The Dead Lands Diary [Vol. III]

by S. David Staggs

  JEFF: Sure, okay.

  ME: Hate to ask this first but…did you have family that got left behind in Cleveland?

  JEFF: Nah. Lost some friends. I think I did anyway. Never saw them again so they’re either dead or long gone. Or maybe they’re still there, who the hell knows. My birth parents died when I was two. I spent some time in homes until I got adopted when I was four. Once I became eighteen, my parents retired and moved down to Georgia. I spoke with them a few times before the power went out. They were with some friends in a community shelter. That’s the last I know. I hate not knowing.

  ME: I’m sorry. I know that’s rough.

  JEFF: Anyways so, like Valerie probably told you, we stayed cooped up in our apartment till we were virtually out of shit to eat and out of water. Leaving the building was scary. I’m surprised I don’t have nightmares from walking those halls and going down those staircases. Then that bastard in the parking lot, shit. Valerie sprayed that fucker with pepper spray and it went all nuts and shit, she tell you about that?

  ME: She did, yes.

  JEFF: Then I couldn’t believe she ran up and kicked the dude over. I was shocked and impressed. When he was starting to get up I was kinda like, no…we gotta get to getting and we didn’t have time. More could show up anytime, so I ran up and bashed him once in the dome with this hammer I found under the sink before we left. I don’t think I killed it but it was stunned for long enough for us to get to her car and peel the hell on out of there. The city was intense. It was such a relief to watch the city disappear in the mirror. It could be seen for miles though on the horizon from all the fires burning. But then we were out in the woods and shit. It was dark and even more scary. To me anyway. So dark and catching glimpses of those things and dodging them here and there in the road.

  ME: Yeah, Reggie didn’t take too well at first to the country either for the same reasons.

  JEFF: Glad I ain’t the only one. Then we had to stay over night at some old looking gas station. Even though we were secured into a closed garage and inside the car, I still felt exposed and unsafe. Maybe it’s cause we had to have all the windows down. It was too hot. Sure, we were closed in with the garage but it was still creepy. And the garage door was all glass or plastic, you know the type I mean? Real old school?

  ME: I do.

  JEFF: Did Valerie tell you about the cats?

  ME: Cats? No.

  JEFF: Surprised. At some point at night we heard this low weird growling noise…real weird noise. It wasn’t like them, it was different. Then we heard something touching the garage door and glass and whatnot. We peeked up from the back seat and there they were…four cats. They were mangy and gross. They were dead and all kinds of fucked up. They were pressing their faces against the glass and smearing blood and pus and shit. Growling and clawing or pawing the door. We kept our heads down and eventually fell asleep. When we woke up they were gone. That was a relief. I was not gonna open that door for us to leave if they were still there. Wouldn’t have been worth it. I’d have driven through the damn door!

  ME: I know I would. Dealt with an infected cat once. Just one and that was enough, so I’m good on dealing with four.

  JEFF: Scary little shits. They’re the only infected animal I saw. You?

  ME: As far as I recall, yeah. Off hand I don’t remember.

  JEFF: Listen, I gotta jet, but I appreciate the talk and everything. Wayne wants to go over plans on a wall expansion and some other ideas. Maybe draw up some different designs and what not and then I gotta meet Valerie later for some dinner. We should do this again sometime. Can have some drinks with Val and me!

  ME: That sounds good! We’ll make plans.

  JEFF: Good, good. Catch you later!

  **

  Oliver Porter is a lean man in his early forties with gray just starting to show in his light beard and slightly scraggly hair. He’s approachable but doesn’t go out of his way to initiate a conversation unless he’s in a talkative mood. Today he was. We walked and talked as he smoked a cigarette.

  OLIVER: So Valerie you said brought me up?

  ME: Yes. After New York came up in conversation.

  OLIVER: Right. So you want to know about Manhattan, huh?

  ME: I’d like to hear your story, yes. How you made it out and how things were.

