Zomblog II (16 page)

Besides all that, I feel like a beached whale. I want this thing out of me. Dennis says he wants to see me twice a week. He estimates that this baby will be born on or around the first of April. I told him I wanted to punch him in the face, and that he could move that date up to tomorrow and that would be fine with me. Another month of this?

Saturday, February 28

I believe I’ve chosen the couple for the baby. Monica actually came to me with four couples to choose from. The only one I didn’t feel comfortable with on paper was Janie and Lindsay.

They are the youngest of all the couples. Both are in their early twenties. They are the only couple with no child of their own. And it may’ve been my conservative, rural, quasi-Republican upbringing, but a lesbian couple would never be something I would consider as my first choice to raise this baby.

Then, I met Janie and Lindsay.

I don’t know what I expected. I do know that I’d asked Monica to sit in with me because I had no idea what I would ask these two. I am embarrassed to say that I expected one of them to be wearing hiking boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt.

Janie is what you might call drop-dead-gorgeous. She is tall, curvy, sandy-haired with hazel eyes. She was wearing a blue turtleneck sweater and the cutest skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she even wore make-up! She works in one of the armored towers, manning a big-ass machinegun.

Lindsay looks like an Olympic gymnast. She is a tiny thing, at least a foot shorter than Janie! Her blonde hair is kept shoulder length and has eyes so blue I thought she was wearing colored contacts. She is armed security for one of the farm-worker details.

I have no idea when Monica left. The three of us were talking and laughing so much that she slipped out unnoticed at some point. Both women asked me more questions than I asked them! Somewhere along the way I told them I’d decided. They were so happy. Yay! Three women hugging and crying and laughing. I felt…human.

Sunday, March 1

One thing about how things are set up here; there is always a parent at home with the child. Even though this place believes in a seven-day work week, parents are never on the same shift. And if one parent works “outside the fence”, the other is
required
to work inside.

Janie asked me if I would like to move out of the “dorm” and move in to her and Lindsay’s apartment. Also, they wanted to know if they could attend my check-ups and if I’d allow them to be there at the birth. I’ve said “yes” to all three.

My shift happens to be the same as Janie’s, so we’ll spend a bit more time together. I’ve made sure that Dennis was okay scheduling my appointments when all three of us can be there. I don’t want Lindsay feeling left out.

Tonight, the three of us started talking about a name. Honestly, I’d never even thought about it. I am a terrible person. The choice for a boy’s name was easy: Sam. It just seems right. If it is a girl, she will be named Snoe. I thought it would be difficult to convince them, but we all agreed so easily.

So…baby Sam or Snoe. It’s been a real experience carrying you inside me this whole time. I’ve done my best to make sure that you arrive in this world. I’ve tried to keep you safe and sound. And it’s not that I don’t love you or anything else like that. I simply know that I cannot live behind a fence for the rest of my life. And, I cannot take you out there. I would be condemning you to death. This way, you have a real chance at life. Your mommies will have a copy of not only your dad’s, but also,
this
journal.

Now, if you don’t mind. Get out of my belly!

Monday, March 2

This morning, I woke before I had to be to work. I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep because I take almost an hour just to get comfortable. That, and I’d had this terrible nightmare about Dominique.

I question if I did the right thing. I know I couldn’t really force her to come with us. But she’s just a child. Her first sexual experience was violent and traumatic. She was confused. And I left her behind. So determined to pursue my own selfish goals, I abandoned a young girl, not even a teen yet, to some unspeakable Hell.

What angers me is the wave of self-doubt. My rational mind tells me she would’ve bolted at the first opportunity. But the
Jiminy Cricket
on my shoulder says I was the “adult” in the situation. I should’ve gotten her away from there and then taken the time to help her through this trauma. This is just more proof that I have NO BUSINESS being a mother.

If I didn’t before, I MUST go back. I have to find those bastards. I have to save Dominique. None of the things that happened to her in the past few months would’ve ever taken place if we’d left her at her little camp. What business was it of mine to take her from there? Who do I think I am that I know what is best for others? Half the time I don’t even know what is good for myself.

Also, I miss Jenifer. I miss Jonathan. And I even miss that dumb dog.

Tuesday, March 3

Doctor Dennis says everything is going just fine. Janie held my hand. I think it was more for her than for me though. It was sweet.

Wednesday, March 4

Sleeping is starting to become harder to come by. Nothing is comfortable. I feel like a hippo, and if I hear one more person tell me “pregnancy really suits you” or “you’re carrying it so well, you look like you just swallowed a basketball”, I may literally scream. And the next person who touches my stomach without an actual invitation may come back with a bloody stump.

I don’t feel blessed, I feel bloated. I’m not glowing, I’m gassy. I’m not cute-as-a-button, I’m constipated-as-a-cheese-taster. And I’m not expecting, I’m exhausted.

I wore a tee shirt today that had “GO AWAY!” printed on it. They thought I was kidding. Lindsay said that she had just the cure for my tension.

This evening, when I returned from work, she and Janie had managed to not only have an actual bath tub brought to the apartment, but filled it with hot, bubbly water. I TOOK A BUBBLE BATH. Janie came in at the end and worked my hair. After, Lindsay spent over an hour giving me a pedicure. My toenails are pink! (Not my choice of colors, but they were so sweet I couldn’t refuse or complain.)

