Day by Day Armageddon

by J. L. Bourne

  William has been broadcasting off and on all day. He sounds desperate. I can’t stop listening because it is another human voice. His maddening ramblings are bringing my mind into a maze of darkness. I feel I must help. John and I have discussed it at length, and he will stay and hold down the fort with Annabelle. I almost feel like I am starting to get to know William. For some odd reason, he rambled on for about thirty minutes just talking about whatever was on his mind. I assume that shock may be setting in and he is using the radio as an emotional outlet. He spoke of his job, and how he was a chemist before all of this happened. I listened to his voice, and could almost hear his honesty and integrity about the fear of losing his family. I feel I MUST help. Tonight I will prepare and tomorrow I will go.

  February 27th

  0820 hrs

  Leaving shortly. I will be taking the boat back to Seadrift, then the rest either by car, or on foot. This could take a few days. I found a CB radio on one of the boats here. It’s a little heavy, and battery powered, but when I get within range of William’s radio, I will use it to try and hail him. No use going the last twenty miles only to find William and family as one of them. I have nearly 500 rounds left from what I salvaged in my rush from the control tower, taking into account the one round used to shoot the stock boy in the head. With the radio, water, weapon, rounds, food, and other small miscellaneous gear, I am carrying over 70 lbs. This is why a car would be preferable.

  My plan is to acquire a road atlas when I get to Seadrift, then “shadow” the roads all the way to Victoria (If I am on foot). I can’t risk being seen by anything living or dead along the way. I will stay in contact with John as long as the hand held will transmit. I do not know its transmit range, but I am sure I could talk to him from Seadrift, as the signal will travel further over the water.

  Last night I was outside looking at the stars when I saw bright green streak in the sky, similar to a shooting star. The green was probably the copper burning up inside a satellite that has long been forgotten. Only a matter of time before GPS fails, along with all other satellite based services.

  Enough useless babble.

  Time to cock the hammer.

  1844 hrs

  I paddled the boat out to about 1/4 of a mile distance from the marina, as to not attract them to John. Had to gas up the boat last night. When I turned on the engine, I cruised west a bit to attract them away from the marina, just to give John a little more peace of mind. Didn’t take long for me to reach Seadrift, as it is only about ten miles from the marina to the mainland Texas. Once again, I shut the Bahama Mama down and did my best to paddle (with one oar) the rest of the way. When I reached the same marina John and I were at a few days before, I noticed that the same two creatures on the fishing boat, and the re-dead stock boy face down on the dock. He was being picked apart by a group of birds.

  Before approaching any of the docks, I tried the CB radio on the pre-selected channel that John and I agreed on. After the second attempt, I heard John’s faint crackling voice asking me if everything was ok. I told him that everything was fine, and that his friends on the fishing boat were having crab this evening, and wondered if he would be attending. He laughed at this and I told him that I would get back to him as soon as I got back into range.

  I knew that there was another creature inside the grocery store. I could see faint movement on the street about 1/4 of a mile north inland. I could see what looked like another set of marina docks further up the shoreline. It was too far to paddle without another oarsman. I had to start the engine. This excited the creatures on the fishing boat and it felt as if every set of eyes left in the world were staring at me —Angry for the broken silence.

  As I sped up the coastline, the creatures on the beach took notice of my boat and started following me up the waterline. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. These creatures were not the same, slow shambling creatures I was used to. Some of them seemed to move faster.

  One of them appeared to be almost trotting, with its arms reaching out toward my boat. They were still very uncoordinated, and many of them were falling face down in the sand, only to get back up to pursue me. I decided to distance myself from the shoreline and approach the dock in a manner that would not attract this rag tag bunch to my position.

  I took the boat a mile out into the center of the bay and approached the dock in a perpendicular direction. I tried to build up enough speed so that when I cut my engine, I could drift at least most of the way. Not being familiar with this dock, my weapon was at the ready as I inched closer. It was very similar to the east dock in many ways. I saw no dead in this area. There was a gas station in plain view about 300 meters from the marina. I shuddered when I thought of being on the roof of the last gas station back home. My fear started to grow as the view to the gas station became clear.

  I finally cut the engine and drifted as far as I could without using the paddle. I eased in to the marina, and tied the boat down. I checked the area for immediate danger, and then checked the fuel level to make sure I had enough to make it back to Matagorda island. I turned the CB radio off, as I didn’t want any calls breaking the precious silence I was trying to maintain. Shouldering my heavy pack I stepped up on the dock and began to walk toward the shore, taking extra precaution to watch my footing, and minimize noise.

  I could see two vehicles parked in front of the gas station. One of the cars still had the fuel nozzle attached to it, as if the owner never got the chance to place it back on the pump. I could see that the other car, parked in front of the gas station, had the driver’s side door open. I knew for sure that the dome light would have drained the battery long before I got here.

