Zomblog: The Final Entry Read online

  Wednesday, February 24

  It was nice to be on the move again. Because of the downpour of rain the past two days, much of the snow has been washed away. There are still some mounds here and there, but the road is fairly deserted and easy to travel along.

  So, about these mounds or “snow drifts” that are scattered about; some of them contain nasty surprises. I’d all but forgotten that zombie that I’d seen fall in the street and eventually stop trying to stand again on the slick ice. It’d frozen in place then gotten covered with snow. Today we learned quick to avoid anything that even remotely resembles a lump, bulge, or drift.

  We were passing this gigantic truck stop just after sunrise. There were dozens of rigs with names that would mean nothing to the next generation. We’d decided to poke around since we’d spotted a Pepsi and a Lays truck. There were a few roamers that we could see, and we considered skipping past, but Eric wanted a Pepsi.

  I didn’t see too many of those things to handle and decided that it couldn’t hurt. I wasn’t going to deny my travel buddy something that seemed so simple. It was when we stepped up to the rear of the trailer with the big, open cargo doors that we almost suffered a terrible loss. Eric went to kick the ice-crusted pile of snow that was kinda in the way. He didn’t expect to discover a solid center. The look on his face would’ve been funny when he tripped, if not for the zombie.

  A big hand with fingers like kielbasa sausages burst from the mound and wrapped around his ankle. If that big old trucker—or what was left of him—still had any of his lower jaw left, there would’ve been a remarkably different outcome to that encounter. The top teeth scraped Eric’s pant leg, but didn’t get through to skin or anything like that.

  I drove one of my scimitars into the side of its head and kicked it away. After catching our breath, we returned to the task we’d initially embarked on. Swinging the cargo doors the rest of the way open proved to be a huge disappointment. The roof was nothing but brown stalagtites from where the Pepsi bottles had burst and sprayed the ceiling.

  We did find a few twenty-ouncers that hadn’t exploded, but it was an unsatisfactory haul. We also salvaged some sour cream and onion chips. After our snack break, we sat there not talking about that mound incident.

  We got back on the road and passed a roadside diner that was nothing but a charred husk, but right after this dog-leg turn, we happened upon a school building. It was tiny, not even a cafeteria, and situated in a perfect place. We had a great view back the way we came for a good distance, along with a wide open look ahead.

  I don’t believe in fate, luck, or divine providence. That said, we could’ve easily kept on going and pulled up at a place a mile or two up the road. I do think that we were both still a little spooked by that snowdrift incident at the rear of the Pepsi truck. Whatever the reason, we chose this place to stop for the night.

  They came from the north. It started about an hour ago. Sam’s growling alerted us. Lit up by the setting sun, we can see them by the hundreds…maybe thousands: a horde.

  Thursday, February 25

  Got up early this morning to see the damage.

  The field that they cut across was enormous. The horde emptied into the clearing across the highway. There were four houses spaced out in this area. All of them would’ve made ideal spots to stop for the night. Only one is still standing.

  From what we can tell, they stomped straight through. However, when they reached the south end of the clearing, it narrows and eventually gives back over to the forest. It was probably like water hitting a barricade. There was a thin row of trees on the east “wall” of the clearing. That’s right, I said “was.” Perhaps it was because the ground was so wet, but several of those pines were toppled like a bulldozer had gotten to them.

  We didn’t stick around long. The trees and terrain acted as a diffuser and scattered the horde. Several pockets of them are sorta hanging out like they got lost or something. The one remaining house that is still standing is surrounded ten deep. A few houses up the road a ways have a handful swirling about. I hope there isn’t anybody trapped in any of them; not that we could do anything for them if there were.

  Then, there are some houses not in the path that the horde took. These are simply on the other side of the road. Not a single zombie is in the vicinity. This is a perfect example of their single-mindedness.

  The road here has a slight roll to it as we get closer to the big mountain. We crested a ridge on this particularly long, straight stretch. That is where we discovered ‘SE Paha Loop Drive.’ We followed it into the trees and discovered an old bed and breakfast. Thankfully, it was long since empty.

  Friday, February 26

  Made good distance today. Wow! It gets noticeably colder the moment that the sun ducks behind the horizon. I’m talking face-numbing, toe-stinging, don’t-want-to-pee-because-your-hoo hoo-freezes cold!

  Eric says that we are lucky. The weather, by his reckoning, is rather mild for this time of year. I told him…well…never mind what I told him. The lack of zombie problems have been replaced by an eternity of pine trees coated with white, sparkiling snow. It looked so pretty in pictures. Make no mistake…this sucks!

  We found a place to stay. The sign beside the highway said ‘SE Weber Rd.’ A little ways in, we found a house. My guess is that either neighbors or family—perhaps running from the city—brought the horrors here. At least five of of the eleven people here were small children. I say “at least” because I am quite certain that there were infants here. There just isn’t anything left of them to find to prove their existence.

