Chapter 20

  The morning was much like the one before, starting with a breakfast of soup and chili, washed down by a few glasses of coffee. I grabbed a couple of chocolate bars, a few cans of soda, and climbed back up to the roof to continue my grim work. The remnants of yesterday’s efforts had largely been devoured, but it was getting harder to find zombies clustered close to the building. The sun was harsher today, no longer softened by the overcast skies that had lingered after the recent rain.

  Drinking the water collected in the eaves troughs was less than pleasant, its taste bitter and metallic. To make it more tolerable, I started adding a splash of Coke to the water, knowing that sticking to soda alone would leave me more dehydrated. My accuracy suffered, and the increased distance of the zombies made each throw less effective than yesterday. It was disheartening, but I had enough food and water to keep this up for a while. I wasn’t ready to give up.

  I called it quits earlier than usual and went back inside the building. The thought of exploring the shelves in the power bank room gave me a small boost of motivation. The steel piping there seemed like it could be the key to a new plan. The room was filled with electrical components I didn’t recognize, but the cardboard boxes might come in handy if I needed to start another fire. The piping had threaded ends, which sparked an idea.

  I connected two pieces of five-foot piping with a coupler, creating a sturdy ten-foot pole. Using the vise on the workbench, I secured the pipe and attached a cross-piece fitting that allowed four pieces to connect at once. My plan was to screw the joints onto the ten-foot section and insert a two-foot piece of rebar I had cut earlier with an angle grinder. The rebar’s ends were sharpened to a point, angled at about 45 degrees.

  With the fitting tightened down, I used a small piece of pipe, called a nipple, threading it deep into the fitting until it pressed tight against the rebar, locking it securely in place. I had essentially built myself a ten-foot-tall, sharpened pickaxe.

  Proud of my creation, I held it up and examined it. The weight was manageable, and the sharpened rebar points looked menacing. This new tool would give me a longer reach and hopefully make it easier to deal with the zombies. I decided to test it out tomorrow, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. For now, I focused on cleaning up the workbench and organizing the remaining supplies, making sure everything was in order for the next day’s efforts.

  After finishing up, I followed my usual routine of stretching, taking Tylenol, and indulging in a healthy measure of Johnny Walker—leaving just enough for one more day. It was sad to think that my stash of scotch was almost gone. I decided to save it for a special occasion. With that thought, I went to bed, hoping that the next day would bring new opportunities and fewer zombies.

  The morning routine was the same, though I had two cans of chili for breakfast and planned on ramen for dinner. With a cup of coffee warming my belly, I was eager to try out my new invention, which I dubbed the "Brain Buster." It worked surprisingly well. I could now measure the distance to a zombie’s head, lift the Brain Buster, and swing down. In one swift motion, the zombie would be dispatched. Without needing to retrieve the chain, I could work five to ten times faster.

  Aiming was trickier, and occasionally the Brain Buster would stick in a zombie’s head, making me fear it might yank out of my hands and cause me to fall off the roof. The bodies were accumulating on the ground, making it harder to reach the zombies. They tripped over the corpses, causing me to miss, or they avoided the area where the ground was stained black with the goop leaking from their brains.

  Despite these challenges, I managed to take down two to three times as many zombies as on the first day. My arms and back didn’t feel as strained; the Brain Buster seemed to use more natural muscles. After a dinner of ramen, I went to bed, determined to continue. I was slowly making a dent in their numbers.

  The next day was successful, but not as much as the one before. The heat was really getting to me, even with the pink hat. I needed some shade. Tired of swinging the Brain Buster and doubting whether I was making any progress, I decided to make myself a shade umbrella. The days of naming the zombies were over.

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  In the afternoon, when I couldn’t take any more brain bashing, I went back inside, grabbed a paintbrush and a can of fire-red paint, and brought them up to the roof. Using zip ties, I attached the paintbrush to the Brain Buster. I also needed another five-foot section of pipe, as the zombies were now quite a distance from the building.

