by TW Brown
Tonight we’re in a tiny one stoplight town called Lawen. There is nothing to see. However, there was a bottle of disinfectant on the shelf of this little market. After ransacking a few residences—mostly trailers—I also happened across some ultra-thick socks. Eric hit the real jackpot, though. He found a never-been-opened three-pack of tightie-whities. In his size!
Thursday, May 27
All day long we had a lone shambler on our tail. We’ve been walking along Highway 78 all this time, and today we settled into a groove along this stretch of empty, void-of-any-life, washed out road. At some point, I glanced over my shoulder and saw it. It was just a dark shape moving through the shimmering waves of heat rising off the ground on the horizon. I mentioned it to Eric and, in typical fashion, he shrugged and continued walking.
About midday, I asked him if we should double-back and kill it. He explained that it didn’t seem to be drawing a crowd, so what was the problem. I didn’t really have an answer. We found an abandoned farm house on the edge of a cluster of circular crops and made camp. Just before sunset, the zombie staggered up to the porch. It was a woman. You could hear the skin crackle as she moved, and there were nests of insects moving about inside her ripped open and long-since-dried abdomen. A couple of splintered ribs poked through the parchment that was her skin. Also, I’d say she’s taken a few dozen bullets; one that shattered her lower jaw.
I ended her existence by planting my axe in her forehead. Afterwards, Eric and I sat down for a bitter—but strangely good—dandelion salad with a dash of apple vinegar and a pair of roasted rabbits.
Is this really all there is? I am beginning to wonder why I’m doing this. Don’t get me wrong, I do not doubt my choices, nor will I be going out and tossing myself into a ravenous herd of zombies any time soon. I am simply trying to figure out what possessed me to do this. And to take that question one step further; why did Eric join me?
What do I really hope to find in Vegas? And let’s say that the lights are on. Will I settle down and call it home? Why would I think I will be any happier there than at The Compound, Sunset Fortress…or Irony, USA for that matter?
All I’m truly doing is roaming a dead world. What would all the shrinks—who seemed to have a label for everything back in the pre-apocalyptic world—say about me? Was I always like this? Or, did the situation mold me into who I am now. I mean, I’ve met some wonderful people, and I’ve met some monsters disguised as human beings. Did this event bring out the “real” person lurking inside each of us? Did it break us all in some way, and this is the Phoenix that rose from the individual ashes?
I can hear the low, distant rumble of thunder. The smell of rain is floating on the night breeze. A chill is in the air just like any other night in the desert and I’m sensing…something.
There is that wrongness out there in the darkness again. When I close my eyes, I can feel it closing in. Not just on me. On everybody.
Saturday, May 29
We didn’t travel far these past couple of days. We found a small town. Unfortunately it has been mostly burned to the ground. However, there were a few places to rummage through.
We looked for bikes, but didn’t find anything worth a damn. It looks like survivors were here and tried to make a stand. Something went wrong at the small airfield. That’s where the fire seems to have started.
One thing I’ve learned in all of this is to trust my instincts. I feel like we’re being watched. I’ve been keeping my eye on Eric, but he doesn’t seem concerned, cautious, or anything out of the ordinary. As for Sam, other than hiking his leg every ten seconds, nothing. Seriously, who or what can possibly pee that much.
Sunday, May 30
Something is definitely watching us. Eric finally said, “I can feel something piercing my skin like tiny needles.”
Well thanks for finally joining the party. Sam still appears clueless and continues his cycle of sniff and pee…sniff and pee.
There is a lake to the west of us—on our right as we are now headed directly south—and clusters of those circular crops so prevalent in this region. I think there is a cluster of survivors set up off in that direction. Campfires have a very distinct look. These were pretty big. That means that whoever they are, they aren’t scared of revealing their location.
But back to whatever is following us. Obviously it isn’t a zombie. Zombies don’t stalk their prey. They just stumble out and hope for the best. Not that zombies feel hope…who knows what I mean.
Something is out there. It is hiding in the shadows as darkness spreads its blanket over the world again. And whatever it is, I would swear that I feel its misery…pain…anger.
Monday, May 31
His name is Cody. He turned sixteen yesterday. It took most of the afternoon to get those two pieces of information from him. Not that he actually told us. We learned it when we finally got the book pried from his hands.
Cody was carrying one of those baby books that new parents buy and fill in diligently for about the first three months. He was also carrying a wicked looking blade and the mother of all slingshots. (Eric tried it out and put one of those little steel balls that Cody has in a pouch hanging from his belt through a car door.)
Cody has been bitten. More than once. He is missing two fingers on his left hand—which he seems to favor nonetheless—and his right cheek and lower lip are mostly scar tissue. It is safe to assume that he is immune.
We didn’t find him so much as he found Sam. Or…Sam got close enough for the boy to grab hold. When I heard the yelp from a nearby gulley, I took off expecting to see my dog being turned into zombie chow. What I saw initially seemed to confirm my fears. I was bringing up my crossbow when Eric touched my arm and made me stop.
