preparation

Simple Preparation

Even Apocalypse Girls have Dad’s and mine is a believer in preparation.

He recently got me a wind up torch to keep in the boot of my car. It’s a cheapish one from argos that you can charge by hand winding or through the car cigarette lighter. An essential part of any Apocalypse Girls go bag. 4

This is the one I was given, but there are lots of options out there for a wind up torch.

What Hurricane Sandy taught us about the Urban Apocalypse – Part 2


(Mark Segar – Reuters)

It was unsettling how things changed. From the safety of social feeds, we watched as photoshopped spoofs and Michael Bay rip-offs paled before the quiet aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Smouldering burns scarred into whiteboard neighbourhoods. A suburban block turned to some vast waste dump. A seafront bar dragged across a bay, a boat perched on railroad tracks. More than the Boxing Day Tsunami, this felt uncomfortably close to home.

We may be incredulous of the naive expectations of the massive storm; or the religious leader who blamed Sandy on New York State’s acceptance of gay marriage. Yet, what lay in front of us was a solid lesson in where the future may lead for many cities across the globe.

In Part One of What Hurricane Sandy taught us about the urban apocalypse, we looked at Corporate Sponsorship, Disaster Parasites, and the not-so sweet smell of the apocalypse.

Past the cut, in Part Two, we’ll be looking at the comfort of petty theft, how hipsters decorate their fallout digs, and why it’s not over til it’s over…

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What Hurricane Sandy taught us about the Urban Apocalypse – Part 1


(Spencer Platt – Getty Images)

It was unsettling how things changed. From the safety of social feeds, we watched as photoshopped spoofs and Michael Bay rip-offs paled before the quiet aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Smouldering burns scarred into whiteboard neighbourhoods. A suburban block turned to some vast waste dump. A seafront bar dragged across a bay, a boat perched on railroad tracks. More than the Boxing Day Tsunami, this felt uncomfortably close to home.

We may be incredulous of the naive expectations of the massive storm; or the religious leader who blamed Sandy on New York State’s acceptance of gay marriage. Yet, what lay in front of us was a solid lesson in where the future may lead for many cities across the globe. Past the cut, here’s the first of a two part blog on what Hurricane Sandy taught us about surviving the urban apocalypse.
 
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Preparation Everyone Can Do , The Bunker

By Honeybadger

Ok, I know what you are going to say, you can’t afford a large, lead lined nuclear bunker under your garden, especially as you live in a first floor flat. Fine and fair, but for many of us there is something we can do in terms of preparing a reinforced space to retreat to.

Starting with the obvious. The Garage.
I foyu are fortunate enough to have a garage you may well be like me. My garage is full of the debris of a previous relationship, old tool boxes, gardening stuff and a moulding weights bench.  The plan for my garage is simple though. Clear it out, put up some racking make it a useable space. Now my garage even has a power point and lights, so worst come to worst and my home turns out to be no where near zombie proof enough (which I suspect to be the case) then I have somewhere I can retreat to with the cats. What I need is to set it up. That means water, a storage heater, a toilet, food and cat food supplies (things with long expiration dates and circulate into your home restocking into the garage, the little camping stove and gas, sleeping bag and the tool boxes and garden implements can stay for defence. I’ll also need to rig up some means of seeing outside without giving my presence away. That requires more thought.

In a push though it doesn’t have to be a nice big comfortable garage. Line your loft with those heat blankets they use for runners to disguise your body heat from searches and create a little last resort bolt hole up there, even the cupboard under the stairs could be used in this way if needs be, remove the outside handle on the way in and stay quiet till trouble passes.

Take a walk around your home and think, what can you do if aliens or zombies attack and you need to convince them there is no one left alive in your home?

Honeybadger out.

Shoot to kill and can ’em up!

Viking victim photo by Katemandi

by The Shloo

Shoot to kill and can ‘em up.

That’s it in a nutshell. There are few philosophies smarter because when the world’s getting its apocalypse on you have few other choices. Best you get your head round that from the get-go.

I started shooting when I was eight years old. Air rifles mainly, but by ten I was shit-hot with a bow and arrow. Mum always said they’d make the best weapon anyway – when the bullets run out, who’s going to be making new ones? Arrows, on the other hand, are relatively easy to make. I can shape a bow out of a piece of willow  – or pretty much any tree with enough bend in it  – in less than three minutes. A clutch of arrows will take me another five, tops. Robin Hood would weep at the skill in my fingers.

And I never miss.

Our bunker’s pretty sweet. There’s a room full of bunk beds that are more comfortable than they look, a pretty well-equipped kitchen, a library, a bathroom, a canning room – my Mum’s mantra is ‘waste not want not’ – and a big communal living area. Dad and Zeke worked hard and it paid off. Speaking of Zeke, my brother and I were both trained in and for almost anything you can imagine: hand-to-hand combat, gas attacks, nuclear fallout, weapon making, foraging, first aid – you name it, we went over it. Sewing’s my weak point, truth be told, but at least I’ve stopped sewing stuff to my jeans and Mum says I sew a pretty strong stitch. That’s what matters.

Of course, I’ve not had what you might call a normal life.

