Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (16 page)

Since Greg, Kevin, and I have already decided to take off, we agreed there was no time like the present. The five of us spoke briefly of our past and Kevin recounted his story. Steve remarked that there was a rumor that some CDC team had lan
ded at the base about a week after things got ugly…late January. The next day they were simply gone and nobody knew where.

Greg and I shared a glance, but we didn’t say a word.

All of us are now heading back to Ritzville to see if we can talk some sense into Kevin’s brother Randy. If not, we’ll at least see if any survivors want to leave.

Tonight we managed to make it across the creek and to the Spokane airport. We are holed up in a DC-10 that was parked near one of the runways. We had to actually break in through the co-pilot’s emergency exit hatch. Fortunately there weren’t too many zombies around. It seems the airport was shut down early on so only a few stragglers remained, and by the time the sun came up, the few that were attracted by our noise had already wandered off.

Monday, April 14

Found Tim and Meredith. It is a mixed blessing. They managed to get a nice RV. They are parked next to the original and Tim has done a lot of modifying already. Thanks to Julia, Antonio has almost fully recovered. They stayed put the entire time! Julia was up in a cell phone tower with binoculars when we made our run into Spokane. She watched our plan fall apart. But, and this is amazing, she was able to keep an eye on us all. She lost me when I vanished into the tavern, but held out hope since a swarm of zombies clustered in one area and stayed for over a day before wandering off.

She lost track of Greg when he moved deeper into town. Everybody else stayed in radio contact. I guess Jim and Samantha are stuck in a bad position. They found a few good home and garden stores, but got chased by some locals and had to hide out. They were making their way to a top floor of some insurance office when a zombie managed to trip up Jim. In the struggle he took a minor bite on his left arm. Samantha sat through the entire ordeal of his downturn. I guess she had to put him down two days ago.

She hasn’t been able to leave because about fifty of those things followed them in and for some reason have not cleared the stairwell. They continue night and day to just pound and slap on the door. Fortunately they can’t get enough leverage to break in. She doesn’t dare risk trying to take on that many. So, she’s stuck on the top floor in a storage area at the top of the stairs.

We talked it over, it is unanimous. We are going back in. If everything ever goes right with our plan, I just don’t know what I’ll do.

Tuesday, April 15

The only hope Samantha had relied on our ability to break into a city that had been sealed by Air Force personnel. The military has gone to great lengths to hamper any exit or entrance to Spokane.

Steve Morgan offered to accompany us so that, just in case, we had a chance to at least try and bluff our way out of a situation if we encountered a military patrol. Of course, Tim, Greg, and Meredith came. Kevin offered and at one point tried to insist. However, we decided that with Antonio still not fully r
ecovered, Julia and Colleen might need help if it became vital that the RVs move out.

We even decided that if all hell broke loose, Sparrow Falls was the fallback point that everybody would head for. A
lso, no matter what, whoever makes it back, the group moves on to Ritzville no later than the twentieth.

We went in just before sunset. It was rainy and a bit on the cold and windy side, but we had no other real problems ge
tting in. Getting to Samantha’s location wasn’t much of a challenge. It seems everybody is staying out of the weather.  Of course the zombies absolutely do not care about such things.

We did encounter something that almost cost us. A pack of zombies were grouped around a strip mall. One of the buil
dings, a wood stove dealership, had the windows boarded up. We heard screams from within and nobody could agree to just ignore it. So, we went to help. Everybody drew hammers, bats, any weapon that would not give us away.

There were eleven zombies that we could see. As quick and as quiet as possible, we rushed in. Four of them hit the ground before they even knew we were there. In no time we had cleared them out. Tim, knocked on the door but nobody a
nswered. He called out as loud as he dared but still nothing. Finally he just kicked the door in.  A zombie was waiting on the other side. At first we thought it was a really dirty teenage girl until she lunged at Tim and tried to bite him. As he was fighting her off, six more of the things came from the darkness. We managed to take them down.

Then, another woman sat up from behind one of the se
veral wood stoves on display. I took her down and, after a brief look around, the best we can figure is that at some point there had been survivors here. How they got infected we can’t tell. But, and this is our best guess, the woman I killed last had finally committed suicide by zombie. She was obviously freshly turned. There is a store room in back that had to be where the woman stayed. Also, it looks like there had been at least two more people in there judging by the nest-like bedding heaps.

Maybe she had simply given up. Or perhaps she tried to make a run for it. But since she wasn’t carrying any supplies and we found two bottles of water back in the storeroom, I’m gues
sing it was the former versus the latter.

We got to Samantha’s building and cleared the stairwell.  Now we are parked in the woods off the main road (I-90 is b
ecoming almost undriveable in spots due to washouts in several places). Tomorrow we should reach Ritzville.

I made an observation to Tim which got a laugh. We were so
over prepared with contingency plans on Samantha’s rescue and it was no problem. Maybe we should over plan everything.

Wednesday, April 16

A sixty mile trip should not be so damned hard! That is the distance from Spokane to Ritzville. But, we can no longer travel freely on the interstate.

Early this morning we were startled awake by rapid pounding on the side of the RV. Now that we have two, we park them side-by-side. In the newer one it is me, Steve, Colleen, Kevin, Meredith, and Joey. The other of course has Tim, Greg, Samantha, Julia, and Antonio. So we wake up and it is not hard to know that those are not the hands of zombies slapping the flat siding of our vehicle.

