Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (91 page)
One thing about the people who turn…there is a period around the nine months to a year mark where they can som
etimes do what has been termed “go sour”…at least that is what we have always called it along the Corridor. It doesn’t even happen to all of them, but there are cases where some of them get these squishy spots. If you stab them or hit them with any real force, they explode in a stinking mess. And it’s not like they completely explode…just the squishy spot. Like a giant boil or zit is the best way I can think to describe them.
The three of them are sitting around the fire right now tal
king about whether we move on tomorrow or not. I guess I need to decide if I am willing to wait for them, or if I will press on by myself.
Tuesday, September 30
th
I will wait. Not because I don’t believe that I can make the rest of the journey alone, but rather, because these people have been nothing but decent to me. It doesn’t look like Kenny is going to be okay. There are tracers in his eyes. We all know what that means.
It happened late last night. I heard the sound. Kenny was one of
them
…a crybaby. Bob was the one to put him down. We have been camped in this overgrown golf course. It had an intact fence which allowed us to relax a little the last couple of days.
We buried Kenny on a small hill. I guess it was the green for this particular hole. (Bob said so, that is good enough for me because I don’t know squat about golf courses other than they make excellent locations for farm plots.)
Obviously I decided to stay with these folks no matter what at this point. Despite some of my earlier reservations about how it seemed that they were sort of trying to draw information out of me, they are simply very nice folks and I have become a little attached to them. I still feel a little bit bad about keeping my identity a secret, but that isn’t such a big deal.
I didn’t bother to ask them when we would be heading out. Bob announced that we were leaving in the morning. I just kept my distance most of the day. While I feel bad that Kenny is dead, it is certainly not comparable to what they are feeling right now. I can’t imagine what losing a twin must feel like. If I were only to go off Bob’s example, I would say that it must be the worst thing in the world. I never realized how much he used to smile until that smile vanished.
Thursday, October 2
nd
It just seemed strange today. I guess Kenny was the one who always had a funny comment or a joke. He didn’t talk much, but the things he said were always welcome. He never seemed to get annoyed.
I can’t say the same for Bob. It almost seemed like I couldn’t do anything right today. At one point, Felicia yelled at him and told him to back off. We were passing through some heavy brush and I didn’t see that he stopped. I bumped him from behind and he lost his footing and ended up sliding down the hill to the highway below. Had Kenny been here, that is exactly when he would have cracked a joke.
What made it bad was not so much that Bob slid down the hill on his butt. It was more about the big mud puddle that he ended up in at the bottom. I probably shouldn’t have laughed…but the look on his face was just so darn funny.
The nice thing was that we were on an unsettled portion of Corridor 205. I honestly wouldn’t have known, but there were remnants of a sign as well as a huge concrete building where the number was all over the place. Felicia spent the next hour before we made camp talking about how much she missed malls.
As for walkers…or undead of any sort, there were a few, but nothing to get too concerned about. One other bad thing—and I feel bad for even mentioning it—watch shifts are longer with only three of us.
Friday, October 3
rd
I sure hope that Bob is okay. I am trapped in a rundown office center with Felicia. We have the entire bottom floor sealed as best we can. I am on the roof right now keeping an eye open for any opportunity that might give us a chance to escape. Also, I am trying to keep from looking Felicia in the eye. She keeps asking me if I think Bob is okay.
After what I saw, and all that happened, I would have to say that I do not think he is okay. However, as much as I don’t b
elieve
he
is okay, I am a bit more concerned about
our
chances of survival.
The morning started rainy and cold. It was the kind of mor
ning that really makes a person appreciate home. My breath was visible in little puffs of mist as we got moving. I told Bob and Felicia that the best route I knew of through these parts was to stick with the old highway. I just figured that we might run across the Willamette Refuge. That would mean I am almost home. We reached a long bend and that was when the leading edge of a huge herd showed up.
It would have been okay had they been down in the trench that holds the expanse of highway that cuts through like a co
ncrete river. Unfortunately, they were also plowing through the surrounding neighborhood. The best guess I have is that two smaller (but still very large) herds were actually joining as one, and we just happened to be unlucky enough to be caught in the current.
That was how we ended up being separated. Bob ran up one side of the embankments that contain this highway and Felicia went up the other. The original idea was to search for a good place to run and hide. The problem was that we had no idea that a bunch of walkers were up on the side where Bob went to look. They caught sight of him, or whatever it is that zombies use to detect people, and there was this outburst of moans, groans, hisses and cries.
I think Bob was trying to buy us some time and probably thought he could get back around to us. He told us to run for it, but unfortunately, things weren’t much better up on Felicia’s side. I ran her direction, but she was trying to come back down to me before I got halfway there. I looked past her shoulder and saw the sea of bobbing heads. I guess being down in that gulley shielded most of their sound, because we were all totally caught off guard. I wanted to run in the direction that would take me home, but there was no way I would be able to make it past so many. I did the only thing that I could; I turned and ran the other direction…back the way we came.
I heard Felicia call for me. God help me, I considered for just a split second to keep running. I was scared I would turn and find her trapped…surrounded by walkers. I knew that if I saw her face, if I saw her pleading for help with my own two eyes…it would be something to haunt my nightmares forever. Thankfully, she was trying to point out a collapsed section of retainer wall on our side of the highway.
I veered that way, hoping to God that I wouldn’t reach the top and find more. I only had a few seconds to decide what to do once I hit the crest. Already hundreds of walkers had broken off from the main group up on this plateau and were headed our way.
I decided to wait for Felicia because I knew that there would be no way for us to find each other if I started zigzagging through these buildings. I remember running in a relay race when I was a little girl. I had to wait for the person to come and hand me a baton before I could take off. It felt a lot like that as I waited for her to catch up. Once she was almost to me, I started jogging. The few seconds that I’d stood there had allowed my body to start feeling the weight of my travel pack. I knew I would see raw skin when I peeled out of the straps later. (Boy, was I right!)
