Zomblog II, Page 2

  There were bushy pine trees at each end of the porch. I’d already noticed an upstairs window that was broken, so, after ensuring that the front door was firmly locked, I peeked through the surprisingly intact living room window. I was modestly confident that the place was empty. Up I climbed.

  I found my first surprise just inside the window. A body was plastered in place just underneath the windowsill. Whoever this guy was, he had deep-throated a double-barrel shotgun and pulled both triggers. I guess weather and time helped clean up some of the mess.

  This poor fella knew what was happening. There was a bite on one arm. Not too bad, but obviously this guy wasn’t gonna wait to turn. Only…I wonder. We’ve met a few bite victims who haven’t.

  Oh well.

  The other surprise was good, his box of shells were still on a table a few feet away. The box was in fairly good shape, so I guessed that the contents would be good, too.

  I did a walk-through, and it is obvious the residents were going to try and hide out here. Lots of stuff was in place to board up the downstairs. Somewhere along the way, it went wrong. There are a woman and three children—two boys and a girl—wrapped up in one of the three upstairs bedrooms.

  Seeing this made me remember what I’d read in Sam’s journal about his wife Erin and daughter Elizabeth. Only, this guy got nipped and cashed in. I dragged the body in with the other three. I have to admit I got a little queasy when I grabbed his feet and pulled. The sound he made tearing free will stay with me for a while.

  For the most part the place was secure. I decided against doing a bunch of banging and hammering. This place has been empty long enough that I didn’t feel the need to make changes. I used the master bedroom as my home. I even had a bathroom. Sure there was no plumbing or running water, but a bucket beats a bush.

  The first night, I didn’t sleep. I still had the whole hypersensitive-hearing thing going on. By the second day I took catnaps all day. I peeked out the windows a lot the first couple of days. It was so strange to see absolutely nothing. In fact, not a single zombie the first three days.

  I could hear gunshots every once in a while. One night I heard the distinct sound of an engine. I couldn’t tell which direction it had come from, or which way it went, but it is still so strange for the world to be this quiet.

  After almost a week, I was rested. But, I was also restless. I began slipping out in the early morning, going to surrounding houses and searching for anything useful. I’ll say this, we—and by “we” I mean most Americans—have a lot of crap. The things I saw in some of those houses was simply mind-boggling.

  Unfortunately, the nature of what’s happened seems to have made guns disappear. It looks like everybody who ran made sure that they took every single weapon they owned. Those who tried to wait it out in their homes used every last bullet. Over half made the choice to save one for themselves at the end.

  A few houses had nasty surprises waiting inside. I wonder, if I’d never come along, would those things just stand for eternity until they rotted away. Though I must say that while they show definite signs of rot, they aren’t coming apart or drying up into mummy-type husks. Their blood has the consistency of dark molasses. I wonder if there are labs full of scientists trying to figure these things out.

  Anyways, it was early one morning while I was rummaging through a bedroom on the second floor of what had once been a very posh residence that I happened to glance out the window. Through some near leafless trees I could see 148th Avenue. A black curtain hanging from the roof of a non-descript building had our symbol.

  The girls, I thought. If nothing else, I knew they’d been there. The next few days, I “leapfrogged” from house to house until I’d gotten as close as I could. Then I spent a day just watching the amount of zombie traffic. By then, I could see them. Jenifer and Dominique would come out on the roof every day. Only, I didn’t want to risk making any noise that would bring the hordes, or try anything visual that somebody else might catch. I think my general distrust of strangers is now fully justified.

  My last dash wasn’t too perilous. Fortune decided to give me a break. Just as the pre-dawn sky yielded enough light to see a dozen or so feet, what looked like a tricked-out armored bank truck came rumbling along a nearby cross-street. Sure enough…it drew plenty of attention. I waited an extra half an hour which made it a little brighter—even in the overcast dawn—than I’d have liked. The couple of stragglers I encountered I was able to spike, which kept a crowd from gathering at this former strip club.

  The girls look no worse for the wear. Except…both are obviously a little green around the edges. I found the empty amaretto bottles. If both of those were full…well… it’s a wonder that they didn’t die of alcohol poisoning. I’m gonna let this one go. From the looks and general attitudes, I doubt either one will be tipping a bottle again anytime soon.

  Tuesday, November 4

  This neighborhood is hotter than I’d feared. All day there has been a vicious firefight to the south and east of us.

  At first, I thought maybe it was a group doing battle with a horde. Then, an armor-plated van sped by a few blocks over. It was being chased by a sedan-from-hell with a machinegun mounted on top running on full-auto trying to bring down that van. A few moments later, there was an explosion, but I never saw either vehicle come back.

  Even having pulled down those curtains that the girls had hung…I feel really vulnerable here. We need to bounce on outta this place.

  Soon.

  Wednesday, November 5

  I made a decision today and must live with it. What’s done is done. I realize that right this moment; more so than ever before. I may have made a choice today that will haunt me for the rest of my life, however long or short that turns out to be.

  This morning, Dominique woke me and said “some guy was sneakin’ around in the lot next to us.” I had no idea what sort of business that place had been since it was mostly burned down and really nothing more than a black, charred husk.

