Tales From The Wasteland

An RP + Ask blog, a teenage boys journal in the midst of the apocalypse. Feel free to send in asks!

[ruined-journal]

God where do I start?

I’ve never been into journaling or any of that girly diary stuff. The guys in charge of this place said it would do me good, get some stuff lined out on paper so what the hell.

If anyone finds this, the names Randy. I’m about 17 and the world ended six months ago. I thought it had been longer, a year, year and a half maybe. Who knows. I’ve found a safe place, or the closest thing to that that’ll take me in. It’s small and we got some odd people staying here. It’s gettin’ cold out and I don’t have any gloves so I’ll get a proper entry out in the morning. Randy out.

OOC

Hey guys! This is a zombie Apocalypse RP account detailing the life of a teenage boy and his group. Ask box is open and are appreciated or just interact any way you want! I’ve been developing this character for a while and hope he’s interesting!

Tags:

Dear diary - Journal entries

Screaming in the night - wobbles on the path, any issues along the way

Answering notes - answering your asks!

Intrusions - possible journal thefts and interference

Mimicking the hoard - reblogs and lyrics

Stolen camera - any photos

Overview - this blog has characters and a storyline so every ‘chapter’ turned I’ll write an overview to help remind and help new people catch up

[ruined-journal]

Entry 13, continued: Gas station trip

This entry is written with the input of Iren. Her cooperation was forced by Anders but if anything doesn’t check out don’t blame me.

After my streak of genius that left us with a hole blown in the fence we needed something to patch it, quickly. God knew what that explosion could’ve lured.

Iren remembered that she had seen a gas station while she had been driving down and figured that something in there could be of some use. She opted to drive out alone, just her and her pickup.

It was quiet most of the drive. She did encounter one zombie that she swerved to hit. He wore a hat that she stole.

The gas station had two inside that she killed and in that gas station she found three very, very useful things. One was steel wire that we could use to repair the fence, the second was an car battery that we have now hooked up to the fence so we can electrify it, and the last was found out in the car repair zone thing, it was a trailer- like one of those camping trailers.

She’s unhooked that underneath the tower so now we can have some people stay in there since damn this place is getting crowded.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 13: overwhelmed

We fucked up. We fucked up real bad. We woke up to yelling and the clashing of hands and teeth on a metal fence. Turns out we did not dig the grave deep enough. It wasn’t tons. It was about 50 or so. 50 zombies that is. Outside the fence, clawing to get in.

We were all up and outside quickly, the fence was great for a couple, but for that many all in one zone. It was going to come down. Jeff was trying to shoot them down but he was running low on ammo, most of our weapons are short range and we couldn’t do anything but poke at them.

Things were looking bad. The idea of trying to run them down in Iren’s car was tossed around but that many would overwhelm it.

At one point Hughes pulled me aside. He told me that when the fence gave out he wanted me to grab Harper and run. He would try hold them off to give us time but she trusted me, and I had to get her out.

I’m no coward but I know what happens when you try to hold on too long and I’m not going to leave a child to die. I wasn’t any use on the ground so I ran up the tower, both to check up on the girl and to grab supplies and start chucking them in my bag.

I was looking through what I had when I found two things. A gas canister and a small pack of my old zippo lighters. I think you know where this is going.

I almost fell rushing down the stairs and I could see the metal of the gate bend, I could see it start to break. Bloody hands grabbing and grasping nearing the faces of my team. I yelled, barking out a short warning. As I got to fence, inches away from the gnashing teeth of the crowd I stabbed the canister. With one hand I threw it into the heart of the crowd, with the other I lit the small flame, throwing that too and praying that it would work.

I threw myself to the floor as I felt the heat strike my face and my ears rang something awful. Not all of them were dead. The gate had a whole blown wide in it and they were still coming. Sharp knees dug into my bag and I felt hands in my hair and on my shoulders, grabbing and twisting and pulling. I felt a jolt before I was being pulled to my feet and god we were fighting. It hadn’t killed them all but it had killed enough that we had a chance and god did we take it.

All the infected are dead, their bodies are in a pile ready to be burnt (alongside the old lady but we aren’t going to tell her husband). That problems over, but now we have a massive hole in the fence and I’ve got a claim to fame.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 12: The funeral

Today was full. Full of what? Everything.

