Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (90 page)

Other than that, I spent the rest of the day with Bob. I have a strange feeling that they are trying to feel me out. I’ve been left mostly alone with a different one of them each day. Each time, the topic has found its way to their story about their life in the Old World.

Bob’s was actually the most interesting. He was home watching the news of what was happening when his and Kenny’s mom called. She said that she was in an office where she was working as a janitor and that the building was overrun by zombies. (Of course she’d called them “those crazy people” because they hadn’t started calling them zombies just yet.)

It just so happened that Bob’s mom was cleaning the office of a biologist who had traveled to New Guinea. She said that two of the biologist’s co-workers had showed up before the building was surrounded by the zombies. They had barely escaped the local hospital where their co-worker had been flown to by a bunch of government types.

He went on about these other scientists claiming that the bite from some giant rat discovered by their friend was the cause of it all and that several members of the research team had become ill. They were supposedly flown to separate hospitals around the country and put in quarantine. Even more interesting, there had been several samples of these rats brought home. Only, not all the samples arrived at their destination.

I stopped listening when he started talking about secret go
vernment agents sending out contaminated samples to random addresses around the world. It just seems a little far-fetched. What government would willingly and knowingly send out something that could wipe out an entire population if they knew how dangerous it might be?

I considered slipping away this evening. I like these folks well enough, but they do seem a bit strange. Tonight during di
nner, all the conversation was about how things were in the Old World. A lot of what they were saying just sounds too crazy. Still, they are headed the same way, and it is nice having people to talk with, even if they are a bit loony in the head.

Thursday, September 25
th

Today was another heartbreaker. That really nice group of people from that church group that settled that small island are gone. I would guess that almost two-thirds of that island is now underwater. From where we are on the hill, it is clear that everything they built has been washed away.

I told the three
Travelers that I wanted to go over and check things out. They didn’t seem to mind, but they weren’t interested in coming over with me. I found a boat and they helped me turn it over and push it into the water. From there, I rowed across.

When I reached the island, I could already smell the reek of dead bodies. I also found a pair of them who were immune but infected. One of them was a little boy who was buried up to his waist in the soupy mud. I remember his face. I can see him si
tting on the lap of a woman with long braids. He was a maggot-white corpse with pruned skin that just clawed at the air and hissed at me until I drove my knife through its head.

The other was a woman in her fifties. She was bent over backwards which indicated to me how violent the waters must’ve hit. Of course, the fact that the entire village is totally gone without a trace gives a pretty good sign.

I didn’t stay long. There really wasn’t much more to see. It just seems so unfair. These people have survived this long after all they went through, and now they are gone, wiped out as if they never existed.

It made me wonder…did they see the waters coming? I know enough about the Bible to know the story of The Flood. Did they see something divine in that wall of water as it a
pproached and signaled their doom? Or…did they simply surrender to their fate and wonder why they’d fought so hard to survive?

As I get closer to home…or what might be left of it, I wo
nder how many times the people who settled the Corridor reached moments where they wanted to simply give up. I also wonder how they managed to create such a large stretch of land that is free of the undead. I guess I never gave thought to what, why, or how when it came to Corridor 26. It has simply always been there. I don’t even really remember living in Warehouse City.

I remember people, but not places or how they came to be. If nothing else, this little trip has given me a new appreciation for a lot of things. I think I have a few tasks ahead of me when I return to whatever is left of my home.

I want to talk to Mama Lindsay first, but I intend on restoring my mother’s name. She is used as a cautionary tale, and even a bit of an insult. Travelers have been branded as selfish, but I think we have it wrong. They are a supply line and a source of information. They brave the unknown and bring back news we would otherwise be ignorant of were it not for them. And we need to understand that isolating ourselves behind walls may not be the best choice. Perhaps Meredith had one thing right when she said she felt like she was in a prison or a cage.

Even the EEF do not really travel outside of our established boundaries. We know what is relatively safe, and that is where we stay. Would those people on that island have stayed there if they
knew how close they were to other societies that would accept them and their beliefs while still offering them a safe place to live.

Instead of creating several small communities, we need to focus ourselves on one large one. Otherwise, the NAA, the New American President or any other larger group can move in. The years have pushed the undead out of the top threat window and once more, as it seems to have been throughout history, it is mankind that now seeks domination and control. The strong will enslave the weak. However, just as a bundle of sticks is much more difficult to break than just a single…so it is with people.

I can’t help but feel that our entire civilization is at a crux that will either make us or break us for good. The hardest part will be getting everybody to realize that we will have to put an end to the NAA and stop trying to re-create the United States of America. We can start over with the greatest aspects of ourselves, but we will need to end, once and for all, those who seek to prey on the weak. We cannot sit behind our walls and allow Dominique or those wild raiders to continue. Both are wrong and ignoring their presence or believing that it is “not our problem” has not worked.

Friday, September 26
th

Something or someone is following us.

Sunday, September 28
th

The belief is that they were raiders. Perhaps their tribe—or whatever they call themselves as a unit—suffered catastrophic loss when the wall of water came through and wiped out everything in its path. From the way things look along the river, so many of the building were just barely standing after twenty years of neglect, they didn’t stand a chance against the power of not only the water, but all the debris being swept up and carried along. 

