The strain on my leg has set me back, but I still insist that we leave today. It is midmorning, however, and we are still here. Charlotte has a can of spray paint in her bag and paints the words AREA NOT SAFE. On the door. When asked she says that everywhere she goes she leaves a note for any survivors.
I am sitting in the Hummer, waiting patiently for them to pack the rest of the supplies before moving out. I am frustrated, but I hide it as there is little I can do to help. Charlotte and Josh left early this morning into town and found some new clothes for everyone and I am now wearing a new pair of jeans, (they are a bit larger, as I've lost a lot of weight from a lack of food), and a sweater. I look into the passenger mirror under the sun block and scratch the thickening beard on my face. Chad and Josh both saved this morning, but I opted out. I've never minded having a beard.
Eventually the three of them get in and we are off. Chad stops at a gas station to fill up on gas, and while I fill up the tank, (insisting that I need to use my leg), Chad goes into the station with Josh to see if there are any spare gas cans. There are none. I figure that most people grabbed them during the few days the outbreak was infecting people. As I pump I wonder idly if there are any colony's of people surviving, trying to wade through this and hope that it ends soon. I don't think it will end but it would be nice to come across some people that had not been changed. I know the longer the amount of time, the less and less humans there will be.
I can see several zombies loitering down the street, maybe a mile away but they do not see us and so I do not alarm the others. If they start this way we can run. My machete is leaning against the Hummer and I had brought it out just in case. I don't think you can be too careful, and from just my experience in the last few days, not to mention weeks; one moment things can seem fine and the next your leg could become a zombie chew toy.
I finish and get back into the Hummer, leaving the gas nozzle on the ground in an odd sense of defiance.
* * *
It doesn't take us long to get to the redwoods. Chad drives fast until we reach the redwoods and slows drastically down to about twenty-five or thirty miles an hour so we do not miss the red cloth tied to a tree.
There is a peace in the forest and I want to walk in its shade. We stop for a few minutes to allow me to stretch my leg. It is cold and my breath is visible as it raises. I limp around the vehicle a few times, balancing with my hand against the frame, and finally I walk into the woods. Using my cane I am able to make it with no major issues. I do need to stop every so often to take any weight off of my leg, but all in all, I can feel my strength coming back. While the leg has a long way to heal, I should be able to use it more frequently and with more ease, soon.
It took us another hour of driving before we see the first ripped red cloth tied around one of the smaller tree's. There is little room to maneuver the Hummer, especially since we do not know where to go exactly so we each get out, grabbing some weapons and start to hike into the forest. Chad hits a button and the Hummer's horn honks once. I look at him questioningly.
"I locked it," he says. After a moment he adds, "you never know." It is slow going and after what I would guess was a mile it is getting dark and cold but I cannot concentrate on that with the pain in my leg increasing with every step.
"Aaron," Chad says, after I have to stop for a rest. "Charlotte and I are going to run ahead while you and Josh wait here." I begin to protest, but he continues. "If it gets dark we will not find them nor will we be able to find our way back. We'd freeze." Charlotte says something but it is muffled by her mask.
"OK," I finally say, and without another word Chad and Charlotte take off. Josh comes over and sits down next to me.
"Do you think she'll be there?" He asks me, looking up at the sky. It is still light out side, but we don't have anymore than an hour.
"Yeah, I do. She has to be."
"Do you want me to check your bandages?"
"Not now." I say looking down at my leg. "Maybe once we get to their camp."
We don't talk anymore and I just sit, eyes closed, listening to the sound of wind through leaves. They rustle and I am reminded of the sound in times that I was not fighting for my life. I loved nature and nature sounds. I use to listen to the rain and soundtracks of rain while I worked on my undergraduate work. I learned that trick from Chad only a month ago and it may have well of been a life time or so. I am not the same person I was a month ago. I am a killer. I am a survivor. I am a man who has to become like these dreaded things, these zombies in order to beat them. I wonder what my family will see. I wonder what they have had to do to survive. What have we all become?
It takes an hour and it is nearly dark when I hear movement. Out of reflex I grab my machete and pull it from its sheath, awkwardly standing, using the massive tree at my back. It gets louder and I can see Josh holding his rifle up ready to fire if needed.
"It's me," comes Chad's voice and we see him coming into view, around a large tree. He is holding my son Connor, and my wife Dawn and youngest son Seeley are with him. I start to run towards them and fall instantly. I try to get back up, but before I am able Connor has run over and is hugging me. Dawn is there weeping her beautiful tears and I find that I am crying as well, holding my wife and boys as though I would never let them go. Connor, who is two, is not crying but is now pulling my arm, telling me to follow him and I finally stand, sheath my machete and carry him in one arm back to their camp. Holding my wifes hand and balancing off of her I grin idiotically, tears still rolling down my cheeks and walk back with my family. My wife. My sons. My brothers. And for the first time since this all began I can say that I am happy and that things will be OK.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Day 22
Dawns letter is as follows:
Jan. 19, 2012
Aaron,
We had to leave, and I'm sorry. They were coming nearer and nearer to us and so your Grandpa decided to leave. We are going to the Redwoods to camp and to wait for you to find us. There will be a red cloth tied to a tree on the west side of the road and every day an hour or so after the sun comes up someone will be there for about an hour. If no one is there than follow the red cloths on trees back to our camp. There will be a few of us there. (More than just your grandparents and us).
The boys are OK, I am OK. At least as OK as you can be in this. They miss their Daddy, and I miss you more than I can tell you in this letter. Please come find us. We need you.
I love you, Aaron. I know you will make it to us. Be careful and I will see you soon!
I love you with all my heart,
Dawn
My first reaction is to stand and go to the Hummer and find her and my boys. But as soon as I put weight on my right leg the pain shoots through my leg and right side. I swear loudly and Josh comes in. He sees me sitting up with no weight on my right leg, holding it up off of the floor.
"You OK?" he asks walking over to me with some food.
"Not really. I really want to get going."
"Can you put any weight on it?"
"Not yet. It feels better than it did yesterday," I say, touching the bandages slightly. "It's probably because the bullet is out."
"Probably. We may need to wait a few days before we can leave."
"No." I have already made up my mind. "I will rest today, trying to put some weight on it occasionally but tomorrow morning we are leaving. I need to find my wife."
Josh doesn't argue and I know he knows that there is no point to it. He lets me know that he will tell the others and they will get things ready today. Several minutes later Charlotte comes in with a cane and hands it to me. I try to stand with its aid, but am only able to stay up for several seconds. But it's an improvement. I would like some crutches or something, but there are none. This will have to do. She then goes to work changing my bandages. There is no blood on these ones, but as she takes it off, I see that the inner layers still show that I am bleeding.
"I'm really sorry about all of this," she says, lightly cleaning the edges of the bites and slowly starting to put more of the the gauze on. She is still in her clothes, covering any of her skin but the gas mask is hanging at her side. She has, instead replaced it with a medical mask. It's odd being around someone who feels they need all of that protection, but at the same time, we did not know that it could be airborne or that we were most likely immune until a few days ago.
"Where did you find all of this?" I ask pointing to the mask and gauze.
"It is on the counter in the kitchen," she says. "Looks like they all raided a pharmacy or something from the look of it. There is quite a bit in there, but I'm sure that most of it they took with them."
Seeing the mask on Charlotte gave me hope for Dawn being OK and protected if it was airborne. While I was immune, and I knew that my kids could have gotten the gene (if it was even gene related as I felt it to be most likely) Dawn most likely does not have it. With the amount of people we know have died, it seems as though it is a very rare thing to have.
Chad, Josh and Charlotte each come in to keep me company throughout the day, and I try to stand and walk about every hour. I am able to stand, and take a few steps before falling hard on the carpet. But there is progress and I know that if I have to practice through the night I will. I need to find my wife.
There is a shout, from Chad, I think coming from the kitchen. I see Charlotte and Josh run by, not stopping to say anything to me. Charlotte has her crossbow loaded, and Josh is holding my machete. I try and ask what is happening but they are through the door into the kitchen before I can say anything. There is some banging and then it stops. I hear Josh, or maybe Chad say, "outside" and a door opens and after several seconds it closes again. There are no shots fired and so I assume that Chad is using his katana along with Josh and my machete. Charlotte's crossbow would make no noise.
Suddenly there is banging on the other side of the couch and, looking over I see, through a sliding glass door I see a zombie trying to get in. It is banging on it with its fists and head.
"Help!" I yell. It is still banging, and I am not sure if they can hear me. I look around but there are no weapons near me. Instinctively I reach for my pistol but it is not beside me. I look at the cane and hear a crack at the door. Looking towards the zombie, there is a large crack stretching the length of the large window.
I have only seconds.
I wheel my body around and place my cane on the floor. Pushing hard on the cane I stand up, leaving almost no weight on the injured leg. I hobble away from the couch, wincing with each step I move slowly to the kitchen, listening to the banging behind me. My leg is on fire, but I push forward. I start to open the door and hear a crash as the sliding door breaks into hundreds of tiny shards.
"Help!" I yell through the crack of the door before spinning around, putting weight on both legs, grunting, or rather screaming in exasperation and anger, and swing the cane at where I think its head will be. It connects hard with the things neck, causing it to stumble to the side. I swing again, and connect with the things head. We both fall over, him from the hit and I from putting almost all my weight on my right leg to swing the cane.
I am scrambling to get up when I hear the thing give that awful yell. I spin to my back, sit up as much as I can and swing at the thing again. It raises its hand to stop the swing, but I connect all the same. To the temple with a crushing blow. I can feel it indent. It crumbles to the ground, but I know it will get back up soon.
It takes several seconds, several long seconds for me to get up. First I get to my knees and try crawling, but the carpet rubs against my calf and even with the bandaging I can feel it. I get my left leg under me and push up hard, balancing on just the one leg. I make it up and, with the canes help, get through the door to the kitchen and see what I was looking for. There, on the counter is a block of knives. I find the largest, pull it out and walk back to the kitchen door. I begin to open it, and as I do the door is violently pushed open. I fall backwards, still holding the knife, and the zombie, attacking, follows. It lands on top of me as I stretch out the knife, piercing its eye and then brain.
The full force of the zombies weight lands on me. I can't wiggle free with my leg and so I try rolling if off using just my arms. Finally, I get the thing off of my as Chad, Josh and Charlotte (with her gas mask) each walk in their clothes stain with fresh blood. Their features sharpened by the setting suns light.
Jan. 19, 2012
Aaron,
We had to leave, and I'm sorry. They were coming nearer and nearer to us and so your Grandpa decided to leave. We are going to the Redwoods to camp and to wait for you to find us. There will be a red cloth tied to a tree on the west side of the road and every day an hour or so after the sun comes up someone will be there for about an hour. If no one is there than follow the red cloths on trees back to our camp. There will be a few of us there. (More than just your grandparents and us).
The boys are OK, I am OK. At least as OK as you can be in this. They miss their Daddy, and I miss you more than I can tell you in this letter. Please come find us. We need you.
I love you, Aaron. I know you will make it to us. Be careful and I will see you soon!
I love you with all my heart,
Dawn
My first reaction is to stand and go to the Hummer and find her and my boys. But as soon as I put weight on my right leg the pain shoots through my leg and right side. I swear loudly and Josh comes in. He sees me sitting up with no weight on my right leg, holding it up off of the floor.
"You OK?" he asks walking over to me with some food.
"Not really. I really want to get going."
"Can you put any weight on it?"
"Not yet. It feels better than it did yesterday," I say, touching the bandages slightly. "It's probably because the bullet is out."
"Probably. We may need to wait a few days before we can leave."
"No." I have already made up my mind. "I will rest today, trying to put some weight on it occasionally but tomorrow morning we are leaving. I need to find my wife."
Josh doesn't argue and I know he knows that there is no point to it. He lets me know that he will tell the others and they will get things ready today. Several minutes later Charlotte comes in with a cane and hands it to me. I try to stand with its aid, but am only able to stay up for several seconds. But it's an improvement. I would like some crutches or something, but there are none. This will have to do. She then goes to work changing my bandages. There is no blood on these ones, but as she takes it off, I see that the inner layers still show that I am bleeding.
"I'm really sorry about all of this," she says, lightly cleaning the edges of the bites and slowly starting to put more of the the gauze on. She is still in her clothes, covering any of her skin but the gas mask is hanging at her side. She has, instead replaced it with a medical mask. It's odd being around someone who feels they need all of that protection, but at the same time, we did not know that it could be airborne or that we were most likely immune until a few days ago.
"Where did you find all of this?" I ask pointing to the mask and gauze.
"It is on the counter in the kitchen," she says. "Looks like they all raided a pharmacy or something from the look of it. There is quite a bit in there, but I'm sure that most of it they took with them."
Seeing the mask on Charlotte gave me hope for Dawn being OK and protected if it was airborne. While I was immune, and I knew that my kids could have gotten the gene (if it was even gene related as I felt it to be most likely) Dawn most likely does not have it. With the amount of people we know have died, it seems as though it is a very rare thing to have.
Chad, Josh and Charlotte each come in to keep me company throughout the day, and I try to stand and walk about every hour. I am able to stand, and take a few steps before falling hard on the carpet. But there is progress and I know that if I have to practice through the night I will. I need to find my wife.
There is a shout, from Chad, I think coming from the kitchen. I see Charlotte and Josh run by, not stopping to say anything to me. Charlotte has her crossbow loaded, and Josh is holding my machete. I try and ask what is happening but they are through the door into the kitchen before I can say anything. There is some banging and then it stops. I hear Josh, or maybe Chad say, "outside" and a door opens and after several seconds it closes again. There are no shots fired and so I assume that Chad is using his katana along with Josh and my machete. Charlotte's crossbow would make no noise.
Suddenly there is banging on the other side of the couch and, looking over I see, through a sliding glass door I see a zombie trying to get in. It is banging on it with its fists and head.
"Help!" I yell. It is still banging, and I am not sure if they can hear me. I look around but there are no weapons near me. Instinctively I reach for my pistol but it is not beside me. I look at the cane and hear a crack at the door. Looking towards the zombie, there is a large crack stretching the length of the large window.
I have only seconds.
I wheel my body around and place my cane on the floor. Pushing hard on the cane I stand up, leaving almost no weight on the injured leg. I hobble away from the couch, wincing with each step I move slowly to the kitchen, listening to the banging behind me. My leg is on fire, but I push forward. I start to open the door and hear a crash as the sliding door breaks into hundreds of tiny shards.
"Help!" I yell through the crack of the door before spinning around, putting weight on both legs, grunting, or rather screaming in exasperation and anger, and swing the cane at where I think its head will be. It connects hard with the things neck, causing it to stumble to the side. I swing again, and connect with the things head. We both fall over, him from the hit and I from putting almost all my weight on my right leg to swing the cane.
I am scrambling to get up when I hear the thing give that awful yell. I spin to my back, sit up as much as I can and swing at the thing again. It raises its hand to stop the swing, but I connect all the same. To the temple with a crushing blow. I can feel it indent. It crumbles to the ground, but I know it will get back up soon.
It takes several seconds, several long seconds for me to get up. First I get to my knees and try crawling, but the carpet rubs against my calf and even with the bandaging I can feel it. I get my left leg under me and push up hard, balancing on just the one leg. I make it up and, with the canes help, get through the door to the kitchen and see what I was looking for. There, on the counter is a block of knives. I find the largest, pull it out and walk back to the kitchen door. I begin to open it, and as I do the door is violently pushed open. I fall backwards, still holding the knife, and the zombie, attacking, follows. It lands on top of me as I stretch out the knife, piercing its eye and then brain.
The full force of the zombies weight lands on me. I can't wiggle free with my leg and so I try rolling if off using just my arms. Finally, I get the thing off of my as Chad, Josh and Charlotte (with her gas mask) each walk in their clothes stain with fresh blood. Their features sharpened by the setting suns light.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Day 21
From the moment I wake up my leg is on fire. The pain is almost unbearable as I open my eyes and look down. There are stained bandages wrapped around the hole in my leg preventing me from seeing it and probably going into shock again. There is an indent, but without the direct gore I am able to handle the sight of my mangled leg. My breathing is heavy as I squint my eyes, trying to get the pain under control. Turning my head to the side I see a table next to me with water and several bottles of pills. I grab the nearest and read "Lortab". I open it, get out two pills and swallow them with the water.
