Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (10 page)

What we saw today is not very encouraging. This morning after breakfast, there were several men, inmates apparently considering their clothing (blue jeans and a blue tee shirt) led to those scaffolds. One by one they were paraded up the stairs, usually kicking and screaming. There was usually a cheer that would cause the individual to renew his struggles. Then the person would be shoved, or sometimes thrown, into the crowd of zombies waiting on the other side of the fifteen-foot-high fence that isolated the prison yard from the open compound.

Even from up here, we could hear the screams.

I did notice that with so many of those things attacking and feasting, there is nothing left to come back. It is obvious that the inmates have thought of that also. It seems that there are two forms of punishment.

A couple of men were saved until the end. These men were bound by the wrists and ankles. A large inverted el, like a hangman’s scaffold was brought and placed atop one of the platforms. The unfortunate soul chosen for this fate is attached to a rope on a pulley system and bobbed like bait on a hook. He is bitten a number of times by the sound of the screams, then raised up out of reach of the sea of grasping, clutching hands and snapping jaws below. His wrists and ankles are freed once he dies or loses consciousness. When it awakes, the inmates cut it loose to join those below.

On the good side, Tim, Antonio, and Samantha returned on mountain bikes with packs loaded with food and basic hygiene supplies. That is nice for two reasons. The obvious being the stuff. However, they took off on foot. Those bikes allow them to move quickly and stay quiet. Not one zombie was on their trail. They did say there was no shortage that had to be dispatched.

I filled everybody in on what I saw. They will give me one more day to see if I can spot my friend, then we are outta here.

There is too much risk to validate my making any attempt to rescue Paul. Not only is the fence lined with those things, there are hundreds more simply wandering the area. Add to that the unlikely possibility that the majority of the inhabitants of that prison will do us any favors and I understand that I have no choice but to leave my friend to whatever fate he finds in that place.

In all my time watching, I’ve not seen anybody leave. I have no idea if or how they forage. I’ve seen absolutely no sign of life in the town itself. If there are other survivors, they’ve either left or chosen to remain completely out of sight. We will leave tonight a few hours after midnight. We want to draw as little attention as possible. Once we are on I-84, we have open roads as far as we can see.

The plan now is to avoid large population areas. We will follow the

* * * * *

We’ve been captured.  So far, that is the bad news.  I’ve seen none of the others since the night we were taken by inmates from the prison.  Nobody will answer any of my questions.  I am stuck alone in a thirteen-by-six cell with a stainless steel sink and toilet, and a metal hardpan with a three-inch thick foam mattress.  The windows are frosted on the outside so that all I can see is if it is day or night.

Three times a day, somebody comes to my door, a slot is opened, and a tray is slid in with a meal.  Surprisingly, it is a hot, balanced meal.  The quality reminds me of school lunches when I was a kid.  Today, I had a hamburger and french fries!  A half hour later, the tray is handed back.  I’ve never had the nerve to refuse.

I have noticed that it is never the same person bringing the meal, or picking up the tray.  Nobody will speak to me or answer any questions.  Occasionally, I hear a commotion, but it sounds like it is coming from below which leads me to believe I am on at least the second or third floor.

My, what I guessed to be the second day, I was given a questionnaire.  It asked if I had known allergies, diseases, or medical conditions that required any attention.  Also, I was gi
ven a bible and a list of books.  They actually brought me two books to read.  Today I was asked by the person who took my lunch tray if I was ready to exchange my books for new ones!

To say the least, I am very confused.

This morning I was told to place my back to the door and present my wrists through the tray slot.  I was handcuffed, then told to step away from the door and get on my knees.  My door was then opened and somebody placed a dark hood over my head.  My first thought was, this is it!  I’m going to be marched out and thrown into that yard with those things.

Instead, I was marched down what I assume to be a corridor and deposited into what turns out to be a shower stall with bars.  I was uncuffed and told that when the door shut, I could remove the hood.  I was surprised to be in a shower!  More surprised to find hot water!

A bar of soap, shampoo, a toothbrush with paste already applied, and a towel were on a shelf.  It was amazing!  A voice called in to warn me I had two minutes after I had undressed.  I was instructed to push my clothes through the bars.  That was when I noticed one of those orange jumpsuits I’ve seen on TV and in the movies, a pair of underwear, socks, and slip-on docksiders.

After my shower, I did the entire process in reverse.  Of course they did not let me keep the toothbrush or anything else, but…I’m clean.

I still couldn’t get anybody to talk to me, much less a
nswer any questions.  But, and this was huge, I was told that all my friends are “okay.”  I’m not sure what that means exactly, but, it is somewhat comforting.

Today has been one of revelations and surprises.  This morning, I got my first surprise with breakfast.  My friend Paul brought it!  When he handed me my tray, he said that he would be back after I ate.  I gotta say, I didn’t taste much.  I was so anxious that time went slower than normal.  I found myself pacing as I ate.  I couldn’t sit still.