  I made my way closer to the station, weapon ready. I knew that if I had to evade, I wouldn’t be able to go for more than three miles without rest, as it was a chore to move with all the weight. As I approached the car near the pumps, the only sounds I could hear were the sounds of the water churning near the docks. I was at the pump.

  I checked the gallons readout on the pump to see if the car had actually been filled up. No joy, it was digital and the power to the pumps was shut off. Quietly, I took the nozzle out of the car and placed it on the ground, then put the fuel cap back on. My best guess was that the car was a mid 80’s model. The decals told me the car was a Buick Regal Grand National. It was black.

  I went around to the driver’s side door. The window was open, so I reached inside to check for keys. No keys. I made for the convenience store. The glass display windows and door were shattered, looted long ago. I wasn’t there to loot; —I just needed a road atlas. I could see the map display on the same counter as the microwave, so I ducked through the broken glass and headed that way. My nose didn’t warn me of any dead here. I scanned each aisle as I made for the maps. They were fresh out of road atlases, but I did find a laminated road map of Texas. Since I didn’t plan on taking any interstate trips, this would do just fine.

  It was now time to deal with the keyless Buick. Since this area seemed devoid of current danger, I decided it best to attempt to hot wire the car, rather than attempt to find a working car in dangerous territory. I knew that I would be S.O.L. on a newer model car, but this old Buick would be easier. I found the “odds and ends” aisle and grabbed a small over priced package of cheap speaker wire, then went to the front counter display cases and took an extremely cheap, poorly made, fake (convenience store) Swiss army knife.

  Leaving the store with my bounty, I checked the area once again and approached the Buick. As I passed the other vehicle parked with its doors open, I was startled by a sound from inside A squirrel was making itself a nice home, complete with nest in the back seat. I opened the door to the Buick and popped the hood. I followed the plug wires to the coil wire. I took the speaker wire, stripped both ends with the shitty Swiss army knife and ran it from the positive end of the battery to the positive side of the coil. This would supply power to the dash. The car would be useless without this.

  I had to locate the starter solenoid. It
was logically found on the starter. Using the longer knife blade on the knife, I completed the connection between the starter solenoid and the positive battery lead. There was a spark. The engine cranked over, then came to life. I would hard wire it later. The noise would surely attract them, so I had to hurry.

  I took off my pack, and weapon and sat them in the passenger seat. Using the flathead screwdriver part of the knife, I was able to push the steering wheel locking pin away from the wheel to unlock it. I then tightened the speaker wire so that it wouldn’t come off during the drive. I closed the hood, got in and then rolled the fucking windows up fast enough to break the sound barrier and headed for the road with a quickness. My lucky day, the poor bastard that owned the car actually filled the tank up before he presumably died. Looking at my map, my route was distinct.

  I was on highway 185 northwest out of Seadrift, straight shot into Victoria. The road was far from being a major thoroughfare, so I had no trouble getting to the outskirts of Victoria in less than two hours. I was delayed by the occasional car parked sideways in the road, or an unusually large pack of creatures shambling across like sheep. As I approached the outskirts, I could tell that I was closer to a fall out area, as there was a light coat of ash on most horizontal surfaces, i.e. parked cars, houses and buildings. I am no expert on radiation, but I did see birds and small animals, so I took a chance in assuming it was semi-safe to at least transit the area.

  Right now it’s nearly 2030 hrs and I have been trying to hail the Grisham’s on the radio for the past thirty minutes, No answer. This trip could have been a complete waste. Coming into town, I had to avoid being seen by a group of those monsters. I parked the car within short walking distance of the local Victoria, TX water tower. No sooner than I was three hundred yards away from my car, there were scores of them surrounding it. I have no idea how they can triangulate sounds like they do. A living person would be hard pressed to do this. My thoughts drifted to the structure of the ear, and how the parts must stiffen in death.

  The sun will be setting soon, and I’m getting tired of writing. I am safely one hundred and fifty feet off the ground, on the tower with my pack. It is drizzling rain and I am miserable. I will continue to attempt contact with the survivors.

  February 28th

  0923 hrs

  I found them. Not much time to write. I turned the radio on this morning at 0800 hrs, and walked around to the opposite side of the tower, just to make sure on reception. After three attempts, William’s familiar voice answered up, “Thank god, we need help, where are you?” I exchanged information with him and told him that I have been picking up his transmission for a few days and that myself and another man named John were holding up at a marina on an island off the coast of Texas.

  I asked him how things were and he said that his position was completely surrounded by the dead. I told him that I was broadcasting from the Victoria water tower and asked him where he was in reference to the tower. The directions he gave were simple, as he was only a couple miles from my location. Leaving now

  Left on Main. (Brown Ave.)

  1/4 mile. Right on Elm. Keep going.

  I’ll know the house when I see it.

  1641 hrs

  I have them. William is driving.

