Zomblog II (2 page)

Another day wasted up on the roof. In fact, today, we didn’t hear a single gunshot. Now there’s something I never thought I would say. It’s not that I’m used to how things are, it’s just that since everything is so far away from normal, there are crazy things that now fit into everyday life.

While my folks would have never admitted it, I bet they wouldn’t be too surprised I ended up in a nudie bar. Only, not quite how anybody could’ve expected.

Dom and I found this place on the run. As it turns out, it was a good choice. There is only the main entrance to worry about, and the lock on the door was easy. Snoe showed me how to pick a lock a few weeks ago, which I still think is totally cool.

I miss her. Meredith, too. And I hate that now
I
have to take care of Dominique. Not that I think she needs taking care of. She lived fine all by herself for a long time. Only, well, I feel responsible. If this is how Meredith and the others felt about me, I feel kinda bad for some of the stuff I’ve done.

Anywho, that first day here, we actually ran for this building because it was just this ugly stone square. There were no obvious windows, and only the one door we could see, which was metal. It looked safe. We got in easy enough, and Dom held the door open while I checked for any zombies in the entry. Nothing came at us, and it only smelled funky. None of that stinky zombie smell.

There were lots of those things coming for us by now. I held a flashlight, and Dom came in and grabbed a nearby table. The entry was small and two tables slid in side-by-side worked perfect as a wedge between the door and the wall of the entry hall. The door didn’t open even a smidge as they pounded on it.

It took us a while to search the place. It was empty, which was good. There wasn’t one single thing we could use though, and that was bad. After double and quadruple checking the place, we turned off the flashlights. Then…we fell asleep. When we woke up, Dom noticed the pinpricks in the ceiling. That is how we discovered the skylights.

I found a small step-ladder in a closet full of gross, moldy mops and we put it on a table. While we took turns scraping off the black paint, we sang songs. Dom knows the words to like every Beyoncé song.

I decided to break out one of the sections so we could go out on the roof. This place had a bunch of dark curtains in a back room with a long counter that had the biggest mirror I’ve ever seen. Dom had a great idea. There is a bunch of bleach in the cleaning closet, so we poured it in the pattern of the signal that Meredith told us to use. The first night, we climbed up to the roof and hung the curtains over the sides of the building.

It’s not like zombies can read.

Friday, October 31

Spent an absolutely boring day on the roof. It took us until after lunch to realize just how totally quiet it was. I know there are groups of people around. It was a pretty big group that screwed this whole trip up in the first place. I can see the top floors of the hospital that Meredith thought they were using, or at least claiming, as their own property.

I wish somebody could tell me why everybody is so stupid! If the living people worked against the dead people…I bet we’d be doing lots better.

Dom and I just watched zombies wander around all day. Our favorite was this super fat lady pushing a grocery store cart down the middle of the road. Dom whisperd in this sorta weird voice that sounded drunk more than dead—although who am I to tell her that zombies don’t talk like in some of the really dumb movies—“I want two sides of thighs with my manburger…and a Diet Coke.” We started giggling so much, I was sure those things would hear us…but they didn’t.

One good thing. I found a big jar of those cherries on a shelf in the back. You know the kind, the fake ones they put in drinks. They didn’t smell bad or nothing. When we went down for our dinner, I asked Dom what she would have been for Halloween. She said anything but a zombie. We laughed some more; which is something I have realized that the so-called adults didn’t do very often. I made Dom say “Trick or Treat!” then I pulled out the jar. After sniffing a bunch of the bottles, we decided to try this stuff called Amaretto.

Saturday, November 1

I’m never gonna drink again.

Sunday, November 2

I still feel terrible. And even after using a half a tube of toothpaste, I still taste that icky, nasty, fake-cherry and amaretto-vomit taste. I brush and brush but, like ten minutes later, it’s back. It reminds me of when my family and I would go to the beach. Two weeks later I’d still be finding sand in strange places.

Gunshots! Close!

Monday, November 3

Snoe didn’t make it. But it is nice to see that the girls have fared well. Mostly. It’s been a rough couple of weeks since I sent Jenifer and Dominique out that back door. I didn’t think I’d ever see them again.

So, here’s what happened:

The lobby filled with those things, and they didn’t take long to stack up outside the door to our theater. I tried several times to move Snoe, but she couldn’t walk at all, and I just wasn’t strong enough to carry her. It is one of the few times I cursed being a woman.

The doors started giving, and I remember crying and begging Snoe to please get up. Finally, she waved me close and whispered, “Run!” I told her I wouldn’t leave her. She managed to open her eyes just a bit, and I could see that fire that made her so strong still burning bright. She placed her hand on my stomach and said, “Name the baby after me. Now give me a gun and get your skinny ass outta here!”

I’ve never cried so much. I don’t know what happened. It felt like every single sad thing that has ever occured to me just poured out at once. I handed her a pistol, made sure it had one in the chamber, and that the safety was off. (I still can’t remember ever hearing it fire.)

By now, the smell was overpowering. I looked up and saw that the door was opening. Heads and hands were poking through. I kissed her on the forehead and then…God, forgive me…I left.

The girls had only been gone a few hours, so I hoped I would be able to catch them. Only, it seemed that they had drawn some attention. When you are alone and those things are everywhere, it is a bit hairy. Some I could shove away, others I had no choice but to spear. I don’t think Snoe realized that I gave her the only other gun. Had she known, I’m sure she would’ve asked me to shoot her, and I
know
I would not have been able to do that. Shooting a zombie is one thing. Shooting a living person who you care for…totally not the same; I don’t care what the situation is.

