Zomblog: The Final Entry

by TW Brown

  I guess she was swept up with the army unit that bugged out from Sacramento and tried to hold Reno. She is the only survivor in her family and had the unpleasant task of putting down her mom, sister, brother, an aunt, and two nieces one by one over the past year. I noticed that she didn’t mention a dad, but when she was flipping through pictures, I did notice two with a man in them. There was no mistaking the eyes.

  Anyways, when they handed out work details this evening for tomorrow, I was kinda happy to discover that she and I will be working together at the greenhouse construction site.

  Other than that…this place is frighteningly normal. Maybe I was too pessimistic. Maybe we can survive…the unconquerable human spirit and all that.

  Wednesday, July 14

  I talked to my supervisor today. I can actually “buy” a quality mountain bike and a rugged little trailer. There is no restriction on me. I can leave any time I choose. I’m also welcome to stay as long as I like. If I live here a year, I get to move from my hotel room to one of the private residences. It’s all very structured here.

  This evening, I was visited by Betty Childs, the governor. Winnemucca has a governor. And get this, none of the military are eligible. She called it a “conflict of interest” and something about avoiding a police state. They really have it going on here.

  Betty’s visit wasn’t strictly social, though she did say that she made it a point to stop in on every new arrival to the community. Her main reason was that she’d read Sam’s journal and wanted to have a copy made for the library. I was happy to oblige. She also wanted to talk to me about my intended trip to Vegas.

  I totally forgot about that being in there. I knew it was in mine, but I don’t remember every single thing I wrote or when.

  Here’s the deal: Betty didn’t ask me any specifics about my plan. She simply said that if I didn’t like what I saw there, that a team of her people was in Indian Springs and that they would want to meet with me. She didn’t tell me how I could find them or anything. Just that there were some folks there. I wasn’t really able to ask her too many questions, and she was very good at leading me away from subjects that she didn’t want to discuss. She repeated a few times how much she enjoyed Sam’s journal and that I must’ve been through “quite an experience.”

  People are already on a waiting list to read one of the five copies they made. I think it’s just because the book is new.

  Other than that, I’ve been given my work detail for tomorrow: food processing. I’m a little bummed that Ronni wasn’t on the same list. She was assigned to foraging. She leaves with an armed escort team for one of the nearby towns and will be gone for two days. When she gets back, she gets four days off instead of the usual two. I guess that you have to be nominated to make one of those runs by a member of the military unit after you complete a series of courses that they offer at the military/security school.

  Thursday, July 15

  Pringles were made here. Who knew?

  Today I learned that interesting tidbit of trivia and was able to work in the converted facility that now processes the non-meat food for the community.

  The Pringles factory has been modified and set up to handle more than just potatoes. Also, it is the major draw on electrical power. It houses a considerable amount of food reserves. This place has it all figured out.

  Sunday, July 18

  Hung out with Ronni today. After talking with the folks, I decided to stay put until August. That will give me time to earn enough in credits—bonuses that can be used for luxuries—to get my bike. Also, July is the hottest month of the year, and in these parts…that’s really saying something.

  Today we went down to the park and watched a double-header at the softball field. The agricultural school beat the military team both times. They served frozen fruit-juice Popsicles, popcorn, and as an added treat, water with ice cubes!

  The kicker was some bootleg vodka made on one of the potatoe farms. Alcohol isn’t forbidden, but it is discouraged. Apparently the same holds true for pot. I caught a few whiffs of it today at the park, and nobody was trying to hide it. I guess there are bigger problems in the world now. The police here walk foot patrols all the time. I’ve seen one arrest so far; the crime…the person was skipping work. The sentence? Two weeks on ditch digging with no bonus credits and no weekends off. (Ronni said that that is the standard penalty.)

  Today I also met somebody who is, how shall I put this, interesting.

  In between the two games of the double-header, I went to get us another round of ice waters. When I came back, there was a woman in her late thirties sitting on my blanket and talking to Ronni. Her name is Chelsea Jones. I hate her.

  She was trying to ‘recruit’ Ronni for a job. Winnemucca has a brothel. At sixteen, apparently Ronni is of legal ‘working’ age.

  At last! I found the dark, seedy underbelly of the New Civilization. I was only moderately surprised to discover that if she was medically certified as a virgin, her ‘first customer’ is chosen through what amounts to be nothing more than a perverse auction. The ‘benefit’ is that Ronni would receive all of the bonus credits in the transaction. However, she would have to sign a one year contract to work the brothel.

  I’m certainly not the morality police, but I found the whole thing to be obscene. I was able to keep my mouth shut because it was none of my business and Ronni was doing fine on her own telling Miss Jones how she wasn’t interested.

  The woman made her real mistake when he asked me if I’d ever considered working in the world’s oldest profession. I made it very clear that if she ever spoke to me again she would find out how such a “tiny thing” like me has managed to survive on her own for so long.

  To her credit, Miss Jones left without another word. I imagine she has been told no by meaner bitches than me. Still, the whole bidding on someone’s virginity gives me the creeps.