I lay there and try to concentrate on anything but the pain, turning on my left side and pulling my legs up. I find a blanket on the back of the couch I am on and pull it over me. As I do so, I see Chad sitting at the end of the couch on a chair. His head is leaning forward and his breathing is heavy. I let him sleep.
The pain is still strong and I wait for the pain killers to take hold. I consider taking a third pill but disregard that . . . for now. At some point the pain dulls out. It is still there, but I don't seem to notice or don't care. I drift into a comatose of odd thoughts and consider becoming a zombie so I don't get hungry but then shake that thought off. I know I am getting tired because my mind is wandering, just like we've been wandering through the motions of surviving but only just getting lucky. I had gotten lucky once in Vegas. My wife insisted I do the slots and so I did. I won all my money back before blowing it again. So, maybe not lucky. I need to focus my thoughts, or maybe let them drift, and they do drift like drift wood drifting down a river until finally I fall sleep.
* * *
I am awake again. It is very bright outside and the sun light shines through the windows. Looking out, I can tell that it is cold and I miss the mild temperature of California already. Chad has left his seat and now no one is near me. My leg is hurting, but not as bad as it did last night. I grab the Lortab bottle and throw another pill into my mouth. There are other pills there. Many seem to be antibiotics. I wait to take these, hoping someone knows more about them than I do. I look down at my leg. The dressings have been changed, but there is still a blood stain slightly soaking through. I move my foot slightly and the pain radiates throughout my leg. I gasp and shut my eyes trying to will the pain away.
There is a sigh beside me and I hear Josh say, "Oh good . . ." and then yells behind his shoulder, "he's up!" The other two come in quickly.
"Are you OK?" Chad says.
"Where is Dawn? My kids?"
"They aren't here," he replies. "They left."
"Are they OK?"
Chad pauses for a moment, "I don't know. I hope so. They left a note."
"Where are they?" I say getting frustrated, the pain making me anxious.
"I . . . The redwoods. That's what the note says, anyway."
"Note?" He can tell I'm getting short and the pain is picking up.
"Just rest. I'm sure they're fine. For now we need to focus on you. How are you feeling?"
"Not good. My leg is killing me."
"We were worried you'd taken a lot of Lortab last night. The bottle was left open and we thought . . ."
"Just took two," I say, interrupting Chad.
Charlotte steps towards me and looks directly into my eyes. "You should be obviously infected by now. Have you seen someone change?"
I nod. The pain is growing and I am doing everything I can to suppress the pain.
"You'd have a fever and would be constantly throwing up. I . . ." she pauses. "It's incredible." I want to tell her all I know about it, what I think it means, but I can't. The pain is growing and the others can tell. I reach for the bottle of Lortab and grab another pill. No one says anything as I put it in my mouth and drink the water. Josh hands me two pills he had taken from the antibiotics bottle.
"Take these. I think you're pretty susceptible to an infection." I take them and lean back. "When that kicks in," Josh says, I can tell he doesn't want to bring whatever he is about to bring up but does anyway, "we are going to have to clean the bites and then . . . and then Charlotte is going to take the bullet out of your leg."
"Bullet?" I manage to say.
"When Chad shot it, the pullet went through its skull and into you leg . . . where the bit is." I can feel my face visibly going white. I look at my leg and then at the bottle of Lortab. I grab one more pill, (there are not many left) and put it in my mouth. I can tell the others are uncomfortable with me taking so much, but their sympathies take over and they allow it.
* * *
My head is relatively clear when the medicine kicks in. I feel OK. Not great, but the pain has deadened a lot. Josh tells me that Charlotte had two years in medical school done and so was the most qualified to clean and get the bullet out. While the Lortab tricks me into not care about the pain, it does nothing for my nerves. I am anxious and I can feel the uneasiness through my body, causing me to shake slightly, or at least I feel like I'm shaking.
I see Charlotte, Josh and Chad come in and my stomach feels like it is in my throat. Charlotte is in an old button up shirt of my grandpas and has some plastic gloves they had found in a closet with cleaning supplies. Josh comes and sits next to me, grabbing my hand. "Try not to break it," he says, smiling. I don't reply.
"Do you need me to hold your leg still?" Chad says.
"I can keep it still but it might start shaking involuntarily. So . . . yes."
He grabs my leg just under the knee and holds it tight. He is sitting on the couch's edge and blocks my view of my right leg which is probably for the best.
"I am really really sorry about this," Charlotte says. I can tell she is very uncomfortable with doing this. "They didn't have any disinfectant. So I made some rough saline solution, but I think I'll need to use alcohol at some point. It looks pretty infected."
"OK," is all I can manage. I am terrified. More than I have been when facing zombies or any time I can remember. Once, when I was twenty-one I had gotten bad sores on my back. A resulting disease from Ulcerative Colitis, (which I have) called Pyoderma Gangrenosum. I had to endure nearly twenty minutes with no pain killers while a nurse scrubbed the soars clean. It as the most pain I had ever felt. I had a feeling this would be much worse.
"Ready?" she says, looking at me. I nod and stare at the ceiling. Josh is squeezing my hand harder than I am his. Chad squeezes my leg and I know she's about to start.
The pain is nearly unbearable. The moment she begins the cleaning with cotton balls and saline I take a sharp inhale of breath and grip Josh's hand hard. He winces and I try to loosen my grip. I can feel her moving around and it is all I can do to breath somewhat steadily. Chad is gripping my leg hard and I can feel him struggling against the involuntary shakes. Charlotte says something but I ignore it. Chad lets go and hold my leg differently. My leg is on fire. I grit my teeth and my jaw starts to hurt. I can tell that I am hurting Josh and so I let go and grip his forearm.
"OK," Charlotte say, and I know what is coming. I watch as she reaches beside her and grabs the alcohol and presses the lid to a cotton ball. "This is really going to sting." Sting is not the correct word for the pain that shoots through my body. I let out a moan which quickly turns into an unwilling scream. I can feel her pressing the alcohol soaked cotton into me, pushing hard in some places. My breathing is sporadic at best and I close my eyes, rolling them into the back of my head.
"Hold on," Josh says. "You're doing good." I smile at this, but only for a second. Suddenly the pain lessens significantly and there is only an uncomfortable burning or itching.
"The bullet looks as though it is still in one piece," Charlotte says. "I think I'll be able to get it out . . ."
"Have you done this before?" I hear Chad say. There is no response and I know she is shaking her head, no. She grabs some oddly clean looking pliers and runs them under a match flame for several seconds--until the match burns down. I put my hand to my nose. The break along with the the straining gives me a headache, the pressure at the arch of my nose.
There is no warning given this time. I feel the pliers go into my gaping hole and scream. I clinch Josh's arm hard and Chad is leaning on me, putting his weight on my legs to hold them still. I can feel Charlotte digging around the bullet, trying to find it with such limited resources. There is a sharp pinch and I scream again.
"Sorry, sorry," she says, still concentrating. I grunt and turn my head towards the couch, searching for somewhere to put my other arm. I want to pull my leg away, I want to turn it or shake it. I want to get this foreign object out, but Chad is holding me tightly, not allowing any movement. There is another sharp pain and then it is out.
I give a sigh of relief as Chad gets off of my legs and Charlotte rocks back into a sitting position, holding the pliers in front of her, the smashed bullet between them. She holds it out to show me but I do not have the energy to care. I can feel the Lortab effects coming back, or maybe it's exhaustion. Regardless, I say a quick thanks and close my eyes.
I lay there and try to concentrate on anything but the pain, turning on my left side and pulling my legs up. I find a blanket on the back of the couch I am on and pull it over me. As I do so, I see Chad sitting at the end of the couch on a chair. His head is leaning forward and his breathing is heavy. I let him sleep.
The pain is still strong and I wait for the pain killers to take hold. I consider taking a third pill but disregard that . . . for now. At some point the pain dulls out. It is still there, but I don't seem to notice or don't care. I drift into a comatose of odd thoughts and consider becoming a zombie so I don't get hungry but then shake that thought off. I know I am getting tired because my mind is wandering, just like we've been wandering through the motions of surviving but only just getting lucky. I had gotten lucky once in Vegas. My wife insisted I do the slots and so I did. I won all my money back before blowing it again. So, maybe not lucky. I need to focus my thoughts, or maybe let them drift, and they do drift like drift wood drifting down a river until finally I fall sleep.
* * *
I am awake again. It is very bright outside and the sun light shines through the windows. Looking out, I can tell that it is cold and I miss the mild temperature of California already. Chad has left his seat and now no one is near me. My leg is hurting, but not as bad as it did last night. I grab the Lortab bottle and throw another pill into my mouth. There are other pills there. Many seem to be antibiotics. I wait to take these, hoping someone knows more about them than I do. I look down at my leg. The dressings have been changed, but there is still a blood stain slightly soaking through. I move my foot slightly and the pain radiates throughout my leg. I gasp and shut my eyes trying to will the pain away.
There is a sigh beside me and I hear Josh say, "Oh good . . ." and then yells behind his shoulder, "he's up!" The other two come in quickly.
"Are you OK?" Chad says.
"Where is Dawn? My kids?"
"They aren't here," he replies. "They left."
"Are they OK?"
Chad pauses for a moment, "I don't know. I hope so. They left a note."
"Where are they?" I say getting frustrated, the pain making me anxious.
"I . . . The redwoods. That's what the note says, anyway."
"Note?" He can tell I'm getting short and the pain is picking up.
"Just rest. I'm sure they're fine. For now we need to focus on you. How are you feeling?"
"Not good. My leg is killing me."
"We were worried you'd taken a lot of Lortab last night. The bottle was left open and we thought . . ."
"Just took two," I say, interrupting Chad.
Charlotte steps towards me and looks directly into my eyes. "You should be obviously infected by now. Have you seen someone change?"
I nod. The pain is growing and I am doing everything I can to suppress the pain.
"You'd have a fever and would be constantly throwing up. I . . ." she pauses. "It's incredible." I want to tell her all I know about it, what I think it means, but I can't. The pain is growing and the others can tell. I reach for the bottle of Lortab and grab another pill. No one says anything as I put it in my mouth and drink the water. Josh hands me two pills he had taken from the antibiotics bottle.
"Take these. I think you're pretty susceptible to an infection." I take them and lean back. "When that kicks in," Josh says, I can tell he doesn't want to bring whatever he is about to bring up but does anyway, "we are going to have to clean the bites and then . . . and then Charlotte is going to take the bullet out of your leg."
"Bullet?" I manage to say.
"When Chad shot it, the pullet went through its skull and into you leg . . . where the bit is." I can feel my face visibly going white. I look at my leg and then at the bottle of Lortab. I grab one more pill, (there are not many left) and put it in my mouth. I can tell the others are uncomfortable with me taking so much, but their sympathies take over and they allow it.
* * *
My head is relatively clear when the medicine kicks in. I feel OK. Not great, but the pain has deadened a lot. Josh tells me that Charlotte had two years in medical school done and so was the most qualified to clean and get the bullet out. While the Lortab tricks me into not care about the pain, it does nothing for my nerves. I am anxious and I can feel the uneasiness through my body, causing me to shake slightly, or at least I feel like I'm shaking.
I see Charlotte, Josh and Chad come in and my stomach feels like it is in my throat. Charlotte is in an old button up shirt of my grandpas and has some plastic gloves they had found in a closet with cleaning supplies. Josh comes and sits next to me, grabbing my hand. "Try not to break it," he says, smiling. I don't reply.
"Do you need me to hold your leg still?" Chad says.
"I can keep it still but it might start shaking involuntarily. So . . . yes."
He grabs my leg just under the knee and holds it tight. He is sitting on the couch's edge and blocks my view of my right leg which is probably for the best.
"I am really really sorry about this," Charlotte says. I can tell she is very uncomfortable with doing this. "They didn't have any disinfectant. So I made some rough saline solution, but I think I'll need to use alcohol at some point. It looks pretty infected."
"OK," is all I can manage. I am terrified. More than I have been when facing zombies or any time I can remember. Once, when I was twenty-one I had gotten bad sores on my back. A resulting disease from Ulcerative Colitis, (which I have) called Pyoderma Gangrenosum. I had to endure nearly twenty minutes with no pain killers while a nurse scrubbed the soars clean. It as the most pain I had ever felt. I had a feeling this would be much worse.
"Ready?" she says, looking at me. I nod and stare at the ceiling. Josh is squeezing my hand harder than I am his. Chad squeezes my leg and I know she's about to start.
The pain is nearly unbearable. The moment she begins the cleaning with cotton balls and saline I take a sharp inhale of breath and grip Josh's hand hard. He winces and I try to loosen my grip. I can feel her moving around and it is all I can do to breath somewhat steadily. Chad is gripping my leg hard and I can feel him struggling against the involuntary shakes. Charlotte says something but I ignore it. Chad lets go and hold my leg differently. My leg is on fire. I grit my teeth and my jaw starts to hurt. I can tell that I am hurting Josh and so I let go and grip his forearm.
"OK," Charlotte say, and I know what is coming. I watch as she reaches beside her and grabs the alcohol and presses the lid to a cotton ball. "This is really going to sting." Sting is not the correct word for the pain that shoots through my body. I let out a moan which quickly turns into an unwilling scream. I can feel her pressing the alcohol soaked cotton into me, pushing hard in some places. My breathing is sporadic at best and I close my eyes, rolling them into the back of my head.
"Hold on," Josh says. "You're doing good." I smile at this, but only for a second. Suddenly the pain lessens significantly and there is only an uncomfortable burning or itching.
"The bullet looks as though it is still in one piece," Charlotte says. "I think I'll be able to get it out . . ."
"Have you done this before?" I hear Chad say. There is no response and I know she is shaking her head, no. She grabs some oddly clean looking pliers and runs them under a match flame for several seconds--until the match burns down. I put my hand to my nose. The break along with the the straining gives me a headache, the pressure at the arch of my nose.
There is no warning given this time. I feel the pliers go into my gaping hole and scream. I clinch Josh's arm hard and Chad is leaning on me, putting his weight on my legs to hold them still. I can feel Charlotte digging around the bullet, trying to find it with such limited resources. There is a sharp pinch and I scream again.
"Sorry, sorry," she says, still concentrating. I grunt and turn my head towards the couch, searching for somewhere to put my other arm. I want to pull my leg away, I want to turn it or shake it. I want to get this foreign object out, but Chad is holding me tightly, not allowing any movement. There is another sharp pain and then it is out.
I give a sigh of relief as Chad gets off of my legs and Charlotte rocks back into a sitting position, holding the pliers in front of her, the smashed bullet between them. She holds it out to show me but I do not have the energy to care. I can feel the Lortab effects coming back, or maybe it's exhaustion. Regardless, I say a quick thanks and close my eyes.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Day 20
It is foggy outside. It is thick and wet. Looking out of the window I could only see some fifteen feet in front of me. Not ideal for driving in, especially when we do not know the way and will be relying on a map, but, nevertheless, we will be leaving today.
I am anxious to get going. With the hummer we should be able to make it up near Salem, Oregon by tonight. That is if nothing goes wrong. And according to our luck, thats unlikely. I sit near a window, eating dry cereal and a nutrition bar, looking at the fog. I cannot see anything. For all we know there are zombies surrounding the building. The thought brings little comfort for our trip, but I am still too anxious not to go.
I have not see my family for almost a month now, and not heard from them for almost as long. I push the feelings of doubt away each time we are attacked or have a close call. I know they've survived. They must have. I wonder how differently things would have been if they were not in Oregon. We may never have come out here. Crystal may still be alive, but would they still be trapped in Costco as well?
* * *
Chad drives. I am in the passenger sear with Josh directly behind me. I have my gun ready, leaning against the seat next to me but hopefully I will not need to use it. We pull out of the garage and slowly--very slowly--begin to make our way out of the city. I have a map of the city and I try to get us to Highway 70. From their, at least until we are out of California Chad knows the way. I suspect their will be maps to grab at the Redwoods tourist attraction areas. We will stop there and get one.
