The Zom Diary by Eddie Austin Read Free Book Online Page A

name’s Silas.”  He uncrosses his arms and wipes the bar with a grey rag before offering me a seat at the long bar.  He continues to speak before I have a chance to respond.
         “I make my own beer, and, as far as I know, it’s the best on earth.  I might have other things to trade if the price is right.”  He pauses, takes a deep breath, so I introduce myself.
         “Yes, I’d love a beer.  I don’t have any money…”  I trail off hoping he’ll take the hint and offer me a sample; no luck.
         “Beer comes by the glass or gallon, but it’s not free.  I wouldn’t take money even if you had any; not even to wipe with.  Everything is traded and bartered for around here. So what’s it worth to you?”  His smile slips and I realize I’ll have to strike a deal before I get any refreshment.
        In the end, we settle on an MRE and a few rounds of ammo from the AK.  All this buys me a cold beer and the promise of a gallon jug when I leave.  The beer shines in the pint glass with an amber hue and tastes sharp and hoppy like an IPA. 
        “This is quite good,” I tell Silas as I wipe my upper lip with my sleeve.  Some foam dribbles down my beard anyway.
         “Thanks.  Ben Franklin once said:  ‘Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.’  I think he was right.”
         I nod and take another sip.  I need information, but where to start?  I figure I will try for the most direct approach.
         “So, how the hell is all this stuff still here?  Most places I walk through are like a fucking bad horror movie.”
         Silas splits a wide grin.  “Yeah, I think I’ve seen that place too.  You want the long version, or the short?”
         “Long, I’ve got no place to go, man.”
         He pours himself a beer, and, when I pull out a joint, he waves his hand at it: “no thanks, but go ahead”.  I light up, sip beer and look on with interest as he begins.
         “When the end came, I was living out on the coast. The government was telling everybody that this was the best place to wait for aid from overseas, so I stayed put as long as I could.  People came from all around out of the countryside and over the border from Mexico, but nobody came to offer any aid.  Eventually things kind of went to shit.
         “The zombies were everywhere back then and I decided it was time to head for the hills.  I’d met some people who had evacuated from Selma and they were saying this would be a good place to wait out the storm.
         “Myself and a few others, like Bryce, decided that this was a good idea, so we loaded up and came out with them.  I can’t even begin to tell you what the road was like, but I guess you’ve lived it too, right?  Only about fifty of us made it here and only a handful were originally from here at the start. Bryce--you gotta meet him-- he kinda had the idea for the wall and got things going again.
         “He’s the one that thought up the windmills and transformers for power. He got the water running, too.  He lives over in the library; neat guy.
         “Anyhow, I live in the town; I make beer next door and trade it for what I need.  Bryce lives across the street and is Mr. Boss, even if he denies the title.  Some of the other guys hang around and watch the walls and trade off with our salvage crews every week or so.   There are about a half-dozen families that live within a mile and are trying to be homesteaders.
         “They look after themselves and stop in to trade every seventh day.  Sunday by our reckoning.  You hang around for another day and you can trade some of those bullets for veggies or fresh fruit or cheese or whatever.  So, what’s your story, if you don’t mind me asking?”
       I lay the rest of the joint in an ashtray and let it go out on its own.  I’ll save it for later.  I am getting comfortable in this place talking with Silas, and I figure