Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (56 page)

Perhaps we are unredeemable.

Sunday, February 7

Haven’t gone far today. The night brought in some more nasty weather. Everything is coated with about a quarter inch of ice. It looks beautiful, but it is all but impossible to move around in. And as for fighting zombies in it?  That’s just asking for trouble.

I spent this afternoon cleaning and sharpening weapons. There wasn’t much to glean from this place, but it was kinda interes
ting flipping through photo albums. I played a little game, giving each picture a story and some dialog. Eric was a curiously attentive audience. Sam, on the other hand, could’ve cared less. All that mattered to him was the occasional scratch behind the ears.

Monday, February 8

Outside, the sounds of Mother Nature kicking ass can be heard. Branches and all sorts of hanging and dangly things are popping, snapping, and breaking. We’ve been lucky, this old house is holding up fine. There weren’t any trees in the yard that could prove a hazard. That had nothing to do with our choice when we picked it, but it gives us something to actually be aware of next time.

We are keeping a fire blazing around the clock. It is FUH-REE-ZIN outside!

Tuesday, February 9

Somebody died late last night. Sam woke me with his growls. Eric and I were up and armed in a flash before either of us rea
lized what was going on. Peeking out of the tarp-covered window (we do that to hide the light from our fire) we couldn’t see anything in the absolute darkness of a dead world. Then we heard it: The Scream.

I won’t ever get used to that sound. A human being makes a very distinct shriek when they are being ripped open, torn apart, and feasted upon. I am sure I don’t have to tell you. If you’re reading this, you’ve survived long enough to have heard it a hundred, if not a thousand, times. It is like no other sound in the world.

The good news is that the weather seems to be clearing up again. We are hoping to move on tomorrow. Good thing…I’m getting a little stir crazy. If I try to sharpen my blades again, or re-organize my cart, I think Eric will smack me.

Wednesday, February 10

We’re spending the night in a little colony. We met one of their scouting parties early this morning. This group is surprisingly well-supplied, armed, and organized for as out in the open as they seem to live.

Oh…did I mention that the oldest person in this group is seve
nteen?

This place used to be some sort of small Christian school back in the day. All of the children here—and I only use the term techn
ically as they all seem quite grown up—were at a “lock in” at the church to support a drug-free life or something. They were all praying or whatever people did at those sorts of things. However, one of the “bad” kids had managed to sneak in a radio. He heard the first big news report and told the others. Of course they didn’t believe him. When morning came and the bus driver didn’t show up to take the kids home, they started trying to reach their parents. The youth group leader was the first to reach somebody. That person said the same thing that any of the children who actually managed to get through to somebody heard: STAY PUT!  We’ll come for you as soon as we can.

Nobody ever came.

Well, at least not anybody still living. They saw their first zombie that day. Fear was their biggest ally. Several of the children witnessed the youth group leader ripped apart…then, moments later, get back up. It’s an old story by now, isn’t it?  Some of the parents tried to get to them, but that didn’t go well either. They spent the next several days hiding in one of the bathrooms after they’d barricaded the doors with everything they could find.

Somehow, they’ve managed. I guess they normally kill adults on sight these days. (They had a very bad experience that none of them will go into detail on. I can only guess.)  It seems that me being a female, plus the cute puppy factor that Sam rocks so e
ffortlessly, they decided to take a chance. Chalk one up for the big goofy dog.

These kids have their stuff together. We ate steaming hot ven
ison stew and some very coarse bread. But I am so impressed. They have wood stoves and an underground room for cold storage. There is a hand-pumped well (they boil all their water just to be safe) and even a well-stocked safe room. To their credit, they wouldn’t let us see it after one of the little ones blurted out its existence. Who can blame them?

They have an array of long spears up on the roof just in case the building gets surrounded. They have hundreds of a
rrows for the dozens of bows just sitting around everywhere. Also, there is a field out back. A structure sits right in the middle. It looks like a giant sawhorse, only the crossbeam is about ten feet off the ground. It’s at least twenty feet long. Currently there are five corpses hanging from it. Each has a sign around the neck. Three say “pedophile” one says “murderer” and the last says “thief”.

Like I said, these kids don’t play around. They certainly don’t need anything from us. My guess is that they will be fine long after Eric and I (along with Sam-the-Wonder-dog) have gone on our way. Some of the girls are very timid, even around me, but many reminded me of what I remember reading about Amazon warriors. Nobody stays still here very long either. I’ve noticed a constant state of energy that is kinda tiring to be around. Also, it has made it impossible to get a real head count of how many are here. I think the number is close to thirty.

We made it clear that we will be moving on come morning. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice being here for this brief stay. It made me miss Jenifer just a bit. I hope she is doing okay.

Thursday, February 11

Didn’t go far today. We are in a giant U-Pull-It yard. The metal fence has collapsed in a bunch of spots, but Eric insisted that we stop here. He says that this place is a “goldmine” of potential supplies. The good news is that the zombies don’t seem all that interested in wandering around in here. If this were the movies, they’d be lurking in every shadow. However, without any snacky-snacks holed up in here trying to survive, they’ve got no reason.

***

Eric has me hiding in the cab of an eighteen-wheeler. Now I know what he was all excited about. The kids apparently don’t know much about how to test for a viable alternator. He found, tested, and removed a dozen. Then, he jogged off into the darkness after telling me to stay put and that he would be back by sunset. Sam is snoozing in the back of the cab while I sit here waiting.