Anyways, I was out in the open with a makeshift spear and nothing but a knapsack with very meager supplies to rely on. Eventually, I had to stop trying to guess which way the girls went. The only thing I could do was run.

The good news was that residential areas were close. I knew that a house was not a long term situation, but I had to get off the street. I had to climb or vault over a lot of fences. I’m sure glad I’m not much further along in this whole pregnancy thing. Still, after about twenty or thirty minutes of running, jabbing, climbing, jabbing, vaulting, and more jabbing, I managed to break clear. This allowed me to scout out a place to hole up in.

I chose an older two-story with a front porch that sat a good four feet off the ground. There was only one set of steps, and they were wood. Seeing how I was by myself, and not a single zombie was in sight, I had an idea and enough time to implement it.

Fortunately, the stairs were already in bad shape. On the side of the house was a decent supply of firewood. I grabbed a sturdy piece and, with surprising ease, knocked out the side supports. Very pleased with myself, I demolished the little five step access and tossed the pieces into the grassy side yard.

There were bushy pine trees at each end of the porch. I’d already noticed an upstairs window that was broken, so, after ensuring that the front door was firmly locked, I peeked through the surprisingly intact living room window. I was modestly confident that the place was empty. Up I climbed.

I found my first surprise just inside the window. A body was plastered in place just underneath the windowsill. Whoever this guy was, he had deep-throated a double-barrel shotgun and pulled
both
triggers. I guess weather and time helped clean up some of the mess.

This poor fella knew what was happening. There was a bite on one arm. Not too bad, but obviously this guy wasn’t gonna wait to turn. Only…I wonder. We’ve met a few bite victims who haven’t.

Oh well.

The other surprise was good, his box of shells were still on a table a few feet away. The box was in fairly good shape, so I guessed that the contents would be good, too.

I did a walk-through, and it is obvious the residents were going to try and hide out here. Lots of stuff was in place to board up the downstairs. Somewhere along the way, it went wrong. There are a woman and three children—two boys and a girl—wrapped up in one of the three upstairs bedrooms.

Seeing this made me remember what I’d read in Sam’s journal about his wife Erin and daughter Elizabeth. Only, this guy got nipped and cashed in. I dragged the body in with the other three. I have to admit I got a little queasy when I grabbed his feet and pulled. The sound he made tearing free will stay with me for a while.

For the most part the place was secure. I decided against doing a bunch of banging and hammering. This place has been empty long enough that I didn’t feel the need to make changes. I used the master bedroom as my home. I even had a bathroom. Sure there was no plumbing or running water, but a bucket beats a bush.

The first night, I didn’t sleep. I still had the whole hypersensitive-hearing thing going on. By the second day I took catnaps all day. I peeked out the windows a lot the first couple of days. It was so strange to see absolutely nothing. In fact, not a single zombie the first three days.

I could hear gunshots every once in a while. One night I heard the distinct sound of an engine. I couldn’t tell which direction it had come from, or which way it went, but it is still so strange for the world to be this quiet.

After almost a week, I was rested. But, I was also restless. I began slipping out in the early morning, going to surrounding houses and searching for anything useful. I’ll say this, we—and by “we” I mean most Americans—have a lot of crap. The things I saw in some of those houses was simply mind-boggling.

Unfortunately, the nature of what’s happened seems to have made guns disappear. It looks like everybody who ran made sure that they took every single weapon they owned. Those who tried to wait it out in their homes used every last bullet. Over half made the choice to save one for themselves at the end.

A few houses had nasty surprises waiting inside. I wonder, if I’d never come along, would those things just stand for eternity until they rotted away. Though I must say that while they show definite signs of rot, they aren’t coming apart or drying up into mummy-type husks. Their blood has the consistency of dark molasses. I wonder if there are labs full of scientists trying to figure these things out.

Anyways, it was early one morning while I was rummaging through a bedroom on the second floor of what had once been a very posh residence that I happened to glance out the window. Through some near leafless trees I could see 148
^th
Avenue. A black curtain hanging from the roof of a non-descript building had
our
symbol.

The girls
, I thought. If nothing else, I knew they’d been there. The next few days, I “leapfrogged” from house to house until I’d gotten as close as I could. Then I spent a day just watching the amount of zombie traffic. By then, I could see them. Jenifer and Dominique would come out on the roof every day. Only, I didn’t want to risk making any noise that would bring the hordes, or try anything visual that somebody else might catch. I think my general distrust of strangers is now fully justified.

My last dash wasn’t too perilous. Fortune decided to give me a break. Just as the pre-dawn sky yielded enough light to see a dozen or so feet, what looked like a tricked-out armored bank truck came rumbling along a nearby cross-street. Sure enough…it drew plenty of attention. I waited an extra half an hour which made it a little brighter—even in the overcast dawn—than I’d have liked. The couple of stragglers I encountered I was able to spike, which kept a crowd from gathering at this former strip club.

The girls look no worse for the wear. Except…both are obviously a little green around the edges. I found the empty amaretto bottles. If both of those were full…well… it’s a wonder that they didn’t die of alcohol poisoning. I’m gonna let this one go. From the looks and general attitudes, I doubt either one will be tipping a bottle again anytime soon.

Tuesday, November 4

This neighborhood is hotter than I’d feared. All day there has been a vicious firefight to the south and east of us.