Zomblog II

by TW Brown

  But back to last night/early this morning. Part of why we’re moving so slow probably has something to do with my stopping to pee every twenty minutes. Not that I have much modesty left, but I’d gotten into the habit of bringing up the rear so that, as need struck, I could find a spot, go, then catch up. I was in the middle of things when one of the “stumpies”—that’s what we call the zombies without legs—came out from under the truck I was crouched behind. It grabbed my ankle and sent me sprawling onto my face. My instant reaction was to flip over sideways to try and protect my belly. With all the layers I had on, the only injury I suffered, other than my pride, was a pair of skinned knees. That, and the unfortunate fact that I’d just started, so I basically wet all over myself. I brought my spear around and caught the sneaky bastard up alongside his head enough to keep it from chomping my leg. Before I could do anything else, Jonathan was there cleaving the back of its skull with his golf club. So now I had pee and brain-goo on my thighs. Yuck!

  Once I had been cleaned up and Shari verified that I hadn’t been nipped, nicked, or damaged in any other way (there was brief concern that the splatter might’ve gotten near my skinned knees, but all the gore was “thankfully” confined to my upper thighs) then the lectures began. I was careless, thoughtless, inconsiderate, and a number of similar adjectives. All because I wanted to pee in peace, and with a teensy bit of privacy. Since then, I’ve had Shari or Jenifer practically holding my hand. When I tried to ease up on my water intake, Nurse Shari all but forced it down my throat.

  Once we reached this one area, Jenifer suggested we migrate into town and take a peek. I don’t know why some of the groups of survivors haven’t tried to commandeer a few of these vehicles. I bet Snoe woulda had one up and running in no time. The only thing I’m thinking is that it might be a fuel issue. I’ve seen less and less signs of vehicle movement. I remember hearing that gas can go bad. Plus, the sound brings out the dead for miles. It’s like using a gun inasmuch that the trade-off is not really worth it.

  After a look around, we decided to look inside the big store—Fred Meyer’s. (We called it Freddie-Fall-Apart’s when I was little.) There’s been looting, but mostly on the food side of the store. It was a nice surprise to discover that a lot of stuff is here. I don’t like all the busted windows, but we are up in a manager’s office that actually looks out over the grocery area. Jonathan wants us to take a day or two so he can look around and see what he can scavenge that will be useful.

  Other than the occasional loner or odd handful, the place is quiet. Jenifer is intent on getting some music. The couple of days at the Mitchell’s place got her jonesing. Shari is always on the lookout for medical stuff. I just like the chance to be off my feet for a bit. And to be able to pee in private.

  Saturday, January 31

  Everybody’s been hunkered down. A herd started through early this morning, a couple of hours before sunrise. About a hundred or so drifted into the store through the makeshift barricades that we put up, or in some cases reinforced. But outside, it’s like a stampede of buffalo—just in slow-motion—passing by.

  We can’t actually see their numbers, but from our vantage point we can see a sliver of outside, and it has been a parade. You’d think that a year would clean out some of the stench. Well, you’d be wrong.

  Evening

  The trailing edge seems to have passed. Every once in a while another small group passes by. We had to put down several dozen that were wandering around inside. Tomorrow, we finish sorting through supplies and move out. If the smell rolling in through the front is any indication, I don’t look forward to going out and across that parking lot tomorrow.

  Sunday, February 1

  We’re either being chased, or followed. I vote on the former. On three different occasions I heard something well behind us as we made our way back up to Sunset Highway (aka Highway 26).

  Jonathan explained that we are no longer on the Portland side of the hill in an area that was referred to under the blanket term West Hills. The terrain sort of dips and rises, but the dips are short and shallow, followed by longer, but still gradual rises.