Anders pulled me aside, he said we had to talk. He said that he’s happy about my progress with the group, it’s been a month since I joined and, for the record, I would be upset if anyone in our group died. Mostly anyone. Anders says that I have to work on ‘socialisation’ he sees that the journal is helping so he’s suggested that I have people help write- suggesting input, that kinda stuff. He still reads all of this and Anders, I’m not too happy about anyone else putting their hands on this damn book just yet.

Anyway. The old Lady kicked the bucket. Her name isn’t important so I won’t give you another to remember. It happened in the night but her husband didn’t tell anyone till lunch cause he wanted to spend more time with her. We started digging the grave just after; me, Wilhelm, Jeff’s son and Anders. It was just inside the fence and it took until the evening. It was poetic really. That the closing of the day be the closing of her life. Most of my group watched from the tower while her family said their final words and Jeff and the ladies husband filled in the grave. She didn’t have a casket.

Now that’s over the baby and the old man are still in my old room. I miss the privacy but hey, it might not be too bad in the main room.

Randy out.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 11: The Basement

It was decided. Jeff would have his hand at clearing out the basement. Jeff took his brother and his eldest son with him to help and Ekke has sent Anders, Iren, and me. I don’t know why I’ve been put up there as one of Ekke’s ‘competent men’. I got brain damage so bad I’m struggling to hold this pen straight and I need to tie my bat to my hand so I don’t drop it.

The hotel was plain. When we got there the walls were cracked and it was partially absorbed back into the wetlands it was built on. Jeff and his men had guns. Good guns, not the shitty ones people had been able to scavenge for. There were a couple infected on the first floor, five I think. Most of them were elderly. They didn’t put up much of a fight. Some of them don’t Y’know? They get knocked over by a light breeze then you get ones that just Do. Not. Go. Down. We went with Jeff’s lot to the top of the basement stairs before sending them down ‘covering his back’. I’m sure that the air was filled with asbestos, I really envied Gabriel’s gas mask at that moment.

It was quiet as the three men went down the stairs, the only sound being fading footsteps and Iren muttering about how dead they were. The footsteps stopped and we could hear a door creak open below us before shouts and shots cracked the still air. The shouts faded out long before the shots did and as those fell silence we waited with bated breath. “Clear” the signal was given. We all moved down to see all three men, disgruntled and shaken but all in one piece- and behind them- at least twenty dead zombies. It was impressive and Iren downright cheered. I guess that’s the power of guns. You can just shoot ‘em without being in any actual danger.

We got the water, fuel but the generator wasn’t the portable kind. Not at our point of development anyway. But clean water and fuel. Those were godsends now.

We were able to get a few hours of celebration in back at the tower. Everyone sees Jeff as some kind of hero. Some godsend. He’s good with a gun and he used to be a military surgeon. I can’t see him like that. There’s something wrong with him. He’s no miracle.

The celebration got cut short when we were told that the old lady had gotten worse. Pneumonia apparently. I get why like Jeff and her husband were sad but the rest of the group got all quiet too. They don’t know her, none of us know her and I’d say her dying of sickness in a base is a damn good death rather than getting to old to run back outside.

I don’t mean to be heartless when I say this but it sounds like I’m getting my room back sooner rather than later.

Randy out.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 10: The supplanters

Jeff’s group didn’t just come here on a whim. He told us over dinner (canned beans, apples, bread and butter) He and his family were a part of a larger group, held up in one of the forts. They had it good apparently, farm, animals, governed system. They came here because they had a radio to receive Ekke’s signal from about a month ago.

Their base was raided by a group. He believes that it’s some post apocalyptic version of the free masons. A group of posh rowdy men with weapons, ammo, the whole set up. They’d been going around in the south west raiding any settlement they deemed ‘successful’. We don’t know if it’s to try and take the land or if they see them as competition. Jeff doesn’t know how many survivors there were, he just got his family and booked it to the closest other settlement taking on stragglers (us).

If this journal is found you might know of the supplanters by now. Anders and Hughes had already heard of them. If not take this as a warning.

