Zomblog: The Final Entry (25 page)

I considered the ruined residential area, but decided that the airport was a better choice. Also, more of the structures were intact; more places to hide. As an added bonus, there were a number of aircraft. I counted two dozen private luxury jets parked all over this facility. There was even a large, commercial passenger plane; but without any stairs or a ladder, there would be no way to get inside.

Right now I am in one of those luxury airplanes. It is parked underneath the partially collapsed roof of a hangar. I actually had to move a big panel of aluminum, and then it was still a tight squeeze to get inside. I’m hoping that I didn’t disturb much when I got in. That way, if those crazy people running wild around here come past, hopefully they won’t even notice that I am here. There is no doubt as to my fate if I am discovered. That is a rough looking bunch.

The last thing that I saw before I ducked into this plane was the lighting of what I am positive was a church on fire.

Saturday, October 9

Mystery solved. Heading south on Highway 95, I followed my gang of looting maniacs. Staying out of sight wasn’t too hard for a number of reasons. First, they were loaded down with a strange assortment of things that they found in Indian Springs. (That included a number of mannequins, a screen door …like I said…strange.) Second, I don’t think that these guys have faced any serious sort of resistance.

There is a pair of prison complexes just south of town. Great big sprawling monstrosities that seem to take up as much area as the entire burned out town of Indian Springs. It’s like a giant human warehouse. However, even as far away as I stayed while passing, the noise—mostly screams and what sounded like a crowd roaring—was incredible.

There looked to be a fairly impressive number of zombies milling about. Not to mention the huge bonfire blazing in the open space between the two main complexes.

I cannot begin to imagine what sort of nightmare is taking place behind those razor wire-topped fences. I couldn’t put enough distance between myself and that place fast enough. For the rest of the day I felt like I was being chased by a horrible monster. Even once I was out of range of the place—both audibly and visually—I still had the feeling that I was being watched. That feeling kept the hair up on the back of my neck.

I’ve come to realize that the vastly unpopulated state of Nevada is quite different from Oregon in a lot of ways; the sparse and spread out population didn’t keep the zombie outbreak from reaching even the most remote corners. But the pockets of humanity that survived have a much different life where the environment actually is an ally. If I use that logic, then I would be willing to bet that population-heavy places like New York and California are a waste.

Of course using logic like that makes it hard to imagine how a city like Las Vegas managed to withstand the onslaught. That would make it a bit of a miracle. I hold this sliver of hope in my heart that I will find what I’ve been looking for once I get there.

Tonight I will be sleeping in a place that was probably once some geek’s wet dream: a watch tower on the perimeter of Nellis Air Force Base. The sign on the highway told me that
this
is the infamous Area 51. Funny…it just looks like more of the same empty desert.

If an alien spaceship shows up…maybe I’ll hitch a ride. Talk about getting the chance to travel! However, it is getting chilly and the sky is turning a bruised purple color. I’m going to settle in and get some shut-eye.

Sunday, October 10

Hmmm…no aliens came.

Well I guess that place turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. I have to admit, I did stay awake for a considerable time after dark…and not one single thing happened. No flashing lights in the sky, no strange whirring sounds.

So, if aliens got bitten by a zombie, what would happen? I bet all those crazies who were so into that crap before have had fist fights over the possible answers. I wonder if we would get Space Zombies? Wow…that sounds like the premise for a
really bad
SyFy Channel Original Movie. It also sounds like Meredith is getting a little bit bonkers spending all of this time alone.

Strange. None of the zombie stories that I
do
remember were so devoid of zombies. I haven’t seen any for a while. Didn’t they always have hordes of undead trapping a small band of survivors in an unlikely location? I mean, really…a mall? How would you secure a place like that? And while I have certainly seen my fair share, there are times like now where I am just totally alone. I’ve walked across Oregon and much of Nevada this year. Much of that time I have only been in danger of being bored to death.