  As for leaving our little hideout, the parking lot was a nightmare. We even left right at sunset so we would have some light to see better as we crossed the parking lot and busy intersections full of abandoned military vehicles. There were at least a few hundred stumpies! Jenifer said they reminded her of trap-door spiders. Most of them had found cars or piles of garbage to “hide” under. (Not that I believe they are capable of any sort of cognitive thought.) Shari said that all the jabbing and poking we did as we crossed the open space littered with the stumpies who emerged with our arrival reminded her of “frog-gigging” which has me wondering where the hell she grew up.

  The only truly scary moment came when one of the stumpies managed to move its head at the last second to avoid my spear. The point went through its neck, pinning it to the ground. It let loose with that damned baby-cry and scared me. I lost my grip on my spear and it reached for me. I might’ve screamed. I don’t recall. Jenifer was right there with her Centurion Sword, cleaving the thing’s head in half from crown to craw.

  Then the contraction hit.

  Next thing I know, it feels like I’ve just been punched in my lower back. I dropped to my knees and managed to choke back most of a yelp. Everybody was there in a flash, which made me feel terribly suffocated and claustrophobic. Shari started asking a bunch of stupid questions while Jonathan and Jenifer continued to dispatch the stumpies that were now closing in on a stationary target.

  There really wasn’t any time that we were in danger from the zombies. I was only concerned about not having the baby in the middle of a parking lot that reeked of death. Eventually, the contractions eased. Shari said something about it probably just being Braxton Hicks contractions, and that they were brought on by the stress and blah, blah, blah.

  Did I mention that Jonathan, Jenifer, and Shari surprised me with a whole pack (which they divided up to carry in their own) of maternity clothes? My favorite is this really cute set of pink and black coveralls with a dark-pink turtleneck fleece top. It’s cute and cozy! However, the big score was in the undergarments department. I’ll leave it at that.

  Monday, February 2

  I never believed I could cry so much.

  Today we are camped near a large pond. It’s actually been pleasant weatherwise, with lots of sun and temperatures at least in the fifties…if not the low sixties!

  We’d stopped at the unburned remains of a heavily torched apartment complex just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. It was super quiet, and we were staying close because there’d been some gunshots heard earlier throughout the day. That meant people. And that is always a cause for concern.

  It was cold, but I was in my new parka and the coveralls and fleece hoodie, so only my nose was super cold. Jenifer and I were reminiscing about our favorite movies and Jonathan had to tell us to keep it down after Jenifer brought up The Notebook. Hey, I don’t care what gender you are, if that movie doesn’t moisten the eyes…you’re a zombie!

  Then we heard it. At first it was just an occasional rustle of garbage or leaves. Then we all heard something made of metal clatter on the ground, followed by hurried movement. Jonathan circled back, but after at least an hour, there was still no sign of our stalker.

  So, everybody moved in close. We didn’t want to be spread out in case something hit us—undead or otherwise. I guess it was during the time that Jonathan circled back that whatever had been trailing us had moved around and was now in front! I almost tripped over him. Literally.

  We found Coach! He was filthy and very hungry. Also he’d been shot. The only silver lining—besides him actually being alive—was that it had been bird shot from relatively long range. Shari was able to pick out the three pellets from his face and four more from his right shoulder.

  We made camp early so Shari could clean him up. Jonathan thinks I didn’t see his tears, but it wasn’t that dark. Plus,
I heard his sniffles, too! We’re in yet another apartment complex. These are almost pristine, with the exception of the damage that unchecked weather can do. It’s creepy. I mean, I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something so weird here. Looking inside, it’s like this entire place evacuated at once. Several of the units look like dinner time was in full-swing when the exodus took place. Hmmm…

  No matter. Coach is resting his head in my lap. He was such a good doggy for Shari. He only whined once when she had to dig around just below his right eye to pull out a pellet. When she squeezed that bump the first time, this nasty greenish-yellow pus squirted out. It smelled so gross. Good Coach, he just whimpered a bit, but he didn’t try to nip Shari or even squirm out of my grip. That’s because he is such a good boy. My foot-warmer is back! Dammit! I’m crying again! Stupid dog!