Chad is driving slowly while we all try to see through the thick fog. I do not see anything, but with every passing moment I fear that the sound of the Hummer, in an otherwise dead city, would eventually be heard. None of us speak. The fog blurs everything. A simple lamp post could just as easily be a zombie and while there is some measure of protection in the massive black Hummer, I cannot help but feel anxious and quite frankly, scared that something could happen. If there are enough of them attracted to the sound of the vehicle then I don't think even it could keep them out.
Instinctively I reach for the lock on the top of the door frame. The doors are locked.
I see something move, just to our right, out of our window and gasp. Chad stops the car. No one speaks as I squint and look through the dense fog. There is no movement.
"I thought I saw . . ." There's movement again. This time Josh sees it as well. All three of us peer out when a body, dead and mangled hits my window. I jump back and let out a gasp. The body is, or rather was a zombie. It did not hit the window to attack. It was killed. There is a hole through the side of its head. It slides down the door, leaving a bloody spear down the side of the car. As it falls, I see another object. A person, wearing a gas mask, emerge from the fog, crossbow in hand. Every inch, (as far as I can see) is covered. Gloves, jacked zipped all the way up, covering his neck, the gas mask, and a hoodie. We stare at each other for some time. Finally, he points at himself, and then the hummer and back at himself. I nod and he walks around the front of the hummer and to the rear door, behind Chad.
He opens the door and speaks through his mask. It is muffled and hard to understand. "Did you de-sanatize?"
I look at Chad, and then back at this man. "De-sanatize? What do you . . ." Without another word he pulls a bag from off of his back and pulls a spray bottle out, spraying it on the seat, and anywhere around him. He then shoots it into the air, saying, "hold your breath." We do. Finally, after a minute or two he gets in, buckles his seatbelt and closes the door. He does not remove his mask.
"You can take your mask off if you'd like." Josh says to him.
He looks at us, there is some blood on our clothes along with filth that has built up. "I do not think that is wise." There is blood on you and I could . . ."
I cut him off, "the blood is dry. It can't infect you. Anything dangerous in the blood is long dead." He waits for a few seconds and then takes it off. The he was a she, her voice being muffled and distorted made it seem like a man. She spoke and her voice was deeper than average, but still womanly.
"Thanks," she says to us all, looking at each of us, (Chad, through the mirror). "For the ride."
"It's no problem," Josh says quickly. I look at him deliberately. He clears his throat. "So, what's your name?"
"It's Charlotte," she says, placing her crossbow on the floor to her right. The bolts are connected underneath and it is not loaded.
"I'm Aaron," I offer and then point to Chad and Josh, giving their names as well.
"Well, again," she responds, "thanks for the ride."
We talk a little and find out she's from Sacramento and has been living in the city, alone for almost two weeks. Her family had been effected early on, but never bit, not as far as she knew. And so she was sure that the disease was airborne.
"How long did it take for your parents to . . . change?" I ask, still worried about Josh.
Before she could answer there is a thump on the front of the car and I fall forward towards the dash. I spin around and there, on the hood, gripping the top of the engine hood is a zombie. I can barely hear it's screaming, but can tell it is yelling loudly.
"Damn it," Chad says, swerving the car. "Shut that thing up." I grab my pistol and push the button to unroll the window but before I have my gun out there is a bang and the zombie drops dead, still on the hood. Chad swerves to get it off.
I look back and Charlotte is climbing back in through the window, a pistol in her hand is quickly put into a holster at her hip. All I could thing then was, damn it, we forgot holsters, again. I put the safety on my gun and place it on the center console near the cup holders.
Again, I look out the window. Looking to see if any hear the yelling. Chad is going faster, but still cannot drive too fast as there are abandoned cars throughout the city. Charlotte and Josh are look out their windows as well. I decide to drop the question about her parents, or family. I can tell that Josh is still uneasy about his bite, I could see it in his face when I asked.
The fog is clearing up and we can see better now. I catch a zombie through an alley way occasionally, but nothing close. I check the map and we are five or so miles from HW 70.
Chad saw him first, and at his gasp and sudden stop we all looked forward and saw the man ourselves. He was alone, in the middle of the street, his back facing us. In front of him was a massive horde of zombies. It was obvious that they had been chasing him. Even from our distance I can see his heavy breathing.
"Go!" I yell to Chad, and he soon comes to his senses and pushes his foot on the gas, trying to get to the man before the zombies. We speed towards him but just as Chad begins slowing and I open my door to help him in he raises his gun to his head and pulls the trigger. Blood and brains spray on the front of our car and we hit into him as he falls over.
"NO!" I yell, and pulling my gun from its place beside me start to shoot at the oncoming zombies. I roll my window down as Chad turns and I close my door, pulling my body out and as we drive off I fire at them.
I hear Josh doing the same, however Charlotte remains seated, her mask is back on and it looks eerie.
* * *
I am disturbed by the mans suicide. We were right there. Could he not hear or see us? The front of the Hummer is still smeared with blood and I want to hack because of it, but we drive on. No one speaks as we take highway 70 through a mountain pass and turn onto Highway 1. But finally, as we pass Fort Bragg, in the mid-afternoon, I ask Charlotte again about how long it took her parents.
"They got sick at the same time as my younger brother. There was a lot of blood and there was no one to take them to. They changed in about a day. Maybe a little less." I could see Josh visibly relieved at this. "Why do you ask?"
I hesitate but it is Josh that speaks up. "We had a friend, well, who got infected. He died in the same amount of time."
"So . . ."
"We want to make sure weren't infected."
"Quite frankly I'm surprised you're not, you are just out exposed. Have you killed many walkers?"
"Walkers?" Chad says. "Like the comic?"
"Whatever," she replies. "It sounds better."
"Yes. Lots." I can tell she's puzzled. And so I tell her about my theory regarding our immunity. We discuss it until we get out of the redwoods hours later. We fill up in the dark and afterwards I drive, Chad giving me directions to Eugene. They are just out side of the city in Pleasant Hill and I believe I can find it, having been their recently, but I've never driven from this direction. Usually we come from Salem, a bit north.
The house is dark. But I am not surprised at that. I grab my machete from my bag and step out of the vehicle, the engine is still running and lights on. I go to the door and knock. There is no answer. I yell that it is me, but still no answer. My heart is pounding and so I open the door. I am suddenly tackled to the ground. I can feel the struggling, over excited body tearing at me. An elbow connects with my nose and I can feel it break. Still, I am able to push my self away, machete in hand. I hear the yell coming from it and feel something dig into my leg. I scream. There is shouting behind me, but I can't make it out. It rips away from me and I grab my machete and hack at it from the side. I can tell I'm hitting it, but not its head. Blood from my broken nose is running into my eyes and I cannot see it. It bites me again, near the same spot, digging into my muscles and flesh. I am yelling and kicking, trying to swing my machete but losing strength. I can feel footsteps by me and then a shot, ringing in my ears, and another intense pain in my leg.
I look down and see the zombie laying on my legs. It is kicked off by someone and there is a massive chunk of flesh taken out of my right calf; an inch or so deep and four in diameter. "No!" I cry, trying to move away from the thing but cannot move well. Each kick glances off the ground and the pain surges through my leg. I am bleeding. I can't breath and someone is talking to me, holding me head. I try concentrating, breathing through my nose, but it doesn't help. Oh, shit! My leg! I am still not able to breath until finally everything goes black and the pain leaves.
I am anxious to get going. With the hummer we should be able to make it up near Salem, Oregon by tonight. That is if nothing goes wrong. And according to our luck, thats unlikely. I sit near a window, eating dry cereal and a nutrition bar, looking at the fog. I cannot see anything. For all we know there are zombies surrounding the building. The thought brings little comfort for our trip, but I am still too anxious not to go.
I have not see my family for almost a month now, and not heard from them for almost as long. I push the feelings of doubt away each time we are attacked or have a close call. I know they've survived. They must have. I wonder how differently things would have been if they were not in Oregon. We may never have come out here. Crystal may still be alive, but would they still be trapped in Costco as well?
* * *
Chad drives. I am in the passenger sear with Josh directly behind me. I have my gun ready, leaning against the seat next to me but hopefully I will not need to use it. We pull out of the garage and slowly--very slowly--begin to make our way out of the city. I have a map of the city and I try to get us to Highway 70. From their, at least until we are out of California Chad knows the way. I suspect their will be maps to grab at the Redwoods tourist attraction areas. We will stop there and get one.
Chad is driving slowly while we all try to see through the thick fog. I do not see anything, but with every passing moment I fear that the sound of the Hummer, in an otherwise dead city, would eventually be heard. None of us speak. The fog blurs everything. A simple lamp post could just as easily be a zombie and while there is some measure of protection in the massive black Hummer, I cannot help but feel anxious and quite frankly, scared that something could happen. If there are enough of them attracted to the sound of the vehicle then I don't think even it could keep them out.
Instinctively I reach for the lock on the top of the door frame. The doors are locked.
I see something move, just to our right, out of our window and gasp. Chad stops the car. No one speaks as I squint and look through the dense fog. There is no movement.
"I thought I saw . . ." There's movement again. This time Josh sees it as well. All three of us peer out when a body, dead and mangled hits my window. I jump back and let out a gasp. The body is, or rather was a zombie. It did not hit the window to attack. It was killed. There is a hole through the side of its head. It slides down the door, leaving a bloody spear down the side of the car. As it falls, I see another object. A person, wearing a gas mask, emerge from the fog, crossbow in hand. Every inch, (as far as I can see) is covered. Gloves, jacked zipped all the way up, covering his neck, the gas mask, and a hoodie. We stare at each other for some time. Finally, he points at himself, and then the hummer and back at himself. I nod and he walks around the front of the hummer and to the rear door, behind Chad.
He opens the door and speaks through his mask. It is muffled and hard to understand. "Did you de-sanatize?"
I look at Chad, and then back at this man. "De-sanatize? What do you . . ." Without another word he pulls a bag from off of his back and pulls a spray bottle out, spraying it on the seat, and anywhere around him. He then shoots it into the air, saying, "hold your breath." We do. Finally, after a minute or two he gets in, buckles his seatbelt and closes the door. He does not remove his mask.
"You can take your mask off if you'd like." Josh says to him.
He looks at us, there is some blood on our clothes along with filth that has built up. "I do not think that is wise." There is blood on you and I could . . ."
I cut him off, "the blood is dry. It can't infect you. Anything dangerous in the blood is long dead." He waits for a few seconds and then takes it off. The he was a she, her voice being muffled and distorted made it seem like a man. She spoke and her voice was deeper than average, but still womanly.
"Thanks," she says to us all, looking at each of us, (Chad, through the mirror). "For the ride."
"It's no problem," Josh says quickly. I look at him deliberately. He clears his throat. "So, what's your name?"
"It's Charlotte," she says, placing her crossbow on the floor to her right. The bolts are connected underneath and it is not loaded.
"I'm Aaron," I offer and then point to Chad and Josh, giving their names as well.
"Well, again," she responds, "thanks for the ride."
We talk a little and find out she's from Sacramento and has been living in the city, alone for almost two weeks. Her family had been effected early on, but never bit, not as far as she knew. And so she was sure that the disease was airborne.
"How long did it take for your parents to . . . change?" I ask, still worried about Josh.
Before she could answer there is a thump on the front of the car and I fall forward towards the dash. I spin around and there, on the hood, gripping the top of the engine hood is a zombie. I can barely hear it's screaming, but can tell it is yelling loudly.
"Damn it," Chad says, swerving the car. "Shut that thing up." I grab my pistol and push the button to unroll the window but before I have my gun out there is a bang and the zombie drops dead, still on the hood. Chad swerves to get it off.
I look back and Charlotte is climbing back in through the window, a pistol in her hand is quickly put into a holster at her hip. All I could thing then was, damn it, we forgot holsters, again. I put the safety on my gun and place it on the center console near the cup holders.
Again, I look out the window. Looking to see if any hear the yelling. Chad is going faster, but still cannot drive too fast as there are abandoned cars throughout the city. Charlotte and Josh are look out their windows as well. I decide to drop the question about her parents, or family. I can tell that Josh is still uneasy about his bite, I could see it in his face when I asked.
The fog is clearing up and we can see better now. I catch a zombie through an alley way occasionally, but nothing close. I check the map and we are five or so miles from HW 70.
Chad saw him first, and at his gasp and sudden stop we all looked forward and saw the man ourselves. He was alone, in the middle of the street, his back facing us. In front of him was a massive horde of zombies. It was obvious that they had been chasing him. Even from our distance I can see his heavy breathing.
"Go!" I yell to Chad, and he soon comes to his senses and pushes his foot on the gas, trying to get to the man before the zombies. We speed towards him but just as Chad begins slowing and I open my door to help him in he raises his gun to his head and pulls the trigger. Blood and brains spray on the front of our car and we hit into him as he falls over.
"NO!" I yell, and pulling my gun from its place beside me start to shoot at the oncoming zombies. I roll my window down as Chad turns and I close my door, pulling my body out and as we drive off I fire at them.
I hear Josh doing the same, however Charlotte remains seated, her mask is back on and it looks eerie.
* * *
I am disturbed by the mans suicide. We were right there. Could he not hear or see us? The front of the Hummer is still smeared with blood and I want to hack because of it, but we drive on. No one speaks as we take highway 70 through a mountain pass and turn onto Highway 1. But finally, as we pass Fort Bragg, in the mid-afternoon, I ask Charlotte again about how long it took her parents.
"They got sick at the same time as my younger brother. There was a lot of blood and there was no one to take them to. They changed in about a day. Maybe a little less." I could see Josh visibly relieved at this. "Why do you ask?"
I hesitate but it is Josh that speaks up. "We had a friend, well, who got infected. He died in the same amount of time."
"So . . ."
"We want to make sure weren't infected."
"Quite frankly I'm surprised you're not, you are just out exposed. Have you killed many walkers?"
"Walkers?" Chad says. "Like the comic?"
"Whatever," she replies. "It sounds better."
"Yes. Lots." I can tell she's puzzled. And so I tell her about my theory regarding our immunity. We discuss it until we get out of the redwoods hours later. We fill up in the dark and afterwards I drive, Chad giving me directions to Eugene. They are just out side of the city in Pleasant Hill and I believe I can find it, having been their recently, but I've never driven from this direction. Usually we come from Salem, a bit north.
The house is dark. But I am not surprised at that. I grab my machete from my bag and step out of the vehicle, the engine is still running and lights on. I go to the door and knock. There is no answer. I yell that it is me, but still no answer. My heart is pounding and so I open the door. I am suddenly tackled to the ground. I can feel the struggling, over excited body tearing at me. An elbow connects with my nose and I can feel it break. Still, I am able to push my self away, machete in hand. I hear the yell coming from it and feel something dig into my leg. I scream. There is shouting behind me, but I can't make it out. It rips away from me and I grab my machete and hack at it from the side. I can tell I'm hitting it, but not its head. Blood from my broken nose is running into my eyes and I cannot see it. It bites me again, near the same spot, digging into my muscles and flesh. I am yelling and kicking, trying to swing my machete but losing strength. I can feel footsteps by me and then a shot, ringing in my ears, and another intense pain in my leg.
I look down and see the zombie laying on my legs. It is kicked off by someone and there is a massive chunk of flesh taken out of my right calf; an inch or so deep and four in diameter. "No!" I cry, trying to move away from the thing but cannot move well. Each kick glances off the ground and the pain surges through my leg. I am bleeding. I can't breath and someone is talking to me, holding me head. I try concentrating, breathing through my nose, but it doesn't help. Oh, shit! My leg! I am still not able to breath until finally everything goes black and the pain leaves.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Day 19
There is food here. Lots of it. Dried fruits and sealed water. MRE's and jerky as well as crackers and beans and rice, (among many other things). We are all worn out, tired physically and emotionally and decide to stay here for a few days until we recuperate. There is no power, but we find several flashlights and candles that we place around the portions of the building we'll be inhabiting.
