by TW Brown
Saturday, June 14
We have stumbled—almost literally—upon a small town. From the signage still standing, I’m pretty sure this place is called Thompson Falls. We came around the base of the foothills and bingo! The town is right there to our left. There is an open inlet we need to go around. Or…what looks to be a bridge. Today we’ll only watch and observe.
Sunday, June 15
Lots of activity. None of it looks to be alive. There are a lot of bodies that look to be decaying in the open. Also, it is clear there were some bad fires. We have climbed this hill that towers at least a couple hundred feet above town. Had to take out a couple of stragglers.
We can see another road on the other side of the river. That is just one more thing to watch in case those bastards that I now blame fully for Meredith’s death should happen to come this way.
Anyways, hunger is winning. We have to go into that town. We have to find food. Just another thing you took for granted when the world was not dead. The simplicity of walking into a grocery store is long past. I only hope we can find something edible. There haven’t been any fresh delivery trucks in these parts in a long while.
Tomorrow…
Monday, June 16
I can’t believe we didn’t notice!
This morning we snuck into town just as the first hint of light kissed the sky. At least these damned creatures are slow. The plan was to slip into a few houses on the outskirts to find food.
We were not in a position to see the total layout of town. What we couldn’t see was the telltale sign of living people in the form of a large pack of zombies surrounding a building. The place looked like a brick, two-story insurance office.
We found Meredith! Oh yeah, and Kyle.
The problem is getting them to notice us without drawing attention. The way we found out it was our two presumed lost comrades is because they made a journey up onto the roof. Obviously scouting for an escape.
The only way we could see that would get them out of their predicament would be to make some noise. So, we’ve loaded up on some canned food. The second house we hit was still “occupied”, but after clearing it we hit a bit of a jackpot. Seems this was a Mormon family, and I guess they were ready for the apocalypse. (We know they were Mormons because of the Book of Mormon sitting on an upstairs nightstand.) Anyways, we found this pantry that was literally loaded with non-perishable foods, bottles of water, all kinds of stuff. Once we had all we could carry, we snuck back up that hill.
It was difficult leaving, knowing that Meredith is down there. It took us most of the day to get in, gather everything, and get back. Now, as it is late…we are forced to wait one more day. Caren is going to stay here and watch the town and the road…Roy, Jimmy, and I will slip in. Roy is going to make a racket and be certain that crowd sees him, then Jimmy and I will get Meredith and Kyle’s attention and slip out of town.
Hopefully.
Tuesday, June 17
I guess the most important thing in the life we live now is our ability to maintain humanity. Before this happened, we all seemed to lose perspective on what was important. Bad news and scandals sold more than good deeds and honest living. It became all about labels, marketing, and if it would turn a profit.
If something was done that could be deemed “heroic”, it was trumpeted, exploited, and buried all in the same day more often than not. If there was a scandal, a tragic death, or an act of depravity…it could surf the wave of headline status or lead-in story for weeks until the next great foul deed was uncovered.
People that live on both sides of that spectrum have survived the horror of this past half a year. I’ve seen both in extremes. I’ve tried not to linger on either side. I’ve had to put down for the last time folks I’ve known, including my own daughter. I’ve tried to help those around me in any way I could. If there is anybody left who knows/knew me a year from now, I don’t want to be thought of as somebody who never tried. Leave the labels and over-exaggeration in the dead past.
We did all we could to rescue Meredith and Kyle. After Roy came up with the clever idea of attaching a note to a rock, we were lucky and got close enough to throw our note and get their attention with minimal zombie interaction.
All went relatively smooth. Once we were ready, Roy began shattering windows and making a real racket. Of course the zombies have no concept of lures, traps, or anything of that nature, and followed eagerly after the sight of warm, living meat. Then, as the mob around Meredith’s and Kyle’s building began to pursue, Jimmy added to the chaos and this caused the pack to sorta disperse.
I was never happier than when Meredith and Kyle were able to bolt down the stairs only having to dispatch the occasional persistent zombie that had refused to follow the pack. I waded in to help, dispatching a handful of those things.
We ran for the Walking Bridge as fast as possible. Caren fired twice as the signal for both Roy and Jimmy to break and run as well. Meredith, Kyle, and I waited on the town side of the bridge, urging our friends to run faster.
We all crossed and then I tossed a match on the ground to ignite the trail of gasoline back across to the pool we had dug and filled. It went up with a “FWOOP” that sent an oily black cloud skyward. We knew we had to move, because if any of the folks who had been chasing us were still in the area, they had a good idea where to come look.
Roy, Jimmy, Kyle, Meredith, and I scaled the hill to where Caren was waiting. I kept glancing at Meredith as we climbed. I was so happy to see her. I thought for certain that I’d never see that smile again.
Screw Noxon, screw Trout Creek! We’re heading back to Irony. Let somebody else make this run. Let them clear out a backup compound that we may or may not need. I just want to live without running, fighting, or killing. I want a shot at a family with Meredith and Joey.