We actually moved further inland because we started e
ncountering so many partially buried zombies. It became too hazardous. Kenny called it a “zombie minefield” but then had to explain it to me.

These three people have so much general knowledge from the Old World. They are, at times, amazed that I am so well ed
ucated, yet seem to be missing such huge chunks of what they deem “common knowledge.” The thing is, I guess the folks who put together the education program on the Corridor decided that there were simply things that didn’t need to be passed on. I have mixed feelings about it. For instance, I was amazed at the concept of minefields until Felicia explained that there were stories of long-forgotten mines blowing up children. I don’t know exactly what I thought when I heard the initial explanation; I guess I just figured that they were all picked up when the war or whatever was over.

I know there are many times that the three of them talk about stuff and I honestly have no idea what they are carrying on about. There are moments when they laugh…I really feel like I am missing something.

Anyways…there were five people following us. I don’t think they were following us for any other reason than they didn’t know what else to do. They were almost like animals. The oldest one couldn’t be older than fourteen.

Still, that didn’t prevent them from coming at us in the night with their clubs and machetes. When the shrill cry split the s
ilence that seems to amplify in its oppression after dark, I was on watch.

The first shadow that came within the strange almost-dark on the fringe of the minimal light put off by our fire was moving at a sprint. I nearly missed when I swung my long blade. I know I did what I had to do, but I almost wish I would’ve missed. I can still see her face staring up at nothing. The eyes of a person just killed are something I don’t think you can ever really forget.

When the next one came, I was still trying to recover from the surprise and still acting on instinct. That is the only reason I was able to turn and swing. Thank God that Kenny, Bob, and Felicia were fast reactors. When I hit the second attacker, my blade got stuck. I had caught this boy of maybe twelve square in the neck. I must’ve gotten lodged in the spinal column. When I finally pulled free, the head flipped back in a way that I was ill-equipped to deal with.

It was Felicia who came to where I was hunched over on my knees throwing up. She rubbed my back and just stayed with me until I was able to get back on my feet. Bob took the next watch, but I could’ve stood his and Kenny’s, because I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. I don’t know that I will tonight. Every single time that I close my eyes, I see those faces. Every time I blink, I get a flash. I can even hear the noise that little boy’s head made when it flipped back. I can feel the tingle in my hands from when my blade dug into the bone. I can smell the blood…and other things that happen when a body dies.

Meredith mentioned a few times about having to take the life of a living being. She did not seem comfortable with it, even when she did it out of what she perceived to be necessity. Maybe that is where I will begin my repair on her legacy.

Tomorrow should prove interesting. We head into the ou
tskirts of Old Portland. We will begin to travel through neighborhoods and such as we close in on Corridor 26. We are not taking the same route that I took coming out; I have allowed the Travelers to lead. In fact, I’ve made no suggestions and have not once been in front leading the way.

Monday, September 29
th

If I don’t sleep tonight, I could get somebody killed. Of course, with how completely exhausted I am…I don’t see that being a problem.

The day started early with a small pack of walkers stu
mbling on our camp just as we were getting things packed up. I was very thankful that I have lived my life in an environment that preached the importance of always having a weapon handy. Of course, not everybody was always so vigilant.

Once we dealt with the interruption, we headed out. I was actually fascinated as we walked along. Having been in a few neighborhoods in and around the corridor, I was really unpr
epared for the condition of the houses that I saw today. Also…so many apartments. It is really etched in my mind now just how packed in people were before all this.

One apartment complex that we passed looked like it could hold every living resident on the Corridor. It had several two-story buildings over a space of land that might contain ten pe
ople back home nowadays. To try and imagine all the noise is unfathomable.

As it was, the
Travelers could not resist the urge to poke around. When we walked into the place, I was amazed to discover that there was a square of land in the center of the buildings that was now almost a jungle. In fact, some of the plants had forced their way through cracks or broken windows and were actually growing inside many of the units.

The first creeper came out on its belly and let loose with a cry. It was answered by several crybabies! I’d never heard so many at once before. I thought one or two was bad, but to have several…it made the hair on my arms and on the back of my neck stand up.

Once we did away with them, the plan was to go check out some of the upstairs units. Halfway up the first set of stairs, Kenny froze. At first I thought he saw zombies…then the stairs gave way and he disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris.

Bob, Felicia and I ran for him. My fear was that a creeper we might have missed would get to him before we did. I was partially right. One had gotten to him, but it was hung up on some of the two-inch spikes sticking out of his leathers.

Bob stepped in and didn’t even bother with a weapon; he slammed his forearms down across the back of the thing’s head and hoisted it up off his brother. With the closest thing I’ve seen to anger from any of them, he hurled that pitiful thing at a chunk of broken concrete. The head burst in a spray of black goo.

Felicia helped Kenny to his feet and checked him for inj
uries. There is a little concern because he has a nasty cut on his left arm and a lot of scrapes and scratches. His right eye is swollen shut and I am pretty sure that his nose is broken. If any of that creeper’s splatter got in those cuts, he could be infected.

None of us blame Bob for his actions. It was his brother and he acted out of a protective instinct. I don’t think any of us e
xpected that thing to basically explode on impact. It was like a rotten piece of fruit. That eventually led to the discussion that perhaps that creeper was not as old as we might have guessed.