Zomblog (7 page)

It seems funny leaving, but we found out yesterday that our little bastion is sorely lacking in some things. Tom and I will leave tomorrow if we can manage to draw those things away from an area of the fence.

The plan is simple: Everybody will come out and climb ladders that allow them to get on top of the trailer rigs. They will split into two groups and go in opposite directions. Hopefully that will lure enough of the zombies away from an area, even for a moment, so that Tom and I can climb up, jump, and run for one of the cars in the lot.

We have some decent two-way radios that Greg set up so that we can contact a base radio he’s got rigged here at the complex. We’ve agreed to report in during even numbered hours. It has also been agreed that if something goes wrong, we are on our own. There will not be a rescue party.

After hammering out some details, we called everybody together to explain our plan. Most of the folks, while not liking the fact that we (mostly in regards to Tom) would be going outside the fence, understood that there were things we had to have.

Of course this led to a few other ideas that we hadn’t even considered when we came up with the original plan. Greg suggested that we hit a home and garden store. If we can find some seeds, we should attempt a garden since even the processed food we do have will eventually run out.

This, in turn, brought the suggestion that we take a couple more people. Tom explained that, before anybody stepped up to volunteer, it must be understood that no rescue would come if the mission went poorly.

Al Godwin was the first to volunteer. Dennis wanted to, but understood the reason we could not let him. Scott Anderson stepped forward after a quiet conference with his sister. The last person was Preston Cox.

Preston is thirty. He’s about five-foot-eight and a buck fifty. His arms are almost totally covered in tattoos. He says he was in the Navy for four years straight out of high school and has been a postal carrier since he got out. He knows the area around the hospital; which might be pretty handy.

Today has been a roller coaster.

Right now, we are trying to figure out how to get home to the complex without losing anybody else. We are on the roof of the Fred Meyer store in North Plains. One thing is for sure, everybody who thought all the zombies were busy surrounding our complex was dead wrong.

The day started with so much promise. It was sunny, and almost warm…in the upper 50s to low 60s. Everybody climbed up on the trailers just as planned. Tom, Al, Scott, Preston, and I stayed on the ground, even taking care to hide behind a couple of forklifts to make ourselves scarce.

The folks began making all kinds of noise. As hoped, those things got agitated. The moans and other gawdawful noises they make got really loud. The groups split and it actually caused the mob to tear apart. There were still stragglers, and some from the rear sorta rolled down the makeshift alley, but it thinned considerably as those things focused on following our people.

Somebody yelled, “Now or never!” and we made our move. Trying to be as efficient as possible, we had five ladders up side-by-side. The jump was the worst part. As soon as we hit the ground, that ten-foot-or-so alley began to close. Fortunately, we only had a few feet to go to be clear of the main mob. That only left the stragglers, and in seconds (each seeming like micro-eternities) we had reached the big, red four-by-four pick-up truck that Tom said we would use.

Tom, Preston, and I hopped in the cab while Al and Scott climbed in back. The engine turned over and we were gone. A decent cluster of those things came in pursuit, and for all I know could be down in that mob below that are pressing against and clawing at the side of this store. The crowd has tripled in the last hour. I would guess they are about twenty or thirty deep, heads upturned in a sea of grasping, clutching, claw-like hands, eyes all milky, giving an exaggerated emphasis on the black-blood filled capillaries. And the stench…

Anyways, we made it to the highway with no problems. Tom took us to an exit that led to an upscale development. He said that the neighborhood might be risky, but it would take us past the road block.

The neighborhood was a nightmare. Men, women, and children had lived in this high-priced piece of suburbia. Now there was only death. Death made more grotesque and unsettling as more of the zombies in that place were children than adult.

It was there that I saw…we all saw… something that will never allow itself to be erased from memory. A woman, or what had once been one, was standing in the front yard of a beautiful brick split-level home. Clutched in one arm was a wriggling form…like a giant grub. Except it had four twitching, flailing appendages. A thick black cable ran from the wriggling grub-thing to the crotch of the woman-thing.

Still, those monsters were everywhere and there were many more visual horrors to see. They came stumbling out of houses, backyards, and from behind cars. That baby-cry sound we’d been hearing around the complex was audible on occasion, which makes me shudder to think of anybody that went to investigate.

Tom drove quick but careful. We dove down a couple of side streets and even backtracked a time or two. He said that was to keep the zombies as confused as possible. They seem to track something well it if moves in a straight line. Before too long, we were on a two-lane road headed north to Highway 26.

The drive to North Plains was pretty smooth until about a mile or so out. Then the stragglers became groups, which grew to packs, which bloomed into mobs. We had no choice but to park the truck. It fit in with the many and various other cars all over both sides of 26.

Tom pulled over at an overpass. There were so many of those things coming down the off-ramp he decided it best to stop at a location we could backtrack to and find with minimal trouble. Already Al and Scott were having to bring their bats into play as a couple of those things were at the truck before Tom shut off the engine.

The three of us bailed out leaving those radios sitting useless on the seat. For the next few seconds it was hectic. Tom told Al and Scott to start shooting since we weren’t too concerned about drawing more attention than we already had. They took out the few that were blocking the way to a huge open field that we had decided to cross. The hospital sign was visible through some trees at the far edge.

All of a sudden there was a loud thud, and Scott was screaming. One of those things above us on the overpass had just tumbled off, landing on Scott. I don’t know how it didn’t knock the wind out of him, but his screams were a testament that he had plenty of air.

Ironically, the zombie on top of Scott was a woman who looked to have been a nurse. Scott struggled to get the thing off as Al, obviously spooked, was trying to recover himself to get a shot. Preston, Tom, and I had our own problems as more of these things were coming from every direction. If we didn’t run soon…we’d be done for.

