by GJ Zukow
I'll spend tomorrow mulling it over in my head and finally get around to writing about Jannie. I know I've been putting off writing about her because of the guilt I feel. I also have been secretly hoping that she's safe inside the jail. Still got to figure out where the old safe-house was in relationship to where I am now and search it.
Ah, places to go, things to see and zombies to kill. It' always something.
26
It has been raining all night and all day. It comes down in great, massive, swollen drops and when the rain slows down it still comes down in the form of a fine mist. Welcome to sunny Florida. The sky is a dark grey and black mass of roiling lightning speckled clouds that blot out the sun. Thunder cracks so loud that it shakes my tent. There is no way I'm going to venture out in this. The overcast heavens and the unrelenting rain do nothing to help my state of mind. There's only so much that Zoloft can do to help my depression. While my tent is above the rushing flow of water, on its platform of wooden pallets scavenged from the grocery store below, the gusting wind forces fine droplets of water inside the tent and the moist air makes everything damp.
If this storm turns out to be the front end of a hurricane then I'll have to barricade myself in one of the houses in the area. Not really wanting to do that. I've developed a sense of claustrophobia about being enclosed in any structure I guess. I feel so much better, even with the pouring rain, being outside where I can see the sky and actually look around me and see the trees and the grass. Being pent up in that accursed bomb shelter, and the number of buildings before that, I never even saw the sun or the stars for most of my stay in them. Not to mention that in the end, the security they provided was a false security. Maybe if this were Europe, with its castles and fortresses, would I feel comfortable being locked inside.
That first day I met Jannie was the first day the stark horror of this new reality hit me. As I followed the seventeen year old high school student with long dirty blonde hair out of the Wal-Mart I felt as if I were caught in a dream gone hideously wrong. Making our way as quickly as we could, past and over twitching and slowly re-animating bodies, we exited the store.
Just outside the entrance a brunette in a blood soaked sundress shakily and slowly had been resurrected by the insidious parasite. All the telltale signs that she was dead were plain to see, signs that I would come to recognize instantly. The lurching carcass was as pale as snow, the only color on her skin was a deep blackness that covered the left side of her lower extremities. I came to realize that was where what blood remained in the corpses' body congealed after death. The cadaver was missing its left arm below the elbow and the torso and once attractive dress was riddled with large caliber bullet holes. The orbs of the eyes were as black as jet and as it barred its teeth it showed the blackened tongue and gums.
Without missing a step Jannie smoothly raised her weapon and unloosed an accurate burst of automatic weapons fire. The thing in the sundress's head snapped back as the top of its skull and the majority of its brains were ejected in a thick spray. It was then that a ball of fear started to knot itself in my stomach. Here was a girl, who's pretty blue eyes held a coldness that could seemingly freeze a glass of water with a glance. This fucked up world had changed a schoolgirl who should be in a cheerleader outfit into a hard as steel killer.
I turned then and wanted only to get back to my apartment when an Abrams tank rolled into view, callously running over the dead, straight towards us. The way back to my apartment lay past the tank and I was completely unprepared for what happened. The tank opened up on us, spraying the area surrounding us with its fifty caliber slugs. The first burst from the tank missed, but not by much, sending pieces of shattered brick and mortar from the wall of the Wal-Mart behind me, to stingingly strike me. I stood there frozen, flabbergasted that this could be happening.
"This way dumbass." She shouted at me.
Jannie roughly grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, ripping it in the process, dragging me in the opposite direction than I had wanted to go. I was off balance and as we rounded the corner I fell flat on my face. Whomever was operating the tank was mercilessly firing the machine gun and chunks of the bricks that made up the corner of the building were being turned to dust just feet behind us.
I got to my feet and I ran after Jannie as fast as I could. There was a momentary silence as the tank stopped firing. In a second, two at the most, the fleeting silence was gone as a huge explosion rocked the Wal-Mart. Even though we had ran beyond the building the explosion still knocked us down. A cloud of rubble, dust and burning pieces of Wal-Mart stock plummeted on and around us. The bastard was serious in his rage and started shelling the store.
Once we were well away from the berserk tanker, who now seemed content to reduce Wal-Mart to a smoking ruin, Jannie abruptly turned around.
"You can stop following me now."
"I'm not really following you," I stammered, "I just don't know what to do."
"What you should do is go back to where you came from and stop following me."
Her voice had a firm, steady quality to it and the barrel of her M16 raised slightly in my direction, adding a subtle hint for me to leave now.
"But you're the first sane person I've seen in the last couple of weeks. What the hell has been really going on. I have a bunch of questions I want to ask you." The words came out with a pleading tilt to them, almost embarrassing me.