  Wednesday, February 4

  I don’t care what Shari says, Braxton Hicks, whatever. I thought the baby was coming today. However, I will quit my bitching and complaining since I will be dining in style in just a couple hours. Maybe it will make all the insanity of today dissolve and float away like embers coming off the fire keeping me warmer than I’ve been since leaving the Mitchell place. Gads! Has it really only been a week? Today feels like a lifetime all by itself. It all started with waking up to Coach snarling and growling, and with what seemed like every follicle on his back standing straight up.

  Grabbing my spear, and tapping everybody who had managed to sleep through the growling, I headed to the door. I know we should’ve had a person stand watch, but we were upstairs for one; and for two, there was almost no dead activity in the area, and third…well…what good is having a dog if he doesn’t watch.

  I crept through the dusty—but nicely decorated— living room, and to the front door. On my way, I peeked out the curtains. I expected to find a zombie mob, but it was clear. Not even a lone shambler. I peeked out the peep-hole, but it was clear. Still, Coach kept nudging me, and he had his muzzle pressed to the crack at the bottom of the door.

  I probably should’ve waited for the others. I probably should’ve paid more attention to Coach. But no-o! I opened the door after taking off the useless chain and twisting the deadbolt. I would’ve half-expected Coach to shove past me and lunge outside. What I didn’t expect was for him to suddenly tuck his tail between his legs, turn, and bolt!

  Then, the earless, almost hairless giant dog’s head thrust itself inside. Eyes, so thick with black tracers that you could barely see the white film, rolled up at me. A greyish-black tongue lolled out, and a muzzle of broken teeth made an attempt at snapping on my leg. Instinctively, I kicked out hard and connected just under its jaw. There was a snap and a crunch, but this thing didn’t take even the slightest notice. The door pushed the rest of the way open and revealed the entirety of the horror now intent on killing me.

  It had been a big Husky. Its thick fur was missing in many places where it looked to have been rubbed off. It had no bodily injuries so I have to guess that whatever ripped off its ears passed on the infection. I’d heard reports of dogs turning, but not cats. I wrote it off as simple rumor. I knew that livestock didn’t seem to draw the notice of zombies, but I’d seen them follow dogs and cats. I think Sam mentioned something, too, but I’m not sure…and don’t feel like searching.

  Anyways, as I backed away and readied my spear, Jenifer and Shari came skidding around the corner from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Both of them gasped and froze in place. Had things not been so damned scary, what happened next would’ve been hilarious. Jonathan came next and plowed into the pair of slack-jawed idiots. The good thing was that Zomdog turned his head at the disturbance as my three companions tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. That was all I needed. I drove my spear into the side of its head, pinning it to a leather recliner.

  Jonathan was gallant enough to drag the body back out. Jenifer was gonna clean the dark trail of filth it left, but I told her not to bother, we weren’t staying. I had to actually coax Coach- the-Fraidy-dog out from under the bed.

  The other day, when we found this place, it was agreed that we’d switch to day travel. While we’ve heard a bit of gunfire on occasion, it’s much less common than when we were moving through the neighborhoods of Portland. None of us feel that The Genesis Brotherhood is a threat. We are outside of their territorial zone as far as we can tell. From what Victor said, they were pre-dominantly working the eastern side of the hill, down into Portland. One more problem is that, while we can move with a nice clear sky and a bit of moonlight, there is no denying that the zombie traffic has picked up again. We’ve had too many close calls lately. The last reason, but sorta important, we didn’t find any batteries for our red-lensed flashlights. We have one more swap out set and need to conserve them for an emergency.

  For breakfast, we had some nuts, a can of peaches, and some instant milk. That is the one true advantage to folks who find a place and make some sort of defensible home: food. It can be so easy to take it for granted.

  After breakfast, we decided that this place had potential for supplies since it seems to have been evacuated en masse. Jonathan had already checked out some of the closer units—that’s where the canned peaches came from. We paired up; me and Shari, Jenifer and Jonathan. Coach was content lying in a square of sunlight, taking a doggy nap.