  OLVIER: Well, alright then. I see no reason to complain about it.

  ME: What were you before it all? If you don’t mind me asking?

  OLIVER: My profession you’re asking?

  ME: Mhmm.

  OLIVER: I was a janitor. Cleaned up some office buildings in the evenings.

  ME: Okay. You lived in the city?

  OLIVER: Of course.

  ME: Did you have a wife or family?

  OLIVER: Nope. I was on my own and liked it just fine that way. A loner I guess one would call me? Had my acquaintances at the bar and that was all I needed socially.

  ME: You hung out there a lot?

  OLIVER: Every night after work, yep. Harold’s Hammer. Weird name for a bar isn’t it? Funny thing is, I never bothered asking Harold why he named the place that.

  ME: You speak to him often?

  OLIVER: Sure. Besides owning the joint he also played bartender.

  ME: He the only one?

  OLIVER: No. A girl named Suzy also tended. Only on the weekends they weren’t usually there. Two others worked the weekend typically.

  ME: How were they handling everything before it got bad?

  OLIVER: Well, they were nervous I guess. You could tell. Most those dudes acted like hardasses but it was in their eyes. They were getting concerned. That only grew when they quarantined the island and kept everyone in and everyone out. Started to feel really closed in despite the size of the city. Soon, they set up barricades and constructed a twelve-foot wall from one end to the other. It ran right under Times Square. Everyone on Times Square’s side of the wall were on their own. Military pulled out and focused their efforts on everything on our side of the wall.

  ME: Where exactly were you?

  OLIVER: I was down in Soho.

  ME: You stayed informed by television?

  OLIVER: Yeah, sure did. Every night at Harold’s. Wasn’t long before we found ourselves in a dead quiet bar with the TV the only sound. Just watching the developments and watching everything go from bad to shit ton worse. The firebombing of Time’s Square really set in panic of people. People thought that the wall was going to come down but it didn’t. No, it was vermin to fuck it all up. Infected vermin and other animals. All it took was a few dozen people getting bit and dying and then spreading it from there. And damn did it spread. Like wildfire. In just two days time they were everywhere. I went to Harold’s early that first evening. I didn’t bother going to work. Hell was the point, you know? The regulars were there. Harold, Suzy, Mike, Lenny, Fred and Lu. Everyone except our pal Winston. We never did see him again. We all assumed he was dead but no one ever said it. It’s like we kinda wanted to act like we didn’t notice. We let the TV do most of the talking. When 2:00 in the morning rolled around I was contemplating going home but the screaming outside got worse, gunshots were becoming an every few hours or less routine. Harold said we should stay, so we all did. Truth be told, none of us had anywhere to truly go anyway. None of the guys were married. Harold basically lived in the bar himself. Suzy, she was middle aged and about in the same boat. She was like one of the guys. Yeah, no one came into the bar and no one left. We crashed wherever. Booths, pool tables, wherever. I don’t know about everyone else, but I only got maybe a few hours of sleep. A few times I looked over at Lu, he was on a pool table, and his eyes were always open. Fully alert and scared. The sun rose but the chaos outside didn’t abate…it seemed to grow. It did grow, of course. Some infected ran past the darkened windows and that was becoming too frequent. We had already locked up the night before, but what if we made too loud a noise and some busted in? We did our best to quietly barricade the front windows with tables and chairs and whatever else. W
e stayed whisper quiet and away from the windows and door. If any tried to get inside they had to get over and around a lot of shit, so it gave us time to get into the back of the bar and lock all of those doors. We had plenty of food and water to last probably a month give or take.

  ME: That how long you were there?