Hardly a surprise, is it? Survivalists? Maybe, but we call ourselves “sensible” – what else would you call those not blind to the inevitable? I was picked on sometimes at school, but after the suspension – and the scrum half’s snapped wrist (thanks Dad, for those self-defence drills) – I was left alone. I didn’t go to dances, never been for a sleepover, never even sat with anyone else for lunch. I didn’t get to do any of that ‘normal’ stuff. Getting attached to people only makes it harder in the long run. It would have made me sad once (I’ve got hormones and hopes just like anyone else), but you’ve got to focus on what’s important.

To hell with normal anyway!

Is it normal to sit and wait for Johnny Mutant to come eat your brains? To wait while the nuclear fallout burns through your guts and your brain spills out the bottom of your spine? To pretend there’s hope, that someone out there’s coming to save you? They’re not, y’know. If you don’t want to end up a splatter-fest of ex-human, then you’d better get wise.

There’s no time for frills and fancy, there’s only one prize and that’s life – or at the very least dying on your own terms. I’m old enough to know that. The future is about survival. It’s all it’s ever about. I wised up to that the day I heard Dad telling Zeke that me and Mum were the weak link, that we were the ones who would most likely slow them down and that if he needed to get rid of us, he wouldn’t hesitate. I didn’t understand. I was a good learner, better than Zeke who was a lazy crumb. I was better with a bow and arrow and I could climb a tree in half the time he could. Just because he could dig earth for longer, I was the dead weight? Like digging a hole and carrying heavy stuff makes the difference when the chips are down? As far as I could see, the difference that marked us out in Dad’s mind was that I was a girl and Zeke was a boy – his boy. I was eleven years old and from that day on I hated my Dad, hated him for marking me out as mattering less because I’m a girl, for seeing me as an albatross and not an asset. It was also the day I decided one thing –

I wasn’t going to be left behind. You shouldn’t be either.

Ironic really that Dad was the first to get bit. I had to shoot him; Zeke froze like he’d learned nothing all those years. Typical. So I shot my Dad in the head and then when Zeke got violent a couple of months later – the isolation got to him bad – and went all frothing-at-the-mouth crazy, I shot him too. If he hadn’t tried for the door I wouldn’t have had to do it. We don’t know what’s out there. Still, at least his death won’t be in vain. Mum can pickle anything and what’s left goes in the cans.

So that was the last of our bullets. Mum and me? We won’t need them, we’re prepared.

 

 

    Visit The Shloo on Facebook or drop by her blog.

 

Library of the Apocalypse: Pandemic Preparation

At GGSA, we’re all about the preparation. When the apocalypse comes – whenever and however it comes – we want you to be ready. So we’re more than happy to share io9‘s reading list of novels that could help you prepare for a future pandemic.

From Camus to Cronin via Shelley and Matheson, there’s something for everyone… so get reading!

Are there any books you’d add to the list? Which novels will you turn to when the time comes? Tell us in the comments, and help us to build the GGSA library!

Zombie Preparation for fun and education

So you,like me have been thinking about the end of the world. What if it’s chemical, or nuclear, what if it’s machines. Still I keep coming back to zombies, i’m not sure why.
But here are a few things I have picked up trawling pinterest that have amused me and I wanted to share.

Seriously, we all want one of these don’t we? One in every room and under your desk at the office? Just in case?
Although mine would have a fold up shovel and a sword in it.

heehee, yeah, I like it. We need UK ones, that count even without a zombie apocalypse. You seem like a zombie to me and I have a license. mwahahaha.

So many days at work. Seriously. Telling me you’ve never sat in a meeting and thought… a zompoc would get me out of this? I have. I’ve even sat there contemplating my exits, whether i’d try and take the others with me or just leave them to be eaten. This, people, is how I pass the time.

You need good rules people. They can save your life. Rules are the foundation of survival. Every house needs to set rules, post them up on the fridge with the kids pictures and be prepared.

I just love this, I am no where near artistic enough, but it’s very, very cool. Also, makes me think she wants to bite you.

Sadly I don’t have the original sources for all these, but love the work people are doing on the zompoc. You have favourite zombie stuff you want to share? Use the comments. 🙂

Shovels and their many uses

Shovels are your friend.

Come the zombie apocalypse they are weapons, sharp enough to take a head off, don’t need reloading, you don’t even need to be good with the thing, no skill here folks, just ram it at them roughly neck height and don’t let go of the handle. In fact it doesn’t need to be zombies, a good whack around the skull or ramming the edge into the throat and you can dispense more than just the animated dead.

You can dig holes to hide your stash of emergency supplies whether you suss out whether the new people are safe or not, hell you can dig holes to sleep in and cover yourself in leaves at a pinch so you can remain safely hidden while you sleep.

Shallow graves, say you are out training for the zompoc with your friends and umm, oops, didn’t mean to do that, quickly hide the evidence.

Strange and unpleasant substances? Poke it or shove it with your shovel, see if it moves or you know, attacks. If it does attack, whack it. Of course they are also made for purpose for gardening, the one thing you can’t do without when ‘digging for when the canned goods run out’ is your shovel.

Make sure you have at least one and keep it somewhere accessible. I still haven’t told my mum the real reason I leave my garden tools so close to the back door is just in case of the zompoc, but that’s why it’s there.

You can even get cute little fold up shovels now you can fit into a back pack. How perfect is that?
Honeybadger out.

Locked in a toolshed surrounded by the zombie horde

What would you do? What would Mr T do – or Ms T in this case?

Build a 60lb bow from plastic pipe and get up on the roof of course! Even for the most DIY-challenged among us, this looks pretty simple.

Lap it up, suckas!

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