Finally, Paul came to my door.  He told me to step away and stay put until the door closed again.  He came in and called out for them to “shut eleven.”  He took a seat, using the stainless steel toilet like it was a chair.  He asked me how I was and if I had been treated okay.  I told him I was fine, but was concerned about my friends, especially Samantha and Reggie (and to a ce
rtain extent Joey in a different way).  He said that everybody was fine, the women hadn’t been touched.  As for Joey, my concern for him was apparently unfounded.  He’s been like some sort of unofficial mascot.  The past two days, he had been outside!  Playing Frisbee! (I’d have to see that for myself.)

Paul asked about my family.  I told him about Erin and Beth.  I also tried to give him an idea about how things were on the outside.  I explained that I had come looking for him specif
ically.  That was one of his first big surprises:  he has no intention of leaving!

He went into what had happened here at the prison.  The facility went into total lockdown.  The guards were bringing meals, all of the day-to-day functions were basically cancelled.  Then, one of the guards turned.  It caused a panic and a huge riot broke out.  Apparently, half of the prison is open dorms.  It star
ted there.  In no time, the already short-staffed prison was overtaken by the inmates.

At some point, the infected were forced out to what Paul called West Yard.  Eventually, all the remaining staff were tossed into that yard as well.  He said it was horrific as male and female correctional officers were thrown in with the handful of zombies.  Some ran for the fence only to get torn up in the razor wire.  A couple actually escaped.

The inmates quickly organized and began making weapons in the carpentry and welding shops.  They united in preparation for some sort of outside response.

None came.

A week later, they had the perimeter fence covered in old blankets, making it harder for anybody on the ground to see in and do anything.  But, shortly after that, the in-fighting began.  First, it was the Whites, Hispanics and Natives against the Blacks.  Then, the Hispanics turned on the Natives.  After that they (the Hispanics) turned on each other based on gang affiliation.  For the last bit, the Whites just hung back…waiting.  Then, the surviving Hispanics were finished off by the Whites.

After that, a new movement started with surprising co
nsequences.  Prison has its own social structure.  At the very bottom are the sex offenders, called ‘freaks’.  Guys in on murder, drugs, and robbery are considered ‘solid dudes’.  The
solid dudes
decided to eliminate the
freaks
.  However, being outnumbered three-to-one, it was the
solid dudes
who ended up on the losing end.

It seems that the
freaks
, many who had been beaten and extorted regularly, decided to fight back once they had been backed into the proverbial corner.  Not all of the
solid dudes
were killed.  It seems that there were significant amounts that had refused to join in on the persecution, and thus were spared.

The prison has a steam plant that is kept up by inmates.  Additionally the facility also underwent an experimental solar power refit a couple of years ago.

Paul said that anybody who wanted to leave was allowed to go a couple of weeks ago.  Anybody who wants to leave is told to do so if and when they want.

I asked if that included me and my group.  Paul assures me that we are all free to leave!  That, I pointed out, seems like an empty promise considering we were captured and thrown into cells.

He explained that it was a precaution.  It seems that when you are confined and look at the same view every day, little changes leap out at you.  Our RV was spotted instantly.  When we didn’t leave, there was concern that we might be a threat.  I guess this prison was once an asylum…literally.  It was equipped with a crematorium to dispose of unclaimed bodies.  There is an underground tunnel that was once used to transport bodies out of sight of the living patients to limit the upset caused by simply moving a dead body in the open.  When this place was converted to Eastern State Prison, that tunnel was walled up.  The inmates now use that tunnel (they’ve knocked down the wall) to sneak in and out.  They only do so when it is dark.  That explains why we never saw anybody coming or going.  Also, how they snuck up on us.

Paul told me I was free to leave this cell if I wanted.  He got up, called for them to “unrack eleven” and he left.

I guess I’ll go take a look around.

Thursday, March 6

Early morning

Paul made good on letting us leave.  It was strange in the sense that, after asking around, everybody was treated decently.  Nobody was harassed or harmed.  Joey acted like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave. Not that it was ever up for debate, but Paul insisted that the boy leave with us.  Despite my personal connection with him, there are several known pedophiles.  Funny thing, even the sex offenders have a “pecking order”.

So, we leave one strange reality and return to another.  They had the RV in a locked sally-port.  It was no problem climbing in, and once they opened the outer gate, rolling out.  We decided to make a trip through the downtown area of Pen
dleton.

The zombies had to earn this town!

The streets are strewn with now-decaying corpses that are no longer ambulatory.  They are almost pathetic.

Of course, there are plenty still shambling about.  Our vehicle drew attention fast.  As long as we keep moving, they aren’t a threat.

Holy Crap!  There are people on top of a mom-and-pop diner!

Early evening

Now we have a problem.  We took in three survivors.  Julia Mills—a whip-thin fifty-eight-year-old black woman who used to be a nurse at the prison, Amanda Prentiss—a sixteen- year-old girl from the Pendleton area with raven hair and olive skin that suggests something exotic from one parent, but she’s not talking…due to the shock.  That brings me to Dewey Morton, a thirty-one-year-old (so he claims…but looks at least ten years older) recently incarcerated man.  He’s about six feet tall and three hundred pounds.  Apparently he has been doing unspeakable things to the females for the better part of two weeks.