  OLIVER: No. No, not at all. Things fell apart soon after. Night rolled around again and cabin fever was starting to set in I think. Lenny started to get really worked up and panic. He was starting to get loud. Harold ended up pulling the shotgun out from under the bar and pointed it at him. Told him to keep his voice down and his shit together. He was putting us all at risk. He really started to crack up. At one point he ran up and started moving things away from the door. Fred clocked him in the back of the head and knocked his ass out cold. We put him in the back and hoped when he woke up he would be a little more relaxed. Couple hours later we were at the bar watching the TV and we heard the back door open. Harold ran back there with the shotty and we followed. Back door was just hanging open into the back ally. Harold grabbed it quick and shut it, locked it. Lenny obviously was gone. Just bolted out the back. I often wonder what became of him. He’s probably dead of course. Or kind of dead and walking around in the city still. The way he was in such a panic I just can’t imagine he survived. He was a good guy, too. Pretty happy most of the time and easy to talk to. He just flipped out and couldn’t take it anymore. Made a run for it. A run for what I’m not quite sure, but a run nonetheless.

  ME: Sorry to hear…then what happened?

  OLIVER: Then the power went out. Fear really started to set in then, especially come nightfall. We stayed in the back and lit some candles Suzy managed to locate. But without the TV and knowing what was going on…that was enough to make you go mad. We tried to keep conversation going. We didn’t want to sit there and just listen to screaming outside and everything else. Harold said we needed a plan, that we couldn’t sit there forever inside the bar. No shit, right? But damn, the thought of going outside was insane. We didn’t know how many of those things were out there. We’d have to creep around and it was only a matter of time before we got spotted. And some of those fuckers run, as you well know! It’s those ones that made it even harder to go out there. Running around some slower ones is one thing, but out running those others wouldn’t be a picnic. We looked out the windows enough times to see them booking their dead asses down the street after some poor suckers.

  ME: I’ve had my fair share of close calls with them. Closer than I like to think about.

  OLIVER: They’re the worst. And the shotty was the only damn gun in the place, but Fred pointed out the dangers of using a gun anyway. Bring every damn one of them in the area down on us. Harold still took it for a last resort though. We rummaged through some shit and found some old tools. A hammer and screw drivers and a big ass wrench. That was mine. Now, just needed a plan. For starters, we decided to go at night. Better cover. Scary as fuck but able to hide. Right off the bat, Lu suggested we make our way to the Holland Tunnel out of the city. I almost thought he was making some sarcastic joke. Once I realized he was serious I wanted to slap him upside the skull. We all looked at him like he was stupid. I explained to him how smart it is to go into a dark underground tunnel possibly full of those things. No, we decided to make our way to the Williamsburg Bridge and see how that went. If we could get to the bridge and across it then we’d be home free.

  ME: Did you set out that night?

  OLIVER: Yeah. We were starting to crack up and we needed to just make a go for it. We’d either make it or we wouldn’t. We made our way out the back and worked our way to the street. It was clear both ways. Some bodies were in the street and I just wanted to flee back into the bar and postpone the shit. We jogged down the street and stayed low. We needed a vehicle but we were so scared to touch any. If an alarm went off it could be like ringing a dinner bell. But all the way to the bridge on foot? That was suicide most likely. We saw some cleaning company’s van across the street and said fuck it. If an alarm goes off then we’ll run back across the street and into a building. The door opened and all was quiet. Harold jumped in and I ran around to the passenger side. The rest opened the back doors and climbed in. Harold was pulling the seat back and was about to attempt to hotwire it and then to my surprise, the keys were on the dash. Picked the right vehicle for sure. Started it up and turned the headlights off and slowly made our way. The streets were littered with bodies and blood was everywhere. As we drove past a side street we noticed some figures standing maybe 50 yards down. When they saw us driving past they sprinted in our direction and we floored it. Or Harold did, rather. We got out of their site right quick. I sat there thinking about if we had still been on foot and walked past there. Game over. We dodged plenty of slower moving ones and saw some people running around. Some were, incredibly, still looting shit. We got to the bridge and that’s where we had to stop. The bridge was full of cars and accidents and all that. Wasn’t no getting through that. So, we had no choice. We were gonna have to walk the over 7,000 feet of bridge.

