

...nauseous.

Later.

A Bloody Mess

Not much to report on from last night's return home from work. There was no sighting of Dennis. However, I did slow down on the 3rd floor (that's a big step, my friends); just to be a bit nosy.

Well...I did see a trail of blood leading off into a dark corner. My curiosity was definitely piqued, but I didn't yet have the courage to investigate. I did stop the car for a moment; rolled down the window and listened.

Nothing.

I can tell you, however, that the bloody mess in the corner was not there when I left yesterday morning.

Am I tempting death by taking this project on? Sometime I wonder...

Hopefully, they'll be more to report soon.

Later.

"Dennis"

I know I've got to get ready for work shortly, so I haven't much time. However, I couldn't let the day go by without letting you in on a new development.

I've named my zombie.

His name is Dennis. Not sure why, that's just what came up in my brain. I figured if I was to find respect and understanding for their kind (that IS the task @ hand), I should stop referring to him as a "him". So, until I know more, he will be referred to as "Dennis". I think the inspiration was Dennis Quaid. I recently took another look @ The Rookie, and it must still be fresh in my mind. I don't necessarily think he looks like Dennis Quaid, but I've always been a fan.

On top of all of that, I took it upon myself to sketch a little drawing. Please forgive my chicken scratches, as I've never been much of an artist. While the drawing is somehow reminiscent of some mauled Peanuts character amalgamation, Dennis is really in much worse condition...not just a case of the lice or filthiness which tends to stalk little neglected Pig Pen.

Now, despite the crude illustration, you will make note of the fact that Dennis is missing his right arm. I didn't bring it up earlier, as I thought it might make some of my readers squeamish. It certainly is something to keep your stomach empty. But again, if I want to document this truthfully, then it will be no holds barred from here on out. So be it.

Maggots. That's all I'm saying.

You'll also see that his right leg is at a strange angle. He's definitely got a limp, and that only benefits me when jetting to the elevator from my vehicle.

All right. That's all for now. I do want to wish you all a happy and safe (from the zombies) day in sunny LA and elsewhere.

Later.

Sarah Polley Pants and All

Just a quick update. I had some larger boxes to take to the trash (that recent move), so I can't very well clog up the trash chute w/ such bulk. Soooo, I have to take the trash downstairs manually. This requires an elevator pass-by of the 3rd floor parking garage. I've made a decision to carry a small pistol with me; even when I'm not leaving the building...now that I know we have this infestation (I hope that doesn't offend him). Anyway, I have a pair of pants which I like to wear around the house; for comfort and ease of movement (GREAT sleeping gear). I've donned them my "Sarah Polley Pants"; in honor of the character "Ana" she played in the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead. (I still find it odd that something so beyond the realm of reality has now come to be. Life imitating art, I guess). The wearing of the said pants has now become somewhat of a superstitious tradition (as she survived the initial zombie onslaught; so then, will I). When my Mr. purchased them for me, and I first pulled them up over my legs, I had a sense-memory moment...they looked and what I believed FELT like the pants which "Ana" had worn in the aforementioned film. Thus, the name was born. I really don't know WHAT I'll do when they are eventually worn out and must be taken to that very same trash chute I now cannot use.

At any rate, back to the story. I boarded the elevator; pressed floor 1, and immediately was underway. Well, to my surprise, the elevator slowed; and then STOPPED at floor 3. Of course, I was TERRIFIED. I had my pistol at the ready, and the door slid open. I closed my eyes and pointed the gun.

Nothing.

No one.

I have a feeling our friend on the 3rd floor is trying to send a message...or perhaps play a game. Although I don't have a clue as to how he would have known I was making my way downstairs.

Unless...of course...

No, I'm quite certain he's only ever been on the 3rd floor.

There's definitely more to this story. I'll have more info when I head to work tomorrow.

Later.

First Impressions

I’ve seen him numerous times, but have really not had the courage to stop and say hello. His kind…well, they’re flesh-eaters you see. It’s a tough fear me to overcome; even if he does come toward my car with a friendly wave; each time I pass by on my way up to the 4^th floor; where I park my car.

I’ve not had to deal with him making it all the way up to the 4^th floor; as I generally try to make a break for the elevator area…making sure the door closes behind me (and locks!). He’s slow, so it’s not much of a race. But there are those times when I’m unloading groceries, and it’ll take a little longer to get to the elevator. I get a little panicked; although I’ve only ever seen him (well, his shadow) coming up the ramp once. That’s enough, thank you. I have learned to shop more often, thereby having to get fewer bags each trip; and I’ve released the icy grip of bulk shopping at Sam’s Club for good. I’ve learned (not the hard way—yet) that if you want to beat a zombie to the elevator, you’d better not be buying your paper towels in the economy 50-rolls for 10 bucks size. Not sensible. Besides, I really don’t have that kind of space since I moved.

Well, recently, I started to give him a little more thought. Not just fear; but a try at understanding. I mean, other than the fact that they’re known man-eaters, do I have anything to fear from his smile (a little lopsided) and his well-manicured ensemble? He was clearly buried in a suit. It’s a nice tie. It’s a bit dirty, but I can overlook that. It looks like the hanky part of the combo is long gone. His wave always looks a little “off”…but those things shouldn’t keep me from being my friendly self. Should they?

I work in customer service, so generally on my way home (or when I arrive home), I’m less than thrilled to have to make small talk with ANYONE, let alone someone who might turn the conversation to the topic of food. Not a good direction; if you catch my drift. Yet I still wonder (I am pretty neurotic) if I may be hurting his feelings. I’ve heard that they DO have feelings…or remnants of feelings. This is all so confusing. Thus far, my curiosity and neuroses have yet to overpower my plain old basic survival instincts. I mean, we’ve all read about what they are capable of…seen it on the news…saw that HORRIBLE incident on live television. I will miss Keith Olbermann; a lot. Always found him kind of cute, but he took too many chances, and we know how that ended. Who seats an uncaged zombie across the desk from you? It worked on Letterman, sure, but he had several handlers on hand. Keith took the position that they weren’t animals; and well…So sad.

I work again tomorrow, so I’ll let you know if I see him again. I don’t think I’m ready to engage him yet, but I think I will try my hand at a bit of spying. Later.