Zomblog II (12 page)

Thursday, January 29

First full day out. I guess I can admit I was happy to see Jonathan and Jenifer standing there with their bags. Having Shari along is okay. She tends to fuss over me and I don’t much like that. Also, she has me drinking so much damn water, and I already feel like I have to pee twenty-four hours a day.

Today we moved down the center of Highway 26. We found a stretch that was largely uncongested. There were sections that seem to have been bulldozed clear, all the vehicles are off the road and in the ditch. We had to move really slow, and because of the thick cloud cover overhead, our ability to see was severely hampered. I will never get used to the utter darkness of night we now experience. Even living out in the sticks, there was still ambient light. Also, you could see a glow on the horizon where the cities like Pasco sprawled out across the countryside landscape. Now, there is nothing. And on nights like this, with nothing overhead but thick clouds, we have to break out our red-lensed flashlights.

This was also the first night we’ve heard gunfire in a while. It came from our left. There was a series of single shots, a short burst of auto or semi-automatic weapons fire, then silence. There is really no telling how far away it was. Like the darkness, sound carries differently. Or at least it seems to now that silence is the norm.

Speaking of silence, I noticed that nobody has really said a word since we left—not counting the exception of a handful of times that Shari nagged me about eating these nasty fiber wafers she dredged up from the kitchens of Torquemada and drinking more water. In a way it’s kinda nice. Nobody seems to feel the need to talk just to fill the silence. And once you get used to it, it’s not that uncomfortable.

Friday, January 30

Everybody is mad at me. That is the bad news. The good news is that we are camped inside an honest-to-goodness supermarket. This place is huge. And while there is nothing in the way of food to be scavenged, there is a plethora of supplies still at hand. I’m guessing that the grocery side of the place was blitzed when this whole thing got nasty. God, has it been just over a year since those first cases started showing up? However, the store sits dead center—no pun intended—of the busiest part of the Portland suburb called Beaverton. There are a lot of military vehicles in little knots and bunches around this area. All long abandoned.

So we were moving down the eastbound lane of the highway since the westbound was bumper-to-bumper. The clouds were trying to clear out, and sunrise was just painting the sky. Jenifer knew the area and said that if things weren’t too hairy, there were a lot of supply possibilities in the area.

According to my map, we’ve only travelled a total of eight miles. We’ve probably put at least double that amount of miles under our feet, just not in a straight line. I realize that the first night we had to adjust our route to stay clear of the hordes down below. Which reminds me, the hospital is swarming with them again. We didn’t want a bunch of those things on our tail, so we went up into the woods a bit and circled wide.

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
.