Then Scott screamed again. This time it was the scream of somebody in terrible pain. We’d all heard it before. It has a very distinct sound. Al stumbled back and almost fell out of the bed of the truck. That was when Tom yelled, “Run!”

He took off, and we all followed. Initially it was instinct. Each of us has to live with the fact that once we regained our sense…we kept running.

Crossing the field was not much problem. It was easy to avoid the twenty or so zombies actually in the field. By the time we reached the other side, the smell had grown noticeably stronger. Tom hoisted himself up on the fence first and I think his exact words were, “Holy shit…we’re screwed.”

I got up beside him along with Al and Preston to see. He was right. They were…they ARE everywhere. I had no idea how many people there were out here in the boonies. Funny how it seems like so many more when they are all out to eat you alive.

To reach the hospital, we would have to run across a parking lot full of those things. The distance was ominous enough. But seeing more of them stumbling out of the wide-open doorway only added to our trepidation.

We might have backed out and tried someplace else, except, right at that moment, a whole bunch of gunfire sounded. And it was close by.

In the street out front of the hospital’s Emergency Entrance, several cars roared up and came to screeching halts. From where we were, these new arrivals were just around the corner to our left. Almost in unison, every zombie in our field of vision turned and headed for the noisy distraction. Since none of them had spotted us yet, we only had the ones in the field to worry about and none of those were within twenty feet.

Tom didn’t look to see if we would follow, he just jumped and made a dash for the big double-doors that were currently clear. The rest of us followed. The gunfire continued as we ducked into the gloomy entry foyer. Shadowy figures moved all around. This was quickly seeming like a bad idea.

Tom plucked a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. It was directions from Monica on where to find the narcotics locker. Dennis had written out a prioritized list as well so that we could grab-and-go as quickly as possible.

From here, we had a plan to put into motion. Preston and I ran for the pharmacy. Tom headed off with Al to fill their bags with the drugs and some medical supplies Dennis had asked for. I had my own map and list to take care of and pulled it out. As I scanned it one more time, Preston stepped up and swung his bat at what had once been a frail old man. I glanced at a sign on the wall and headed down the corridor towards the pharmacy.

At some point, the gunfire outside had stopped. If there were people with the same idea as us, maybe we could work together. Hell, maybe they would want to come back with us.

Preston and I ran along, only pausing for doorways and intersections. Apparently most of the zombies had wandered outside at the noise. It was almost unnerving to find so little resistance. Still, when we reached the waiting lobby in front of the prescription windows there were a few zombies to take care of.

After handling the immediate threats, I checked the door…just to be sure. It was locked, but you have to try or it looks pretty silly when you discover you bypassed the easy way by not checking something so simple. The window was some sort of reinforced glass. It took me ten or twelve swings to break it. Of course that was drawing attention as each blow echoed down the halls.

Preston and I climbed through and began raking bottles of pills and syrups into our packs. We tried to hurry, but already there was a throng of those things at the window. Luckily, we’d be exiting the door that opened into a hall on the side, away from the service windows.

Even taking less than a minute, we managed an impressive haul. I pulled my gun. Tom had said that on the way out, shooting would be a signal that the other group could hear. Plus, since we were leaving, it wouldn’t be a concern if it drew zombies inside.

Preston threw open the door. I was ready for anything that might be on the other side. Sure enough, filling the door frame was one of them. Obviously a former patient, this thing had a few wires and tubes still sticking out of its arms. It had been an obscenely obese woman with short, bowl-cut black hair. The tattered remnants of her hospital gown was caked in dried gore and one entire pendulous breast was simply gone.

I fired, the bullet catching it in the center of the forehead. It toppled back, and Preston followed me through the door. To our right those things were giving up on trying to get through the service window and staggering into the corridor. To the left, we had an open escape route that led to a door.

We ran as the booming echo of more gunfire sounded. At first I thought it was Tom and Al, only, the single shots turned to the chatter of automatic weapons. Then, indecipherable shouting. Something was definitely not right. I reached the door ahead of Preston. Of course it was locked. The first shot didn’t help, but the second one did. Throwing open the door, I was at the back of a nurse’s station. On the other side of the counter, a couple of those things were turning our way. They were still distant enough that I could save my bullets.

We jumped up onto, and then over the counter and headed towards daylight. It was pretty dark here, with only ambient illumination from open rooms up and down this hall where sunlight was coming through blinds or curtains.

One of those things lurched out of a room and collided with me, knocking me into an abandoned cart of some sort. I heard my gun slide across the floor. As I was scrambling to my feet, Preston booted the thing in the side, sending it over and onto its back. By the time it regained its feet, I had my gun and we were gone. Through all of this, we kept hearing intermittent gun-fire.

We rounded the corner and an exit loomed like a glowing rectangle of salvation. We reached the doors and burst out onto a sunlit landing. A quick look revealed that we were on the opposite side of the hospital from where we had seen those cars arrive. From our vantage point there was a park with a huge pond. If we kept running straight out the door, to our left was the main street that, even from here where a lot of trees and bushes prevented a clear view, was crowded with hundreds of those things. To our right…the back lot…a high fence…and the way out of here.

Before we could decide what to do next, a late 70s model Camaro came fishtailing around the corner to our left. It was Tom! We ran for it as he skidded to a stop in front of us.

We got in and Tom was flooring it before the door was shut. He did a hard u-turn, sending both Preston and I slamming into the passenger side of the car in a big jumble.

“Al turned on us,” Tom snarled as he wove through abandoned cars and pursuing zombies.

As we skidded sideways onto Main Street, hordes of those things converged. It was impossible to avoid running them down. A parking lot held promise with those things more spread out than on this congested two-lane road.