  In one of the photos on the wall, there is a picture of a woman holding an infant. It is one of those artistic skin-on-skin black and whites with soft diffused borders. I put my blade into the woman personally. She was even wearing the same diamond necklace from the picture.

  We cleaned out the house and dragged the bodies out back. Eric says we’ll probably have to stay here a few days. His spider-senses say that there is another storm coming. We aren’t too worried about the zeds right now. That means a big roaring fire in the fireplace and even a few oil lamps! Absolute luxury!

  Eric slipped out for a couple of hours and came back with a deer over his shoulders already stripped. I guess two years of not being hunted has made them plentiful. Zombies have no interest in them. Either that or they are too slow—the zombies, not the deer—to catch them.

  Monday, March 1

  Here’s a great idea. Trek through the mountains at the apex of winter. Meredith Gainey…you are a DUMBASS!

  Wednesday, March 3

  When exactly is spring? I don’t actually recall. But if I see one more snowflake, I’m gonna scream.

  ***

  AARRRRGGHHHHH!!!!!

  Saturday, March 6

  Rain! Sweet, blessed enemy of the snow! Come and wash your frozen brethren from my sight. Oh…and I’m getting REALLY bored with venison. (All I hear is my mother’s voice saying, “Meredith Gainey…eat your dinner! There are people in China going hungry.” I never understood that logic.)

  Sunday, March 7

  Spent the day outside. We walked (hiked) out to the highway. The snow is washing away. Eric says we should be able to resume our trek in a day or two if this keeps up. I think there is less than a foot of the stuff still on the ground.

  Oh yeah, Eric says we will probably have to deal with this sort of erratic weather for the next month at least.

  Monday, March 8

  Holy Crap!

  Okay, remember the whole thing about dogs turning? (But not cats, that is still so weird.) Well, wolves are related to dogs. AND, if you leave rotting meat outside—for instance, rotting zombie corpses—wolves will come back and pick over the remains.

  We woke in the dark of night, the fire down to glowing embers, to something wrong. At first I thought it was the cold that woke me. Then I realized I wasn’t the slightest bit cold. And Sam was growling. I reached for Eric, but no surprise, he was already awake.

 
There was a scratching at the door. Zombie-wolves have a yowl that you only need to hear once to remember forever. It made my hair stand up on my arms (and legs…no, I haven’t shaved in a while. What’s it to ya?). Also, I peed just a little.

  We got up and put on all our gear: lined gloves, goggles, leather coat, modified welder’s leathers over our denim. What can I say? We’ve gotten a little bit lazy having been so long without seeing a single soul…living or undead. The house has kept us toasty with the huge fireplace and two woodstoves going twenty-four/seven.

  Weapons ready, we had to wait another hour for dawn. What? Did you really think that we would venture out to fight zombie-wolves in the dark? As soon as it was light enough, we snuck out a side window after making a bunch of noise at the front door to lure them to one spot.

  I am thankful that those things are no more agile or limber than their human counterparts. The fight was…different. Actually, if anything, those zombie-wolves were even clumsier than humans. They staggered and stumbled a lot. Perhaps it is because of the four-legged thing.

  The scariest thing is that you couldn’t tell that the wolves had turned until you got a good look at their eyes. Since they’d eaten contaminated flesh, there were no injuries to give them away. Their eyes, however, are even creepier than a human’s. It is just so sinister looking.

  We dispatched them quickly, but it seems to have really bothered Eric. I’ve seen him take out a lot of zombies of the two-legged variety without wincing (even the little ones, which most folks are VERY squeamish about). In fact, I’d say he is the only person I’ve met who, like me, is very detactched when it comes to taking down zombies. But this—the wolves really appear to have upset him.

  Tuesday, March 9

  Finally! We are back on the move. Only, if you trade one house you’ve cleared for another that you haven’t, is it really a good thing? The best thing about this place is the river practically right outside the back door. I have no idea which one it is, and when I asked Eric, he said, “Pick a name and that is what it shall be.” Personally, I think he is still moping about the wolves.

  At first I didn’t know what the hell Eric was doing when he just turned off the highway and we started walking along this branch-strewn road that was quickly being supplanted by the forest. I could hear the trickiling of a nearby stream as we walked deeper into the gloom.

  Maybe he knew this place existed. I’ve been nosing around while he went out to hunt some sort of furry critter. I mostly flipped through dusty photo albums. I guess I thought that I would miraculously find a picture with him in it. No such luck.

  Still, this place is nice. We had to take out a lady today who looked as if she’d dressed for an extravagant dinner party. Well…if you take out the fact that she was missing an arm and a chunk of her throat big enough to cause her head to tilt. She was in the bathroom. From the looks of things, her husband came home as one of them. He got her in the hallway.

  Of course the blood has long since dried, but there are smears and stains on the walls leading away from a huge stain on the hardwood floor in the living room. A well-gnawed bone that is probably her missing arm—part of it at least—was there (stuck to the floor by the congealed and dried blood). It was only part, which made me wonder where the rest is, and where her hand might be.

