Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (72 page)

Not a lot to see out here. There are mountains to either side of me so I seem to be walking in a perpetual shadow except for midday. The going is slower than normal because of all the rock slides and such that make it so that I am always climbing over things.

I’ve not seen a drop of rain in I don’t remember how long, ho
wever, I do hear thunder in the late afternoon and early evening. I’ve found one tiny creek since I left those people, and it didn’t smell right. I’m rationing myself with much too infrequent sips from my canteen. I’m down to one full and one empty.

Tuesday, August 31

Followed a sign that led me off the main highway. My best guess is that this was some sort of tourist stop or something. I’m inside of a wasted building. It does not have any windows remaining intact. Everything has the words “Quartz Mountain” stamped on it. I found a few of those big plastic containers that you swap out of an office water cooler. The seals were still intact, so I’ve been quite the little water piggy.

Also, now that my biggest problem of finding water is solved, it rained today. An awesome thunderstorm rolled through.  I sat in the middle of the room and managed to remain dry. I am willing to bet that this place was some science geek’s dream vacation once upon a time.

Wednesday, September 1

Gabbs Airport. That’s where I am now. I’ve met five people who are headed the same way. The thing is, I’m not sure if I want to travel with them or not. There are three guys and two girls. I haven’t really tried to learn their names yet. They do have some interesting stories about Vegas. Since I haven’t had a radio in quite a while, I can’t confirm them.

According to these people, Vegas is online and accepting newcomers. Supposedly they broadcasted for two weeks straight after the “Battle for Vegas” was over. Now they start every hour with the message that peace has been restored to Vegas and ev
ery living soul willing to work. Anyone willing to put in for a full time job is welcome to apply for citizenship. Additionally, visitors are welcome. It seems that a day’s work is the new currency. They have a variety of jobs that offer an exchange of credit for each day worked.

It’s not quite the vacation Mecca that it use to be. Still, a
ccording to these people, pretty much everything under the sun is available there: food, weapons, vehicles, you name it. One of the men said that there are even organized caravans leaving for various destinations all over the states; from the central plains to Alaska. The East Coast is gaining a reputation as some sort of Chernobyl-type wasteland. If even half of what these people say is true, then I picked the right destination. From Vegas, I can choose a caravan to anyplace. I bet they hire on scouts for advance teams.

It’s hard not to be giddy. I’m sitting here waiting for the night’s broadcast like a kid waits for Christmas. This would at least confirm some of their story. They say that the broadcast starts shortly after dark.

I don’t think I realized just how excited I could be to reach my destination. I tried to take each day as it came, putting one foot in front of the other and hoping for a little progress. Maybe, somewhere in the back of my head, I didn’t really think I would make it. Then, there’s the whole thing about how there is a real doubt when it comes to my sanity. Would a sane person do what I have done? If I examine my actions too much, or really took a moment to think about what I am doing…

Thursday, September 2

WOW! Heard a lot of interesting things on the radio last night. Vegas sounds like it has a lot going on.

Right now, I have to get over what I saw in Gabbs. I guess it was some sort of mining town way back in the Old World. Now, it is the closest thing that I have seen to match up with how I a
lways imagine the Old West to have been.

The town is actually two parts, connected by Brucite Road. They’ve done some serious fortifications to this place, and the two parts are individual entities with very different ideol
ogies.  They co-exist like siblings.

The northern part has a real cult feeling to it. They have g
iant crosses everywhere with zombies nailed and bound to them. The people all wear robes. The colors vary according to where the individual brother or sister is deemed to be in his or her “walk towards Godliness.” That was according to Brother Frank. There was a
real
Genesis Brotherhood feel to these people, but there didn’t seem to be any of that nasty subjugation of the women-folk.

When I asked about the crosses, I was told that they were once citizens, and now they are
beacons
.  I was almost afraid to ask what that meant. Apparently, when Jesus makes his return, he will take up the dead first…or something like that. When the zombies stop squirming on the cross, I guess that will be the sign that Jesus has returned.

