Vaxdemic Book 2 Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Grudges are a funny thing to watch. I say watch because I don’t really have any grudges myself. I have seen movies and read stories about the lives and people destroyed by a long-standing hatred for someone or something. Until recently I thought humans were the only things capable of holding a grudge. I was woefully uneducated about crows. Lord Garv Frakas is under siege.
I learned a lot about crows over the past month and some change. The first thing is they can be remarkably hateful birds. Since the night Garv shot into a murder of crows, we’ve been getting a constant stream of acorns and rocks pelting the glass of the greenhouse when we’re working. Garv would immediately retrieve the bb gun that started the problem and shot at the black birds again. Things would be quiet for just long enough to think the crows were gone before the pelting would begin again.
At first I thought they just held a grudge against the people here. After taking Abby outside to enjoy the sunshine I noticed the trees were absolutely full of crows. I also noticed not a single one was paying me or the dog any attention. They were all focused on the dam. Even after making noise to get their attention, they paid me little mind. That’s when I got the notion, they could tell humans apart. At the time I thought, they’re birds, what’s the worst they can do. What they did was make me happy I wasn’t Garv.
Garv has his own little field on the other side of the dam where he’s been testing his secret project. I’ve never been over there but Garv has only let in a few people since they’d have to cross through his living space. The field is inaccessible from any other direction according to Matt, he apparently didn’t think about access from the air. Apparently, Garv has been working on a project with his drones as well, because one morning I found a group of crows picking at the shattered and torn remains of one.
I’ve never thought of the lord of the dam as a violent man. Hairy, eccentric, and occasionally smelly but never violent. After the death of one of his guardians, he spent a week in his room modifying ten of the former toys into a new weapon. We found out what he had done when we were awoken to a cacophony of birds screeching outside. What greeted us looked like a war. Garv had modified some of his drones with bb guns and they were targeting the crows, shooting them out of the trees. The crows in turn were attacking the drones, knocking them to the ground and tearing them apart. Garv lost this battle, but in a week he tried again.
The next battle started to progress much like the first, only this time when the birds knocked them down and tried to tear them apart, they sparked killing the crows touching them. Garv had lined them in a cage that shocked anything that touched it. Garv won the second round.
The crows were gone for a few days, but Garv kept up his patrol, launching his drones every morning, allowing them to circle the property. He usually launched them as the rest of us were having breakfast. It started to become routine, until the fourth day. A minute or two after he passed us, his last drone in hand, the sky got darker. Then we heard Garv scream. We rushed to the door only to see rocks falling like rain all around Garv and his drones. Some were surprising large to have been carried by a bird. When the hail of stone had stopped Garv was bruised and his drones’ propellers had been broken. The crows won round three.
For several days after the third battle there has been the constant sound of pebbles landing on the roof of Garv’s side of the dam. We occasionally hear him curse as he works on his projects. Every day I head outside and sweep up the pebbles that have fallen on the overlooks and take them to the wooded area. The moment I leave them, the pile of stones disappears. Garv has started questioning my allegiance, saying I’m rearming the birds.
Rearming them or not Garv can’t go outside anymore without being instantly pelted with stones and crow poop. They watch him when he’s in the greenhouse. They gather on his side of the dam at night and make the most ungodly racket, and one or two have actually gotten into his living quarters and started tearing things up. Unfortunately, Garv has been undeterred. He’ll open his door just enough to stick the barrell of his bb gun out and take a few shots at the birds. I shudder to think of what will come next in this little war.
Hopefully it will end while I’m gone. The snow has finally receded and spring is nearly here. It’s a little over day’s drive back with the roads as they are. It’s hard to call them roads in most places, the leaves and sticks that covered the asphalt have compacted and rotted and become simple dirt. Here and there you can see what’s underneath but in most cases they’re all dirt roads now. Matt’s been coming up with multiple plans for the ride back, as if we may get ambushed at any moment. Maybe I’m just not paranoid enough but I think we’ll be fine.
We received two supply shipments before we left. Matt said it was a good idea to not leave on the first because that’s what our enemies would be suspecting. Only Matt and myself left, the others were to stay and guard the dam. It took us most of the day to get back to the Mountain overlook. It has changed quite a bit since I was last here. Apparently, the guy who thought of putting up a trading post decided to just go with it. There is now a log bunkhouse and small store front built on one side of overlook. I got to talk to the owner, apparently there have been more than a few locals who thought they were alone and have made their way to his little trading post. He and one other man have been bringing in supplies all winter and amazingly people have found their way to him.
The store frontage would be put to shame by the old grocery stores and super centers, but he has a good spread of basic farming tools and preserved food. He even has some firearms and ammunition in a locked case. He also has some more esoteric things like computer parts, gaming consoles, and electric appliances. He even asked me if I could set him up with some windmills on a return visit. At first, I was resistant, but when he started offering items and services, I promised I would think of something before my return trip. If he’s connected to the locals, it may be worth getting him to gather some information or hard to find items for me.
Apparently, the man has also found himself a wife from the locals. The daughter of a farmer who lived nearby. I’d almost forgotten how good food could be. We didn’t exactly starve at the dam but none of us were professional cooks at any time in our lives. I felt a twinge of jealously at the proprietor. I could see in a few years he was going to be much more corpulent. The very model of the fat innkeeper. All he needed now was some beer brewed nearby.
The future innkeeper did not content himself with his shop. He’d also spent a great deal of time keeping the road to the establishment clear. He had some help from the other men we left at the overlook. These men however decided not to stay permanently. One was coming back with us to return to his family. Matt would bring his replacement when we returned.
We asked them about the truck we had found full of explosives. None of the men mentioned seeing anything like it pass by. This means they either missed it, or more likely they found a different route. We should probably spend some time mapping out the area, or try to find a map in one of the houses or abandoned businesses around the lake.
We left the next day for the city. The buildings look so much worse than I remember. The bright colors of the old stores have become dingy and grey. Dirt and grim have caked the windows, and several have had their windows and doors shattered so the contents of the stores can be looted. At first I was upset, then I remember all the stores I had looted when I was alone. I don’t want to pull the ladder up behind me, but part of me wants to avoid the city becoming a bunch of broken and stiped out buildings. I’m not sure how to broach the subject, or even try to stop what’s going on.
As we get closer to the river that runs through the city we start to see the opposite. The new residence had not been idle in my absence. New structures can be seen going up all over. Some are immaculate, clean, painted, and obviously meant to impressive. Others are… let’s just say you can tell they took apart a bunch of houses and Frankensteined them back together. Houses with other houses grafted onto them, either stacked on top or sprawling out in strange directions. We pass people tilling up fields for planting, and I even see horses and cows behind fences made of anything the owners could scrounge together. As we got closer to my own home, I started to feel like maybe I was actually in the post apocalypse.
Bob Stackey
March 18, 2024