Anyway. Jeff is still being held as the second coming of Christ, I still don’t like him but his groups and okay. I spoke with his son, he seems a decent lad, the old man doesn’t seem to bad either. His group mostly keeps to themselves and I’m glad of it. It’s hard enough trying to manage our group.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 9: The horse and cart

Something big happened today. For one, I’ve been taken out the room. I won’t be going back in, they’re discussing what to do with me.

We were all eating when we heard Iren yelling from outside. There were people. Other survivors. Seven of them in total. They were in this old horse and cart- think Oregon trail pilgrim kinda stuff. I could hear the wheels squeaking as they came up to our gate, Anders and Ekke let them in. I think most of them were related. They had a baby with them. An old couple too. That’s why I got moved out the room. The old lady is sick and they (our group) won’t have a baby and old people sleep outside in the trailer like the others.

The first guy we met was the patriarch. He was ex military with an old head wound. Said his name was Geoffrey but asked that we just call him Jeff. He’s confident I’ll give him that. We aren’t sure about this lot. There’s a hotel nearby. We think that they have a generator at best, it definitely has a water storage that’ll be clean. We were discussing sending Jeff and a couple of his men to clear out the basement, a test kinda. We’ll see.

Most of us are turning in for bed. Iren, Ekke and Wilhelm are going to be staying up, keep an extra eye on things in the night. It’s nice to know they aren’t completely thick. I’ve got an air bed on the floor, like everyone else. I’ll update on how it goes, sleeping in the main room.

Randy out.

(Update, it was nice mostly- I’d forgotten how much of a comfort the presence of another warm body when you’re trying to sleep can be. I could hear the baby crying and the old lady kept coughing- and Hughes kept coughing.)

[ruined-journal]

So. Trying to get my thoughts in order and I figured that this might help you guys understand too. So. Radio tower, seven other people.

The Leader - so this guy, he’s nice, kinda naive. He’s petty built with an eyepatch and tattoos. Early 20s. His name is Ekke. It’s like Swedish I think?

The Warden - I think he’s the one ‘responsible’ for me. He’s pretty built, really long dreads, piercings. He’s mostly deaf. It’s tricky to talk with him since he can’t lip read me and I can’t sign. Early 20s, He’s in a relationship with the leader. His names Anders.

The girl - She’s one of the only ones here that don’t see me like a ticking time bomb. She’s scrawny- wears pink and dungarees. She has like eczema or something and she wears a gas mask. She’s like 8 maybe? Her name’s Harper.

Her father - He’s not her bio dad, just kinda picked her up at the side of the road. Mid 30s, He demands to be addressed as ‘Dr Hughes’ he’s not actually a doctor, not a useful one anyway. He’s kinda short and dresses posh. He smokes like a steam train and his morals depend on access to cigarettes.

The leaders cousin - I think I like this guy. He’s got like dyed silver hair, scars, almost 7ft and built like a tank. Really like tree trunk arms. He’s like weirdly domestic? Most times I see him he’s looking after Harper or cooking. Late teens, him/ her (not sure) their name is Wilhelm. (Polish, not the best English)

Car chick - I haven’t bought her up much cause she hasn’t really been relevant. She had a cat but she keeps to herself. She had a snazzy blue pick up and she just sleeps and spends most her time in that. She seems like a bitch. Mid teens, her names Iren

The Coward - this guy. Asahi, from my other entry. We have history. How much I’ll say- eh- but he likes to play the victim. Say that I was mindless savage that attacked him. If it weren’t for him things could be so much different for me. Better- maybe not - but more people would be alive if not for him. He’s mid teens, I think he’s got like autism or something.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 8, last part: Behind the door

It was late. Past 2 in the morning, and it was the girl that opened the door. I didn’t attack her. She had stolen the keys from my warden. Apparently while I’ve been in the room again the leaders brother or cousin or whatever- the one who’s built like a tank- baked bread with some stuff they found. The girl had snuck a slice for me. She came into the room and we spoke. By that I mean I spoke and she nodded along or shook her head. I think I’m starting to like this kid. She’s a bit like Emma was. She wears the gas mask almost everywhere, even when she’s in her pyjamas. I’m surprised that she was able to find decent pyjamas to say she scavenged for them. I'm stuck wearing one of the guys old shirts and joggers.