  ME: I dare ask, how long did that take?

  OLIVER: I know it was over an hour. Time wasn’t really on our mind. Could have been a couple hours. Everything was so tense, being that alert and all, that time seemed fast even if it wasn’t. We walked along quietly, just weaving in and around cars. They were scattered everywhere. Like a junkyard but newer cars. We did good. We were over halfway there and we felt like we were nearing the goal line so to speak. Then Suzy yelled out. Behind us were a small group of the running pricks. They were a good hundred yards or so away and they were sprinting. They were quiet too. If Suzy hadn’t spotted them then they would have been on us much quicker. It was like, well…the jig is up. We just ran. Ran like hell as fast as we could. There was noway we were going to beat them to the end of that bridge and we needed to conserve energy to fight. I managed to scream that to them and they understood through their panic. Suzy said they couldn’t be fought. She dropped and rolled under a truck.

  ME: How many were in the pack?

  OLIVER: Once they got close we made out four. I yelled at Suzy to get up but she wasn’t budging. She said hide. Just kept saying hide. Hiding just wasn’t something I was gonna risk. I looked out the windows enough at the bar to see those things sniffing the air like wolves. We just braced for the fight. One of them got close and Harold rushed forward and swung that hammer of his with full momentum. Cracked right through it’s skull. That was one down. Another jumped through the air and tackled Fred to the ground. He tried to push it’s head up but his hands slipped and it bit right into his throat. I stabbed it in the head with a screwdriver but it was too late for Fred. He just bled out. It was like…instinct I guess. I didn’t think about it, I just dropped fast and stabbed Fred in the head. I knew he’d come back anytime. One of the remaining two slid under the truck and started clawing and biting Suzy. Those screams. Harold pulled the thing out from under the truck and it pulled Suzy out with it. Her face was partially missing and she was bleeding out from the neck and head. She was gone. Harold recoiled, letting go of the bastard, and it was back to it’s feet in a second. It rushed him but he side stepped it and through it over the hood of a car and followed after it. He managed to get on top of it and he just started bashing it. Over and over. He bashed even after it was dead. He was in a rage. Mike, meanwhile, was running away from the other one. Lu was in pursuit of them, trying to help Mike. Lu tackled it from behind and held it there. Mike was kinda in shock for a moment until Lu yelled at him. Mike dropped down then and drove a screwdriver in it’s head. We were a mess. Physically and mentally. Behind us, far off, some slow ones were making their way down the bridge. Attracted by the screaming. No fast ones though. I don’t know if we’d have survived another pack of those. Barely survived the first. We got to the end of the bridge and the area looked pretty clear. Some fires, bodies, but nothing moving. Ended up at a military post set up near the bridge. Their trucks and jeeps and everything
were all left there and the keys were with them. That’s where we parted ways. Harold wanted to head south for a warmer climate. Lu and Mike insisted on heading north. They deduced that colder climate equals less dead. Me? I wanted to head west. Way out west. Got some warmth and got some cold, depending on where I ended up. But there’s many areas west where the population was extremely low. So…warm weather and less dead. Mike and Lu thought that the chances of getting north were better, being at how it was so much closer. So, that was that. Harold headed south, Mike and Lu headed north and I took my lonesome ass west. Many ups and downs and close calls but ended up here. So yeah, there you have it. The story of New York City.

  ME: You were against overwhelming odds. It’s amazing you made it out.

  OLIVER: Just gotta have faith.

  ME: Absolutely. You think about the others a lot?

  OLIVER: Oh, sure. About everyday. Only real friends I really had. I’ve made some now, but I mean from then. I like to picture Harold’s ass on some southern island off the coast of the Carolinas or something. Selling drinks to new arrivals. Or trading? Money’s useless now. Mike and Lu freezing their asses off in Canada. Mostly free of infected maybe, but cold ass winters. Not that we have good winters. But yeah, I think about them.