Tonight I am in some park; Floyd Lamb State Park according to the faded wooden sign hanging above the door of this log cabin-style building that I’m calling home for the night. Tomorrow…I will be in Vegas. Perfect timing. I’ve been careful with my water and food, but am starting to run a bit low. I
think
I hear some moans and baby cries in the distance. Oh well, the doors are sturdy and all the windows have heavy shutters that are still rolled down and locked.

Tuesday, October 12

What is it that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men? Oh yeah…they’re destined to be fucked.

I won’t be going to Vegas it seems. All of my hopes and dreams are now just this sour taste of rot.

I woke yesterday filled with excitement. It really is my own fault. So much time out in the middle of nowhere took its toll. I was roused from my sleep by the sounds of pounding on the door. There were at least two dozen of those things out there. Worse still, I could see movement in the trees. More were coming.

I went upstairs to the windows that I could see out of and was upset to discover that I was surrounded by a couple dozen of them. They were at both doors clawing and scratching to be let in. I ditched the water pack and topped off one canteen. After checking my two knives strapped to my thighs, I drew my machete and went to the front door. I’ve never missed my spear as much as I did in that moment.

After making short work of the two right in the doorway, I launched myself into the pre-dawn, chilly morning air. The place was swarming with them. They were moths to my living flame. And hadn’t I just bitched about not seeing that many zombies like in the movies? Be careful what you ask for…right?

At some point I got turned around. I knew that I should be arriving at the highway…yet I was still in the park. Actually, I was in these sparse woods. When I burst out into a clearing, the sun hit me right in the face as it crested the distant mountains, bathing the world in a glorious sunrise. Crap! That meant that I was facing east; the wrong way. I knew that the highway was
west
of where I’d spent the night.

I turned around and he was right there. Barely old enough to start growing whiskers, the boy had the look of the long dead. His skin was split in places and his wounds were so dried out that not even maggots nested in them. Instead, I am pretty sure that I saw
growth
; it looked like mold or something with stuff sprouting from it. One eyeball remained; glossed over in putrid off-white and shot full of black tracers. The other socket had sealed shut like the skin had melted over the hole and fused together.

My coat saved me. Initially. Unfortunately, I’d been sans gloves for longer than I can remember. I brought my machete up and he clawed at my arm. That caused me to miss badly. The blade went into the shoulder, shattering the collarbone and wedging itself in rather firmly.

I went for a knife, but the zombie-boy lunged and we both went to the ground. I kicked and bucked, but we were such a tangled mess that it wasn’t doing any good. By the time that I got my knife free of its sheath, I had my free hand around its throat, keeping the gnashing teeth just far enough away. The smell coming from its mouth was surprisingly bad for how dried out and long dead this thing was. It was making my guts do rolls, threatening to spew what little may have been in my stomach.

The clicking and grinding sound of those teeth caused me to wince every single time. Finally, I drove the blade into its temple. I shoved the body off and scrambled to my feet…and right into the arms of the pair of zombies that were so torn up, the only way that I knew one of them was female was the sagging breast that remained on one side. Once again I found myself sprawled on the ground in a life-or-death struggle.

I fought, kicked, bucked, and squirmed. Finally I got myself free and crawled away. I made it to my feet a second time and looked around frantically. No direction was clear, but I took off in the way that seemed most likely to give me a chance.

When I finally reached the road, I fell to my knees gasping for breath. I puked up a scalding mixture of bile and a tiny smidge of food to give it some texture. It was while I was on my hands and knees that I noticed the nasty bite on my left hand.

I hoped desperately that I was one of the lucky immune. Then a handful of those bastards came barging through the brush beside the road and I had to get to my feet and run. I don’t think that I ever once considered running
towards
Vegas.

In all of the chaos, I’d lost my weapons and canteen. The only thing I still had was my satchel. It seems right that I am left with nothing but this journal. I’m in the old watchtower that I slept in a couple of nights back. Along the way, I saw my reflection in the side mirror of a car. The tracers are already visible in my eyes even in the filthy mirror that I looked in.