  After all of that, do I sound like a hypocrite when I say that I hooked up with one of the guys on the winning softball team later and had a nasty little roll in the sack after the post game barbeque? And I don’t mind saying that I was extremely unladylike. However, I do feel much better.

  Friday, July 23

  Governor Betty and a few of the soldiers came to see me today. I guess I’d be foolish and naïve to think that everything was roses and puppy dogs. They asked me if I still intend to leave. I said that I would be rolling out of town—literally—on August 4th. (Hey, I will have earned my weekend by then, may as well use it.)

  I’ve been asked to stop in Fernley, a small town south of here. They want me to deliver a little package. In exchange, I’ll be getting some spare parts for my bicycle as well as some additional supplies. I didn’t originally plan on taking the interstate, feeling that it might be a bit too crowded and busy with all manner of undesirables—living and dead—but I guess it really doesn’t matter. Plus, this will make having a bicycle more worthwhile.

  Saturday, July 24

  Today I worked with Ronni in one of the produce fields. We talked a lot about her and her life. I felt comfortable enough asking her about Miss Jones and that situation. I guess she asks every woman in town, but to her credit, she does in fact take no for an answer.

  I asked her if she was interested in maybe coming with me. We built a nice beginning to a friendship. I guess I wasn’t too surprised when she said no. She wants to stay right here. She explained that, while she didn’t hold any ‘concrete’ hope that he may find her; she feels that staying in one place gives her the best chance of meeting up with her dad. Her feelings are that if she remains in one place, at least there is some chance.

  I guess anything is possible. Like the old saying goes, “Stranger things have happened.” We did agree to hang out together for my last week here. So there’s that.

  Monday, July 26

  Hung out at the river today. There is a particular spot that is open. They’ve taken every precaution. There is a heavy-duty grate at each end of this one mile stretch to ensure no
zombie bits come floating along. The story is that they learned the hard way last summer when a head came along and clamped on some poor swimmer’s foot.

  The big excitement of the day was the arrival of a five-person group. They’re all in quarantine now. I expected Ronni to show some interest, and I finally had to ask if she planned to enquire if her dad may be amongst the survivors. She said that she used to ask every time. A list of names gets posted now and she checks it at the first of every month.

  “Hoping and expecting are two different things,” she said, then rolled over to even out her tan.

  Tuesday, July 27

  A team of soldiers rolled out today. One of the scouting patrols located a herd off to the west. I guess the plan is to either lure them away, or do whatever it takes to eliminate them. Rumor has it that this herd numbers in the thousands. Nobody seems even the slightest bit concerned. In my opinion, that is a real problem. Any time you start to take things for granted or become too complacent, you get your ass kicked.

  Far be it from me to tell these people anything about how to act. Still, in this world, all you need to do is screw up once for it to bring everything to an ugly halt.

  Today, I worked at one of the clinics. I was basically a janitor, but it felt strange seeing people come in with bumps and bruises and funny rashes. When did those start mattering again?

  Wednesday, July 28

  Heard distant rumbles off and on today. Sounded like thunder, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky in any direction. It is ungodly hot outside…and inside. Air conditioning doesn’t fall under the ‘necessity’ catagory. I don’t know why. I’m sweating in places I’ve never sweated and my shower day isn’t until tomorrow. I will go to the stream in a little while, but it isn’t the same.

  Thursday, July 29

  My bicycle and the little trailer were delivered today! They really did me up nicely. It has mirrors and an awesome headlight that runs off of power generated while I pedal. Even more awesome, there is a small power converter kit and a rechargeable setup for my iPod. I can be fully charged at the end of a day’s ride. Not only that, but I can jack into it and have music while I ride if I so choose.

  I don’t know if that is such a good idea out in zombie country, but it’s nice to know that I can if I want to. This did give me another glimpse at how complacent they may be living in this place.

  When Betty got ready to leave, she seemed to linger for a moment like she had something to say, but couldn’t broach the subject. Maybe it was just me being paranoid. I’ve been living good for a while…that’s usually an indication that a storm is a a-brewin’ on the horizon.

  Maybe I’m just itching to be back out in the wild again. However, I must admit that there’s a certain allure to plentiful food and water along with an honest-to-goodness bed to sleep in. I’m sure I’ll go through withdrawls the first few days.

  Saturday, July 31

  I haven’t seen Ronni for the past couple of days. I’ve stopped by her place and there isn’t an answer. I’ve asked around but nobody seems to be able to help. You’d think that it would be easy to find somebody when there are less than two thousand ‘somebodies’ to choose from.

  Maybe she just doesn’t want to do the whole goodbye thing. That doesn’t make it suck any less. I even went to Miss Jones’ place on the off chance. I felt terrible for even considering it.

  My last work day was spent at the daycare facility. I held, fed, burped and changed babies today. It made me think of my daughter, Snoe. I think there was a motive behind them putting me in nursery on my last day.