  After speaking with William this morning, I departed the area to look for them. I hot-wired the car again (much more simple this time) and sped toward the directions that I jotted down. The house was not difficult to find, as it was the one swarming with at least a hundred undead. I could see William’s face through the gaping hole where the attic vent once was. Even from this distance, I could see the defeat in his eyes. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I am still human inside after all. There just might be a conscience there. I radioed William to “hang tight.” I slammed on my brakes, jumped out of the car and opened fire on the crowd of devils. A hundred sets of white eyes immediately turned my way, and I could swear, one hundred mouths opened in unison and called my name.

  Of course, my fear was making my eyes see this, but they were coming after me. I jumped back in the car, slammed it in reverse and turned around. Just when the first of them reached the car and started to pound, I took off leading them away from William and his family.

  I keyed the microphone and told William to get his family ready to get out onto the roof as near to the ledge as possible. I was going very slowly, so that they would give chase and stay with me. William told me over the CB that they were all following me and that the plan was working. The only ones left behind, were the ones I was lucky enough to put down with a random freak headshot when I opened fire.

  Rounding the block, I waited until they were almost upon me until I hit the fucking gas and made for the Grisham house. I could see William, his wife, and a little girl on the roof. I drove the car up to the side of the house to lessen the distance they would have to jump. I got out and covered them as William jumped first and held his arms out for the others.

  One of them came walking outside the shattered front door, and saw William’s wife as she was sliding down the roof, legs hanging over. It made for her. I took aim and popped the bastard in the mouth. That didn’t stop it. I was getting tired. One more round to the dome put it in its place.

  I swung my upper body back around to the street like a tank turret. Still clear. They were all on the ground. William started to say thanks when I cut him off. The two girls were in the back. William got in and put his seatbelt on. I passed my rifle to William and sped off, back toward Seadrift. It is going to be too dark to take the boat back to Matagorda. I have no way to find it in the dark, as I left the NVGs with John. We are going to have to find a safe place to sleep in or near Seadrift tonight.

  February 29th

  0645 hrs

  I could not get John on the radio last night or this morning. We ended up sleeping on the boat. I pulled her out a hundred meters from the marina and anchored her. We were safe, and I actually got some decent sleep. The Buick is parked right next to the dock. Not sure if I will ever need it again, but it is a good car. Leaving in a few minutes for the island with the new survivors. Have not had much time to chat with them, as they slept very deeply as soon as we were safely anchored. The little girl (Laura) whined in her sleep last night.

  0900 hrs

  No sign of John. No note written, nothing. No sign of struggle. Myself, William, Jan, and little Laura are safe within the confines of the marina. I am worried about John. He is much too conservative to do something like this. Annabelle was happy to see me, but she was especially happy to see Laura. The little girl smiled and was very happy to have a dog to play with. Maybe John took a boat out and will show soon

  Stand

  March 1st

  1522 hrs

  There is still no sign of John. I feel like I need to look for him, but I have no idea where to start. What would make him leave with no notice? His weapon is gone and the drawbridge mechanism we rigged is drawn back. It is all very confusing. I am taking this down time to get to know the Grisham family a bit better. They do not know John, but can see the worry in my eyes that I am trying to hide.

  March 3rd

  0914 hrs

  John was bloody, tired and defeated. He came back this morning and called out to me. I ran outside and pushed the marina drawbridge over to him. He fainted at the shoreline and I had to carry him inside. John isn’t a big man, only about 160 lbs. I slung him over my shoulder and walked over the drawbridge, and pulled the rope to slide it back my direction and attach it back to the marina wall. When I got him inside and put him on a makeshift bed, I noticed the photograph in his bloody hand.

  A bloodstained picture of a woman fell to the floor from his clutch. I knew in my heart who it was. It was his wife. He has been in and out of consciousness since his arrival early this morning. He has taken some water, and has attempted to drink some canned soup. Janet and I will continue to monitor him.

  William’s wife, Jan was a registered nurse (quit her nursing job a couple years ago for
medical school). She wasn’t a doctor, but who is anymore?

  Janet examined him head to toe, paying special attention to John’s lacerations. None of them appeared to be bite marks. One of them looked like a small caliber bullet wound (entry and exit wound on his shoulder), while others looked like tumble injuries. John was in no shape to explain anything as he could barely take a drink of water/soup without vomiting and passing out. I am worried.

  March 4th

  2014 hrs

  John finally snapped out of it. I told him how worried I was, and how I had no idea what happened to him. He then proceeded to tell me that he hit his breaking point during the loneliness of the past few days. While I was away, all he could think of was his wife and son, and how much he loved them. Jan was listening from the adjacent room, and I could tell she felt for him. John told me how he remembered leaving some items in the aircraft when we abandoned it, and he was missing the only picture he had of his wife. He told me that he could never ask me to risk my life over a picture, so instead of waiting on me to get back, he decided that he would attempt to get it on his own.