Her mouth opened to answer me, but before the words could come out we both saw another of the newly risen coming at us as fast as its jerking legs could propel it. There were no visible wounds on the undead marine, so I could only surmise that he had finally succumbed to the parasite and died of the infection, only to arise from his short rest. Jannie wasted no time in placing a few new holes in his head. As soon as the corpse hit the ground she ran towards it and stripped the sidearm and body armor off.
"Here, you're going to need this." She said, handing me the handgun.
"Thanks." I told her, feeling slightly subdued that a girl had to get me weapon.
Feeling the cold weight in my hands I realized I had never held a gun before in my life.
"Grab whatever ammo he has on him." Jannie told me as she adjusted her newly acquired body armor.
I had no want to touch the corpse but damned if I was going to balk at rummaging around the dead man after she did. I wanted to prove I actually did have some balls, even though my stomach disagreed with the act of corpse looting.
I was in the act of stuffing the extra clips into my pockets when some crazy bastard started shooting at us from inside one of the houses.
Jannie looked at me hard, trying to judge my character in that split second as rounds went wide and missed us by a mile.
"Come on, I know someplace safe." She said with obvious reservation.
We ran through backyards and over fences, staying away from the streets and open areas as much as possible. Smoke, fire, screams and gunshots could be heard all around as we made our winding way to the back entrance of a strip club.
I was curious as to what we were doing here as she pulled a set of keys out and unlocked the back door. We quickly entered and she locked the door behind us.
"A strip club?" I asked her, motioning around with my hands. I wondered if I had accurately judged her age. She definitely had the body and the looks to make a good living here. The odd look on my face clued her into what I was thinking. She wasn't stupid by any means.
"Yes, a strip club, and no, I didn't work here."
She was all business as she walked away from me through the kitchen area past the coolers and into the club itself.
"If you'll note there are no windows. The front and back doors are heavy duty and the walls are construction block. There are monitors in the office for surveillance. Plenty of food, bathrooms, and even a shower in the women's locker room."
Shouldering her rifle she stopped behind the bar and grabbed a carton of orange juice.
"Fuck with me even once and you're going to e
nd up like this prick." With one hand she pointed at a dead man with the left side of his face missing as her other hand lifted the carton to her lips.
I'm guessing she saw the look of concern cross my features, and after she had taken a deep drink she explained further.
"The prick's little head did the thinking for the big head and he tried to rape me. I guarantee you if you try it will be your death."
Whether or not she had actually killed him, or if it was for that reason, I don't know. She may have been bluffing just to keep me in check. There can be any number of ways she got a hold of the keys but I really wasn't concerned with that. I had a ton of questions that were busting to spill out.
"Help me get this corpse to the dumpster, then we can talk."
That was Jannie. A cold, hardened murderer in a schoolgirl's killer body with even deadlier instincts.
Damn I miss her.
27
Today was an interesting day for two reasons. The first, and to me the most important, is that I was able to locate the old safe-house that was over-run. The one where Jannie and I were hiding until the zeds battered down the fortifications. The second reason is I saw a group of survivors looting a store and driving off in a working delivery truck.
The day started on a good note to begin with. By the time I awoke, the rain had stopped, the sun was burning brightly and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I rigged up a clothes line and hung everything up to dry. Refusing to go back into a confining building and lock myself in it provides a few (minor to me) disadvantages. The worst of "Urban Camping", as I like to refer to it, is your more exposed to the elements. Fine with me.
I was stripped down to my skivvies and boots, waiting for my clothes to dry out, brushing my teeth, when I got a couple of ideas almost all at once. I was splashing around in pools of water and using bottled water to brush with. Seemed like a huge waste of resources to me. I knew there were buckets and containers in the shops below and I decided I would go grab them and use 'em to collect the rain water. The only problem would be trying to keep the shit-load of mosquitoes and other bugs out of the water. If I could keep the nasty insects out of the water supply to begin with I wouldn't have to boil it first. I was standing there, on the roof of Winn-Dixie, idly brushing my teeth in my boxers, while starring at the abandoned houses behind the strip mall. Bingo, I thought, I can cut the screens out of the windows and layer them over the tops of the buckets to keep the bugs out.
The second idea, which wasn't a big idea, if I were smarter I would have thought of all of this a long time ago, was to store as much as my stuff in zip-lock bags as possible so I wouldn't have to dry everything I owned out every time it rained.
I went downstairs, still in my underwear, with the AK on my shoulder and my axe in hand. I cleared out the wandering dead and made multiple trips back up to the roof with my swag. On the final run through the stores, to see if I missed anything I could use, I spotted a map book. It was a decent map book, not one of those cheap fold up paper maps that always ripped and I could never fold back up the right way when I was done with it. I knew I could use it to orientate myself with the city better, if only I could figure out the area Jannie and I had been holed up in. Then the best thought of the day hit me. I knew the name of the tool and die shop. I had put the name in this journal. If it weren't for this journal I know I would have forgotten the name of the place with all that has happened. The burned down shop was basically only a few blocks away from our old hide-out. If only I had a phone book I thought! I realized there had to be at least one phone book in all of these shops, more than likely there was a copy in each store's office. I practically shit my drawers with joy. I felt like a complete idiot for not thinking of it sooner.