There is also several Hummers in a parking garage to the side of the building and each has a full tank of gas. We load one of them up with weapons and food and some clothing and blankets, leaving it there in case we need to leave quickly.
I take two naps and by the evening I feel well rested. Much more so than I had the day before. By candle light we each sit, I with my machete and a wet sharpening stone, the others simply sitting, thinking, most likely about this world we now live in.
"So," Josh says, looking up at me, "you think it's genetics?"
I don't answer at first but sit and think. I had studied biotechnology in school, in another life, and had dealt a lot in genetics. I knew there were several ways that we could be immune, but a specific genetic trait seemed most likely.
"Yeah, I think that explains best why we're not infected. I mean," I pause, trying to get the right words. "If mom or dad had a homozygous gene that had, at some time, mutated to give us an immunity to the disease, all of us would have at least a heterozygous gene, giving us this immunity. And so, when we are infected it has no effect on us, or our body has an antibody that can fight the infection. Like, maybe the gene produces an antibody that goes against whatever antigen this zombie infection has. At least if it's bacterial."
"But we don't know what it is . . ." Chad says, still thinking about the immunity.
"No. I am only guessing. I have not doubt I'm probably far off base, but one thing is clear, we are immune to the infection."
"And that is why," Josh starts, glancing over at Chad, "Clive never got back up like Jess and the others did? He got the dominant trait?"
"I think so. Really, I can't think of any other reason."
* * *
We decide to leave the following day. Before we turn in we add more things into our supply we'd be taking in the hummer. More ammo, and more food. We place our weapons in the vehicle (save my machete, Chad's sword and a long knife Josh was able to find) and, having some anxiety for the following day each slowly drift to sleep.
I can't sleep. Another dream of that man I shot in the head. Crystal and Clive were there. Dead, but living. I kept seeing Ray's face as I shot him, like he wanted nothing more than to die. And then Jacob. I heard, in my dream, his pounding on the door. It lingered, even after my dreams, like something that needed to get out. Something that I needed to do, or to say, or something. It was painful.
Eventually I lay back down and try not to think. It is hard, but finally, after several long minutes my eyes droop and I close them, allowing sleep to take over.
There is also several Hummers in a parking garage to the side of the building and each has a full tank of gas. We load one of them up with weapons and food and some clothing and blankets, leaving it there in case we need to leave quickly.
I take two naps and by the evening I feel well rested. Much more so than I had the day before. By candle light we each sit, I with my machete and a wet sharpening stone, the others simply sitting, thinking, most likely about this world we now live in.
"So," Josh says, looking up at me, "you think it's genetics?"
I don't answer at first but sit and think. I had studied biotechnology in school, in another life, and had dealt a lot in genetics. I knew there were several ways that we could be immune, but a specific genetic trait seemed most likely.
"Yeah, I think that explains best why we're not infected. I mean," I pause, trying to get the right words. "If mom or dad had a homozygous gene that had, at some time, mutated to give us an immunity to the disease, all of us would have at least a heterozygous gene, giving us this immunity. And so, when we are infected it has no effect on us, or our body has an antibody that can fight the infection. Like, maybe the gene produces an antibody that goes against whatever antigen this zombie infection has. At least if it's bacterial."
"But we don't know what it is . . ." Chad says, still thinking about the immunity.
"No. I am only guessing. I have not doubt I'm probably far off base, but one thing is clear, we are immune to the infection."
"And that is why," Josh starts, glancing over at Chad, "Clive never got back up like Jess and the others did? He got the dominant trait?"
"I think so. Really, I can't think of any other reason."
* * *
We decide to leave the following day. Before we turn in we add more things into our supply we'd be taking in the hummer. More ammo, and more food. We place our weapons in the vehicle (save my machete, Chad's sword and a long knife Josh was able to find) and, having some anxiety for the following day each slowly drift to sleep.
I can't sleep. Another dream of that man I shot in the head. Crystal and Clive were there. Dead, but living. I kept seeing Ray's face as I shot him, like he wanted nothing more than to die. And then Jacob. I heard, in my dream, his pounding on the door. It lingered, even after my dreams, like something that needed to get out. Something that I needed to do, or to say, or something. It was painful.
Eventually I lay back down and try not to think. It is hard, but finally, after several long minutes my eyes droop and I close them, allowing sleep to take over.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Day 18
Chad and I sit on the couch in the early morning hours. He is holding the pistol in his hands, looking at it. Preparing for what he will inevitably have to do. I sit, one leg crossed over the other, reading a book I had pulled from the book self. Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut. Using a flashlight I found in a drawer for light. I had started reading it once, but for some reason stopped. It was his outcry against nuclear weapons. It underlined the damage that would happen in a world where there was nuclear war. It's interesting the comparisons I could make between that world and this one, covered in zombies with no hope of humanity rebuilding. The damage is too great. Now all we have to do is survive.
I want to talk, but am not sure what to say. I think he feels the same way. I think it is a subject that needs to be dropped. I can tell it is eating him from the inside out. I turn to him but take several seconds to say anything.
"Are we OK?" I ask. It takes him longer than I would have liked for him to say anything, but finally, he starts to talk.
"We are. I was angry at myself, I think, and took it out on you. I know you had a hard choice to make and I only made it worse. It's just . . . I should have been there. If I was, maybe . . . maybe I could have saved them." He goes quiet for a long time. I wait patiently, but after some minutes I eventually go back to by book, flicking the light on. The room is growing brighter, but it not yet bright enough to easily read in.
Chad stands up and paces.
"I feel guilty," he says. "I feel guilty because I think that maybe it is better. Maybe it really is better to be dead. Maybe Jacob is lucky that soon he'll be dead and away. I miss them so much. It's unbearable, but at least now I don't need to worry about keeping them safe." He stops abruptly and listens. Nothing. "But I wish so much that they were here. I wish I was protecting them." He stops again, and this time I heard it too. Grunts and then scrapping on the door upstairs. I move the flashlight beam up the steps and try and see around the turn to the door that he is in. All I can see is the wall leading towards the door that contains Jacob; now a zombie.
There is a bang. It is loud and solitary, echoing through the house. Another follows it and a yell, gargling and putrid sounding. As though at the moment of the yell the creature had thrown up. Another bang, and with this one was splintering of wood. Chad checks the safety on the gun and pulls the hammer back. The banging grows more aggressive and louder. Josh comes out with his own gun and my machete, handing the later to me.
We three stand there, listening to the growing anger from the zombie. "Did you lock the door," Josh asks Chad as the banging continues and the splintering grows more frequent and louder.
"No," he says smiling, "I put a child lock on it."
We all laugh in spite of ourselves until we hear the final splintering sound and the door fall to the ground. I shine the light up towards the top of the stairs. I see his hand groping the wall, leaving a bloody streak along its white surface. Finally, Jacob, the zombie, comes to the top of the stairs. His face is smeared with the blood he had most likely thrown up and much of it had dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Upon seeing us it let out a piercing yell and leaped down the flight of stairs. Several rounds are fired, one of which, (I am not sure whose it was) catches his head and as he hit a bottom step he crumples into a heap.
It is still Jacob. Even behind the dark gore that covers his body it is him. I can see the look in Chad's eyes as well as Josh's. This man, only hours ago had been different. Or that is what we need to tell ourselves in order to protect one another. We all knew that he was dead and then brought back--somehow--but that didn't change that we had to kill our companion and friend. There is a moment of silence that passes. It is easy to forget that each of these zombies was once a human.
There is a yell outside. That horrible, haunting scream. As if these zombies cannot control their anger and must unleash something. It continues and we can tell there are many out side of the townhouse.
"We need to move," I say. "How's your arm?"
Josh looks down at his arm absentmindedly. "I think it's fine. Hurts a bit, but that's all."
"OK, lets go."
There is a window in the upstairs portion that can get us to the roof. I glance into the room Jacob had been in as we pass it and move to the next. There is blood covering the walls and floor. The splintered door shows a hinge still attached at the bottom. Twisted and broken. I go into the other room and see Chad climbing out of a window, getting onto the roof. Josh follows and I last.
Outside, the sky has grown lighter, the sun is peaking through buildings. For a moment I am caught up in the blue sky. I haven't looked up in some time and it is nice to do for now.
The zombies are no longer screaming, but are still easily heard as their numbers grow continually beneath us. I hear a crunch and it is obvious that they have broken in.
We run from the window and down the roof tops of the connected town homes. It doesn't seem as if any have noticed our movement and soon we break a window and carefully climb into the abandoned home. The room is pink, filled with dolls and papers with pictures of a young girls family or pets hung on one wall. Chad leads the way and pulls open the door, walking our quickly. The layout of the home is the same as the one we had come from but reversed. Down the stairs and through the kitchen, Chad exits through the back door. Holding his gun in front of him, he eases open the back door and looks around. There is an ally way with a fence and some storage boxes next to the building. No zombies in sight, however.
We pull some of the storage containers over to the fence and quickly jump over. There are more back alley ways of town homes. We run away from where the zombies are.
I take the lead, my rifle strapped to my back and machete out, ready to dispatch of any zombies without drawing them all towards us with a gunshot. Chad as well has his sword out. I lead us to a main road and turn onto it, still running at a quick pace. Soon I see what I am looking for. A small gas station on the corner of an intersection.
I run to the building and without checking if it is safe I open the doors and go in. Chad and Josh wait outside, not asking questions, but keeping a lookout. Near the front, next to the cash register is a stand with some books, movies and at the very top a map of Sacramento. I then walk out side and hand it to Josh, requesting that he open it. I walk over to where there are several pay phones lines up and grab a phone book, hanging by a cord beneath the phone.
I flip to the "N"'s and run my finger down the list. "Chad . . . can you look for fifty-eighth street?"
There is a moment's pause while he and Josh look over the large map. "Got it," Chad says, placing his finger on the map.
"OK, and we're on . . . Fruitridge road. Can you . . ."
"Got it, we're kinda close. What's on 58th?"
"National Guard building."
* * *
It takes us two hours to get to the building. It was not as clear moving as it had been getting to the gas station. Zombies roamed unaware throughout the streets which slowed our pace down greatly. The building was near a university, but I am not sure which one and have not seen a sign indicating the school name.
We find the building and quickly break into it. Remembering Ray, I kick the door open and check cautiously inside. Nothing. At least not in this lobby. It takes us several minutes to find the small armory. Josh and I grab several boxes of ammo, and a few clips while Chad picks out a similar M4 to Josh's.
We stay the night. There are beds in one of the rooms and we decide before heading out we should get well rested. We first work on barricading the doors. There are several tables we break down to wedge the doors shut. The windows are all barred which is convenient and soon, after feeling secure we each move to the beds. There is light still shining out of the windows but it does not prevent me, or Josh or Chad from quickly falling asleep.
I want to talk, but am not sure what to say. I think he feels the same way. I think it is a subject that needs to be dropped. I can tell it is eating him from the inside out. I turn to him but take several seconds to say anything.
"Are we OK?" I ask. It takes him longer than I would have liked for him to say anything, but finally, he starts to talk.
"We are. I was angry at myself, I think, and took it out on you. I know you had a hard choice to make and I only made it worse. It's just . . . I should have been there. If I was, maybe . . . maybe I could have saved them." He goes quiet for a long time. I wait patiently, but after some minutes I eventually go back to by book, flicking the light on. The room is growing brighter, but it not yet bright enough to easily read in.
Chad stands up and paces.
"I feel guilty," he says. "I feel guilty because I think that maybe it is better. Maybe it really is better to be dead. Maybe Jacob is lucky that soon he'll be dead and away. I miss them so much. It's unbearable, but at least now I don't need to worry about keeping them safe." He stops abruptly and listens. Nothing. "But I wish so much that they were here. I wish I was protecting them." He stops again, and this time I heard it too. Grunts and then scrapping on the door upstairs. I move the flashlight beam up the steps and try and see around the turn to the door that he is in. All I can see is the wall leading towards the door that contains Jacob; now a zombie.
There is a bang. It is loud and solitary, echoing through the house. Another follows it and a yell, gargling and putrid sounding. As though at the moment of the yell the creature had thrown up. Another bang, and with this one was splintering of wood. Chad checks the safety on the gun and pulls the hammer back. The banging grows more aggressive and louder. Josh comes out with his own gun and my machete, handing the later to me.
We three stand there, listening to the growing anger from the zombie. "Did you lock the door," Josh asks Chad as the banging continues and the splintering grows more frequent and louder.
"No," he says smiling, "I put a child lock on it."
We all laugh in spite of ourselves until we hear the final splintering sound and the door fall to the ground. I shine the light up towards the top of the stairs. I see his hand groping the wall, leaving a bloody streak along its white surface. Finally, Jacob, the zombie, comes to the top of the stairs. His face is smeared with the blood he had most likely thrown up and much of it had dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Upon seeing us it let out a piercing yell and leaped down the flight of stairs. Several rounds are fired, one of which, (I am not sure whose it was) catches his head and as he hit a bottom step he crumples into a heap.
It is still Jacob. Even behind the dark gore that covers his body it is him. I can see the look in Chad's eyes as well as Josh's. This man, only hours ago had been different. Or that is what we need to tell ourselves in order to protect one another. We all knew that he was dead and then brought back--somehow--but that didn't change that we had to kill our companion and friend. There is a moment of silence that passes. It is easy to forget that each of these zombies was once a human.
There is a yell outside. That horrible, haunting scream. As if these zombies cannot control their anger and must unleash something. It continues and we can tell there are many out side of the townhouse.
"We need to move," I say. "How's your arm?"
Josh looks down at his arm absentmindedly. "I think it's fine. Hurts a bit, but that's all."
"OK, lets go."
There is a window in the upstairs portion that can get us to the roof. I glance into the room Jacob had been in as we pass it and move to the next. There is blood covering the walls and floor. The splintered door shows a hinge still attached at the bottom. Twisted and broken. I go into the other room and see Chad climbing out of a window, getting onto the roof. Josh follows and I last.
Outside, the sky has grown lighter, the sun is peaking through buildings. For a moment I am caught up in the blue sky. I haven't looked up in some time and it is nice to do for now.
The zombies are no longer screaming, but are still easily heard as their numbers grow continually beneath us. I hear a crunch and it is obvious that they have broken in.
We run from the window and down the roof tops of the connected town homes. It doesn't seem as if any have noticed our movement and soon we break a window and carefully climb into the abandoned home. The room is pink, filled with dolls and papers with pictures of a young girls family or pets hung on one wall. Chad leads the way and pulls open the door, walking our quickly. The layout of the home is the same as the one we had come from but reversed. Down the stairs and through the kitchen, Chad exits through the back door. Holding his gun in front of him, he eases open the back door and looks around. There is an ally way with a fence and some storage boxes next to the building. No zombies in sight, however.
We pull some of the storage containers over to the fence and quickly jump over. There are more back alley ways of town homes. We run away from where the zombies are.
I take the lead, my rifle strapped to my back and machete out, ready to dispatch of any zombies without drawing them all towards us with a gunshot. Chad as well has his sword out. I lead us to a main road and turn onto it, still running at a quick pace. Soon I see what I am looking for. A small gas station on the corner of an intersection.
I run to the building and without checking if it is safe I open the doors and go in. Chad and Josh wait outside, not asking questions, but keeping a lookout. Near the front, next to the cash register is a stand with some books, movies and at the very top a map of Sacramento. I then walk out side and hand it to Josh, requesting that he open it. I walk over to where there are several pay phones lines up and grab a phone book, hanging by a cord beneath the phone.
I flip to the "N"'s and run my finger down the list. "Chad . . . can you look for fifty-eighth street?"
There is a moment's pause while he and Josh look over the large map. "Got it," Chad says, placing his finger on the map.
"OK, and we're on . . . Fruitridge road. Can you . . ."
"Got it, we're kinda close. What's on 58th?"
"National Guard building."
* * *
It takes us two hours to get to the building. It was not as clear moving as it had been getting to the gas station. Zombies roamed unaware throughout the streets which slowed our pace down greatly. The building was near a university, but I am not sure which one and have not seen a sign indicating the school name.