  I decided this warranted bringing my shotgun. I jacked one into the chamber and went up to take a look. Staying low, I saw him before he saw me. He was probably in his early forties, streaks of gray sliced through his thick brown hair…he was definitely showing the signs of being without food for a while.

  There were already a handful of downed zombies scattered around him. He had a pair of pistols on his hips and a bandolier of bullets outside his buttoned-up, long, black leather duster. He was a whirling dervish of steel as he spun blades with abandon in both hands. Occasionally he would dart one direction or the other and plunge a blade into the head of the nearest zombie.

  The problem was that he’d managed to get himself surrounded. Every one of those things he dropped was being replaced by three more. Still, he’d managed to fight his way up to the chain link fence that separated our lot from his. Up to this point, our lot was still relatively empty. A couple of well-placed shots could give him time to get freed up enough to scale the fence and make it to the Dumpster that would offer him access to our roof.

  Our roof.

  Funny thought that. Considering the fact that I’m so busy planning our departure. But all the issues I’ve dealt with in regards to strangers kept me from acting in any way that would help this guy. Even worse, I was considering putting a load of buckshot in him if he managed to make it over the fence.

  He saw me in the end. His eyes found mine just as about a dozen of those things got solid grips on him. Those eyes had the most sincere look of “why?” in them. He screamed something that sounded like “Please!” as he was torn into at least four different parts. I didn’t even put one in his head to end it.

  My only initial regret? Not being able to get to his weapons. A few hours ago I started to cry…and haven’t really been able to stop. Damned hormones!

  Thursday, November 6

  An earthquake! A goddamned earthquake! Isn’t it bad enough that the dead are walking? I mean seriously! If there is some sort of divine bei
ng—a creator—don’t you think he/she/it would grow tired of fucking with us!

  Early this afternoon, the girls and I were on the roof. I am mapping our escape route. Well, the first leg of it anyways. I wasn’t really paying attention to the shambling masses. It was Dom who tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention.

  There was this entire new level of silence. But what was really strange—and I say that in a world dominated by the living dead—was that the zombies had all stopped moving. I mean they were simply standing there…rooted in place. It was as if, all of a sudden, each of the undead had been turned to statues.

  I’ve never experienced an earthquake before. I was alone in that distinction. Weird, huh? So there was this sound that I will make no effort to describe. Then it was as if the world had turned into a giant Etch-a-Sketch and God was trying to erase the picture.

  Zombies fell like dominoes, and I know for a fact that I screamed. Only, they must not have heard me over that roaring sound. It was an experience I hope to never endure again.

  Afterwards, with all the sounds of glass breaking and things crumbling, those things simply lay still for at least five minutes. At first I thought that maybe…just maybe…it was over. At least here. Then, they started getting back up and wandering about on their little zombie errands.

  The quake wasn’t massive. But still…it was extremely scary. We checked out our place and everything seems okay.

  A freakin’ earthquake. Sheesh!

  Saturday, November 8

  We have to get out of here. I’m going stir crazy! I can’t explain it. My rational mind is screaming that I find someplace and stay put. I’ve left Irony. Huckleberry Gulch. For what?

  All I know for certain right now is that I have to get the hell outta this damned strip club. Even that house was a better place than this. At least I had windows.

  I’m certain that Jenifer and Dom feel the same. Either that, or we just happen to be the three biggest bitches in the world.

  Wait! Considering the current state of global affairs that might be true!

  Sunday, November 9

  Tomorrow we are making a run. We will aim for the house I stayed at. From there, we will start leapfrogging. If we don’t leave tomorrow…we may never get another chance.

  We’ve been spotted…and I don’t think they are friendly.

  Tuesday, November 11

  And now there are four. We added a new member to our little clan. His name is Sean Byers, and he is nineteen. Jenifer and Dominique are like a pair of wiggly puppies. But first, the past forty-eight hours have been a bit crazy. Everybody got a little bloody yesterday. Both girls made me proud.

  We were up well before sunrise. I’d decided that using darkness as a cover was our best bet. A pair of armored trucks had cruised us twice on Sunday. I was certain they were trying to gauge our numbers. If they were friendly, they would have tried to make some sort of direct contact. So I was fairly certain that this was gonna be ugly.

  We were horribly unprepared to deal with an enemy directly. However, I also saw an opportunity. We snuck out, as planned, and made for the burned out husk of a used-car dealership almost directly across the street. All the window frames were free of any glass, so we slipped inside and waited.

  The girls were a little antsy. Hey…nobody really likes being out in the open, so-to-speak. I made it very clear that they were to sit still, shut-up, and be ready to move when I said so. I wish I could bottle whatever it was in my look or tone, because neither of them said a word after that.

  About an hour or so later, but still well before sunrise, one of the armored trucks rolled to a stop. I’d watched them as they cut the engine a few blocks away and coasted in on the quiet. They were definitely up to no good.

