Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (75 page)

Sunday, October 10

Hmmm…no aliens came.

Well I guess that place turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. I have to admit, I did stay awake for a considerable time after dark…and not one single thing happened. No flashing lights in the sky, no strange whirring sounds.

So, if aliens got bitten by a zombie, what would happen? I bet all those crazies who were so into that crap before have had fist fights over the possible answers. I wonder if we would get Space Zombies? Wow…that sounds like the premise for a
really bad
SyFy Channel Original Movie. It also sounds like Meredith is getting a little bit bonkers spending all of this time alone.

Strange. None of the zombie stories that I
do
remember were so devoid of zombies. I haven’t seen any for a while. Didn’t they always have hordes of undead trapping a small band of survivors in an unlikely location? I mean, really…a mall?  How would you secure a place like that? And while I have certainly seen my fair share, there are times like now where I am just totally alone. I’ve walked across Oregon and much of Nevada this year. Much of that time I have only been in danger of being bored to death.

Tonight I am in some park; Floyd Lamb State Park accor
ding to the faded wooden sign hanging above the door of this log cabin-style building that I’m calling home for the night. Tomorrow…I will be in Vegas. Perfect timing. I’ve been careful with my water and food, but am starting to run a bit low. I
think
I hear some moans and baby cries in the distance. Oh well, the doors are sturdy and all the windows have heavy shutters that are still rolled down and locked.

Tuesday, October 12

What is it that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?  Oh yeah…they’re destined to be fucked.

I won’t be going to Vegas it seems. All of my hopes and dreams are now just this sour taste of rot.

I woke yesterday filled with excitement. It really is my own fault. So much time out in the middle of nowhere took its toll. I was roused from my sleep by the sounds of pounding on the door. There were at least two dozen of those things out there. Worse still, I could see movement in the trees. More were coming.

I went upstairs to the windows that I could see out of and was upset to discover that I was surrounded by a couple dozen of them. They were at both doors clawing and scratching to be let in. I ditched the water pack and topped off one canteen. After checking my two knives strapped to my thighs, I drew my m
achete and went to the front door. I’ve never missed my spear as much as I did in that moment.

After making short work of the two right in the doorway, I launched myself into the pre-dawn, chilly morning air. The place was swarming with them. They were moths to my living flame. And hadn’t I just bitched about not seeing that many zombies like in the movies? Be careful what you ask for…right?

At some point I got turned around. I knew that I should be arriving at the highway…yet I was still in the park. Actually, I was in these sparse woods. When I burst out into a clearing, the sun hit me right in the face as it crested the distant mountains, bathing the world in a glorious sunrise. Crap! That meant that I was facing east; the wrong way. I knew that the highway was
west
of where I’d spent the night.

I turned around and he was right there. Barely old enough to start growing whiskers, the boy had the look of the long dead. His skin was split in places and his wounds were so dried out that not even maggots nested in them. Instead, I am pretty sure that I saw
growth
; it looked like mold or something with stuff sprouting from it. One eyeball remained; glossed over in putrid off-white and shot full of black tracers. The other socket had sealed shut like the skin had melted over the hole and fused together.

My coat saved me. Initially. Unfortunately, I’d been sans gloves for longer than I can remember. I brought my m
achete up and he clawed at my arm. That caused me to miss badly. The blade went into the shoulder, shattering the collarbone and wedging itself in rather firmly.

I went for a knife, but the zombie-boy lunged and we both went to the ground. I kicked and bucked, but we were such a tangled mess that it wasn’t doing any good. By the time that I got my knife free of its sheath, I had my free hand around its throat, keeping the gnashing teeth just far enough away. The smell coming from its mouth was surprisingly bad for how dried out and long dead this thing was. It was making my guts do rolls, threatening to spew what little may have been in my sto
mach.

The clicking and grinding sound of those teeth caused me to wince every single time. Finally, I drove the blade into its te
mple. I shoved the body off and scrambled to my feet…and right into the arms of the pair of zombies that were so torn up, the only way that I knew one of them was female was the sagging breast that remained on one side. Once again I found myself sprawled on the ground in a life-or-death struggle.

