Zomblog

by T. W. Brown

  The river that offers this place’s namesake has washed out a good section of the highway just before entering town. It is there that things started going bad.

  Rodney was driving as we reached the section of road that was now an expanded part of the flooded banks of Sparrow River. We already had everybody on the right of the RV to try and alleviate as much pressure on the flat as we could. We were just about through the water when the sound of spinning tires signaled that we were stuck.

  Greg, Tim, and I went out first to make sure that there weren’t too many zombies in the vicinity. Once we saw that it was clear, everybody else followed. Rodney stayed behind the wheel and we went to work. It took us about twenty minutes, but we finally got the RV unstuck. A few stragglers had shown up, but Samantha and Reggie took ‘em out. No problems.

  We climbed back in…that is when we realized that Amanda was missing. The sun was just coming up and we could see that we were in a bit of a dip. About a half mile up the road, there was a rise just before the road makes a straight, gradual descent into the actual town. Along this section of road we were on, houses dotted both sides.

  When somebody goes missing, you can’t just start yelling their name these days. You likely will not appreciate what answers your call. So, we decided that we had to at least look around, albeit quickly.

  Leaving Rodney and Julia at the RV with Joey, we all took off in separate directions. This was a big violation of our “nobody goes off alone” rule. But, we figured it was an emergency. Plus, how far could she have gotten?

  Greg found her.

  She had gone into a nearby house because while we were busy trying to get the RV loose, she heard a baby cry. When Greg arrived, she was beating and poking what had once been a girl about her age. Only, she couldn’t get a solid enough head shot with the table leg she was using as a weapon.

  Greg dispatched Amanda’s tormentor and scooped the girl up, running for the RV. Rodney honked the horn once, the signal that we had chosen to inform everybody to return. When we asked Amanda why she had gone off, she said that initially it was because she wanted to use a toilet in peace without somebody right outside the thin door of the closet-sized bathroom we have in the RV. The baby cry that turned out to be a zombie had startled her so bad that she wet her pants, that was why she hadn’t called for help.

  Only a teenager!

  So, we rolled into town and the attention we attracted was immediate. Samantha, Tim, and I climbed onto our roof as Rodney edged up beside a small tire store. We hoped that the tires we needed would be in stock. Since there was a sign for an RV park outside of town, we felt we had reasonably good odds.

  The problem would be gaining access. Already there was a swarm of those damned things all over. The RV was surrounded, and they were thick around the entirety of the building.

  We tried drawing them to one place, but all we accomplished was bringing more to our location. There was no access from the roof. Our only choice was to get in from the ground. But how?

  As the sun rose higher, so did our frustration. We tried having Rodney drive the RV away and leave us on top of the building, but too many stayed behind. This was futile!

  The RV was starting to make a funny sound which meant that if we pushed it much more, we’d really be stuck. The only good news was that Rodney found a lumberyard with a warehouse that looked to be an easily defensible and sturdy place to spend the night so that we could regroup and plan.

  We babied the RV to get it there. Of course plenty of those damned things followed. The fence around the yard had been torn down in places which led us to believe folks had stayed here at some point. They had left the roll-down door up; so it was a matter of just driving in, killing twenty or so that followed, and tossing the bodies out one of the broken windows.

  We checked the place out to make sure there were no surprises hiding in a mop closet or seemingly empty manager’s office. When we finished, it was time to hunker down and come up with an idea.

  Joey found a tennis ball somewhere and was busy bouncing it off the wall. Nobody complained about the noise considering the zombies outside pounding on the aluminum roll-down door were much louder. Amanda, worn out from her ‘adventure’, had climbed into a bunk and gone to sleep.

  We could see the tire place from one of the windows. So after plotting the best route, it was decided that Tim, Samantha, and I would make for the place tomorrow morning before sunrise. The plan would be for Antonio to open the big door and retreat to the RV. Then, they would drive out very slowly, go six blocks up the street, and just wait. As most of the zombies would likely follow, the three of us could make a run for it with the best chance of success. It would be risky, but, we had few options at this point.

  Antonio and Rodney went to work on a pulley system that would hopefully allow the door to be opened from someplace safer like the roof of the RV. Reggie went in to make dinner, but before she did, she pulled me aside.

  “Once we get out of this…I want to get to know you better,” she was looking up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, her hair hanging down in her face like a veil. Then, she kissed me on the cheek, spun on her heel, and vanished into the RV.

  I was with Tim and Samantha, picking out places we could run for if things went bad. Also, we were trying to identify likely places for those things to be ‘hiding’. Seriously, some of those bastards are like trapdoor spiders…just waiting for an unsuspecting tidbit to wander past.

  The scream startled us all.

  I turned in time to see Reggie come stumbling out of the RV…with Amanda draped on her back. Blood was already streaming from a nasty rip on the nape of Reggie’s neck. Amanda’s teeth closed on the meaty part of the top of Reggie’s left arm, just below the joint. She tore away a chunk of flesh causing Reggie to scream in agony.