There was a third female.  Dewey tossed her to zombies to convince the others he was serious.  He made Julia and Amanda watch the young girl (apparently a twelve-year-old Hispanic) be eaten alive.  Then, (as if that wasn’t enough) he hauled the girl back up with the rope he had tied around the girl’s waist.  He bound her hands and gagged her, then tied the body to a water pipe.  Once the girl re-animated, he made the two watch him violate the corpse!  Apparently his example was simply to illustrate their choice of serving him as a sex slave…alive or dead.

Of course, we have Julia and Amanda safe and sound with us.  Dewey is still on the roof.  Tim and Rodney are currently “keeping him company.”

Late evening

God forgive us
.

We had a meeting to decide the fate of Mr. Morton.  It was heated to say the least.  Reggie believed that we should take him back to the prison and let them deal with this. Tim, Rodney, and Samantha felt that, based on what they had seen and heard, they’d just let this guy out with no punishment…and who knows what other vile acts he would commit.  Antonio said nothing.  Greg and I wanted to toss the bastard off the roof into the wai
ting horde of zombies gathered below.

This entire debate was happening on the roof of the re
staurant while Dewey Morton cried, pleaded, and begged.  He kept saying he was sorry and that he “needed his meds”.  Finally Tim just backhanded him and he lay still, whimpering quietly.

Nobody noticed Amanda climb up through the hatch of the RV.  All of a sudden, she’s hitting and kicking her tormentor, screaming hysterically.  We were breaking up the beating when Greg and I made eye contact.  We simply tossed the guy off the roof.

He landed on a bunch of waiting zombies and vanished under a pile.  The screams were incredible.  At one point, he emerged.  He was covered in blood and a large flap of his face hung loose where it looked like something had tried to rip his scalp off from back to front.  He couldn’t scream anymore because his throat was torn out.  He staggered a couple of steps, then collapsed.  We watched in horrified fascination as zombies swarmed him like ants on a grasshopper, each one tearing off a piece for itself until there was only a large stain of gore left on the asphalt.

We got Amanda back in the RV and headed for a place on the map called Cabbage Hill.  We found an open area on top of a bluff and are waiting until sunrise to head out. 

Friday, March 7

This morning Amanda was up with the sun.  She is all smiles and carrying on like the world is normal.  I didn’t need Julia to tell me that she is masking some pretty deep pain.  We’ll need to keep a close eye on that girl.

After a breakfast of canned peaches and peanut butter crackers with instant coffee, we hooked north on Route 11.  The plan now is to cross over into Washington and keep heading north until we reach I-90.  From there, the idea is to head to Montana or one of the Dakotas.  Someplace with minimal population.  We’ll be moving slow so we can scavenge as much as possible. 

We are reaching Pasco now.  Funny thing as we cross the Blue Bridge that spans the Columbia River, the water is beaut
iful.  In just over a month, it seems that nature is washing man away.

Evening

A day that began so perfectly has quickly taken a turn.  I’ve been separated from the others.

We stopped on this long, straight road that cuts through a rural farm area.  The plan was for us to split into teams and check houses.  I paired up with Reggie, Samantha and Rodney teamed, and Tim, Antonio and Julia (she insisted) formed a group.  Greg stayed in the RV with Joey and Amanda.

Everybody chose a house and set off.  The zombies out here are spread out, so we didn’t even need to run.  You can see them staggering towards you from forever away, so, things seemed simple.

We were almost to the house we had chosen to search when these big trucks came hauling-ass down the hill opposite us and right at the RV.  Greg tried to take off, but they boxed him in.  It was like, whoever these folks were, they had this trap set and waiting.  There was a lot of shooting, but I have no idea if anybody was hit.  Reggie and I made it to an orchard on the backside of the property that the house we were heading for sits on.

It was in the orchard that we made another discovery.  There are zombies hung from several of the trees.  If you run through this area haphazardly, you’ll likely run right into one.  Running through this at night would be certain death.

By the time we reached the other end of the orchard and came out to a big open field and rolling hills, the shouting and gunfire had stopped.  We found a dry creek bed and have fo
llowed it for most of the day.

The sun has been down
for several hours.  There are no signs that anybody is chasing or following us.  Out here in the middle of nowhere, the zombies are seemingly non-existent.  Still, Reggie and I will sleep in shifts.

Saturday, March 8

You never realize how cold it gets at night until you’ve spent the night outside, huddled under a muddy coat with just yourself and the person shivering beside you for warmth.  Reggie was shaking so bad at one point that I thought she was having convulsions. 

The gray morning finally dawned and we walked for most of it along the ditch that we spent the night in.  Occasiona
lly I climbed out to take a look.  Finally I spotted a ranch house.

It is amazing. With the houses in these parts so spread out, how did this terrible event reach the most remote of places?  And where are the animals?  This place had what looked like one of those mechanisms that you hook a horse up to so it can walk in circles.  But there are no horses in sight.