  I took down the husband while Eric, followed by Sam, took out the wife. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, there is a huge portrait over the fireplace that definitely pegs these two as our couple. We put both bodies in the bathtub and covered them with a sheet. Now they are at rest together forever.

  There is a loft here. That is where the master bedroom is. Also, there are a pair of smaller bedrooms on the main floor. One of them had its windows broken by a fallen branch. I wanted to put the bodies in that room, but Eric said it might bring more wolves. He said they—the living variety— could jump through those windows without a problem. Good enough for me.

  Wednesday, March 10

  Heavy rains and wind today. We are staying put. No sense rushing out to be in such miserable weather. I thought we heard screams last night.

  Staying alert.

  Friday, March 12

  Back on the move. It’s clear, but very cold again. This weather is freakin’ bi-polar. At least the home we are crashing in tonight was empty when we arrived.

  No sights or sounds since that noise that we are both certain was a human scream the other night. Not a single wandering zombie up here. I can see where this area made for a great location to run to when this whole thing started. The only drawbacks are the weather—which could be as lethal…if not moreso than zombies—and lack of readily available food. I do not know how I would be doing if I’d made this journey alone. Not that I’m not a capable person, I most certainly am. It’s just that if you go into a slump, you starve. And the larger the group—had I travelled with several people instead of only Eric—the bigger the supply issue becomes.

  Being a duo, this is monumentally easier. In fact, we have more than we need. We end up wasting a lot of food. I feel only a little guilty about that.

  Last night, I was watching the rain come down as the shadows of night were swallowing up the surrounding landscape. I thought long and hard about what I expect to find in Las Vegas. Here’s the kicker: I couldn’t come up with a single thing. At least not one that holds up to scrutiny. This is all about being selfish. I’ve been let loose in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and plan on seeing everything. I realize that my goals aren’t very lofty at this point, but Europe might as well be another planet. This is just the first step. I mean it could’ve just as easily been Disneyland.

  But that would’ve been silly.

  Saturday, March 13

  We found a small inn…and a lot of dead people. Not zombies, but honest-to-goodness dead folks. There is a church across the road with a dozen more bodies hanging from nooses. Most are frozen solid, but one is merely cold. This place is giving off seriously creepy vibes.

  Checking out the inn (that is fun to say out loud), it looks like most of the people were beaten to death. Heads were crushed, but Eric got all CSI and pointed out the shattered arms on every single body. These people were trying to fend off an attacker or attackers. Looking even closer—which meant scraping off dried blood or pouring a little water on the body—we found no bite marks or scratches.

  The most heartbreaking scene involved a woman who was still clutching the hand of a little girl no older than eight or nine. The rest of the arm and the body it was attached to was several feet away in a mangled heap. Axes were used here as well as blunt weaponry.

  Of course we couldn’t stay at the inn. We decided on the church across the way instead. I don’t understand. Not one thing here makes sense. Hangings. Brutal mass slayings. WTF!

  Eric and I will sleep in shifts tonight. We intend to be on the road as soon as we’ve both gotten a few hours of shuteye.

  Tuesday, March 16

  I can’t believe I ever considered making this trip alone. Thank God for Eric. I doubt I would be alive right now if not for him. This is like the mountain version of Deliverance.

  I guess there are little pockets of locals out here; and they don’t take kindly to strangers. These folks are no joke. They know this area well, are outdoor types—most are decked out in layers of furs—and remind me of the pictures that I saw in high school history books. You might remember the ones I’m talking about; the ones that are all grainy, black and white, showing the trappers and gold diggers from the olden days. We ran into the first one when we were leaving the church a few days ago. Literally ran in to him.

  We were harnessed up and making for the highway. A noise from the direction of the inn started us jogging. (Seriously, I can not convey how creepy the vibe in that area was.) This guy stumbled out of some trees, crashing into Eric and knocking him over. Thinking it was a zombie, I hit my quick-release buckle and came in with my scimitars flashing. Well, it was kinda dark so they weren’t really flashing, but you get my
point. I connected solid with a body shot intended to distract the zombie and keep it from biting Eric. Then the zombie screamed. Too late, I recognized the stink coming off this thing to be of the booze, urine, shit, and vomit variety.

  Eric shoved the body aside, wrenching his own knife from the eye socket and sending a spray of blood that turned the snow black in the pre-dawn gloom. I asked him if he was hurt and he said no. We got moving in a hurry, Sam leading the way as he trotted along like nothing was wrong and we hadn’t just killed a living person. Sam is well trained to sniff out zombies, to be alert for their presence. He would be absolutely useless for the next few days. Living people don’t come up on his radar.

  We decided to duck into the trees and travel parallel to the road as much as we could. No sooner had we vanished into the pines when some sort of gang passed by on the highway. They were carrying torches…and something else. At first I thought it was a deer hanging from the pole hoisted between two of the group. I can’t even say men because they are so bundled that it was impossible to tell. Then the light from a nearby torch flickered just right and I could see the naked human body bound to it. Whatever it was, there were too many for Eric and I, so we retreated further into the woods.