Im sorry about that last entry. If it made anyone worry. I’m okay. I’m not crazy. I’m not a damn loon. And if I ever was I’m better now and this group will never know if I was. It’s been a long day.

Maybe I should try organise this book. Make it more understandable? Would that be good? Try list the people I’m stuck here with?

Randy out.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 8 continued: Back in the room

I am Achilles. Achilles is me. Is he? Is there a difference? Was it Achilles that attacked the survivors? Was it me that tried to protect them. My people. My family. Was it Achilles that scared them? Who is Achilles? Are we the same person? Randy and Achilles. Achilles and Randy- Randall.

I can’t trust them. The Warden, the Leader, the Father. None of them. I can’t trust them. The door is still locked. I’ve found a craft knife. It cant do much. But. If I’m smart. If I time it well I can get out.

I can hear keys in the door. There’s a whispering but I can’t tell if it’s from outside or inside the room. I catch words but they slip through my fingers. I think someone is laughing. Or screaming. I can’t tell. I can’t tell anything.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 8: The coward

I couldn’t do it. The main room was cleared out. Most people were helping out trying to start up a small crop plantation within the fence. Anders walked me in. He was sat on the couch, his pale face stark against the darker room and his leg bouncing creaking the old ratty sofa beneath him. The leader was sat in one of the armchairs and I was lead into a dining chair just opposite to him. As I heard him take that shaky breath my knuckles went white. Always playing the victim. That coward. It could’ve been solved so easily if he had just stayed away. Had just fought like a man. No. He looked up to me slowly. “Achilles?” That’s when I couldn’t do it anymore. Everything came crashing down. Everything that Achilles is- that Achilles was- me.

I grabbed him by the collar and forced him to his feet before arms wrapped around me and started dragging me away. I was thrashing and yelling and I don’t remember it well.

I’m back in my room now. The door is locked again. It hasn’t been locked for almost two weeks.

His name is Asahi.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 7: Really bad idea

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I’ve been busy. I’ve been able to start helping out with the group. Anders is still breathing down my neck but I’ve been tolerating everyone. Mostly everyone. I get on well with the kid and with this one guy- the leaders cousin. Most people sleep out on air beds or sofas in the main room- par this one girl who sleeps in her truck- I still have my room. It’s becoming less of a jail cell and more of a ‘cool down area’. They trust that I don’t want to hurt them. They still treat me like a ticking time bomb. Anders and the leader sat down with me and they said that me and him would have to sit down and talk things out. They would be supervising- but we would have to be civil. Sure, I can turn a blind eye to him now, just pretend he’s not there. But sit across from him at a table? And not launch myself across it? Nah. I don’t know if I can do that.

Randy out.

[ruined-journal]

What do you miss the most about life before the apocalypse?

Hm, that’s a difficult question. There’s a lot that I miss. The obvious stuff Y’know? Fresh food, no zombies, an actual house. One thing that I do miss is how simple somethings were. Identity and all that. Before you could look at someone and know who they were. I was that kid who flunked most of his GCSEs, worked in some gas station and kept getting into scraps out on the street. That painted a clear picture. Now, I’ve been a lot of things. Some poor kid left bloody and dying at some fence, I’ve been a leader. To some I’ve been a fucking devil. That doesn’t paint a picture. It’s too many different things that won’t fit together. I’m all of them but that’s not a whole person.

But the things that I miss most are the people; family, friends, partners. And I miss not having to fight to live. That’s what I miss most.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 6: Empathy

Empathy is a strange thing. Not just in the apocalypse when giving or taking it can be life or death, but for me it’s always been confusing.

When I was younger, I would overhear my teachers talk about it a lot with my parents. Some of them were nice, saying that they were ‘worried about me socially’ and ‘knew I had the best intentions but could come off a little harsh’. Others weren’t so nice. They said I was cruel or suggested that my parents try get me checked out my a psychologist or something. They never did. There was never a reason to, not in their eyes. I had ‘friends’, a group of boys my age that would go around with me, hanging off my word, you know? And while I was insensitive I wasn’t outright cruel. I started a few fights but all boys did right?