  Three men climbed out of the cab and moved in slowly. One disappeared around back, and another took the side to the right as you face the building. That was when I signaled for the girls to wait, and I climbed out the window. Using all the cover I could find, but still moving at a crouched speed-walk pace, I made it to their truck.

  When I got close, I could see there was still one guy sitting in the driver’s seat. Fortunately, this cowboy had his window open! He never saw the butt of my shotgun. A solid hit to the temple is a good stunner. The hard part was reaching in, pulling him out, and jamming a metal spike through his throat.

  What I’d taken for careless and cocky was, in fact, a necessity. The window was actually broken. The doors had been welded shut. The only way in or out of the cab was through the window. (I’d find out that little fact later from Sean.)

  Once I pulled the body the rest of the way out and did a quick frisk for weapons, I climbed in. The whole time, I had one eye on the three men scaling rope ladders to the roof of our former bastion. As soon as they reached their goal, I turned the key, started the truck, and peeled out for the car lot. I pulled up to the window like I was at a drive-thru and yelled for the girls.

  The three men were smart enough not to waste any time shooting at me. Instead, they scrambled off the roof, jumping as soon as they cleared the lip, and sprinted after their newly pilfered vehicle. I didn’t give them enough time to get more than halfway across the street before I had Dom pulled through my window enough so that I could go. I aimed the vehicle at their lead runner, who wisely dove aside as we rocketed past.

  I knew I didn’t want to bee-line for anyplace I truly intended to hide. I considered making a run for the interstate and heading back east a bit. The only problem being that I didn’t want to risk driving through what I remembered as being very much like a warzone. Also, the second armored truck was coming from that direction.

  I screamed for the girls to hold on and I took a hard left, blowing through a cyclone fence and into a schoolyard. Across the overgrown field we went until we smashed through a wooden fence that put us in what was once somebody’s backyard. I said a quick prayer as we exploded through another fence. Luck was on our side, and we came out on a narrow strip of knee-high grass that ran between two houses. I clipped a wooden post with a basketball hoop still hanging cockeyed from the top.

  Turning right on the residential street, I noticed we were bringing in crowds of zombies from every direction. I’ve seen herds of the damned things that number in the thousands, yet there never seems to be a shortage no matter where I run. Anyways, I knew that another right would put me back on 82nd Avenue. Since my goal was to disappear into a residential zone, that seemed to be the best choice.

  I paused for just a moment when I reached the strip, and that was my fortune. Actually it was Jenifer who spotted the big propane tank next to the non-descript and unidentifiable building. She and Dom had gone through the cab and came up with four flares and a tire iron.

  Looking around, I couldn’t see our pursuers. I was hoping all the zombie traffic a couple blocks back had slowed them. It was also in that momentary pause that I heard the pounding coming from the cargo area. I’d have at least a few seconds warning before anything would be on top of us so…I pulled up next to the propane tank, lit off a flare, dropped it beside the tank, and then drove to the corner. Climbing out so I could fire across the roof, I waited. Finally, the other truck came into view. Just as it was almost parallel to that tank, I made a wish and fired.

  The explosion was enough to knock me backwards from my window perch. I landed awkward on my left shoulder and the shotgun skittered away. The pain was sharp, but the only thing on my mind was if I’d hurt the baby.

  I could see that the other truck had been knocked over onto its side. Also, while all the zombies nearby had been knocked over, more were coming…from everywhere. I couldn’t see the shotgun and didn’t have the time to look for it. The girls had to help me climb into the truck and we were off. Oddly enough, the clearest path was now back the way we’d just come from. Speeding past the truck, I was a little surprised to see somebody climbing out.

  There was enough light from the fire that I could see the guy was bleeding pretty heavily from a nasty
head wound. I could also see several figures gathering around the disabled truck. That guy had the audacity to wave! Yeah…like I was gonna pull up and rescue the bastards who were gonna try and raid us or God-knows-what. Then two more climbed out. Now there were three of them standing on the side of the armored truck. We took a turn down a mostly empty street, that was the last we saw of them. Three men surrounded by several hundred very eager zombies.

  I drove down dark streets with only a slight glow from the moon above when it would peek from behind the thick clouds. The explosion had brought them out from everywhere. Spread out but numerous, the zombies were a definite concern. We’d gone maybe a mile when the truck sputtered and died. I hadn’t even thought to check the gas gauge.

  There we were, in some dark residential area, no weapons other than three spiked bats, a spike-tipped pole, three flares, and a tire iron. Whoever was in the back of the truck began pounding again with much more urgency. More out of hope that there might be some supplies in back, I had Dom open the door while Jenifer and I waited with bat and spear.

  Dominique flung the door open and dove to the side. That is when we met Sean Byers. He was on his stomach, hog-tied and handcuffed. He’d been beat up pretty good, but could move on his own. I pulled his gag out, deciding that this was a bit too elaborate to be a hoax. Meanwhile, Jenifer was urging me to hurry. I briefly explained bits of the evening’s events as I untied him. We didn’t have keys to the cuffs, so he had to run with us with his hands behind his back. I remember thinking, where is a cop car when you need it?

  Oh yeah…there wasn’t a damned thing in the back of the armored truck…except Sean.