I know that I don’t have much time left. Writing this is taking all of the energy that I have. There are moments when it is like I can feel the infection spreading throughout my body. Down below, about a hundred of those things have gathered around the base of the tower. Their growls and cries and mewling keep jarring me back to the task at hand which is to finish this last…this final entry.

To whoever finds this, if anybody does, please—if at all possible—get this to my daughter. I’ve included enough information so that she can be found. When I set this book down, my plan is to secure the strap of my satchel around my neck and the other end around the railing. I realize that I will come back as one of those things, but my hope is that somebody will come along and see me. If they come up to investigate, they will find the book.

I wish that I had something profound to say now, but honestly, this headache is beating every thought out of my skull before it has a chance to gel. So…I guess that all there is left is to say goodbye.

Epilogue

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

My name is Orlando Scott. Las Vegas, 1
^st
Regiment-Expeditionary Unit. I found this book a few weeks ago while returning from Correctional City.

The originals of this document were returned to me after Command Control inspected and copied each of the three separate texts. A convoy bound for the Northwest and the Rainier settlement will be taking the originals. If the assumption is correct, Ms. Gainey referred to what is now know as Corridor 26, a series of trading posts just west of the ruins of Old Portland.

Saturday, June 8, 2024

My name is Snoe. My father’s name was Samuel Todd. My mother’s name was Meredith Gainey.

Continue reading and enjoy an excerpt from Tw brown’s book …

dead: the ugly beginning

1

The Ugly Beginnings

 
I ain’t no hero. I never thought of being one. When I was young, I didn’t dream about being a police or fireman. I never considered joining the military, even after 9-11 when so many others my age flocked to the recruiter’s office.

Hell, I was the guy who picked a desk in the middle of the classroom on the first day of school when all the Brains rushed for front row seats and the Jocks and Stoners roamed to the back. I didn’t play sports, at least not in any organized way. When sides were chosen (even if it was just a pick-up game with my buddies), I was pointed out someplace in the middle. Sometimes I would pull off a play in football, basketball, kickball…whatever, which was only amazing because it was me doing it.

I had my share of girlfriends. I lost my virginity my senior year. On prom night. To a girl who played flute in the high school marching band. Her name was Kerri or Kathy…or Kari or Cathy.

So you’re starting to get the point. Right?

I worked in an office complex after I graduated college …B minus GPA. Never married, but I was engaged a few times. My one bedroom apartment was small, but it suited me and my dog just fine.  Well, that was until the horror movies jumped off the screen and landed right in the middle of an atypically un-believing real world.

Some of the stuff about zombies proved to be true.

Some not.

Most of how humanity was predicted to act was drastically underestimated. The best. The worst. Sometimes I wonder how in the hell we’ve survived as a species.

That will likely be answered definitively sooner than I would like.

It may seem corny, but no one I’ve met since it began can give me a solid answer as to how it all rolled into motion. Sure, there are theories: Government Bio-weapon gone awry; Super-virus; alien particles from space; demons from Hell; and global warming. Each gets equal billing when you hear the topic come up. Maybe it’s a mix of all of the above. Or, maybe God got tired of us messing up his toy. And if you don’t believe in God…well then you can refer back to the list and pick your favorite. Honestly, I don’t give a damn. I’m too tired from running. How I ended up leading a band of survivors in this Romero-Hell is my new reality. The time for blame has long passed.

Since things began, I’ve seen…we’ve all seen…things best forgotten. Yet, I, as well as anybody still alive, know that forgetting is impossible. The best you can hope for now is sleep without the nightmares coming back to refresh those images you desperately try to shove into a hard to reach spot in your mind. There are some things that the movies missed, or could not accurately convey. The biggest would be the smell; that, and the psychological toll of hearing a person scream as they are ripped apart and fed upon.