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Mechanical Failure, part II

May 12, 2013


I live in southern Nevada, in a small planned community called Whispering Springs. I never did find out who came up with such a misleading name for a town that’s planted in the middle of the desert. As much as I dislike the climate in the southwest, I was lucky to be here when the end happened. Whispering Springs is small, less than five thousand in population and it’s a good five miles from the neighboring town of Boulder City, which isn’t all that big, either. To get to Vegas from here, you have to either take the lake road, which is the long way, or you have to go through Railroad Pass, which is completely blocked with cars and trucks. I’m not complaining. That wall of vehicles is keeping a whole lot of dead people from coming my way.

Another good thing about southern Nevada is that most of the houses have cinder block walls around the back yards. In Whispering Springs, they all do. My back yard was completely enclosed except for a double gate that was big enough to drive a vehicle through. Unfortunately, the gate was pretty flimsy and I knew it wouldn’t stand up to much. I had already done some research on masonry before we bought the supplies at Lowes but I held off on building anything until the rumors were substantiated. Once that happened, I tore out the gate and replaced it with the ugliest block wall ever built. This was just a few days before the dead started showing up on my street, which was when my husband finally went to the shelter. I guess I was lucky that I got it done in time, but maybe lucky isn’t really the word I want. Sure, I’m alive, but I’m alone in a world full of the living dead and it’s pretty depressing.

 ~to be continued~

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