It was my Aunt who really saw something ‘wrong’. She knew she’d never convince my parents. I was fully functional and so there could be nothing of importance wrong with me. But she did convince them to let me join her scout group. The Beaver scouts. It was there when I met a boy. He was short and skinny and he had a girls haircut. He was playing around in the dirt by himself and I wanted to know what he was doing. He said that he was playing hunters. He was trying to hunt a deer, like his da’ did. No one else was doing anything more interesting and I’d seen people like bear grills hunt so I decided to join him. We got close. I started to notice him in school and I invited him into my group of boys. I enjoyed being around him more than others but it wasn’t until I was about eight that I noticed that there was something different between us. I had wanted to play with him at lunch but he wasn’t at our spot. I found him crying by the bushes. Normally it annoys me. When the people who I want to play with won’t play with me because they’re upset like that. I never tell them because I was old enough to know not to but it was annoying. I wasn’t really annoyed though. I was worried. His gran had died and so I sat with him over lunch in those bushes and I didn’t expect him to play with me. We stayed friends. It’s cliche but we were inseparable.

Even after Secondary after I went into work and him into his A-levels we stayed meeting up all the time, going out in our lunch hour, just bugging each other. It was only once that I’ve really questioned his loyalty. It was the last time that I ever saw him. Green eyes staring up to the cloud covered sky, nothing behind them. Nothing in front of them, not really. Streams of blood ran down his face. A pool was beginning to form under his head. Dolan was dead. The air tasted like pennies and smoke and it wasn’t till a week later that I learnt the truth.

Empathy is a strange thing. It’s been easier to survive without it. But I think I miss it.

Dolan. I’m so so fucking sorry.

Randy out.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 5: Talks and trust

My Warden came up to me earlier. He invited me out to go on an area patrol with him. I know that this wasn’t his idea. It was awkward and complicated at first. He’s deaf- or mostly deaf. It’s fine when he’s with most people. They can sign and he can read lips. It’s not fine for me. My hands don’t work very well. They get all twitchy and shaky and I don’t know any sign and he can’t read my lips well cause- well let’s just say after a few encounters with other survivors my face ain’t exactly pretty.

So to cut to the point, even when not taking his personality into account he’s a damn hard man to talk to.

It was nice though. Being able to get out again. Being able to feel useful. He told me a bit about his past and he said a bit about each survivor, who they were, where they came from. He said that they would try give me more freedoms. He tried to ask why I attacked that boy.

I wonder if anyone would be interested in that? Hm, maybe I’ll write more about that. The group, the boy, my wardens past. Anything of interest maybe?

Randy out

(Oh yeah, the wardens name is Anders, just kept here for a reminder)

[ruined-journal]

Oh yeah, and I found a photo slipped under my door this morning

I think I know who took it. Coward.

[ruined-journal]

Entry 4: Impromptu rescue

I did get out. It was clear and god the air has never felt so good. It doesn’t smell around here. Not like it does in the cities and towns I’ve passed through.

I’m not even back in that room. I’m sat in the main area, I’m not alone here. I think I might be trusted, by two people at least.

I was out, patrolling the fence that the first people here set up. It’s a good fence, chain link, sturdy so long as it’s only a few biters. It’s a good job that it was so clear out last night otherwise I might’ve never spotted here. Kids have a tendency to go where they shouldn’t. It was the girl, Harper her name is. She’d gone out of the fence. Don’t know why she’d do it but she’s a kid. Can’t always understand kids. There was a biter, ugly fucking thing. Not only had the kid gone out past the fence but she had gone out weaponless. At least I had grabbed a bat. To cut a long story short I had my hand swinging at it. I got it away from the kid but damn thing wouldn’t go down. The leader man he’d been on watch shift or something cause he came out, split its skull near in two. I’m not saying that he ‘saved me’ I’m injured but I’m not some damsel. He just sped things up, made it a bit easier.

So that brings us to here. Me, the kid and him are all sat around in the main room. We all got washed up and so I’ve borrowed some clothes. Their baggy on me buts it’s the best we could find. Leader man managed to find some bread. It was baked a week ago or so, it’s not green or furry so it’s edible. We have some butter and jam from somewhere too. We actually spoke, leader man is decent. I’ll have to try remember his name. He said that he’d speak to his boyfriend, my warden, about giving some more time out so long as he keeps me and someone separate.