The filthy creature wasn’t trying to eat my dog. Instead, he was hugging him and scratching the exposed belly. Honestly, I couldn’t even tell that it was a boy. His face was so caked in dirt that I didn’t see the soft, downy hair on his chin.
The boy paid absolutely no attention to either me or Eric. He just sat in the dust, holding Sam and petting him while making these strange cooing sounds. Eric whispered that I should keep an eye on him while he nabbed us a meal.
An hour later, we had a pair of rabbits on the spit over an open fire. The filthy mess eyed us like he expected us to turn into zombies at any moment. He didn’t warm up to me or Eric when we offered food. However, once he had a full stomach, it wasn’t long before his eyes began to droop.
As soon as they closed, Eric pounced. It was actually a fairly even fight. That kid managed to open up a nasty gash on Eric’s forehead with his bony little knuckles. Once he was secured, Eric toted the trussed and angry boy to a nearby stream for a bath.
While that little war raged—causing Sam no end of grief; I haven’t seen the dog that agitated, ever—I flipped through the book that was bundled up in plastic garbage bags. What I saw was almost enough to make me cry.
There was a family photo on the first page, titled “Our New Family” in carefully hand-etched calligraphy. The mother, Marie according to the caption, was clutching the tightly bundled infant in her arms with a smile that only new mothers are capable of. Standing behind her, with his hands resting on her shoulder and waist, is the father, Chad.
There are a dozen or so other photos, but it is something about that first one that is so heartbreakingly sad. I actually began to feel guilty flipping through the pages of this young man’s life. I made certain to replace it exactly as I found it.
Once Eric finished cleaning Cody up, the boy curled into the fetal position and went to sleep. That’s when Eric told me about the rest of the bodily injuries. Apparently, along with his lower lip, Cody is missing most of his tongue.
I’m not sure about what will happen now. We haven’t asked him to join us, and I’m not sure he will want to even if we did.
One more thing; that feeling of disquiet I’ve had? It isn’t gone. Whatever has been gnawing at my nerves…it isn’t this boy.
Tuesday, J
une 1
At Eric’s insistence, we got up this morning, ate a light breakfast, left some for the boy, and then started on our way. Stupid Sam didn’t want to leave Cody behind and I actually had to use his leash. The road curled slightly in an eastern direction and took us into a gouged out valley.
A twisting creek is winding along beside us as we go. In a few spots it has cut away the ever-deteriorating highway. However, it would seem that there are plenty of fish. We were cooking a lunch of trout over a small campfire when Cody strolled up and nonchalantly sat down across from Eric and me.
Naturally, Sam padded over and plopped down beside the boy. We ate in silence and then resumed our journey until we came upon a half-collapsed roadside motel.
Up ahead, the mountains look ominous. I think I understand the mindset of ancient civilizations better. Those mountains look so dark and forbidding. And with the clouds stacked up against them, there is a feeling of mystery. The world is silent save for an occasional flash in those distant clouds followed by the low, sonorous rumble of thunder.
Friday, June 4
I’ll say this much…Cody can handle his business in a fight.
The steady climb into the Steens Mountains was much more arduous than I remember Mount Hood being. We were moving slow, and my calves felt like rubber bands that had been stretched to the point of nearly snapping by midday. And that was on the first day.
It was on the second day that the squeaking rumble woke us about an hour before sunrise. We were well off of the road, camped up on a large, flat ledge that gave us a good view of the pass below in both directions. In the direction we were moving, there was a curve in the road about a mile off. It was from around that corner that we saw the strangely modified truck come rolling along.
It was one of those big ones with two rear axels and chrome sideboards running along the elongated bed. The cab had been transformed into a cage like one of those cars in the old county fair Zipper rides. Inside was a man. A big, fat, bald man with the hairiest body I have ever seen on a human. He had a handlebar mustache that sported curlicues at the ends like a cartoon villain that went great with the two-pronged goatee he was sporting.
A long, metal bar extended from where the engine used to be. Chained to each crossbar that had been welded to it were a mixture of two living humans and fourteen zombies. The living folks were in front to urge the zombies forward in a twisted parody of carrot-and-the-stick. The driver was using some sort of elaborate braking lever to keep the vehicle from trundling out of control down the hill.
When Cody took off down the rocky embankment, I might’ve briefly considered leaving him to his own fate. No, I didn’t like what I was seeing, but in my defense, I’d just woke up and my legs were killing me. My calves actually feel like somebody is flaying them right now. Then Sam bounded off after the boy and I wasn’t left with any other choice.
There was some sort of narrow slit in the side of the cage where the driver sat. I’ll never know how Cody did it, but he fired a shot from his wrist rocket that found that small opening. I don’t know where he hit the driver, only that he did. That was bad news for the two living souls in front of the long metal pole. The manual brake must need to be held down, because after a pained gurgle, the truck began to pick up speed. It built quite a head of steam before it veered into the solid rock that bordered one side of where the road should be.
We were so fixated on the spectacle that, by the time any of us recognized the sound, five three-wheeled choppers came around the bend and were bearing down on us. We had no choice but to fight. Any thoughts to the contrary evaporated with the boom of a double-barreled shotgun that reverberated through the entire carved out pass.