  There were absolutely no signs of the zombies in any of the closed up apartments. Some of the ones with doors open or windows missing have seen traffic. I just don’t get it. It’s like finding a completely intact dinosaur. This place is an anomaly. We did find a decent amount of non-perishable food here. We picked some things, my prize is a sealed jar of marinated artichoke hearts. Shari’s was a jar of sundried tomatoes.

  By noonish we were ready to move after a lunch of canned beef barley soup and a few spoonfuls of peanut butter. We decided to cut through these thick woods that ran parallel to the highway. They weren’t too treacherous. They weren’t very long lasting either. When we came out the other side, every single one of us froze in our tracks.

  The blackened ruins of a building was the first thing we saw. But it was what lay on the other side. Before us we saw sprawled the largest cemetery I’ve ever seen in my life. This place looks like it’d been napalmed. Very few stones were intact. A large fountain off to our left had the remains of a huge, granite monument. I imagine it used to have the name of this place. The only chunk still standing has the letters “Funer”, and it doesn’t take a genius to glean funeral from it.

  The grass is gone. I mean burned to the dirt. Only, I don’t see a single sign of disturbed earth. I don’t recall any reports of dead people rising from the ground. And granted, after what I have seen in the past year, nothing would surprise me. It’s just that from all I know or heard, this started as something infectious and was transmitted from somebody who died from it, then came back and infected somebody else.

  Jonathan said he’d heard about an incident where the military mixed it up with a large number of walking dead. They were using area-of-effect weapons like HE rounds and hand grenades. They blew up a bunch of the zombies, but a lot of the soldiers got misted with blood. A bunch turned that night inside their own perimeter. It was things like that, the lack of knowledge, that helped it spread so fast. Couple in the disbelief factor, along with people reluctant to kill friends and loved ones, and you have the recipe for a real apocalypse.

  Sorry, I got side-tracked. We moved out into the wide-open ground and were able to actually find a mostly-intact path to follow. It took us up to a ridge where we could see across the highway into a fairly large neighborhood. It also gave us a peek at a body of water on the far side of the cemetery. It wasn’t the pond that got us excited, it was the herd of deer at the water’s edge!

  Jonathan saw them first. He raised his hand in the universal signal for stop-moving-and-keep-your-mouth-shut. We froze and followed his finger. All this time watching out for zombies, or possible survivors who may or may not be hostile, I w
as the last to actually see what he was pointing at.

  We huddled and Jonathan pointed out the path he would take. Jenifer would drop down near the highway and follow the charred tree line. Shari and I would stay put with Coach and keep a zombie watch. The most likely problems would come from that big neighborhood across the hiway. If they could bag a deer with minimal gunfire, we could work our way back to the apartments we stayed in the past couple of days by using this valley that is shielded from view by the big sloping hill of the cemetery. I think my mouth started watering before those two disappeared from sight.

  Shari and I unslung our M1 rifles and I helped her climb up on this four foot high tomb cover that used to have some sort of statue on top. All that remained were a pair of sandaled feet. There had been a lot of trees spaced throughout this cemetery. Now, there were only blackened husks pointing sharply skyward.

  Across the highway, I noticed the occasional lone shambler, and even a small cluster or two on the expanse of visibly cracking concrete weaving their way amongst the scattered, mostly abandoned cars. Coach sat obediently at my side for a while. Every so often he would sniff the air and stand. A couple of times he even went out to mark a little territory.

  I heard the echoing crack of a rifle. A moment later, deer bounded from some trees and across the highway into a heavily wooded area. Every zombie in sight turned, paused, and began at a slow, awkward walk in the direction of the shot.

  I wasn’t too surprised to see several begin emerging from houses. Shari hissed through her teeth. When I asked what, she said a small herd was emerging from the far side of the thick woods across the highway that the deer had vanished into.