We were in some sort of business district with lots of warehouse-looking buildings and office complexes mixed in. I found a gap in the trees and bushes that have overtaken everything and dove in with Felicia right on my heels. I came out from between two four-story buildings to a huge courtyard. None of the glass on the bottom floor on any of the buildings was intact. However, I did notice that one building still had windows on the top two floors that hadn’t been busted out. That was my sole determining factor.
I ran inside. I heard Felicia call my name, but this time I was determined to keep running. I hoped she would follow, and was glad when I heard her feet crunching through the dead veget
ation, broken glass, and other garbage that littered the lobby of this place.
I found a door to an emergency stair access. The tan wall was splattered with dark stains that had to be blood. There was one very easy-to-see handprint. I pulled my machete and headed into the dark stairwell.
The second floor door was torn off the hinges. I didn’t stop to take a good look, but the grooves and chunks in the wall were manmade…not zombie. I saw a flash of movement in the shadows and decided that I couldn’t take the risk that one or a dozen walkers might be wandering the halls and follow us up. If that were the case, they would create a ruckus and bring who knows how many. I had to make sure we were in the clear.
I told Felicia to stand watch at the door and went in to clean out the floor. It was a long hallway that would go in a giant “U” shape. The one good thing going for me was the fact that all the doors were open or gone. Even with the lousy weather, I could see…mostly. I say that because as I rounded the corner, I ran into what I was pretty sure had to be the source of the shadow that caught my eye.
The dog was just a bit taller than my knees. I couldn’t tell you what color it used to be—its fur was so matted with filth and vermin that I swear it looked like its skin was actually moving. I do know that it was very dark…not black, just…dark. That is why I didn’t see it until I almost tripped over where it was laying on the floor in a pile of garbage. Bringing my machete down on its head was probably the most merciful thing I could do for that pathetic creature.
Fortunately, the rest of the floor was clear. I jogged back, and Felicia and I headed up to the third floor. The emergency door was shut and so we didn’t bother. Also, since none of the windows on the upper two floors were broken, I felt pretty co
nfident that the floor wouldn’t hold any surprises.
Once we reached it, I got a good look around and saw that the leading edge was a few blocks over. I remembered seeing a bunch of large debris and busted furniture on the bottom floor. I told Felicia my plan and she went to the roof to keep watch while I barricaded the downstairs. She gave me a warning when they were about a block away. It wasn’t anything that will stand up to a long assault or a massive throng of walkers smashed up against it, but if it comes to that…I will do myself in before they ever get close enough.
Saturday, October 4
th
Heard noises today in the direction we last saw Bob. It sounded like breaking glass. Lots and lots of breaking glass. On the bright side, many of the walkers surrounding our building seem to be wandering off.
Sunday, October 5
th
We got our chance today and took it. When the sky grew light enough to see—which took some time considering the fact that it is a very gloomy day with low-hanging clouds that constantly supply a drizzle of near-freezing rain—the area surrounding the building was almost empty of walkers.
We made for the gulley of the 205 Corridor and were plea
santly surprised to find it almost empty. I say ‘almost’ because there were a few creepers. I imagine they get pretty damaged travelling in those packs and bits start to fall off. Plus, if one of them happens to fall, it isn’t like he or she will be getting a hand up from friends. I bet being stepped on by a few thousand of your closest friends would wreak havoc on a body, especially one that already has a few chunks missing.
I had to keep stopping to go back for Felicia. She kept tur
ning around and then she would just stand there…staring. I know she kept hoping for a miracle. If this were one of those stories in a book, he would come running around the corner and they would catch each other and hug and kiss and laugh.
The only thing coming for us from back the way we came were the assorted walkers that must’ve caught sight of us when we were running through that business complex. Since I’ve ne
ver been to this part of the 205 Corridor, I had no idea what to expect. This was farther than any of our caravans have ever gone as far as I know. In fact, once I started thinking about it…I don’t know of anybody from Corridor 26 who has ventured onto the old Interstate 84 since Meredith.
Tonight we are staying in a partially burned down hotel. F
elicia says this place was probably pretty expensive long ago. To me it just looks like clutter and lots of wasted space.
There was one interesting little moment as we settled in for the night. Of course we pulled the mattress off the bed to flip it over. It isn’t much, but trust me when I say that you don’t want to lay on one without doing that in a place like this. The funny part came when I found an old piece of money. I held it up and Felicia said that it was common for folks to leave a gratuity u
nder the mattress when they left so that the housekeeping worker did a good job. Seemed kinda strange to me, but we both started wondering aloud about what happened to not only the person who left the money, but the housekeeper who didn’t ever come in and collect it.
Tuesday, October 7
th
We reached Willamette Refuge this afternoon. Actually…we reached what was left of it. This place looks worse than Corridor 26. They were just getting started and were in no condition to defend against a concentrated and organized attack by something like the NAA. This is worse than I thought. If this place was hit, and I already know about Corridor 26…then just how extensive was this attack?
In the morning I will set out for home. If there are no signs of life there like here, then I will continue on to Warehouse City. Something has to be done about this now, before it is too late.
Walking around this place, I can barely recognize it as the vibrant and growing community that I entered when I made my first run. The most disturbing is the obvious signs of struggle, but strange lack of bodies. There are blood stains all over the place to go with the burned down shacks and busted down walls.
This just seems so pointless. Why would anybody do this? If this new president wants to gather the remnants of the n
ation—or at least what remains here in the western part of the country—why would there be so much destruction? If you kill everybody, who is left for you to be president of?