Eric went down like a sack of rocks. Things were a little blurry after that. I had enough time to fire my crossbow once, then draw an axe and hurl it. Cody, on the other hand, managed three shots with his wrist rocket before any of the riders were able to locate us and fire another round. I moved in on those he’d injured with my blades drawn to make sure nobody got back up.
As for Eric…he’s fine. Mostly. His chest is badly bruised from the rubber balls. I guess those guys prefer to take their victims alive.
We are fairly certain that their camp is not far away. I have no desire to search for it.
As for Cody, I chewed his ass good for charging into a fight like an idiot. He didn’t look all that chastised when I was finished. Eric was silent through the whole thing. Whether out of pain or something else, I have no idea.
Here is my problem: Why did I bitch out that kid for something I would’ve done myself not more than a year ago? The only real difference being that I would’ve done it in a way that tried to save those poor souls chained in the front of that truck.
We’ll camp for a few days before moving on. We found a really sturdy old National Forest Visitor’s Center. It was on a mostly overgrown access road that led into the tall pines. The dust in here is thick enough that it is obvious nobody has been here for a long time. That makes this the ideal place to rest up while Eric recovers. He wouldn’t have asked, but his pain is obvious.
Saturday, June 5
Holy crap! Bears!
Today we watched a large, brownish bear sit in the shade of the trees while its cubs played in the open, sun lit field. Seeing a grizzly (Eric said it was a young, female grizzly) in the wild is a big difference from seeing one in the zoo.
I am told it is a big deal. Not that I would know, but I guess it has been generations since grizzlies walked wild in these parts.
Sam was a handful. That stupid dog wanted to go outside and check out the visitors. Eventually I got him corralled in a closet where I left him until our visitors wandered off to do whatever it is that bears do in the woods. Today was the first time that my dog was completely out of control. Sam hates bears more than zombies…good to know.
We did find a few things around here that we could use: kerosene, two bottles of hydrogen peroxide, some fishing gear, and a rugged looking radio that came with a pair of nine-volt batteries that tested good in their little display pack battery tester.
Of course we didn’t pick up any signals, but it will be nice to have and make periodic checks with; especially when we get closer to Vegas. (I know that I need to see it for myself and it doesn’t matter if anybody is still alive there or not.) I also like that we can see if there is anybody else out there transmitting. I picked up that initial Vegas signal from northeastern Oregon with a clunky old normal radio. Perhaps we’ll find other places to see after Vegas with this baby.
I say “we” but I do not count on anybody making these trips with me. One post-apocalyptic walkabout is probably all Eric has in his tank.
Wednesday, June 9
I should learn to trust my intuition. After all, it has kept me alive this long. Now, I’m alone in the middle of nowhere and basically stripped of all but the most basic and meager supplies. I have two filtration canteens, my crossbow with seventeen bolts, my spike-tipped walking stick, a long knife, machete, and an empty backpack; empty save for the journals.
Oh yeah…and my dog.
The day after the bears, Eric and Cody were down at the creek trying out the new fishing gear. I was impatient to resume our trip, but didn’t feel right asking Eric to travel yet. He was obviously still in a great deal of discomfort. Also, he and Cody were bonding. To be perfectly honest, I think that I was a teensy bit jealous of them. I’ve known Eric for quite some time, but we’ve never been what I’d call close. As for Cody, well, we’d just met him, but it was clear that he preferred Sam’s or Eric’s company over mine.
I decided to take advantage of their absence to enjoy a little ‘me’ time. Guys are so funny about that sort of thing. They think that they have the market cornered. Back in the Old Days, men would be surprised to know how often we ladies had to finish the job they started after they rolled over and went to sleep.
Anyways, I was just finishing up and debating on whether or not I would mosey down to the cr
eek to see if I could embarrass the boys by taking a bath. (If I am being totally honest, I think I was suffering from the lack of attention…and horniness. I don’t think that I would’ve ever considered sex with Eric, but it would’ve been nice to know if I could at least raise his eyebrows.)
That’s when I heard the scream.
Coming from Eric made it all the more terrifying. To my credit, I buckled on my gear and grabbed my crossbow. I know better than to rush into a fight without my stuff. Plus, most of what I carried was still hanging on belts or straps attached to my clothes. When I threw open the door and stepped outside, I knew that there was nothing that I could do.
A wall of undead was pouring through the trees. It was a massive horde. There had to literally be thousands. It took me several seconds of standing there like an idiot to fully process what I was seeing. Here. In the middle of nowhere. The biggest herd I’d ever seen with my own two eyes. I say that because, from where I stood, they stretched on in either direction for as far as I could see.
Sam’s barking is probably what saved me in the end. My faithful companion was sprinting across the field. Turning my head to the left, I saw one of the advance stragglers step around the corner of the building. She’d been a big girl in real life. Not fat…I mean WNBA big. She was well over six feet tall.
The screams had already ceased. I doubted that there would be enough left of Eric or Cody to come back considering the size of this pack. I would never learn how this herd came up on Eric and caught him by surprise. Then it dawned on me…I hadn’t heard a sound. Not a moan, groan, or baby cry.