Kevin covers me as I go to the curtain that isolates us from the driver’s seat.  Meanwhile, Meredith moves to climb up and out our roof hatch. Steve is right behind her and Colleen stays with Joey. I peek out and see this flashlight beam waving erratically around the front through the windshield. A man in combat fatigues—obviously standing on the front bumper—is peering in. He sees me, screams, and falls back out of sight.

Hoping to get a jump on whoever it is, I scramble fo
rward and out the passenger side door. Lights are coming on in Tim’s RV now as I am looking everywhere with no idea what to expect. A bunch of zombies on the heels of a hot meal…a squad of soldiers…or perhaps pursuit from Spokane Air Base…the last thing I expected was Perry Rose.

At just about five-feet-eight inches tall and easily over two hundred sixty pounds with curly, sandy blond hair, blue eyes, more freckles than any five people that I’ve ever known combined, a permanent blush in his cheeks, and a stutter that o
nly gets worse when he is excited, Perry is a terrified twenty-year-old who had been serving his enlistment in the army at Ft. Lewis. Once he was able to speak, which was a few minutes, he told all of us just how much worse things could get from what we imagined.

The United States of America is dead.

The world is dead.

I’ll let Perry tell you.

* * * * *

“My name is Perry Rose. I was stationed at Ft. Lewis in Washington State. When the Z-Plague began, the Powers-That-Be spent so much time arguing that the events taking place could not possibly be happening that by the time they faced reality, it was too late.

Nations around the world began blaming each other. Moscow managed a “limited” nuclear strike of China. Before they went completely silent, Israel eliminated Tehran, Cairo, and Damascus with tactical nuclear weapons.

Our own armed forces fractured shortly after the Pres
ident was reported dead. The Vice-President simply vanished and the chain-of-command with it. Nobody stepped forward, and when somebody in our own military suggested nuking our own cities, the last straw burned away. Still, New York vanished in a mushroom cloud before the power grids failed.

There are rumors that DC, Philadelphia, Norfolk, Chic
ago, San Diego and Atlanta also took warheads. But, communication is gone.  Also, it was being said that a rebel faction of our government launched two of our space shuttles with orders to eliminate specific satellites.

There is no order. No law. Only chaos. Expect no help. Trust no one.

The last estimates, and this was the one that convinced me and several others to abandon our post, were issued on February 24th. The ratio of Z-Plague units to living, uninfected humans was 7,346:1”

* * * * *

We’ve invited Perry to join us. Julia looked him over and pronounced him clean. He was grateful. We then filled him in briefly on our plans for tomorrow. He was skeptical that there were any survivors left in Ritzville.

He spent the last six days in the basement of a house there. There were no sights or sounds of survivors. Still, we’ll go to be certain.

Additionally, after hearing about what sorts of folks are traveling the roads, we travel only at night and must find a hiding place every morning.

Thursday, April 17

In the basement of an old brick building in downtown Ritzville, we found Kevin’s brother Randy and his followers. The building itself was flooded ankle deep in vile smelling water. It was clear there had been a fire.

It was obvious when we went in this morning that looters had been through this tiny town. Not just a few from the looks. Every single building showed signs of damage as not a single pane of unbroken glass remained on Main Street.

The dead litter the street. Most shot several times by what, judging from the damage to the buildings as well, had to be a fairly high caliber machinegun. A few of the dead are dressed in leather or military fatigues. It seems this band was a mix of soldier and civilian. They clearly have a zero tolerance policy on those who are bitten. Each one has a single shot to the back or side of the head in addition to his or her bite.

Kevin and I along, with Perry, Steve, Meredith, and Greg went into town early this morning. It was almost too easy; the looters had taken out most of the zombies. The town population according to the sign welcoming you claims 1736. Kevin says that if you add a few hundred to that for the migrant workers you wouldn’t be off by much.

He led us to this old spire-capped building and I could tell he was already prepared to find no survivors. A few lone stragglers stumbled out from various buildings to greet us, but none were close enough to pose any real threat.

The entry door was already blown open.  That was when we discovered the water just lapping against the raised lip of the frame. We debated going in. Greg raised the argument that if the water found any cut or nick, who could be certain that we would not catch the infection.

Kevin finally decided that he would go in alone. Everybody moved to window frames and I stayed in the doorway to cover him in case any of those things were in there hidden amongst the debris. He moved cautiously, tapping the floor in search of the hatch that would open to the cellar. He knew it was somewhere in the northeast corner of the room, but with the interior such a shambles it was tough to gauge just where.

Finally he found it. In the meanwhile, Samantha and Pe
rry had dispatched a few of the zombies that were now closing in. There still weren’t enough to be worried about, but Perry called that he could see more movement up the street towards what looked to be a residential area.

I watched Kevin struggle with the submerged door. It was Steve who came up with the idea to break the metal lip that was helping keep the water in. Greg ran across the street to a big pick-up truck with one of those black storage boxes in the back. A moment later he returned with a splitting wedge and a short-handled sledgehammer.

Of course we knew this would attract attention, but there was just no way Kevin could pry that hatch up with all the standing water.  Also, this way, we could go in and offer him back-up if anything nasty came up out of that cellar. It only took Greg six or seven good hits to knock a hole in the frame.

Dark water gushed out onto the street along with an abs
olutely horrid stench. Perry, Steve, and I all managed to keep from puking only about three seconds longer than Meredith and Greg. All of us could see that, while many of the town’s zombie population had been dealt with by the looters, there were still plenty left.

A couple of hundred were moving in now from every d
irection. We told Kevin we’d have to hurry as we rushed into the puddle strewn room and helped him with the obviously water-swollen wooden square. A single, recessed metal handle was all he had to grasp, but Greg once more put the wedge to good use.