We find the building and quickly break into it. Remembering Ray, I kick the door open and check cautiously inside. Nothing. At least not in this lobby. It takes us several minutes to find the small armory. Josh and I grab several boxes of ammo, and a few clips while Chad picks out a similar M4 to Josh's.
We stay the night. There are beds in one of the rooms and we decide before heading out we should get well rested. We first work on barricading the doors. There are several tables we break down to wedge the doors shut. The windows are all barred which is convenient and soon, after feeling secure we each move to the beds. There is light still shining out of the windows but it does not prevent me, or Josh or Chad from quickly falling asleep.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Day 17
I stay up through the night with Josh. His arm looks infected, but there is no fever and he seems to be doing fine. None of us had ever seen what happens when someone gets bit and I imagine that it is rare that someone only gets bit once. I imagine that usually there are multiple bites or attacks that lead to death by the violence of zombies rather than the infection itself.
Jacob and Chad know more about the process than Josh and I do. They said that just before the news stopped they talked about how the disease seemed to spread through blood and saliva but no one was sure how it got started or how it spread so quickly. I think that if it spread so quickly it would kill quickly also, allowing it to spread. Josh, however, is showing no difference. The basic infection just around the wound needed treated and so, finding a tube of Neosporin in the bathroom mirror we began disinfecting it, but that seemed to be the worst of it.
I think of this throughout the day. Why would Josh not have any effects. We know that it is passed through their blood and spit. I think back to the times we've fought the things. There was so much blood . . . how are we not infected?
"Chad," I say, a little anxiously. I know he is still upset with me, but with Josh getting bit he has let up a bit. He walks over to me. "Did they ever mention anything about some people not getting infected?"
"No. Why?"
"I've been thinking . . . how is it that we are able to fight and kill these things, get blood everywhere, and Josh get bit, but none of us get infected?"
"I don't know. I just assumed that we all got lucky."
"But another thing," I pause, wondering if I should bring it up or not, "well . . . it's Clive." I wait. There is a flicker of something in his features. Regret? Anger, maybe. "Well, he didn't turn. He didn't change. Why wouldn't he but Crystal would?"
"Maybe it's not as infections as we thought. You know, not everyone gets infected or something."
"But look around. Everyone is gone. There is no sign of anyone else. It it was a hit or miss infection there would be more people than this, don't you think?" He was silent.
Before all of this. Before the zombies and the killing I had been going to school studying biology, or rather, biotechnology. I was still an undergraduate at the time and so my knowledge was limited to the classroom setting. I sit there for some time, thinking on what would make Josh, or rather, all of us immune.
The answer came as I walked in on Jacob, who is throwing up in the bathroom. He has a fever and throws up every ten minutes or so. Soon he simply dry-heaves, his stomach clinching causing him to moan each time he gags. Then he starts hacking up blood, and not a little bit, either. It is as if his stomach is filling with blood every few minutes and he then need to throw it up once full. Chad makes him some soup from a can in the pantry but he is unable to eat it, or even sip the broth. The moment he sips it he runs, stumbling into the bathroom and throws it up.
We all put it together pretty quickly, at least that during the attack he had gotten some of the zombie blood in his system. This infected him and it was manifesting itself.
Soon he can not get up. We had him in a bed upstairs with a mixing bowl near his head which he could throw up into. There is a cup of broth and some crackers, but he never touches it. He asks us to leave the room and I know he is going to die soon. It is getting late and we leave him, closing the door behind us.
We get down stairs and I grab my pistol. I feel like an executioner in doing so, but Chad comes up to me and puts his hand on the barrel. "I'll do it," he says, and I lower my gun. I think now, seeing the humiliation that is this disease he, on some level, understands what I had to do. And he, now, is ready to do it himself. Sparing me of the pain of yet another persons blood on my hands.
We wait.
"I think it's genetics," I say to Chad and Josh as we sit silently in the living room area. "I think that Mom or Dad have a dominant, Homozygous gene that is immune to this . . . disease." I point out side, indicating the zombies. "I mean, it makes sense doesn't it. That is why Jacob is up there dying. It's why everyone is dead, but we are still alive. We've had the blood all over us, but a day after Jacob got any on him he is sick.
"And then," I continue, "it happened to Crystal and Clive." I glance up at Chad before moving on. "Crystal was infected and was . . . but Clive, he never came back. The infection didn't get to him. He got the dominant trait from you, Chad." That's the only explanation I can come up with. That is why we are all still OK."
We mull over it for a while. Discussing it further and speculating. I am not sure if this is correct, of course, but using the information that we have it seems the most likely scenario.
A bout of hacking is heard from up stairs and I get up to check on him but Chad cautions me not to. We must respect his wishes.
The three of us sleep in shifts. One sleeping at a time while the other two stay up and wait for the change.Waiting for Jacob, who will no longer be himself, to walk down those stairs and attack.
Jacob and Chad know more about the process than Josh and I do. They said that just before the news stopped they talked about how the disease seemed to spread through blood and saliva but no one was sure how it got started or how it spread so quickly. I think that if it spread so quickly it would kill quickly also, allowing it to spread. Josh, however, is showing no difference. The basic infection just around the wound needed treated and so, finding a tube of Neosporin in the bathroom mirror we began disinfecting it, but that seemed to be the worst of it.
I think of this throughout the day. Why would Josh not have any effects. We know that it is passed through their blood and spit. I think back to the times we've fought the things. There was so much blood . . . how are we not infected?
"Chad," I say, a little anxiously. I know he is still upset with me, but with Josh getting bit he has let up a bit. He walks over to me. "Did they ever mention anything about some people not getting infected?"
"No. Why?"
"I've been thinking . . . how is it that we are able to fight and kill these things, get blood everywhere, and Josh get bit, but none of us get infected?"
"I don't know. I just assumed that we all got lucky."
"But another thing," I pause, wondering if I should bring it up or not, "well . . . it's Clive." I wait. There is a flicker of something in his features. Regret? Anger, maybe. "Well, he didn't turn. He didn't change. Why wouldn't he but Crystal would?"
"Maybe it's not as infections as we thought. You know, not everyone gets infected or something."
"But look around. Everyone is gone. There is no sign of anyone else. It it was a hit or miss infection there would be more people than this, don't you think?" He was silent.
Before all of this. Before the zombies and the killing I had been going to school studying biology, or rather, biotechnology. I was still an undergraduate at the time and so my knowledge was limited to the classroom setting. I sit there for some time, thinking on what would make Josh, or rather, all of us immune.
The answer came as I walked in on Jacob, who is throwing up in the bathroom. He has a fever and throws up every ten minutes or so. Soon he simply dry-heaves, his stomach clinching causing him to moan each time he gags. Then he starts hacking up blood, and not a little bit, either. It is as if his stomach is filling with blood every few minutes and he then need to throw it up once full. Chad makes him some soup from a can in the pantry but he is unable to eat it, or even sip the broth. The moment he sips it he runs, stumbling into the bathroom and throws it up.
We all put it together pretty quickly, at least that during the attack he had gotten some of the zombie blood in his system. This infected him and it was manifesting itself.
Soon he can not get up. We had him in a bed upstairs with a mixing bowl near his head which he could throw up into. There is a cup of broth and some crackers, but he never touches it. He asks us to leave the room and I know he is going to die soon. It is getting late and we leave him, closing the door behind us.
We get down stairs and I grab my pistol. I feel like an executioner in doing so, but Chad comes up to me and puts his hand on the barrel. "I'll do it," he says, and I lower my gun. I think now, seeing the humiliation that is this disease he, on some level, understands what I had to do. And he, now, is ready to do it himself. Sparing me of the pain of yet another persons blood on my hands.
We wait.
"I think it's genetics," I say to Chad and Josh as we sit silently in the living room area. "I think that Mom or Dad have a dominant, Homozygous gene that is immune to this . . . disease." I point out side, indicating the zombies. "I mean, it makes sense doesn't it. That is why Jacob is up there dying. It's why everyone is dead, but we are still alive. We've had the blood all over us, but a day after Jacob got any on him he is sick.
"And then," I continue, "it happened to Crystal and Clive." I glance up at Chad before moving on. "Crystal was infected and was . . . but Clive, he never came back. The infection didn't get to him. He got the dominant trait from you, Chad." That's the only explanation I can come up with. That is why we are all still OK."
We mull over it for a while. Discussing it further and speculating. I am not sure if this is correct, of course, but using the information that we have it seems the most likely scenario.
A bout of hacking is heard from up stairs and I get up to check on him but Chad cautions me not to. We must respect his wishes.
The three of us sleep in shifts. One sleeping at a time while the other two stay up and wait for the change.Waiting for Jacob, who will no longer be himself, to walk down those stairs and attack.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Day 16
I am sitting alone. My head in my hands, a pistol held loose in my right hand. I can feel the weight of it and its cold metal press against my head. The others are not near me. I left a distance away, sitting on a curb in the middle of Sacramento, letting the chill winter air freshen my lungs. I hear noises around me but ignore them. They are not near me. My brothers are not near me.
The pre-morning light seems to speak against the city. Betraying it. The light reflects on the downtown buildings and shows the grey and red and brown of the city. But there is no life, and this city, like all others, is dead. Cars parked on streets, broken shops and signs of destruction everywhere. From riots. From attacks and panic. And there are no dead bodies. None littered on the streets. No zombies, even. Not yet anyway.
I consider traveling alone. Just leave, I tell myself. Find your family. The ones you didn't kill. It doesn't matter if Crystal was already dead, although a zombie. I killed her. I killed something, because something made her do this. Something must have brought her back to life. And that life was within or apart of her . . . and I destroyed it. I destroyed her.
Chad blames me. He blames me for both of their deaths. I tried to explain that Clive never woke up, but he doesn't care. And really, I know it doesn't matter. None of it does.
I see them running down the street, running towards me. Their guns are out as well as blades. Josh, with his machete, Chad with his sword. Jacob has a shotgun; I doubt it has many rounds left. They are shouting something. Josh is waving his arms and pointing to something. I turn around and see it. A zombie, running towards me--running fast. I raise my gun and aim, squeezing the trigger. I am unable to do so. The safety is on. I grab my machete with no time to flip the safety off and wrench my hand upward, stabbing the zombie through the jaw. It stops and falls near me, bleeding greatly. I jump back, away from the blood and turn to the others, running towards me.
"Why did you leave," Josh demands.
"I," I start to talk but am not sure what to say, or what he wants to hear.
"Never mind," he says, waving it away. "We need to move." This city is over run. There are no people and Chad said he could see quite a lot while he was looking out over the buildings from the roof." Josh points to a tall building.
How did it spread so quickly? I ask myself. To cause this whole city to be so completely over run.
We start to walk. my pistol is out in stead of my M21. Ammunition is low and I only have one full clip left.I have at least three clips in my bag for my pistol and so I choose to use it, saving the other.
The sun is peaking through the buildings and down the street. It lights the asphalt and cars and debris in its orange tint. It is hard to look down the streets where the sun is shining brilliantly. I do not see any movement not can I hear anything other than our careful steps and my stomach rumbling. Its been over a day since I've eaten anything and I am starting to feel its effects. I am tired and weak. We need to find food and soon.
I raise my pistol once I'm a few feet away and fire right into the things head, kicking it off of Josh who is holding his right arm with his opposite hand.
"Josh!" I plead. "No, please, no." He moves his fingers from his arm and I see the wound. The teeth marks are deep and if the zombie would have lived for a few more seconds it would have torn the chunk of skin and muscle right off.
Chad comes over and gets him onto his feet. "Common," he says quietly, "we need to get you somewhere safe." He leads him down an alley, looking for somewhere to take him. I am ripping part of a spare shirt I have in my bag to use as a bandage. As we walk I wrap it around his bleeding arm and try to stop the bleeding, but that isn't really what any of us are concerned about.
Turning onto a main road I see three or four zombies coming towards us. We all halt and look around, "this way," Jacob yells, pointing and we follow him. We turn on another street, cars abandoned here and there. There is trash covering the street. Down a ways are some town homes and we run towards those. I have gotten the bandage around Josh and Chad has let him run in his own. I can tell he is in pain, but ignore it for now. First we need to get somewhere where we can take a look at him. I know our running is making a lot of noise as more and more zombies come out of alleys and alternate roads. In our hast to get to the town houses and to safety we begin firing on the zombies, dropping those directly in front of us.
This brought more into the chase as we grew near to the town homes. I pull my machete out and hold it in my left hand. Chad has his katana out and has slashed at two zombies, covering it in blood. Josh runs between me and Chad, with Jacob in the front firing the shotgun sparingly, looking to us to cover him. I slash at my side, knowing I'm only wounding most, but it slows them down. We get near the building and I put my pistol away, swing my rifle around and start shooting as they each climb the stairs. They yell for me to follow once they're all in the building. I do, and we lock the door and dead-bolt behind me.
I run over to josh who is sitting on a couch, unused for some time. He is looking at his arm. The bandage still in place.
"I am going to die, aren't I?" he says, still looking down. I don't answer but just sit beside him with my arm around him. I feel broken inside. None of us could have ever been prepared for this. And here we are, broken, deadly and hunted. Chad sits down on the opposite side of Josh.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I tried to do what was best. I tried to save her the agony of being like them." I point out towards the door that Jacob is barricading. I realize I am not talking to Josh, but Chad. "I didn't want you to see. I . . ." I trail off and look at Josh. "How do you feel?"
"My arm hurts, but that is it. No different."
"Lets get some food in you. I'm sure they have something around here." I get up and look through the cupboards. There is some stuff available and I bring him a bag of chips and can of soda. He takes them and drinks and eats. Jacob has blocked the door, wedging things between the door and staircase adjacent to it.
We all sat there, listening to the mayhem outside, waiting for something to happen, for some sign that Josh was going to die. There was nothing else to do but to wait.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Day 15
Chad, Ray and I leave in the late morning, first to retrieve my bike as well as the supplies. We then will go to several different locations to try and find weapons and more ammunition. Josh stays behind, wanting to rest, I think. Chad offered to let me stay while he and Ray go to get the bike but I reject the offer.
I slept little again. Same dream as before and then I was unable to fall asleep again.
I have my bag on, machete is now strapped to the back of my bag, horizontally. The handle sticks out the right side and all I need do is reach under my arm and pull it out. This seemed fastest and so I worked hard to strap it to my bag in this way. My Rifle is hanging in front of me and I rest my hands on it. Chad and Ray both have pistols as their shotgun ammo has run out. Chad also has his katana strapped over his back.
It takes about forty minutes for us to get back to the house. It looks different during the day and I imagine that it was a pleasant neighborhood to live in. I wish I would have visited in different times. Everything is as we left it except the bike has fallen over--probably from the weight of all of the bags. Chad laughs when he sees it. It does not look like a bike but rather wheels with bulging cloth connecting them. Little of the bike is visible. I begin strapping the shotguns and CZ 750 back onto the bar when Chad and Ray both put their pistols into outside pockets of bags and each grab a shot gun. After checking the rounds we head out. Going north to a local gun shop--TDS guns--north of his place.
We walk through neighborhoods for two hours, walking in the middle of the street and watching for any signs of zombies. There were none. In fact the trip was relatively calm and by the time we arrived at the gun store we were walking casually, talking amongst ourselves. The doors were locked, and after trying several cars, (to copy what Josh had done back in Reno) I finally shoot the lock. The door slightly swings open. Ray walks forward to open them and is grabbed by the arm.
I watch as the creature bends its head downward--it is all in slow motion--opens its mouth and bites Ray in the forearm. He screams out in pain, raising the shotgun awkwardly up and tries, with one hand, to shoot the zombie. He misses, and the kickback from the gun hits his shoulder hard. Another scream as the arm pops and it falls limp. Another zombie walks out and grabs Ray's head, biting at his shoulder, tearing of skin and muscle. Ray screams and pleads for help. I shoot the first zombie as the other bites at his ear. It is too close for me to get a good shot. More start to come out, grabbing at Ray and biting and mauling him. He turns his head screaming as I fire round after round. Chad just stares and I think he is in shock at the gory sight.