  One underlying theme here that I’ve managed to stay out of is the wariness and even dislike of the Vegas people. There is a palpable ‘us vs. them’ sentiment in existence. I’ve seen the good image here at Winnemucca so that when I get to Vegas, I won’t say or do anything to put these people in danger. Oh…and as an added measure, “look at all our babies.” Surely I wouldn’t do anything to put those precious cherubs in more danger.

  Of course, that could just be me and my natural paranoid nature at work.

  Monday, August 2

  Ronni wasn’t hiding. She’s been working quarantine detail the last few days. A dozen new arrivals came and one had to be put down. That wasn’t a big deal, but there were five immunes in the group.

  Five!

  This group was from Kansas. There’s news from the east that at least a half-dozen cities on the East Coast vanished in a series of mushroom clouds. Also, the amount of damage from the various nuclear power plants that didn’t fare well after their human care takers stopped coming to work has made, at a minimum, the eastern third of this country uninhabitable…at least by the living. According to these people, the Gulf of Mexico burned for almost the first year after the zombie outbreak. The arc of land from Tallahassee to Houston is all scorched earth. The oil rigs and refineries…gone. And if you believe these folks, the Mississippi burned in places for several months. Supposedly.

  The patrol returned this afternoon and reported that the horde had been neutralized. They didn’t suffer a single casualty, but they still have to submit to quarantine.

  Ronni gave me a bundle as a going away present. She said I couldn’t open it until I made camp the first night. She’s a sweet child, and I’ll miss her. We hung out at the river for a while, then watched a softball game and sipped ice water. I guess the playoffs have started.

  After she left, I went down to Miss Jones’ place. Did I fail to mention that she doesn’t just employ women? Hey…I had a few credits left on my ledger.

  It wasn’t terrible.

  Tuesday, August 3

  Didn’t take long.

  I got to the burned out remains of Imlay when I ran into my first zombie. Actually, it was more like a handful…five children.

  I’ve gotten good at dehumanizing, but one of them made me pause. There was something about the way she hung back from the rest, like she was studying how I took out her ‘friends’.

  Sam was really helpful, he bounced around keeping them turning and twisting while I moved in with my spear. I’m still trying to decide if the whole ordeal is shaping itself in my mind according to what I think I saw.

  When I moved in on that last girl, it took me three tries to plunge my spike-tipped spear into her face. I swear she dodged me twice. The place looks pretty picked over. Vehicles are stripped bare, siding torn off, even windows have been removed. Not broken, I’m talking carefully taken out. Not one of the buildings that remain—many have been burned down—have a window or a door. The stores have been gutted; even the shelving has been taken.

  I did notice something interesting: mounted security cameras. Three that I spotted without making it obvious. I’m willing to bet that they are being monitored by the folks at Winnemucca. Maybe they just didn’t see any reason to tell me. However, if my guess is correct, then that would mean that they have some sort of security center.

  Good ‘ol paranoia. Where would I be without you? Seriously though, why would they tell me? I was a passer-through. And if I didn’t know what I was looking for, I might have never noticed them. Had it not been for my little encounter, I absolutely would have passed right on by without ever noticing. When you think about it, this would be one highly possible direction that a coordinated attack would come from.

  I veered off to spend the night camped beside this big-ass reservoir. The water is cold and clean. My filtration canteens are filled (I have ten now—one that I carry and nine in the cart) I didn’t even need my tent. There was some sort of forestry department shack. I brought everything in for the night, and now I’m sitting in the doorway listening to some distant wolves or something howl as the moon fills the sky with a yellow glow. I’ll stomp out my campfire in a bit, but for now, I just want to enjoy this moment and the candy bar Ronni managed to find and send with me.

  Wednesday, August 4

  I’ll have to backtrack to Imlay tomorrow. Oh, and I’ll be tipping off whoever is monitoring those cameras.

>   I’m in Lovelock, and tonight I’m spending my evening on the sixth floor of the hospital. It was easy, and I will go down in the morning and finish off any of the roamers that might still be calling this place home.

  I still can’t get over how creepy it is to be walking around in a small town completely void of any living beings. While there are zombies present, they are so spread out that it almost seems too easy.

  I was wary at first. As the day wore on, I began to wonder why in the hell there isn’t anybody living here. It is smack dab in the middle of some very farmable-looking land.

  The most gruesome discovery was the derailed passenger train at the south end of town. A few of the cars are nothing more than tombs for a bunch of living dead. One car in particular was on its side, one end has another car practically jammed into it. The other end is wedged up against a concrete stanchion. Inside are at least fifty undead, some bent into obscene shapes, awaiting anyone foolish enough to think their deformities make them any less dangerous.

  But back to my reason for riding back to Imlay. I will put my handwritten sign in front of one of their cameras…and hope that it is the Winnemucca folks that are monitoring them.

  The hospital I am in is a treasure trove. Obviously it was no place to be at one time, there are bits of pieces of bodies every-where. The walls are smeared. Still, there are lockers and cabinets and storage rooms full of useful stuff.