As soon as I had located the tool and die shop on the map I gathered up my gear and headed out. My clothes weren't completely dry yet but I didn't care.
It took me over three hours to cover the nine miles between my camp and the wreckage of the tool and die shop. I stuck mainly to backyards, with the lots being overgrown now and the fences still locked for the most part. The wildly out of control growth of the plants and trees provided an excellent natural cover and the closed yards kept the undead out. There were a few houses with disgustingly rotted terrors that noticed my passing, none of which could do anything but bump and claw at the closed backdoors so I ignored them. The few I had to use my axe on (which was starting to show some wear and tear, with nicks and dents along the blade) proved easy enough to kill. I was slowed down from all the fence jumping I was doing, having to stop occasionally and catch my breath. The weight of the pack and my weapons and ammo isn't great but after awhile it seems much heavier.
I finally arrived at the burnt out shell of Orange County Tool & Die, slightly out of breath. The corpses of the herd that had me surrounded back then were strewn about for a block, a thick pile of them encircled half the building. The corpses were almost fully decomposed now, with burned and tattered clothing covering bare bones. The fire and resulting explosions took out a hell of a lot more of them than I thought it did.
I heard the unmistakable sound of an internal combustion engine. Quickly I hunkered down and scanned the area in the direction of the sound with my binoculars.
A UPS truck was running over zeds that got in its path in the road. It was obvious that it had a destination in mind and it made a bee-line towards a pharmacy. It backed up towards the entry doors and plowed through them.
I watched two people jump out of the cab and start blasting away at the now alerted undead. I could hear muffled shots coming from within the drug store. Obviously more than one person was inside the building, having gotten out the back out the van, and was busy clearing and looting the store. This was a planned, concerted effort. Before I could make up my mind as to whether or not to try and hail them and run the mile or so to them, they got back in the truck and were gone. I watched them drive off and lost sight of them as they rounded a corner. The whole thing lasted less than 10 minutes.
I don't know if this is the same group that looted the stores where I'm camping, but I am definitely going to come back here soon and try to track them down.
From the tool and die I easily, with the binoculars, spotted the familiar landmarks I saw a thousand times from the old hideout.
The house Jannie and I had holed up in was in bad shape. The windows were smashed. The doors were off their hinges. The corpses of the hungering dead were lying thick, limbs all akimbo, most missing the better part of their skulls, grouped around the internal doorways. I hadn't done that. Jannie must have. I, like a coward, jumped out a window and ran for my life as soon as the front door busted down. There was no blood spatter, no ripped and torn clothing, no pieces of gnawed bones. There was a hole in a closet wall, a hole that was opened by multiple shotgun blasts through the drywall, insulation, plywood and aluminum siding.
She had escaped!
If she was still alive was another question entirely.
I went into the kitchen mainly to see if there was any food to be scavenged but ended up finding something of an even greater value. If I hadn't dropped a package of instant oatmeal between the stove and refrigerator I would have never noticed the worn corner of Jannie's journal. How the journal ended up under the 'frige I have no idea. The last time I remember seeing it she had been writing in it at the table. I suppose one of the undead could have knocked it off the table and from there it could have easily been kicked to where I found it. It was a good find. I hope I get the chance to return it to her.
I made my way back here, to my roof top camp, happier than I had been in a long time. I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders knowing I hadn't let her die there.
Tonight I'm going to break open some bubbly and celebrate.
28
I met another survivor today. While neither one of us said where we were holing up, not totally trusting each other, I did get a lot of information. Some good, some bad.
I had been exploring,
checking out possible places to flee to if I had to abandon my camp. I was slowly making my way back to the old safe-house Jannie and I shared. The prison wasn't very far from the route I was taking either, every time I came within a block of it I found the undead just too numerous to get any closer.
In my searching, I had been going into random houses and pilfering food and items. There was a two story house that for some reason caught my eye. It had been very well barricaded, with plywood over all the windows and front door. I found the back door solid and securely locked with three additional bolt locks. After making my way up to the awning covering the back porch I used my axe to chop my way through the plywood (which wasn't too hard to do, seeing how the plywood had been exposed to the unrelenting elements for two years or so), covering one of the upstairs windows.
Once inside the first thing I noticed was the smell of old death. The second thing was the vast amount of dead flies all over the place. I cautiously went room to room prepared to lob the heads off any of the walking or sleeping undead I found. Family pictures were hung on the stairwell, I noted this because if the family had turned it would be a very good thing to know how many there were. Two parents and two children. This was the residence of a reasonably normal middle-class family.