His face pleads with me between screams and finally I move the gun slightly to the left and fire. It hits Ray in the forehead and he drops completely to the ground. Ten, twenty zombies fall out of the doors and pile on to eat our friend. Some come towards us. I fire single shots, killing each from a close range.
Chad finally regains himself and starts firing into the crowd of zombies. They abandon the mangled body of Ray and begin running towards us. Chad continues to fire. Not moving.
"Come on!" I yell, starting to run away. "Come on!!" Almost reluctantly, he follows. Sprinting with his gun in one hand. There is no time to grab the bike and so we run, shooting behind us when we can. We make it some distance, but with the horde still following.
"We need to hide," I say, out of breath.
Chad points to an apartment complex just off the road and we turn, running towards it. It is locked and I shoot a round through the glass door, shattering the glass instantly. We run through and up the stairs, trying to get to the top level so that we can better see the large group of zombies. They follow us to an extent, but barely any (from what we can tell) enter the apartment. I sling my gun across my back and pull out my machete. Chad does the same, holding the sword in front of himself.
"I only say a few come in," I say walking towards the door. "If we can get out without them noticing I think we will be able to make it back."
I lead the way, opening the door slowly and peering out. There is nothing in the hallway that leads to the stairs. I walk quickly and as silently as I can down the hall, Chad following close behind, both of out blades ready to strike at a moments notice. The stairs weave back and forth and we descend down them quickly, stopping abruptly at the bottom. The door is jammed. I take a step back and kick with all my might. It crashes open louder than I would have though and I watch as a zombie stumbles away from the door. Chad rushes through the door, swinging the blade of his katana downward in a slicing motion severing is head from its shoulders. I follow behind him, stabbing another in the face and then kicking it down.
There are three more in the room and we both turn to face them. Chad rushes towards the nearest, the point of his blade aimed at its head. It goes straight through the skull like butter. I swing sideways, cutting the chest of one that was running towards me. It stumbles as I stick my blade in the side of its head. Its weight pulls the wedged machete with it and I lose it from my grip. I bend down to yank it out but am grabbed by the shirt and thrown down.
"Chad!" I yell as the third descends on me. I see a blade on top of it head cause blood and brains to fly out and on to me. I cover my mouth and nose with my arm and roll away from the gore. My machete is there, still sticking out of the head of the fallen zombie. I pull it out violently, hearing a crack from the things neck as I do so.
"Let's go," I say, and we run out of the building. There are none in sight and so we continue to run, into the backyard of a nearby neighborhood, and cut across the lawns. Running for our lives.
* * *
Some hours later we arrive at the apartment. The lower door's glass paneling is broken out and the door is wide open. I look at Chad and we both run up the stairs to the top level. There, the door is open, broken at the doorknob. We hear screaming coming from somewhere down the hall. Another office. We both run, following the sound. I can hear Chads screaming in the back of my head, but it is not present in my thoughts and I block it out. There, at the end of the hall, are Josh and one of the other men, jacob, I think, fighting off several zombies. I pull out my gun and shoot them each. Chad has run in front of me and begins hacking them down. Yelling. Screaming.
"Where are they!" He is panting. Looking at Josh and Jacob who have stopped and stare at him. "Where the hell are they!" he yells again, swinging his sword down. It sticks in a desk.
Josh speaks first, stuttering, "they . . . they're gone."
"What do you mean," Chad says, his face fierce and I worry he may punch Josh, or worse, "gone."
"They . . . they came some hours ago." He is barely able to talk, but he continues, trying to stay calm and upright. "They came and, and it was so sudden. Like they knew we were here. They grabbed . . ." he chokes. "They grabbed them. Everyone. And . . . it was horrible. There was blood and we . . . We had to run. Please . . . we had to run, or . . ." he trails off.
"No," Chad shakes his head. "No." That is all he can say and he says it over and over, falling to his knees. All I can do, all any of us can do is watch as he sobs into his hands amongst the bodies of the zombies. There are tears littering my eyes and I try to get them out, wiping them on my sleeves.
I hear movement from down the hall and silently walk down, leaving the others there. I place my gun on my back and draw the machete, holding it in front of me. The hallway is dark and I squint trying to see. The noise is coming from our sleeping area and my heart beats as I dread what I know I will see, and what Chad cannot see. There, starting to move are Crystal and two other; each trying to get to their feet. All mangled and bloodied and broken. Zombies, truly dead zombies, litter the floor but I cannot look at them. I can only look at Crystal, my family, my sister-in-law whom I love, and that Chad loves, more than anything. More than his own life.
I walk towards Crystal and whisper an apology, tears streaking my cheeks. I can't let him see, is all I can think. I take my blade and push it into her head, quickly. I can feel her go limp and a sob escapes my lips. I lay her down gently. I then turn to Clive, the beautiful two year old boy, he is not moving. Unlike the others he is still. Dead. I look at the others and then back to him. I pick him up and hold him in my arms, cradling his lifeless body. Crystal is still, and Clive along with her is dead.
I am struck hard and fall to my side. I feel something pulled out of my bag and hear two gun shots. I am then struck again, in the face. I open my eyes and see Chad on top of me, his fist raised. He brings it down on me and I can feel a tooth dislodge itself from my jaw. There is shouting and he is pulled off of me.
"Damn you!" he screams, spitting at me. "They could have been OK. Maybe they were OK!"
I try to speak but my jaw hurts too much. It takes me some time, but I form the words, "It's better." He tried to break free, but Josh and Jacob hold him. "It's better than what they would be." I can see him visibly relax. Josh lets go, and soon Jacob does too. "I couldn't let you see them like that." I whisper, holding my jaw.
"So you thought that was your job, did you?" Chad yells, his voice cracking at the end. I don't know how to respond.
He storms out, still holding my pistol he had taken from my bag. I stand there, horrified and what I had to do . . . ashamed. But I knew he could not do it. I did not do it for survival, or to keep us from danger. I did it so Chad wouldn't have to see them like that. Snapping their jaws in the air trying to get to me. I did it so they would not have to live like that. I did it for mercy.
I hear shots. They are coming from the street. We run down and out of the building in time to hear the last shot go off and see Chad throw the gun down on the ground. He pulls out his sword and waits. Slowly, zombies begin to trickle out. Out of nowhere, it seems. He walks towards the nearest and decapitates it. Another he chops down through the skull. He continues killing them, one by one. I swing my rifle around and begin shooting them. One by one, taking careful aim.
"Chad!" I yell. It hurts my jaw. I look at Josh.
"Chad," Josh yells over the mahem, making his way over to him. "Chad, please. We need to you come with us. We need to get out of here."
"No!" he yells back. "I am going to kill each one! They killed her. They killed Crystal, and Clive." I am firing faster now. And with it comes worse aim.
"Please!" Josh says again. "What would they want you to do?"
He stops and stares at Josh. "They're dead. They don't want me to do anything."
"What would they want? Don't stain their memory with this." He fires several shots at some oncoming zombies. I change my clip quickly and throw another towards Josh. Jacob stands near me with the shotgun Chad had dropped when first entering the room I had killed his family in.
With every shot more come. Following the noise. Josh is pleading with Chad and I know we need to go soon. I am firing constantly and Josh's words are lost in the noise, but I can see that he is still trying to convince him. Finally I yell, "You're killing us, too."
He looks at me with absolute loathing, then at Josh and Jacob. Everything seems to go quiet as he thinks until finally I watch as he grabs Josh by the arm and, running, leads him past us and slowly out of the fray. Jacob and I follow and soon we are away from them, running into the night, tears blurring each of our eyes.
I slept little again. Same dream as before and then I was unable to fall asleep again.
I have my bag on, machete is now strapped to the back of my bag, horizontally. The handle sticks out the right side and all I need do is reach under my arm and pull it out. This seemed fastest and so I worked hard to strap it to my bag in this way. My Rifle is hanging in front of me and I rest my hands on it. Chad and Ray both have pistols as their shotgun ammo has run out. Chad also has his katana strapped over his back.
It takes about forty minutes for us to get back to the house. It looks different during the day and I imagine that it was a pleasant neighborhood to live in. I wish I would have visited in different times. Everything is as we left it except the bike has fallen over--probably from the weight of all of the bags. Chad laughs when he sees it. It does not look like a bike but rather wheels with bulging cloth connecting them. Little of the bike is visible. I begin strapping the shotguns and CZ 750 back onto the bar when Chad and Ray both put their pistols into outside pockets of bags and each grab a shot gun. After checking the rounds we head out. Going north to a local gun shop--TDS guns--north of his place.
We walk through neighborhoods for two hours, walking in the middle of the street and watching for any signs of zombies. There were none. In fact the trip was relatively calm and by the time we arrived at the gun store we were walking casually, talking amongst ourselves. The doors were locked, and after trying several cars, (to copy what Josh had done back in Reno) I finally shoot the lock. The door slightly swings open. Ray walks forward to open them and is grabbed by the arm.
I watch as the creature bends its head downward--it is all in slow motion--opens its mouth and bites Ray in the forearm. He screams out in pain, raising the shotgun awkwardly up and tries, with one hand, to shoot the zombie. He misses, and the kickback from the gun hits his shoulder hard. Another scream as the arm pops and it falls limp. Another zombie walks out and grabs Ray's head, biting at his shoulder, tearing of skin and muscle. Ray screams and pleads for help. I shoot the first zombie as the other bites at his ear. It is too close for me to get a good shot. More start to come out, grabbing at Ray and biting and mauling him. He turns his head screaming as I fire round after round. Chad just stares and I think he is in shock at the gory sight.
His face pleads with me between screams and finally I move the gun slightly to the left and fire. It hits Ray in the forehead and he drops completely to the ground. Ten, twenty zombies fall out of the doors and pile on to eat our friend. Some come towards us. I fire single shots, killing each from a close range.
Chad finally regains himself and starts firing into the crowd of zombies. They abandon the mangled body of Ray and begin running towards us. Chad continues to fire. Not moving.
"Come on!" I yell, starting to run away. "Come on!!" Almost reluctantly, he follows. Sprinting with his gun in one hand. There is no time to grab the bike and so we run, shooting behind us when we can. We make it some distance, but with the horde still following.
"We need to hide," I say, out of breath.
Chad points to an apartment complex just off the road and we turn, running towards it. It is locked and I shoot a round through the glass door, shattering the glass instantly. We run through and up the stairs, trying to get to the top level so that we can better see the large group of zombies. They follow us to an extent, but barely any (from what we can tell) enter the apartment. I sling my gun across my back and pull out my machete. Chad does the same, holding the sword in front of himself.
"I only say a few come in," I say walking towards the door. "If we can get out without them noticing I think we will be able to make it back."
I lead the way, opening the door slowly and peering out. There is nothing in the hallway that leads to the stairs. I walk quickly and as silently as I can down the hall, Chad following close behind, both of out blades ready to strike at a moments notice. The stairs weave back and forth and we descend down them quickly, stopping abruptly at the bottom. The door is jammed. I take a step back and kick with all my might. It crashes open louder than I would have though and I watch as a zombie stumbles away from the door. Chad rushes through the door, swinging the blade of his katana downward in a slicing motion severing is head from its shoulders. I follow behind him, stabbing another in the face and then kicking it down.
There are three more in the room and we both turn to face them. Chad rushes towards the nearest, the point of his blade aimed at its head. It goes straight through the skull like butter. I swing sideways, cutting the chest of one that was running towards me. It stumbles as I stick my blade in the side of its head. Its weight pulls the wedged machete with it and I lose it from my grip. I bend down to yank it out but am grabbed by the shirt and thrown down.
"Chad!" I yell as the third descends on me. I see a blade on top of it head cause blood and brains to fly out and on to me. I cover my mouth and nose with my arm and roll away from the gore. My machete is there, still sticking out of the head of the fallen zombie. I pull it out violently, hearing a crack from the things neck as I do so.
"Let's go," I say, and we run out of the building. There are none in sight and so we continue to run, into the backyard of a nearby neighborhood, and cut across the lawns. Running for our lives.
* * *
Some hours later we arrive at the apartment. The lower door's glass paneling is broken out and the door is wide open. I look at Chad and we both run up the stairs to the top level. There, the door is open, broken at the doorknob. We hear screaming coming from somewhere down the hall. Another office. We both run, following the sound. I can hear Chads screaming in the back of my head, but it is not present in my thoughts and I block it out. There, at the end of the hall, are Josh and one of the other men, jacob, I think, fighting off several zombies. I pull out my gun and shoot them each. Chad has run in front of me and begins hacking them down. Yelling. Screaming.
"Where are they!" He is panting. Looking at Josh and Jacob who have stopped and stare at him. "Where the hell are they!" he yells again, swinging his sword down. It sticks in a desk.
Josh speaks first, stuttering, "they . . . they're gone."
"What do you mean," Chad says, his face fierce and I worry he may punch Josh, or worse, "gone."
"They . . . they came some hours ago." He is barely able to talk, but he continues, trying to stay calm and upright. "They came and, and it was so sudden. Like they knew we were here. They grabbed . . ." he chokes. "They grabbed them. Everyone. And . . . it was horrible. There was blood and we . . . We had to run. Please . . . we had to run, or . . ." he trails off.
"No," Chad shakes his head. "No." That is all he can say and he says it over and over, falling to his knees. All I can do, all any of us can do is watch as he sobs into his hands amongst the bodies of the zombies. There are tears littering my eyes and I try to get them out, wiping them on my sleeves.
I hear movement from down the hall and silently walk down, leaving the others there. I place my gun on my back and draw the machete, holding it in front of me. The hallway is dark and I squint trying to see. The noise is coming from our sleeping area and my heart beats as I dread what I know I will see, and what Chad cannot see. There, starting to move are Crystal and two other; each trying to get to their feet. All mangled and bloodied and broken. Zombies, truly dead zombies, litter the floor but I cannot look at them. I can only look at Crystal, my family, my sister-in-law whom I love, and that Chad loves, more than anything. More than his own life.
I walk towards Crystal and whisper an apology, tears streaking my cheeks. I can't let him see, is all I can think. I take my blade and push it into her head, quickly. I can feel her go limp and a sob escapes my lips. I lay her down gently. I then turn to Clive, the beautiful two year old boy, he is not moving. Unlike the others he is still. Dead. I look at the others and then back to him. I pick him up and hold him in my arms, cradling his lifeless body. Crystal is still, and Clive along with her is dead.
I am struck hard and fall to my side. I feel something pulled out of my bag and hear two gun shots. I am then struck again, in the face. I open my eyes and see Chad on top of me, his fist raised. He brings it down on me and I can feel a tooth dislodge itself from my jaw. There is shouting and he is pulled off of me.
"Damn you!" he screams, spitting at me. "They could have been OK. Maybe they were OK!"
I try to speak but my jaw hurts too much. It takes me some time, but I form the words, "It's better." He tried to break free, but Josh and Jacob hold him. "It's better than what they would be." I can see him visibly relax. Josh lets go, and soon Jacob does too. "I couldn't let you see them like that." I whisper, holding my jaw.
"So you thought that was your job, did you?" Chad yells, his voice cracking at the end. I don't know how to respond.
He storms out, still holding my pistol he had taken from my bag. I stand there, horrified and what I had to do . . . ashamed. But I knew he could not do it. I did not do it for survival, or to keep us from danger. I did it so Chad wouldn't have to see them like that. Snapping their jaws in the air trying to get to me. I did it so they would not have to live like that. I did it for mercy.
I hear shots. They are coming from the street. We run down and out of the building in time to hear the last shot go off and see Chad throw the gun down on the ground. He pulls out his sword and waits. Slowly, zombies begin to trickle out. Out of nowhere, it seems. He walks towards the nearest and decapitates it. Another he chops down through the skull. He continues killing them, one by one. I swing my rifle around and begin shooting them. One by one, taking careful aim.
"Chad!" I yell. It hurts my jaw. I look at Josh.
"Chad," Josh yells over the mahem, making his way over to him. "Chad, please. We need to you come with us. We need to get out of here."
"No!" he yells back. "I am going to kill each one! They killed her. They killed Crystal, and Clive." I am firing faster now. And with it comes worse aim.