As for the southern part, it’s like a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie come to life. There are saloons and brothels and people with bad teeth. There is even a sheriff with a badge.

The group I was with wanted to stay for a few days. As for me, hearing that broadcast got me fired up all over again. I know I still have a long way to go, but I wanted to keep moving. It’s almost like I can see the finish line. I did accept an invitation to dinner from the mayor; I figured one day was okay.

Of course, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I keep expecting the family from
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
to pop out at any moment. I enjoyed my meal right up to the point when everybody was summoned to the fire house to “bear witness” to the hanging of a citizen accused of colony endangerment. It seems this guy led a small horde back to Gabbs when he was returning from a scavenger run. It seemed a bit harsh, but I’m just an outsider.

In the morning, I will head south once more. The owner of the Gabbs Saloon was kind enough to give me a gas station roadmap. There is a lot of empty territory between here and V
egas. I didn’t see much in the way of streams and such; that means another long, rough stretch.

I can’t stop now. I’ve come so far that I have to see this through. And the possibility that there are caravans radiating out from Vegas is exactly what I want. Who knows?  Maybe I’ll make a name for myself as some sort of fearless caravan scout. I’ll have a special suite or home in Vegas, and people will line up on waiting lists to ride out on a caravan being escorted by Meredith Gainey.

Friday, September 3

It’s like being on the moon or something. I haven’t seen a sign of anything—living, dead, or undead—all day. And the te
rrain is so alien to anything I have ever experienced. That is a testimony as to how little I’ve travelled.

I had no idea that mining was such a big deal in Nevada. I’m always passing signs or remnants of signs for some mine or another. Tonight, I’m making one my camp. It sits just off of the highway; and I’ve found a ratty little trailer to rest my head. I’ve really noticed the temperature drop overnight these last few days.

I looked around and didn’t find anything useful at all. Sure, there are tools and such, but most of it is far too awkward to yield and too heavy to carry. I am running with the bare necessities and have come to the realization that anytime I’ve tried to get fancy—bikes, carts, and such—I just end up losing it and then spend the next two or three days missing it.

A fairly ominous storm is rolling in. I’m glad I found this trailer. Anybody sleeping out in the elements tonight is in for a miserable one. Already, the thunder and lightning are here and some pea-sized hail fell just about an hour or so ago.

Sunday, September 5

It’s strange how something so innocuous can completely change your luck and your day. According to the signs, I’m in Luning, Nevada. This place looks to have been empty since shortly after the onset of the zombie uprising. There are maybe a dozen bodies I have found so far going door-to-door.

My lucky day came in the form of a train at the south end of town. All of those pretty cars that never got to their destination are now just worthless lumps of dingy metal. It was in the caboose—I didn’t even know that they still existed—that I discovered plenty of water. That’s a good thing, because the town of Luning has been stripped of anything useful.

My guess is that the train arrived late in the collapse. The only challenge was the four zombies I had to deal with when I opened the door to the cab of the caboose. One particularly obese man was standing there with his face leaving greasy smears on the window to the left of the door. He might have been enough to scare most folks away. Also, the window a
ppears to be bullet-proof. I guess that the folks who came through and stripped this town over the years decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle when their bullets didn’t damage the door. They probable figured that it wasn’t worth the risk when the town itself was so empty and easy to pillage.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that this town is empty. It even looks like people have picked through the cars on the train. Not just the automobiles being hauled—which couldn’t have yielded much of value I don’t think—but every single ca
rgo bay is open on every car on the train. In the main locomotive, there is a long-since-dead body shot in the face with obvious zombie markings.

Anyways, I have water and I don’t care how heavy it is. I filled my canteens and found a suitcase with wheels that I rigged with a harness. I’ll play sled dog if means that I’ve got water.

My map tells me that the town of Mina is about eight miles away. I may be able to ditch my harness as early as tomorrow but quite frankly, I am sick of being thirsty. I won’t risk it.

Water is the new gold.