I can’t really bitch…I mean he’s doing a very selfless thing. I just wish he would’ve clued me in instead of wandering around this place for an hour with all its blind spots. I don’t care if he did have Sam beside him as an alarm…I hated not knowing what the hell was up.

Oh well.

Part of me wants to do a little exploring of my own, but I’m not that foolish. It feels weird just sitting around doing not
hing. I have no idea why I couldn’t tag along. I mean, Eric doesn’t strike me as a glory hound. I don’t believe that he did this for some sort of special recognition…I just…

Crap!  I just started my period.

Friday, February 12

Catching a break in the weather today. It is sunny and, while I wouldn’t call it warm, it is tolerable. That is one of the beauties of the Pacific Northwest. If you don’t like the weat
her…wait five minutes.

Eric got back last night just
after
sunset. So, of course, I gave him a little old fashioned Meredith ass chewing. (Yay hormones!)  Then we ate dinner and turned in. On the plus, he tried to make things up to me by whipping up some of his yummy venison stew.

We had a long stretch of open road to travel. However, the signs are giving us ominous messages like: Sandy 12mi.

Around midafternoon, we stumbled upon the Sandy School for the Blind. I saw the campus through the trees. Initially I thought it was a small college. Since it was getting late and the last sign warned that we would reach Sandy in three miles, the school seemed like a good place to camp for the night.

It was a nightmare!

I can’t imagine the horror that the students here must’ve felt. Oh…and blindness
does
have a cure: zombieism. There was no difference in how the walking dead from that school pursued us versus any other zombie I’ve encountered since this ordeal began.

We slipped through the trees, coming in to the…campus? ...from the rear. We didn’t even know it was a school for the blind at first. That discovery came when we circled the place to get a be
tter look. The remnants of the sign out front revealed this place’s identity. Perhaps that is why we thought we could slip in and see if there was anything worth taking. An institutional cafeteria is always worth a peek.

We didn’t have to break in. The main doors in front are gone. Perhaps that should’ve been the first warning. The halls were littered with garbage, the walls smeared with what had to be blood. There were even some places where the ceiling was spla
ttered.

The echo of the moans and groans of the undead quickly had Sam’s hackles up and our weapons drawn. I went with my scimitars; Eric chose a long-handled hatchet. Finding the school’s cafeteria wasn’t a problem. It was what we discovered inside that changed everything.

Neither of us thought much about how many guide dogs there might be. Nor did we know that this place had its own guide dog training facility. My conservative guess puts the dog population here at about a hundred. They were in clusters, just sprawled on each other. All of them were horribly torn and mangled. Some missing a leg…or two…or more.

I can’t get that image out of my head. It looked like se
veral of the students had come here; many with their dogs, but there were so many that there has to be more to the story. It looks like the dogs were infected first. There weren’t any students in the cafeteria…zombie or otherwise. The floor was littered with parts. Oh!  There were a few heads. That will give you the willies I’m tellin’ ya. Some were on their sides; a few had a neck stub to rest on. Still, when those eyes roll your way…  Eww!  Amongst the body parts were lots of cleanly stripped bones.

Good thing for us that zombified dogs are no faster than their human counterparts. We sealed the door, closing it with an aud
ible click that sounded like a gunshot to me.

Then, we ran. We continued along Highway 26, and it was late afternoon when we found a quaint little church beside the road. We had to dispatch a few of the inhabitants before we could close the place up and seal it for the night.

I just have the feeling that tomorrow is gonna be a bitch.

Saturday, February 13

This brings back memories.

Eric, Sam, and I are hiding out in a multiplex. We are only a stone’s throw away from a hospital-turned-fortress. The people there have figured a way to get in and out without being seen by the zombies. They have erected an impressive barr
icade around the parking lot using school busses, city busses, fire engines, and RVs. Then there is the wall of cars parked bumper-to-bumper. After that—as if there was a need for more—there are coils of razor wire like the type you see atop the fences of prisons.

The folks at the hospital weren’t outwardly hostile, but they weren’t friendly either. When we spotted what I imagine were their sentries on the roof, I waved. They didn’t. At least they didn’t try to attack us or anything like that. However, they sure as hell didn’t roll out the welcome mat.

We kept moving and came to a part of the highway that was so congested we had no choice but to cut through a parking lot of a strip mall. We didn’t see the mob until they were right on top of us. I guess they had the shopping center surrounded. We had to cut through some trees to get off the highway. It was literally as simple as choosing the wrong side of the road. Had we gone to the other side, I think we slip by those bastards without them seeing us.

So…here’s where things went wrong.

We emerged through the trees and Sam immediately starts growling. The worst part about being in an area with so many of the undead is the pervasiveness of the stench. It is so overpowering that it loses its ability to be a warning of sorts because you are flooded with the smell. Walking past cars with zombies trapped inside…just…they were freaking everywhere. Oh, and about the cars; the windows were so coated with filth that you couldn’t see inside any of the sealed up ones unless you were directly in front of or behind the vehicle. Of course the cars with the windows down were a real treat. Every single one we passed seemed to have one of those bastards strapped inside. It would get to moaning as we crept by…like a new aged car alarm.

Anyways, Sam growls and about a hundred heads turn. The problem now is that we are pulling our harnessed carts. While great for all sorts of terrain, they suck when you are trying to do something fast. Eric and I collided with each other…and I fell. It was straight out of a
Three Stooges
routine. To add to the slapstick humor of the moment, I fell in a big, squishy mud puddle.