"Please!" Josh says again. "What would they want you to do?"
He stops and stares at Josh. "They're dead. They don't want me to do anything."
"What would they want? Don't stain their memory with this." He fires several shots at some oncoming zombies. I change my clip quickly and throw another towards Josh. Jacob stands near me with the shotgun Chad had dropped when first entering the room I had killed his family in.
With every shot more come. Following the noise. Josh is pleading with Chad and I know we need to go soon. I am firing constantly and Josh's words are lost in the noise, but I can see that he is still trying to convince him. Finally I yell, "You're killing us, too."
He looks at me with absolute loathing, then at Josh and Jacob. Everything seems to go quiet as he thinks until finally I watch as he grabs Josh by the arm and, running, leads him past us and slowly out of the fray. Jacob and I follow and soon we are away from them, running into the night, tears blurring each of our eyes.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Day 14
The group decides to stay in the building for a few days. If not longer. I am anxious to get moving. I need to get to Dawn but I can tell Josh is glad we're staying for a while. He looks, how I am sure I look, exhausted. We have been traveling for two weeks almost non-stop and need the break. I know it, I just don't like it.
I did not sleep last night. Dreams of killing men. I am always in the same spot: hidden by cars on the highway in the Sierra's. I turn around, take aim and fire. The world turns red and I am forced to run. But I slip on the red. On the blood. The blood from the man I killed.
I didn't sleep after that. I just lay there, thinking. Maybe it was from the stress of the last few days. I am not sure but I can only hope that tonight I will be able to get some rest.
Josh and I, as well as Ray have decided to go back to Costco to stock up on food so we can stay in the building as long as we need. I have fears that no one will want to leave, with the security of a tall building, and right next to Costco at that. It may be worth it to stay. But I have my wife to think about . . . and my kids.
We make our way to Costco, not seeing any zombies. It looks different than it did the day before. The blood had pooled under each of the dead and is dry towards the edges. I have brought by bag this time, and placing only clips in it for me as Josh has done the same. Living in one place makes you think differently. Even after a day. We both have two MRE's, clips and our machete's sticking out of the top. My M21 is in my hands, and I walk through the gore and fallen items to the far end of the store where food is kept.
Wheeling a cart around, Josh starts to load up on cereal, non-refrigerated soy milk, snacks, jerky, and other things along those lines. As he does that, I go over to where camping gear would be held, walking past the aisle where many of the zombies were cut down my Josh and I. I grab several small cooking stoves and many propane tanks. Carrying the bunch in my arms I drop them in the filling cart across the store.
"Should we get a TV?" Josh says, pointing towards the displays of large and small television.
"Anything good on?" I ask.
"Probably not."
Ray brings by some books and clothes, as well as towels and hygiene supplies. We load it all into the cart and start to walk out, again, Josh and I carrying the--now significantly heavier--cart.
"It's pretty lucky you guys found your brother," Ray says as we walk through the store. "How long did it take you to get out here?"
"About two weeks," Josh replies. "Maybe a bit less."
"How fast did it hit here?" I ask. We had left before anything had really happened. Before the infection had spread. There was panic, but the city was not abandoned, dead or empty. It had only been a day later that Reno was emptied. I wanted to know if that was average, or accelerated.
"It only took a day for people to either be infected or evacuate. Most going north, I believe."
"Probably two or three days in larger cities," Josh added.
"So," I say, slowly, thinking of that this means, "everywhere by now could be over run." The thought is staggering and breathtaking.
"It was horrible," Ray starts, staring down the street as we exit Costco. "At first there were riots. Just people freaking out, looting, or trying to get away from the city. Even the law enforcement stopped caring. And that was all within a day. By the end of that same day a couple hundred were infected and by the next morning everyone had left or was turned. It was that fast. The few of us, like me or Chad and his family we lucky. We saw what was happening and we hid. I guess we all had similar ideas that Costco could protect us and keep us alive but even that failed eventually.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to get over that, or explain how terrifying it was. I lost my wife. We had been married for two months. And within the first few hours of that second morning she was bit."
He paused here. There was movement near us. I could hear it. But no one else seemed to care, and I blew it off.
"I don't know if you've seen that happen to anyone before. She came down with a fever in minutes. And within an hour she was dead. There was no heart-beat or breath. She was gone. And then she woke up again. Her eyes opened and she stared at me for several seconds. But there was something wrong. She wasn't there. It was as if I was looking at a ghost with blank eyes. She was empty. She began to move and soon had her hands around my neck and she tried to bite me, pulling me down. I . . ."
He turns to us and there are tears in his eyes. "I'm not sure if it is worth living this life anymore." I turn and look at Josh after Ray looks forward again. I begin to say something but stop myself. There is nothing to say. On some level I agree. But I can't give up like that. I have my wife and kids and family that I must protect and find. This man, however, has nothing. And I do not envy him for that. I pity him.
It is uneventful the entire way back and seems as though the city-suburb has been truly emptied. We unload and I lay down. Hoping for sleep that I did not get last night, but it never comes. Eventually I get back up. It is nearing evening, and if there is any hope for me to sleep tonight a nap would ruin that. And so I stay awake and play a game of cards with Josh and Crystal. It takes my mind off of my pressing urgency to get back on the move. I am grateful for that.
Chad and I talk about going out tomorrow. Trying to find weapons as well as going back to his house to grab the bike and the rest of our supplies. We'll leave tomorrow, I think, and I am already anxious to get our supplies back. That's all I have left of my previous life. It's something nostalgic.
Eventually, I lay back down on my makeshift bed and once again try to get some rest.
I did not sleep last night. Dreams of killing men. I am always in the same spot: hidden by cars on the highway in the Sierra's. I turn around, take aim and fire. The world turns red and I am forced to run. But I slip on the red. On the blood. The blood from the man I killed.
I didn't sleep after that. I just lay there, thinking. Maybe it was from the stress of the last few days. I am not sure but I can only hope that tonight I will be able to get some rest.
Josh and I, as well as Ray have decided to go back to Costco to stock up on food so we can stay in the building as long as we need. I have fears that no one will want to leave, with the security of a tall building, and right next to Costco at that. It may be worth it to stay. But I have my wife to think about . . . and my kids.
We make our way to Costco, not seeing any zombies. It looks different than it did the day before. The blood had pooled under each of the dead and is dry towards the edges. I have brought by bag this time, and placing only clips in it for me as Josh has done the same. Living in one place makes you think differently. Even after a day. We both have two MRE's, clips and our machete's sticking out of the top. My M21 is in my hands, and I walk through the gore and fallen items to the far end of the store where food is kept.
Wheeling a cart around, Josh starts to load up on cereal, non-refrigerated soy milk, snacks, jerky, and other things along those lines. As he does that, I go over to where camping gear would be held, walking past the aisle where many of the zombies were cut down my Josh and I. I grab several small cooking stoves and many propane tanks. Carrying the bunch in my arms I drop them in the filling cart across the store.
"Should we get a TV?" Josh says, pointing towards the displays of large and small television.
"Anything good on?" I ask.
"Probably not."
Ray brings by some books and clothes, as well as towels and hygiene supplies. We load it all into the cart and start to walk out, again, Josh and I carrying the--now significantly heavier--cart.
"It's pretty lucky you guys found your brother," Ray says as we walk through the store. "How long did it take you to get out here?"
"About two weeks," Josh replies. "Maybe a bit less."
"How fast did it hit here?" I ask. We had left before anything had really happened. Before the infection had spread. There was panic, but the city was not abandoned, dead or empty. It had only been a day later that Reno was emptied. I wanted to know if that was average, or accelerated.
"It only took a day for people to either be infected or evacuate. Most going north, I believe."
"Probably two or three days in larger cities," Josh added.
"So," I say, slowly, thinking of that this means, "everywhere by now could be over run." The thought is staggering and breathtaking.
"It was horrible," Ray starts, staring down the street as we exit Costco. "At first there were riots. Just people freaking out, looting, or trying to get away from the city. Even the law enforcement stopped caring. And that was all within a day. By the end of that same day a couple hundred were infected and by the next morning everyone had left or was turned. It was that fast. The few of us, like me or Chad and his family we lucky. We saw what was happening and we hid. I guess we all had similar ideas that Costco could protect us and keep us alive but even that failed eventually.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to get over that, or explain how terrifying it was. I lost my wife. We had been married for two months. And within the first few hours of that second morning she was bit."
He paused here. There was movement near us. I could hear it. But no one else seemed to care, and I blew it off.
"I don't know if you've seen that happen to anyone before. She came down with a fever in minutes. And within an hour she was dead. There was no heart-beat or breath. She was gone. And then she woke up again. Her eyes opened and she stared at me for several seconds. But there was something wrong. She wasn't there. It was as if I was looking at a ghost with blank eyes. She was empty. She began to move and soon had her hands around my neck and she tried to bite me, pulling me down. I . . ."
He turns to us and there are tears in his eyes. "I'm not sure if it is worth living this life anymore." I turn and look at Josh after Ray looks forward again. I begin to say something but stop myself. There is nothing to say. On some level I agree. But I can't give up like that. I have my wife and kids and family that I must protect and find. This man, however, has nothing. And I do not envy him for that. I pity him.
It is uneventful the entire way back and seems as though the city-suburb has been truly emptied. We unload and I lay down. Hoping for sleep that I did not get last night, but it never comes. Eventually I get back up. It is nearing evening, and if there is any hope for me to sleep tonight a nap would ruin that. And so I stay awake and play a game of cards with Josh and Crystal. It takes my mind off of my pressing urgency to get back on the move. I am grateful for that.
Chad and I talk about going out tomorrow. Trying to find weapons as well as going back to his house to grab the bike and the rest of our supplies. We'll leave tomorrow, I think, and I am already anxious to get our supplies back. That's all I have left of my previous life. It's something nostalgic.
Eventually, I lay back down on my makeshift bed and once again try to get some rest.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Day 13
I don't know what time it is. There is no way to tell time in this room. I am sure it's close to morning of the next day and the banging from the zombies has subsided. Josh and I, along with Chad and one of the other men named Ray have made a rough plan on how to get everyone out of here and consists more or less of killing all that are in Costco and then trying to move out from there. However, the tricky part is doing this without guns.
I had seen where they keep cutlery while looking through the isles hours ago and it would be up to Josh and I to get there, grab some knives and get back without alerting the zombies. (And if we were to alert them, we must kill them without our guns). Josh and I both keep our pistols in our jeans, but only in the event where there is no choice but to use them. Once we're back with weapons for the rest we will work on getting everyone out.
I pull my machete out of its sheath and go to the door. "Remember," Chad says as he unbars the door, "if you need help, fire your pistol. We'll come out with the rifles and help you out."
"I will," I say, rocking back and forth, trying to do something with the adrenaline that is building up. He takes the last one off and Josh finally takes out his own machete, passing it between his hands. To be honest, Josh, Chad and I, as well as Dan (our youngest brother) are both more comfortable with blades. Having grown up and taking lessons and sparring at home, we knew how to use them. This knowledge makes me slightly more comfortable, but not much.
"Alright. Good luck," Chad says and he opens the door.
I exit first, followed quickly by Josh before Chad closes the door again. I can hear the beams being put back in place. Only a few, but enough for initial protection. I crouch, resting the blade in my hand on my knee and survey the small area that I can see down the hallway. There are no zombies in sight, but that still is not much comfort. The cutlery section is on the opposite side of the store.
I find it interesting, as I creep forward, the denial of death. The unique ability for us to risk our lives merely because we do not take our own mortality seriously. Even in thinking this, I do not turn back. We do what needs to be done and any consequences of those actions are placed on the back burner. And at this moment, holding my machete my thoughts focus on what needs to be done.
We move forward. Slowly at first, and then, as we near the end of the hallway and approach the registers we speed up. I am anxious with the wide open doors right in front of us. I do not see any zombies, but one could walk in at any minute and there would be no way to hide from it.
At the edge of the lockers, which line the hall I stop and crouch. I move slowly to the register that starts just past the lockers. I reach it and look over its edge. There are at least five different zombies that I can see, wandering aimlessly around. This is only in the main open area of the store and not the individual aisles. Josh is next to me, surveying the area as well. I consider using the large display containers that still hold several t-shirts, pants and socks as cover, but many of them are lingering in the aisles and would see us once we crossed between the displays. Most of the zombies, however, were closer to the front of the store. I look over to my right and towards the aisles that contain food. They stretch all the way back to where I had killed the first zombie and then, perhaps, we could cross from there.
Josh follows me as I crawl under the register, and crouch, hidden by displays and some racks of clothes, moving towards the row of holiday themed candy and decorations--a mix between birthdays and valentines day. I stand once behind them and turn around to make sure we are out of view. Josh is walking past me, his machete held low, and slightly in front of him. He reaches the end and peaks around.
"It is clear." Josh says, and I can see how long this is going to take after passing the first gap. There was no zombie in the aisle, but the lingering ones at the center of the store, if looking, would be able to see us. I run across, and check the other aisle. There is a zombie, walking away from us. I motion to Josh to run over and as he does I move to the next aisle's end. He looks around and almost immediately runs across to where I am.
I am moving to look around the corner when one of them walks into view, almost running into me. I back up as it looks at me, startled from its sudden appearance. At the same time Josh lunges around me and stabs it with his machete through its left eye. He then rushes forward and pushes it across the aisle, the blade still sticking through its head, his hand on the hilt. Finally, when they were out of sight he let the zombie fall to the floor. I look at him and at his bloodied machete in his hand. He motions for me to follow with a jerk of his head and I do.
It takes us ten more minutes to get to the end of the aisle's and at the back of the store. It is quiet with no sign of anything. We army crawl to the other end of the store and begin to make our way to the aisle with the knives.
At the far end of the store, at the end of the last aisle, I look around the edge to find three zombies loitering, directly blocking our way. I motion for Josh to take a look and as he does so he backs up suddenly--I can tell one of them have seen him--and shrugs. His casualness with all of this seems odd, but at the same time, it seems fitting. It seems that there is only so long that one can go in feeling unethical and still survive. I know we need to separate the things from humans and view them only as dangerous and in need of extermination. I shrug back and we both turn around the corner to attack.
It is easy to forget how truly terrifying these things are when you watch them wander, slowly moving through their lives . . . or non-lives. It isn't until they see you, until they decide that they want to attack that they grow terrifying. They move quickly. No more quick than any other human, but with no inhibitions, no restrictions or doubt. They just move.
We attack, and they are right on top of us. The nearest most lets out that terrifying bellow, but it is stopped mid yell as I jam by Machete into its head. It drops. And as it does so I yank my machete up hard, pulling it from the skull. I watch as Josh jabs once again and kills the thing as I run past and stab the thing beneath its jaw and up into its brain. I can tell more are coming. Probably heard the brief scream from the first.
Josh and I run to the aisle with the cutlery on it. There is a zombie running towards us and tackles Josh just before my blade is through its ear and into its brain. I pull upwards and, using the blade as a lever, yank it off of Josh.
Immediately I regret not grabbing a bag as there is no good way of carrying the knives from here to the back room.
"We need a cart," Josh says, looking around but not seeing one.
"Brilliant," I say and I run to the end of the aisle and turn. There, laying on its side is a cart. I grab it and pull it up.
I see Josh cut off the head of a zombie as I come back into view. He grabs a open face box full of cleaver knives and throws them into the cart. He then grabs several chef's knives that were stacked on top of each other and puts those in as well. They are all packaged but we will worry about that once we get back into the back room.
"Look out," Josh yells and I turn just in time to swipe at a zombie and cut into its hand, and stick the blade in the side of its head, the hand wedged between the end of the blade and head. I pull it out and strike again. It drops.
"Let's go!" Josh yells, wheeling the cart around and running through the aisle. I run up ahead of him to protect him from any oncoming zombies. There are none in the main area and I wonder briefly if there are no more. But just then, I hear the cart topple over and as I turn I see Josh pulled down by a zombie. It has its legs and arms wrapped around him and raises its head to bite the crown of Josh's head. Without thinking I jump, my arm in front of me, the machete pointing towards the zombie and as it lowers its head my blade enters its mouth and exits out the back of its head.