  Greg was closest and grabbed Amanda by the hair, jerking her head back and jamming the 9mm that seemed to just appear in his hand against her forehead. He fired, the blast echoing throughout the big, open warehouse.

  Reggie fell to the ground, sobbing and moaning in pain. Greg tossed Amanda aside and joined me. I had run to her along with Samantha and Tim.

  Apparently, while she was making dinner, she never even heard Amanda come up behind her. Not that any of us had any reason to think she’d been bitten. But then, nobody had thought to check her after that incident in the house.

  Greg was blaming himself and all of us were so shocked. I had Reggie in my arms, so I should’ve noticed when she picked up Greg’s gun where he had dropped it after shooting Amanda.

  Without warning, she jerked away from me, shoved the gun in her mouth, and pulled the trigger. We all sat there in stunned silence. Nobody could blame her really. I mean, who wants to come back as one of those disgusting abominations?

  Only…she never said goodbye.

  Saturday, March 22

  We’ve decided to wait a day. I mean really…where do we have to be? Nobody felt like doing much of anything. You’d think that loss would be acceptable now. I guess, if we ever do reach that point, we’re no better than those things outside.

  We couldn’t bury the bodies. So, after saying a few words, we closed them up in a bathroom. Antonio found some paints and painted a cross with a vine of flowers climbing it. On each arm of the cross he put Reggie and Amanda’s name.

  Greg is still blaming himself and hasn’t spoken since the incident. We will not let their deaths go to waste. From now on, we do full body check-ups anytime somebody comes back from being outside. Julia has agreed to check everyone out. Her being a nurse, it just seemed like the logical choice. Then, one of the gals can check Julia. We started today. Everyone is clean.

  Sunday, March 23

  About a third of those things outside have wandered off! We’ve stayed quiet. The hope is that more will leave. If we can just be patient, perhaps this gets a bit easier.

  Still, don’t want to be too optimistic. Everybody is staying away from the windows. We talk in whispers. Only Joey i
s having problems with this since he can’t play with his ball anymore. I promised he could play with it as soon as we get on the road again and find a big open place.

  That made him smile.

  Monday, March 24

  It feels great to be back on the road again. Our waiting things out for a couple of days really helped. Only about a hundred of those things were outside when we got up early this morning.

  As soon as it was light enough to see, we got everybody loaded into the RV. Antonio was able to pull the door open, and Rodney was rolling out before those walking bags of pus could react. Those things are, thankfully, quite predictable. They all stumbled after the vehicle, and of course the engine noise attracted more attention, but it was all going away from where Tim, Samantha, and I were headed.

  We bolted as quick as possible out a side window and ran for the tire store. As I reached the corner, one of those damned things caught me. It was really just a torso with arms and a head. Both legs looked to have been physically ripped off! This poor bastard had to have suffered some horrific pain. Torso-man was naked and had chunks missing from all over. I mean this guy was a mess. One eye had burst, and the jelly had mixed and dried with the blood all over its face.

  So, Torso-man grabbed my ankle as I passed and was trying to pull my leg to its mouth. I kicked it in the face with a steel-toed boot, shattering teeth as well as lower jaw. This thing didn’t even register the blow. Tim kept running and Samantha glanced back, but we all agreed, each one must take care of themselves until we get our prize. In the back of my mind, I heard a raspy Vulcan say, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one.”

  I kicked again and rolled away. Five or six more of them were around me, the closest within striking range, the farthest about fifteen feet. I was on my knees and just as this farmer straight out of that painting American Gothic was lunging, I launched myself backwards. I literally rolled heels over head and popped up in time to set my feet and swing my bat at Farmer’s waxy, bluish forehead. It was enough to open an escape route, and I was gone.

  I caught Samantha and Tim as they were climbing through a rectangular window that was running lengthwise on the garage side of the place. They had already pushed a Dumpster into position and broken the glass. I jumped up and dove through, landing on the hard concrete just a bit awkwardly. I felt something give in my knee and the pain made my vision go white for just a few seconds.

  I tried to stand, but the pain renewed its intensity. I fell to the floor, crying out. Tim and Samantha shot me a look that had me considering my options. I could see the true concern and sympathy. I also saw looks that told me there would be no help coming. If I could not fend for myself, I was screwed. They were already scanning the stock for the right size tire. Once it was located, the next part of the plan would be relying on Samantha and I to go to the front of this tire store and draw attention so that Tim could slip out the side window we had entered through, jump from the Dumpster and catch the lip of the roof, then pull himself up. All before being noticed and having something grab his legs.

  Once he was up, he would drop the line around his waist for us to grab, tie on a tire, and guide it. Once we had a few spares, he would fire the flare gun and Rodney would come for us.

  Then, back to the lumberyard and the relative safety so we could repair the tire. Tim would give the RV a good look-see, and then we roll out of town and find a deserted field or wooded area to catch our breath.

  While Samantha and I made our way to the front, Tim set five tires and two new rims by the window and did his thing. I found a nice four-inch wide strip of rubber about five feet long and wrapped my knee as tight as I could. It still hurt like hell, but I could move.