Those were my honest to goodness thoughts as I was scrambling up that hill.
That is most likely why I never saw, heard, or smelled the creeper. I’m guessing he was in his early teens when he died. The zombie did him in good. Most of the left side of his face was torn away leaving plenty of crusty, exposed skull. The left eye-socket was literally packed with dirt and gravel. He had bites out of him all over his body, and the legs had obviously been ripped off. A dried tether of intestine trailed about a foot or so behind him.
Anyways, Creeper-boy sprang from behind this really thick bush. I was bear-walking up this particularly steep section of slope at the time. His hands caught my left arm and we both went tumbling down the hill. The fall wasn’t as bad as hitting the tree trunk at the end.
Funny, I remember thinking of something my grandpa used to say when I was a kid.
“It ain’t the fall that hurts, Sam…it’s the sudden stop at the end.”
All the wind left me in a rush and Creeper-boy is on top of me now, still clutching my left arm. With the air knocked out of me, I was as weak as a kitten.
So, I could only watch as Creeper-boy pulled my arm to his mouth. I couldn’t even scream when his teeth tore into my flesh, or when his head jerked back and I watched him chew while my blood dribbled down his chin.
When he took his second bite, I could scream. Instantly I understood the pain in all those screams I’d heard before of those who were being eaten alive.
Then Roy was there, grabbing Creeper-boy by the shoulders, tossing him to the side and crushing his skull with three swings of an aluminum baseball bat.
Seconds later, everyone is there, and I look up and see it in their eyes. I’m already dead. Jimmy is wrapping a strip of cloth above the elbow and pulling it tight to stop the bleeding.
That was when I passed out.
I woke up in this dark room. Meredith was beside me. I notice she has a .44 magnum sitting in her lap.
It seems the group decided to return to Thompson Falls. The town sorta runs east-west and I guess we are in some farm house that was just north. It sits on a ridge and looks down on this long open field that slopes gently away to the town proper.
I guess we’ll see.
Wednesday, June 18
I feel awful.
It is like every hangover I’ve ever had, but all at the same time. My arm feels like it has been dipped in napalm. What makes it even worse is that I can smell myself. I’m pretty sure that we can rule out immunity.
Judging by the looks in everybody’s eyes, I think they know that, too. I heard them arguing quietly and I’m pretty sure they want to just put me down and move on.
Every time I feel myself doze off, I imagine it to be the last time I will be amongst the living. Yet each time, I awake.
I should just ask for a gun and be done with this. Only…when you know you are on the last leg—at least for me—you want each minute.
Meredith sits with me now. We can’t seem to say anything. She knows. I know. That’s really all that there is.
I don’t want to talk about Joey or any of that stuff because it would only make things worse for the two of us and I’d rather just allow these final days…hours…minutes…seconds…simply to pass.
Besides, talking hurts.
Thursday, June 19
CAN NOT KEEP FOOD DOWN. EYES BURN. HEAD POUNDING.
THE SMELL…
Friday, June 20
Early morning
I’ve spent the last few days reading Sam’s journal. Some of it I knew…some not.
Right now he is lying in a corner of the walk-in closet that we’ve kept him in since arriving at this house.
It is clear that he is in the final stages. In fact, I don’t expect him to see tomorrow. Not that he is seeing anything at this point. He hasn’t opened his eyes since early yesterday.
Caren is here with me, just in case. I made it clear that I will be the one to put the bullet in his head when he stops breathing. I guess they worry that I may not be able to do it.
It is funny how people try to impress their own weaknesses on others. Perhaps it helps them cope if they think more people are like them.
Sure, it’s sad. I loved Sam. At least I loved him as much as you can in such situations. There were great memories and all, but he’s not the kind of guy I would’ve been with before all this shit. Don’t get me wrong, he was okay to look at and smart. But…
Evening
Sam is dead.
He sorta gasped for a few final breaths, then, he stopped. Actually it was Caren who noticed and got my attention. I knelt beside him and held his hand as he sighed out his last breath.
I put the pillow over his face, pressed my gun to it, and pulled the trigger. Still a bit loud, but it’s been a couple of hours and none of the locals have wandered up to investigate.
I will miss Sam. I’ve decided that I will keep up his journal. After reading it I have come to the conclusion that this may eventually be the only historical account of what happened to society.
The group wants to wait another day before trying to leg it back to Irony. Maybe tomorrow we can bury Sam before heading out. Or…perhaps we can torch this house like a funeral pyre and he can be the distraction that aides in our escape.
I don’t want to sound cold or callous, but the reality is all about survival now. All the old rules from the past are gone. You have to be ready to make hard choices and let nothing go to waste.
When you think about it…we are pioneers. No, we aren’t discovering anything new. But, we are re-settling civilization. There are no rules, no laws. I’ve experienced it firsthand. Lest you forget…I was held as a commodity. Repeatedly raped by a man who once wore a badge and served as a sheriff…a figure of law.