Monday, September 6

I’m in Mina, Nevada. There are some ruins and a cem
etery before you enter town. The citizens obviously reacted in the same way as other communities when the dead started walking: they went crazy on their local cemetery. It is little more than a charred mess. They took it to an extreme. There are backhoes and all sorts of digging equipment around the fence. It looks like most of the graves were dug up and whatever was found was put to the torch.

I wonder how the zombie problem got all the way out here.  I mean, did a trucker die while passing through?  Or ma
ybe a family on vacation?  Or did they watch it on television until everybody stopped broadcasting, then just sat in scared uncertainty until a horde showed up weeks or months later?  I’m curious as to whether some folks waited as long as they could, then broke under the strain and ran…only to fall into the hands of zombies miles away.

When I see some places as remote as this and the last town affected the way they are, I try to picture someplace that might have remained unaffected, and I can’t. Over the past few years of the Old World we made everything so small. I reme
mber all the flu bugs and viruses that would pop up. It seemed that if a duck sneezed in some remote village in China, folks in Mexico would start falling victim to a new illness ten days later.

Even in this nowhere town, the sign—what’s left of it—for the RV park, boasts of wireless internet. Seriously? And that might be why we fell so fast. We had our noses buried so deep in all our devices that we left out collective asses up in the air for the zombies to take a big bite out of.

I remember a camping trip I went on with some friends the summer before all of this happened. We chose the sight because it promised a tower that meant our iPhones and Blackberries would all still work. How did folks camp before that?

Thursday, September 9

Still in Mina.

I’ve gone through every single shop, building and res
idence in town. I hauled everything of value to the elementary school. I had to take out a few creepers, and in some of the residences I had to deal with a few of the formal locals that had been left behind or refused to leave.

I wasn’t going to stay, but then I saw the humongous herd of horses galloping across the grounds to the west of town. I’ve never seen so many horses in one place in my life. And all of that was interesting, but when I woke up after the first night and several deer were clomping down the main street, my mouth started to water. I’m not exactly proud, but I snuck around some buildings to put myself in position, and when the deer came past, I managed to nail a little one with my spear.

I roasted big chunks of the tender meat; enough to get me to the next town. According to my map, it is Tonopah. If those folks I left behind eventually come, they will have a sign telling them that there are supplies inside the school. Also, they will be able to avail themselves to my makeshift barbeque.

In the morning I will be on the move once more. Even with this brief stopover, my desire and excitement about reac
hing Las Vegas has not dimmed. I know I may be setting myself up for disappointment, but the possibility does exist that I will find what I have been looking for when I finally get there. I’ve likened this to joining the military…the chance to travel and see things coupled with a (relatively) safe and secure place to return to once your mission is complete.

Saturday, September 18

According to the map, this is Tonopah, Nevada. Too bad there isn’t enough left to identify it as such. I have no idea what happened but it looks like the military bombed the crap out of this place. The worst aspect of that is my water situation. It hasn’t rained in I can’t remember how long and I haven’t found anything drinkable since leaving Mina.

There was one cool thing. I found a mostly intact Stealth-Bomber. I’m fairly sure that’s what it was. Bad news, the pilots were both zombies. I don’t even want to know what has ha
ppened here. And as flattened as everything is…I have one worry that won’t go away. 

Did they nuke this place?

Seriously, I have never seen the kind of absolute obliteration that exists here. I bet that if I could get an overhead view, I would see a well-defined blast radius.

Also, other than the two pilots in the crash-landed bomber, there is nothing living here. I haven’t seen the rustle of jackra
bbits or even a fluttering bird in two days. To make matters worse, I’ve been walking through some undisturbed ash and debris.

Tonight, I’m camping in the payload area of the downed aircraft. I stuck a blade in the sides of the heads of the zombies in the cockpit. I know they seemed strapped in and all, but I just couldn’t get comfortable knowing they were right there straining against their harnesses. Also, what good does it do to leave any of those things alive when you have the chance to put them down?