  Samantha and I made all kinds of noise to draw attention until we heard Tim call. Then, one tire after another, followed by the rims, and we had what we came for. I gave Samantha a reassuring pat and she was gone.

  Getting out to the Dumpster wasn’t too bad. But I couldn’t jump to catch the roof. So, I stood on this Dumpster, swinging my bat. Once it got crowded, I started shooting. Tim had already fired the flare as soon as he saw Samantha and I on the Dumpster. Neither could lean over and reach me. They tried, but I was stuck.

  I was never so scared with those things on three sides, reaching, snapping their teeth together. Finally, Rodney pulled up. The look on his face when he pulled around and saw me…absolutely priceless.

  I can laugh now, but it was terrifying looking down into those empty, white-filmed, black-bloodshot eyes. Seeing those waxy, rotting, filthy hands reaching for me. Feeling the Dumpster tremble and rock as more bodies surged forward to get at me.

  Rodney was able, once Tim and Samantha had transferred the haul and jumped onto the roof of the RV, to pull up and plow the hordes of undead against the front of my rusty metal island out of the way. Tim helped drag me up, and the rest was almost academic.

  It is late…I’m very tired, and my knee—Julia says it is a severe sprain—hurts like crazy. I can feel my pulse in the pain. I sure miss ice. At least we have a good supply of ibuprofen on hand.

  Julia is pulling into a big open field. The moon is bright enough on this clear night that we’ve got pretty good visibility. We’ve seen no movement in over an hour.

  Tuesday, March 25

  I awoke to gunfire and the sounds of engines revved high. Antonio was on watch and burst through the side-door which is only able to be opened from inside, but we leave it open if we are on watch and making a check of the area. The rule is that you cannot let the RV out of your sight.

  Anyways…everybody is scrambling and Antonio is so worked up he is having trouble keeping his Spanish out as he tries to explain what is going on. I bound out of bed, and hit the floor…totally forgot about the knee until the pain explodes behind my eyes and almost makes me throw-up. Guns are being drawn of every sort.

  I crawl to the driver’s seat and start the engine while Tim, Rodney, Samantha, Greg, Julia, and Antonio rush outside. I see this quad-runner bouncing over every bump in the field with a beat-up red jeep in pursuit. The quad is zigging and zagging, but it is only a matter of time before the jeep closes the distance.

  The person on the quad obviously sees us and is making right for our group. I can’t see anybody except Greg and Tim who have moved in front and are waving their guns—each is holding a shotgun—in a very distinct manner that could not be mistaken for anything but a warning.

  The jeep skids to a halt and somebody on the passenger’s side pokes out through a window and takes a few shots—all misses—then whoever is driving turns tail and hauls ass. The person on the quad is now on foot, arms in the air, showing open and empty hands.

  That is how we met Meredith Gainey.

  Wednesday, March 26

  I am convinced that mankind is truly awful. Life as we know it has been nuked and I find that it is not the cream rising to the top, but rather a moldy crust that needs to be cut away.

  How can it be that so few good and decent folk survived? Will the dregs of our former society be all that is left? Or, is it simply that, ungoverned, we are barbaric monsters, no better than those creatures we run from? Are they really a depiction of what lies in our deepest, most true selves?

  Certainly I have met some fantastic people: Tom Langston, Monica Campinelli, Al Godwin, and Reggie Vaughn. Yet, more often, it is folks like those gangbangers at the hospital, Dewey Morton, whoever those folks were back in Pasco, and now…it seems that the people chasing Meredith are a gang of marauding, raping, pillaging lunatics. A band of men who see women as a commodity and will take what they want, even if it means killing innocent and terrified men, women, and children to get it.

  The real kicker? Their leader was the sheriff of Sparrow Falls! These men have been scouring the region since the second week of this nightmare and actively seeking women they deem attractive. They keep them as sex slaves and those who don’t meet their ‘standards’ become servants…or…bait.

  It seems t
his group uses women it has no physical need for to bait zombies away from an objective. To add to the already despicable acts these men (and I only use the term to define their gender) commit, they take women who may have been married—some with children whom they simply execute by gun or zombie—to free for more leisurely responsibilities.

  Meredith is recovering from pretty severe malnutrition (being without food and water was the norm as the most passive form of coercion). She was absolutely filthy when she literally dropped on our “doorstep”. She was so covered with blood we initially thought she had been shot. Samantha and Julia cleaned her up and Julia determined she was clean…none of that blood was hers. Julia gave her a sedative.

  I guess she related some fairly horrifying accounts to the two while she was being cleaned up. Whatever it was, they’re not saying much. Julia said it was up to Meredith if she wanted the details of her situation known to all of us. All that was shared was the basic information about more bad people doing bad things.

  Meredith has slept, albeit somewhat restlessly, for most of the past thirty hours. We have been parked in an apple orchard, and had to take down a couple of straggling zombies. But other than that, things are quiet.

  Thursday, March 27

  We’ve heard a lot of shooting today. It was a difficult decision to just sit here when the screaming could be heard not too far away. However, we are only seven people (not counting Joey and Meredith). The reality is, we have to take care of ourselves. We cannot save the world.