That happened because I foolishly believed in the tenets of our now deceased society. I mistakenly believed that the rules still applied. I sought protection and care under the umbrella of somebody besides myself. I still held to that premise that a man could give safety. I relied on another person to care for my well-being.
That will get a person killed.
I’m not saying we don’t need one another to survive. I am saying that everything has changed. To have a chance, you need to be capable of caring for yourself first and foremost. In this world, only the strong will survive.
My name is Meredith Gainey and I am strong.
Saturday, June 21
There is no reason to hurry. We slipped into town this morning for some supplies. This place might be an undiscovered gold mine.
Roy and I decided to sneak out while everybody was asleep. We left a note so nobody would freak. Of course there was the awkward, “Are you okay?” crap. But I stopped, turned him to face me so he could get an honest appraisal and told him, “People die these days. It is sad, but true. I’ll miss him, but, I rest well knowing that he won’t be wandering around like these mobile bags of pus infecting others, and that I didn’t get bitten.”
Then Roy goes into this whole, “I thought you two were in love and gonna start a family with Joey.” I nod. “Yep. But It didn’t happen that way. And just maybe, if all of this settles down, I will grieve the loss and cry. For now…I quit cryin’ after the hundredth time I was gang raped back in Pasco by the county Sherriff and his crew. That used up all my tears. As for being in love…I was in love with the idea of being in love. Now…I don’t know.”
Roy didn’t talk anymore after that. We snuck into town, ducking behind cars, peeking around corners. Then I spotted what I came for: BEN’S OUTDOORS AND SPORTSMAN SHOP. None of the windows are broken!
The plague or whatever this is must’ve come quick and decisive because this place is untouched and it is a gold mine. We had to use the back alley entrance but it was a big metal door just like we had at the 24-Hour Fitness I use to work at. Having left my keys a few times, I am actually somewhat of a professional at jimmying locks.
Presto! We’re inside with hardly a peep. The air is stale and slightly bitter, but there is no trace of “dead” in the air. Still, better safe than sorry, and I sent Roy up one aisle as I worked the other. We spent ten minutes confirming what I was already fairly sure of.
There are bows, arrows, knives, and at least forty shotguns and two dozen rifles of all different calibers. Also, ammo. LOTS! Throw in the camping gear and this is the lottery and a Vegas jackpot wrapped up and waiting under the Christmas tree.
I grabbed a Tri-Star 12-gauge over/under and a Reming-ton 597 .22. I swapped out the standard scope for a nice laser job that I found in the manager’s office. Once both were loaded, I made sure I had an acceptable amount of spare ammo. Then I began looking for a few blades. It is comforting to be carrying that extra weight again. I’ve felt naked ever since I had to lose everything in the river before I ended up on the bottom. I look forward to going out and fine tuning the sights on my new weapon.
More good news. Survival rations! Box loads! They taste awful. But for quick, convenient, and at least moderately nutritious food…they will do. That means we’ll need to bring the rest of the gang down to supply up before we jet outta town.
There are a bunch of 4x4’s here. Roy can probably get one started even if damn near everything is likely dead as the folks in this town from sitting so long. Otherwise, well it’s a long walk to Irony.
Roy and I will slip out tonight just around the time it is dark. I’m leaving the place unlocked. Zombies aren’t much on opening doors unless they hang out for a long time. It’s like some memory flash comes and reminds the hand how a door works. It’s just not a thing that they remember or can recall at will. This place should be fine overnight.
Sunday, June 22
I guess everybody thinks I’m some sort of heartless bitch now. Apparently I should be in
mourning. This just really pisses me off, because all that tells me is that, this whole time, these people haven’t seen me. They’ve seen an extension of Sam.
When Roy and I returned last night, I handed out food to everybody, sat down, popped open a room temperature bottle of beer and just tried to relax. Kyle came over and sat down next to me. I could tell right away that something was on his mind.
“What?” I turned and finally asked after about ten minutes of uncomfortable silence.
“You should go ahead and cry.” He stared back with this look that I imagine he used as his “our thoughts and prayers are with—insert figure here—” face that he looked into the camera with when he was a news anchorman. After I just glared back at him with no reply, he went on, “It’s okay, we miss Sam also.”
“Look,” I decided to clue these folks in to who Meredith Gainey is, “I liked Sam. I’ll miss him. But people die a lot more frequently these days than they used to. We had a thing and it was nice. Only, if you want the truth, he wasn’t exactly my type. For one, he was a bit too gentle and I like to know my lover is there. Know what I mean?”
That shut everybody up. Hey, I’m not saying I enjoyed being raped. People tend to get rough confused with pain. You more gentle folks might turn away for this next line…making love is fine, but sometimes, a gal just wants to be fucked.
That was a problem in our old society. It was fine for guys to talk about “slappin’ that ass” and such. But, if the girl dares to exhibit anything beyond puritanical sexuality…well…”Hello whore!”