I now have shaved legs (and underarms), newly trimmed hair, pink finger and toenails, and am tucked into a big, cozy bed with a bowl of hand-churned vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup. For the first time since January 20
^th
of last year when I saw my first walking corpse, I feel like a woman. Feminine.

It can’t be as simple as a bath, a pedicure, and a bowl of ice cream. Can it?

I still want this child out of me, but tonight, I feel indescribably calm and at peace. Please let it transfer to a night’s sleep where I actually manage more than an hour-long stretch before I’m awake.

Saturday, March 7

The patrol lost somebody today. A lady named Shannon. Jobs were put on hold so everybody could attend the service. I went just to see everybody in one place and get an idea of the numbers. Maybe it is because I’ve been out on the road so long, but it sure looked like a lot of people. I didn’t really know the woman. Even when I saw a picture, she didn’t look familiar.

That’s when it hit me. Everybody looks so very similar. Not like related or anything. It’s just that haunted, hunted, and tired look. There is a gauntness. I’d been sitting on a chair at the service when the realization came. I’m sure that if anybody was paying attention to me, they’d think me to be perfectly rude.

This is the world my child will know.

Sunday, March 8

Today I watched morning break. The green hills in the distance had pockets of fog trapped in the folds and crevices. It looked like the mountains had steam coming off of them. It was beautiful. I realized that these people, as “free” as they think they are, they’re prisoners. Nobody here is any more alive than those horrid creatures outside the fence. They wake, they work, they eat, they sleep. It’s worse than before this apocalypse, or whatever the hell you wanna call it.

If I survive long enough, maybe I’ll come back here. If it’s still standing, I’ll check in on my child. See if he or she wants to come with me out into the world where you are alive every single minute of each day. If that child reads this, please understand I didn’t abandon you because I don’t care. But I am more convinced than ever that staying here would kill
me
.

Tuesday, March 10

Thought I was gonna have the baby today. I spent nine hours with Dennis checking me and listening to mine and the baby’s heartbeat. I really had my hopes up

Aaarrrgghhh!

Wednesday, March 11

Hmm. Learn something new every single day. Monica came to me with a job offer. It is a position in the communication center where they monitor the airwaves. The shift would be the same hours, so no change in my schedule.

I accepted.

Tom took me on a little tour this afternoon. The place looks busy and just a bit hectic. Even when nothing is happening, those folks look like they’re doing stuff. They write down everything that is heard. That includes the Las Vegas transmissions.

I’m curious what else they have records of. They have files on “groups of interest” which includes The Genesis Brotherhood, Gypsy Militia, Sunset Transit Fortress, several roving bands, one military outpost which was been dark for five months…and Irony, USA. Things keep getting curiouser and curiouser.

What worries me is that this place stays locked. Two armed guards are posted inside
and
outside. And there is a door nobody but Tom, Monica, and some other guy I don’t know, go in and out of.

All this on my first day of orientation. If I picked up this much unsettling information in that length of time, what in the hell will I find once I start working there every day? All of this stinks of cloak-and-dagger. Secrets. Isn’t this what got us in this situation to begin with?

Thursday, March 12

I was searched when I left the Comm Center today! What the hell is that about? I will talk to Monica. It’s not like they stripped me down or anything. It was a lot like a police pat-down. (Yeah, I may have had one or two of those in my younger days.)

I was put at a bank of scanners and told to write down the digital readout numbers anytime it locked onto a frequency, even if no message was heard. The coolest thing that I heard was at noon. Somebody broadcast
Hells Bells
by AC/DC,
Zombie
by The Cranberries, and
Death on Two Legs
by Queen. I guess whomever this mystery Dee-Jay is, they transmit three or four times a week. Once, they broadcast the entire
War of the Worlds
radio program that Orson Wells did way back when.

This person is my kinda survivor. They may be locked away just like we are here, but they
sound
free. Nobody has ever heard a voice. Just the songs or whatever.

Friday, March 13

The things you learn by just sitting quietly and staring intently at an LED readout. It seems that this place
knew
about the folks at the Sunset Transit Center
before
I arrived; just not
where
they were located. They usually try to pinpoint groups by listening to their chatter and picking up on locations either by the monitored group naming landmarks, or, by them saying it outright.

Today, I listened to somebody calling himself “Bug”. “Bug” was in contact with “Pepper”. At one point, I heard Bug say he would “circle back on two-one-seven and rally at BHS.” This is a small group with primitive commun-ications equipment. They probably think they are miles ahead of everybody else. The reality is, places like here and Sunset use frequencies that nobody else is on. They change often just in case somebody does find them. The only way this place keeps tabs on Sunset is because of all the scanning gear.

If these folks wanted, they could ruin some of the groups out there. However, the agenda here is to lay low and amass food, supplies, and weapons. Pre-zombie, we would be considered a Superpower. I just wonder how long it will take before they start branching out and absorbing some of the “satellite” nations.

I did ask about The Genesis Brotherhood and was told that they broadcast almost around the clock! Mostly it is fire-and-brimstone preaching. When I heard that some folks here even have meeting’s scheduled around specific preachers’ sermons, I was a bit disturbed. I haven’t spoken to anybody yet about why. I’ve added this to my list of things to discuss with Monica when I get a chance.