  With the 15-foot pole, I started marking the tops of 15 zombies' heads. Instead of smashing their brains as usual, I gently painted their faces and heads. I hoped to track the migration patterns of some zombies. Were they getting smarter, or were the same zombies just staying away? I couldn’t tell, and my memory for faces was failing me. I tracked Patricia as best I could; she mainly stayed near where I had climbed the fence, making her easier to spot. With my marked zombies in place, I turned my attention to the Shade Pavilion.

  I realized that the shelves in the power room weren’t useful where they were, and they could be easily disassembled with just one ratchet wrench. I didn’t need to take all the shelves to the top of the roof—just one at the top would likely keep the unit stable. So, I took two shelves and eight bars up, positioning them evenly with each leg on the slope of either side of the peak.

  I scavenged through the break room supplies, looking for something suitable to cover the pavilion. My eyes landed on a large roll of heavy-duty plastic sheeting, usually used for covering equipment during maintenance. It was durable and weather-resistant—perfect for a makeshift roof.

  Back on the roof, I spread the plastic sheeting over the top of the shelving frame. I used rope to secure it to the bars, making sure it was taut and wouldn’t flap too much in the wind. For added stability, I placed heavy tools and spare pieces of metal piping along the edges of the sheeting to weigh it down.

  I stood back to admire my work. The plastic sheeting stretched over the shelving frame provided decent shade, creating a small but effective pavilion. It wasn’t perfect, but it would offer some relief from the relentless sun and make my zombie-bashing sessions more bearable.

  To test its sturdiness, I gave the pavilion a few experimental shakes. It wobbled slightly but remained intact. Satisfied with my creation, I set up my chair underneath the new shade and took a moment to relax. The difference was immediate; the shaded area was noticeably cooler, and I could already feel the tension in my body easing.

  Now that I had some proper shelter from the sun, I was ready to get back to work. With my new Brain Buster and shade pavilion, I felt more equipped to handle the endless waves of zombies. It was time to mark a few more heads and see if my strategy was working.

  I was careful not to strike any of the zombies I had marked before, taking breaks to observe how they moved. It seemed that after a lot of watching, the zombies that had fed and were not desperate would stay back from the muck of the ground. Some zombies still stumbled in, typically looking to engage and start eating. Some were even smart enough to drag corpses out of my range so they could eat in safety. I wasn’t sure if this was a sign of intelligence or just simple instinct. I hoped for another heavy rain to wash away the muck so I could better understand their behavior.

  I started bringing my journal up to the roof and would sit under my pavilion, observing and making notes about the zombies’ movements. I tried to count how many zombies I could see, but it became difficult once they were more than 100 yards away. The sheer number and constant shifting made it hard to get an accurate count. Still, I persisted, jotting down observations and patterns I noticed.

  The plastic sheeting of my pavilion rustled gently in the breeze as I sat in my makeshift office, pen in hand. The zombies below shuffled aimlessly, occasionally drawn to the fresh corpses on the ground. The more time I spent observing, the more I noticed subtle differences in their behavior. Some zombies seemed to wander with purpose, while others meandered aimlessly. It was almost as if they had different levels of consciousness or instinct.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to use this information to my advantage. If I could understand their behavior better, maybe I could clear them out more efficiently. For now, though, I had to be content with my observations and continue my slow, methodical approach to reducing their numbers.

  For the first 50 yards around the building, aside from the 5 to 10 feet I could easily reach with my Brain Buster, the zombies were packed almost shoulder to shoulder. By counting them and using some basic geometry, I estimated there were about 1,460 zombies within that first 50 feet. Beyond that, from 50 to 150 feet, the density decreased, but there were still a significant number—around 5,815 zombies.

  Adding these numbers, I was looking at approximately 7,275 zombies within a 150-foot radius. I calculated that I was dispatching about 250 to 350 zombies