I fought, kicked, bucked, and squirmed. Finally I got m
yself free and crawled away. I made it to my feet a second time and looked around frantically. No direction was clear, but I took off in the way that seemed most likely to give me a chance.

When I finally reached the road, I fell to my knees gasping for breath. I puked up a scalding mixture of bile and a tiny smidge of food to give it some texture. It was while I was on my hands and knees that I noticed the nasty bite on my left hand.

I hoped desperately that I was one of the lucky immune. Then a handful of those bastards came barging through the brush beside the road and I had to get to my feet and run. I don’t think that I ever once considered running
towards
Vegas.

In all of the chaos, I’d lost my weapons and canteen. The only thing I still had was my satchel. It seems right that I am left with nothing but this journal. I’m in the old watchtower that I slept in a couple of nights back. Along the way, I saw my refle
ction in the side mirror of a car. The tracers are already visible in my eyes even in the filthy mirror that I looked in.

I know that I don’t have much time left. Writing this is ta
king all of the energy that I have. There are moments when it is like I can feel the infection spreading throughout my body. Down below, about a hundred of those things have gathered around the base of the tower. Their growls and cries and mewling keep jarring me back to the task at hand which is to finish this last…this final entry.

To whoever finds this, if anybody does, please—if at all possible—get this to my daughter. I’ve included enough info
rmation so that she can be found. When I set this book down, my plan is to secure the strap of my satchel around my neck and the other end around the railing. I realize that I will come back as one of those things, but my hope is that somebody will come along and see me. If they come up to investigate, they will find the book.

I wish that I had something profound to say now, but ho
nestly, this headache is beating every thought out of my skull before it has a chance to gel. So…I guess that all there is left is to say goodbye.

Epilogue

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

My name is Orlando Scott. Las Vegas, 1
st
Regiment-Expeditionary Unit. I found this book a few weeks ago while returning from Correctional City.

The originals of this document were returned to me after Command Control inspected and copied each of the three sep
arate texts. A convoy bound for the Northwest and the Rainier settlement will be taking the originals. If the assumption is correct, Ms. Gainey referred to what is now know as Corridor 26, a series of trading posts just west of the ruins of Old Portland.

Saturday, June 8, 2024

My name is Snoe. My father’s name was Samuel Todd. My mother’s name was Meredith Gainey.

This contains all three novels of Zomblog Snoe:

Zomblog: Snoe

Zomblog: Snoe’s War

Zomblog: Snoe’s Journey

Written by: TW Brown

Cover Art and Design by Denise Brown

Zomblog: Snoe

2012 May December Publications

The Split-tree logo is a registered trademark of May December Publications LLC.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author or May December Publications.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Dedication

“Vix” Kirkpatrick…

For refusing to accept that sometimes a story comes to an end.

Foreword

Just over a year ago, August of 2011, I released the ‘final’ book in the
Zomblog
trilogy. The release of
Zomblog: The Final Entry
marked the end of a journey that I never expected to take in the first place. When I wrote the first book, it was as a warm-up for what I considered to be my official entry into the zombie genre. I was more than a little surprised at how things turned out leading to the eventual publication of that first
Zomblog
. When the demands came for more…I agreed. The logic is simple, as a writer, I work for the people who read my work. When they wanted more, I was obliged to give them what they requested.

When I decided to make this book a trilogy, I figured that was a good number. Lots of people write trilogies. So, when I released that third book, I put all my Zomblog material in a ca
binet and bid a fond farewell to the series that really gave me my first push. Now it was time to move on…or so I thought.

At first there were just a few comments. And that is fine.
“Always leave ‘em wanting more.”
That is an old saying in the entertainment biz. Then a few of the letters became insistent. One person in particular, a person I’ve come to regard as a real friend, Vix Kirkpatrick, insisted that the story was not over. More than once.

I will go on record as saying that this three book arc will be the end of the
Zomblog
series. All good things must come to an end, but after some time with the character, Snoe and I became better acquainted and this gives me the chance to take things in a new direction. After all, this is almost twenty years after the initial zombie rising. I’ve always said that there is more to the genre than just ‘rip and tear’ scenes. And this allows me the opportunity to explore a world that has an entire generation that has known nothing but a world where zombies exist.

Never say never…

October 2012

TW Brown