There is a general thought process that if diesel and gas engines are lost that people would devolve into horse drawn chariots, wagons pulled by oxen and the like. Of course, that was if you ignored steam engines and even if those didn't work? Well, frankly I wondered if I really needed to have pointed out my bike, as while it would need a little prompting, not least as I had to bring up pump action mine carts, warhammers snotling wagons and the like to really get the creative juices flowing. Seriously, just because it was simple didn't mean it wouldn't work.
Granted, at the same time, reshaping wood and hardening it to have the same strength as iron as those who knew what they were doing or were imbued with the power of mad science? All said and done, there was something about watching your little brother laugh, the materials all but flowing together, wagons forming before our eyes.
In many respects, that was because they were simple as fuck. No seriously, for the most part they were wooden boxes with a wheel, the 'pump motor' and just some room for cargo while having no frills at all. Like seat belts. Or air cushions. But the thing was? They were easy to make, And we had the tires close at hand, as the whole clan tore apart some cars for the raw materials.
Sure, the wagons were not pretty, and required three people per wagon to power and drive, but this was the true post apocalypse experience, of revisiting the older kinds of tech, that ones that were more robust in some cases when the fancy modern systems failed. Like the joke about where the old hyper advanced ancient civilizations went. One day, the power went out.
Sure, it would be tiring and a pain in the ass once we actually got a move on... but here was the fun thing. In many ways, what mattered was less that there was an end in sight, and more that we were working on the problem, that there was something keeping us from slipping down into the pit of despair. We had things that would allow us to expand our reach for as long as the roads lasted, and would basically allow us to make a quick looting run into Thunder Bay. Probably, given how the sun was setting, not today.
Or at least, not all the way to Thunder Bay. But that was just the thing. We needed to take them out on a little test drive, to see just how fast and hard they can go. Well, that and to see how bad some of the places close by got hit last night... or if we had gotten off better or worse than others. No real way to tell other than to head out there and to see ourselves. At least, not until we could get some magical infrastructure in place.
A part of me grinned, as I pictured it, towers of metal and flesh, wreathed with energies sparking and twisting up the tower, leaping off in a shriek... only to deliver a message wherever it lands. Okay, maybe I just had a warped sense of humor, I could totally admit that, even as the last of the flame spitter grafts were implanted. After all, there was probably still going to be more undead attacks tonight, so best to do what I could while I could. You know, instead of just planning on having some fun.
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Luke
There was a simple reason why he was one of the drivers. He was faster and had better reflexes... and had something of a ranged attack that he could apply quickly and with one hand and no external aids. Of course, he could be faster... but that required trusting his fat jackass of a brother to put him under the knife, to allow him to have mystically charged flesh and nerves grafted to him. And of course, trusting that Matt wouldn't sneak in anything that would be 'funny.'
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Which sort of killed things in their tracks really, as they raced along the road, propelled faster than he thought they would actually reach by pure muscle power. Much faster than the twelve (just about thirteen) or sixteen kilometers per hour that he thought that they could reach. Which honestly would have been good enough, even as they came to halt in the parking lot of the Shake Shoppe, moving to the doors of the quonset/storage hut. A lot of the things in there would not be too good, the freezers and fridges not working.
But this was partially devoted to all the other crap, as well as the canned materials that didn't need to be as strictly temperature controlled. On the one hand though, they were not there for the cone dip, sundae toppings (chocolate fudge and caramel), nor the milkshake syrup. No, what they were here for was the tools, lumber and building supplies. And some of the older things that may or may not be stored in there, as Ralph looked around, going through his mountains of collectable junk.
No screams or whistles from the others, so all quiet so far it seemed. To be sure, there was some smoke... but he could tell where that was coming from. Across the tracks, right in the direction of the retirement home. He winced, as yeah, figures that those places would have been hit hard by the undead.
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Reg
The good news was that most of the village had managed to pull into the school. Stragglers and those that would not leave their homes, or refused to believe that it was real. Mostly in the retirement home from what he could gather. As it was, the main defences of the school had been less on the thought of active resistence like at the compound and more.... well, they blocked the windows and fortified the doors, while also reinforcing the fence.
On the other hand, there was not much on hand in case the dead managed to actually breach the defences. Not until they survived the night. Many of them had what seemed to be... simple classes, their boxes containing gear suited for a more peaceful world. But there were weapons, even as he talked with them, with some options. To be sure, they would need to return to the compound ere nightfall, but the fact that they were closer to the city was likely the reason for the greater numbers of the dead that fell on his family and their compound.
But, in the next week or so... well, there was likely to be little resistance in helping to fortify some of the other hold outs, to making sure that they could hold on. If nothing else, having some more people around would be good for later, for making sure that things could continue on... even if some things would need to change.
And it figured, even as he was trying to work out something, something that would allow for everyone to come out ahead, that there was a clattering of metal, of something kind of like a bell? And then a child came in, pale and shivering. "Mom!" The woman I had been talking with turned, worry etched on her face. "There are six big guys with armor coming from up near the park."
There was a pause, before he continued. "I uh, think their orcs? Big, green, axes and...." He is cut off by a bellow from outside, soon joined by screams.
"WAAAGH!"