I tumble to the side, letting go of my machete and letting it stand up right as the zombies head hits the floor behind him. Blood pools around its head and Josh quickly scrambles up. I walk over and pull the Machete from the zombies skull. I wait. Looking around, but none others are in site. I assume that is all.
I look down on the zombie and there, on its back, is strapped a katana sword. The thought that a zombie could use one seems ridiculous and I stare at it a bit longer before the realization hits. This thing, (it's hard to see them as ever being men) had the sword as a defense . . . until he got infected himself. I turn the corpse over and grab the weapon. I can see on the guard and end of the hilt are engraved dragon flies. I put my Machete to the rope holding it to the things back and cut it. It comes free and I pull out the blade. I can tell it is sharp. Razor sharp, and I doubt that it had been used on anything but practice bales.
I sheath it as Josh picks up the cart and we both walk back to the back room. I keep an eye on the entrance, it is getting dark and night is falling sooner than I thought it would.
We knock and soon after Chad opens the door. I throw him the katana.
"You found this in the cutlery section?" he says in mock astonishment. I look at him, unsure of how to respond. Blood covers my hands and clothes and my machete hangs from my hand, dripping.
"There are none left . . ." Josh says, he is visibly exhausted. Chad and Ray, I can tell, are relieved as the plan had been to get out fighting. Us four surrounding the others. Josh begins opening the knife packages and hands one to each person.
"We should probably go," I say, and I lead them out of the room, and out of Costco into the sudden rain. The blood washes from by body and I begin to shiver. Soon we are in the building a block away that Josh and I had stayed in two nights previous. We scavenge for blankets and warm clothes. Josh and I make our way back to Costco and grab supplies and warm gear as well as changes of clothes. We put it all in a cart and carry the cart, (to avoid the noise of it rolling) back to the building. And finally, laying down on a makeshift bed, after having secured the door, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
I had seen where they keep cutlery while looking through the isles hours ago and it would be up to Josh and I to get there, grab some knives and get back without alerting the zombies. (And if we were to alert them, we must kill them without our guns). Josh and I both keep our pistols in our jeans, but only in the event where there is no choice but to use them. Once we're back with weapons for the rest we will work on getting everyone out.
I pull my machete out of its sheath and go to the door. "Remember," Chad says as he unbars the door, "if you need help, fire your pistol. We'll come out with the rifles and help you out."
"I will," I say, rocking back and forth, trying to do something with the adrenaline that is building up. He takes the last one off and Josh finally takes out his own machete, passing it between his hands. To be honest, Josh, Chad and I, as well as Dan (our youngest brother) are both more comfortable with blades. Having grown up and taking lessons and sparring at home, we knew how to use them. This knowledge makes me slightly more comfortable, but not much.
"Alright. Good luck," Chad says and he opens the door.
I exit first, followed quickly by Josh before Chad closes the door again. I can hear the beams being put back in place. Only a few, but enough for initial protection. I crouch, resting the blade in my hand on my knee and survey the small area that I can see down the hallway. There are no zombies in sight, but that still is not much comfort. The cutlery section is on the opposite side of the store.
I find it interesting, as I creep forward, the denial of death. The unique ability for us to risk our lives merely because we do not take our own mortality seriously. Even in thinking this, I do not turn back. We do what needs to be done and any consequences of those actions are placed on the back burner. And at this moment, holding my machete my thoughts focus on what needs to be done.
We move forward. Slowly at first, and then, as we near the end of the hallway and approach the registers we speed up. I am anxious with the wide open doors right in front of us. I do not see any zombies, but one could walk in at any minute and there would be no way to hide from it.
At the edge of the lockers, which line the hall I stop and crouch. I move slowly to the register that starts just past the lockers. I reach it and look over its edge. There are at least five different zombies that I can see, wandering aimlessly around. This is only in the main open area of the store and not the individual aisles. Josh is next to me, surveying the area as well. I consider using the large display containers that still hold several t-shirts, pants and socks as cover, but many of them are lingering in the aisles and would see us once we crossed between the displays. Most of the zombies, however, were closer to the front of the store. I look over to my right and towards the aisles that contain food. They stretch all the way back to where I had killed the first zombie and then, perhaps, we could cross from there.
Josh follows me as I crawl under the register, and crouch, hidden by displays and some racks of clothes, moving towards the row of holiday themed candy and decorations--a mix between birthdays and valentines day. I stand once behind them and turn around to make sure we are out of view. Josh is walking past me, his machete held low, and slightly in front of him. He reaches the end and peaks around.
"It is clear." Josh says, and I can see how long this is going to take after passing the first gap. There was no zombie in the aisle, but the lingering ones at the center of the store, if looking, would be able to see us. I run across, and check the other aisle. There is a zombie, walking away from us. I motion to Josh to run over and as he does I move to the next aisle's end. He looks around and almost immediately runs across to where I am.
I am moving to look around the corner when one of them walks into view, almost running into me. I back up as it looks at me, startled from its sudden appearance. At the same time Josh lunges around me and stabs it with his machete through its left eye. He then rushes forward and pushes it across the aisle, the blade still sticking through its head, his hand on the hilt. Finally, when they were out of sight he let the zombie fall to the floor. I look at him and at his bloodied machete in his hand. He motions for me to follow with a jerk of his head and I do.
It takes us ten more minutes to get to the end of the aisle's and at the back of the store. It is quiet with no sign of anything. We army crawl to the other end of the store and begin to make our way to the aisle with the knives.
At the far end of the store, at the end of the last aisle, I look around the edge to find three zombies loitering, directly blocking our way. I motion for Josh to take a look and as he does so he backs up suddenly--I can tell one of them have seen him--and shrugs. His casualness with all of this seems odd, but at the same time, it seems fitting. It seems that there is only so long that one can go in feeling unethical and still survive. I know we need to separate the things from humans and view them only as dangerous and in need of extermination. I shrug back and we both turn around the corner to attack.
It is easy to forget how truly terrifying these things are when you watch them wander, slowly moving through their lives . . . or non-lives. It isn't until they see you, until they decide that they want to attack that they grow terrifying. They move quickly. No more quick than any other human, but with no inhibitions, no restrictions or doubt. They just move.
We attack, and they are right on top of us. The nearest most lets out that terrifying bellow, but it is stopped mid yell as I jam by Machete into its head. It drops. And as it does so I yank my machete up hard, pulling it from the skull. I watch as Josh jabs once again and kills the thing as I run past and stab the thing beneath its jaw and up into its brain. I can tell more are coming. Probably heard the brief scream from the first.
Josh and I run to the aisle with the cutlery on it. There is a zombie running towards us and tackles Josh just before my blade is through its ear and into its brain. I pull upwards and, using the blade as a lever, yank it off of Josh.
Immediately I regret not grabbing a bag as there is no good way of carrying the knives from here to the back room.
"We need a cart," Josh says, looking around but not seeing one.
"Brilliant," I say and I run to the end of the aisle and turn. There, laying on its side is a cart. I grab it and pull it up.
I see Josh cut off the head of a zombie as I come back into view. He grabs a open face box full of cleaver knives and throws them into the cart. He then grabs several chef's knives that were stacked on top of each other and puts those in as well. They are all packaged but we will worry about that once we get back into the back room.
"Look out," Josh yells and I turn just in time to swipe at a zombie and cut into its hand, and stick the blade in the side of its head, the hand wedged between the end of the blade and head. I pull it out and strike again. It drops.
"Let's go!" Josh yells, wheeling the cart around and running through the aisle. I run up ahead of him to protect him from any oncoming zombies. There are none in the main area and I wonder briefly if there are no more. But just then, I hear the cart topple over and as I turn I see Josh pulled down by a zombie. It has its legs and arms wrapped around him and raises its head to bite the crown of Josh's head. Without thinking I jump, my arm in front of me, the machete pointing towards the zombie and as it lowers its head my blade enters its mouth and exits out the back of its head.
I tumble to the side, letting go of my machete and letting it stand up right as the zombies head hits the floor behind him. Blood pools around its head and Josh quickly scrambles up. I walk over and pull the Machete from the zombies skull. I wait. Looking around, but none others are in site. I assume that is all.
I look down on the zombie and there, on its back, is strapped a katana sword. The thought that a zombie could use one seems ridiculous and I stare at it a bit longer before the realization hits. This thing, (it's hard to see them as ever being men) had the sword as a defense . . . until he got infected himself. I turn the corpse over and grab the weapon. I can see on the guard and end of the hilt are engraved dragon flies. I put my Machete to the rope holding it to the things back and cut it. It comes free and I pull out the blade. I can tell it is sharp. Razor sharp, and I doubt that it had been used on anything but practice bales.
I sheath it as Josh picks up the cart and we both walk back to the back room. I keep an eye on the entrance, it is getting dark and night is falling sooner than I thought it would.
We knock and soon after Chad opens the door. I throw him the katana.
"You found this in the cutlery section?" he says in mock astonishment. I look at him, unsure of how to respond. Blood covers my hands and clothes and my machete hangs from my hand, dripping.
"There are none left . . ." Josh says, he is visibly exhausted. Chad and Ray, I can tell, are relieved as the plan had been to get out fighting. Us four surrounding the others. Josh begins opening the knife packages and hands one to each person.
"We should probably go," I say, and I lead them out of the room, and out of Costco into the sudden rain. The blood washes from by body and I begin to shiver. Soon we are in the building a block away that Josh and I had stayed in two nights previous. We scavenge for blankets and warm clothes. Josh and I make our way back to Costco and grab supplies and warm gear as well as changes of clothes. We put it all in a cart and carry the cart, (to avoid the noise of it rolling) back to the building. And finally, laying down on a makeshift bed, after having secured the door, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Day 12
I run, with Josh through the alley behind the building we stayed in,
leading to Costco. Our guns at the ready we both stop at the alley's
end and peer around the corner towards the opening of the building.
There are less zombies than there were last night. Maybe ten standing
around outside, just past the doors, while inside we don't know.
Hopefully less.
Earlier that morning
Josh had gone out to try and find a rear entrance. He had found one,
however, he was unable to get it to open and in some spots he could see
evidence of it being welded shut. Most likely, he had decided, it was
done when they first got there, to prevent anything from surprising them
from the back.
Without a word
Josh left my side and ran down the street, in view of the zombies. He
ran nearly a half of a mile to a Home Depot. None of the zombies see him
as he does this, but rather continued to mill around. I wait for the
gun shots that Josh will fire once he is ready. We are hoping to draw
the zombies away from Costco using gun fire. However, if there are more
nearby it could cause a large procession of zombies making their way to
Josh.
Several minuted pass before
I hear the shots. Three individual and clear shots ring out into the
air and echo through the buildings. I look around the corner slowly and
watch as the zombies heads jerk up and they begin to move towards the
sound of the shots. I run down the alley and hide behind a pile of boxes
as one by one they pass by the gap between buildings. None look my
direction, seemingly determined to find the source of the loud noise,
and not caring about anything else.
"I
got these," Josh says, as he enters the alley. I look at him and see
him holding two machete's. "They were right there by the entrance. I
thought that was odd." I take mine and strap the sheath to my belt. I
examine the blade before sticking it back in its sheath. It is black,
and from its weight and look it seems to be good quality. There is a
small hole near the top of the blade where the edge comes to a point.
The handle is dark brown, wood. Josh's is identical.
"Shall
we," I say, sheathing the blade and lifting up my gun to a readied
position. He does the same and we leave the alley, out into the open,
and cross the street, carefully making our way to Costco.
The
store is bare. There is little of anything left in it. The food had
been looted as well as the clothes, and many of the hardware supplies.
There is a lot to cover and so we decide to split up. Gun shot being the
obvious sign for help. I make my way down a main aisle, and look down
the individual aisles. There is no sign of anyone in this part of the
store.
The deli and butchery
stink. The bins are full of rotting, putrid meat. I lower my gun and
cover my mouth and nose with my arm. I hurry past until I am near the
freezer section. I see my first sign that they had been here. There are
chairs, folding chairs, all set up in a circle with a cooler in the
middle and several empty cups littered around, on the floor. I walk to
where these things sit, undisturbed and do not see it at first.
It
had been lurking near an entrance into the kitchen area where the meats
are prepared and as I stepped out it attacked. I stumble around it,
falling to the ground as I do so. It leans forward, and for the first
time I see its features. Blood speared its face and arms. It was missing
part of its cheek and an ear. Its neck as well had a gaping hole in it,
but no blood flows from it. Its ripped shirt hung loose, exposing its
chest, which was just as mangled as its face and the rest of its body.
I
kick at its chest and am able to push it away briefly before it charges
at me again, relentlessly. I've lost my rifle in the attack and as it
moves towards me I grab the hilt of the machete and pull it out of its
sheath. My right hand burns from the pain of the broken fingers and at
that moment I think about putting them in a splint. The zombie reaches
out and I can see that his left hand is missing. I stab it in the chest
with the machete and it stumbled backwards, nearly falling, but just as
quickly recovers and continues towards me. The blade drips with dark red
blood in my hand and I look at it for a split second before hacking at
the things arms. It cuts through them and the zombies right hand and
part of its forearm fall to the ground. I want to throw up, but continue
in my defense, stabbing the thing in the head at the same time I hear a
gun shot from across the store.
The zombie drops, motionless, and I quickly grab my gun, and, still holding the machete, run towards where I believe Josh is.
I
find him near the registers, a zombie dead, its arms and head slumped
over a chain that would otherwise prevent people from checking out in
that lane.
"Snuck up on me," he
says, breathing hard; most likely from the surprise and adrenaline,
rather than actual physical exertion. He looks at me and at the blood on
the machete and also on my jeans. "You ok?" he asks.
"Yeah. snuck up on me as well. I think I need to be a bit more weary."
"Smart to use the machete, though," he mused, a little to casually. "I'm sure their all heading back this way now."
I
find a shirt, folded in a stack and wipe the blood off of my blade and
sheath it. "Well, lets find where they are or where they've gone."
We follow lockers near the front to a backroom. The door is locked. I bang on it and yell to see if there is anyone in there. I wait but do not hear anything.
"Uh, Aaron," Josh says, and he points towards the entrance. Several zombies walk through and make their way towards us. I cock my rifle and pull it up, aiming at them. Quickly I knock again.
"Chad!" I yell, "If you're in there, now would be a good time to let us in." I fire a few rounds and hit a few in the chest and neck. One in the head. I keep firing. Josh hits a few as well. I can tell he's gotten better at his aim. I concentrate and fire off a few more rounds. They connect.
"Come on Chad, it's your brothers. We got the note in your house." I fire again. There are more coming with every bullet fired. Josh is opening my pack, and grabbing another magazine for each of us while I keep firing the rest of my rounds. I drop the clip and reload. Cock the gun and fire twice more when the door swings open.
Chad is standing at the door with a shotgun in hand. He unloads a few shells and the sound is deafening. Much louder than our rifles. "Hey, guys," he says, firing once more. He motions his head, indicating for us to go in, and finally pumps the action, fires once more and we're all in. He locks the door. He then goes to work placing boards in makeshift slots all the way up the door to help protect against the zombies getting in.
He turns around and smiles. "You got my note." I hug him along with Josh.
"I didn't know anyone one was coming. We've been held up in this back room for two days now." There is provisions such as food, water and some blankets to sleep on, and you can tell by the smell that they'd been here for a while. Chad's wife, Crystal, and their two year old son, Clive, are sitting away from the door, she is holding him close. There are others here, as well. Two men and five women. No other children. Chad is the only one, (other than us, now) with a gun.
We say hi to Crystal and give her a hug. Clive is nervous around us and I am sure that our extremely dirty state is not helping. We tell them our story of getting here in brief detail, explaining that we are trying to get to my wife Dawn and my two boys and that we went this way in order to check on them.
We ask if they want to come with us but there is no response. I leave it alone for now.
There is banging on the door and it creaks and moans with the pressure from the zombies trying to get in.
"I guess you're stuck here with us, then," Chad says, smiling, but obviously fed up with being in the room with no windows and poor circulation. We all sat down, leaning against the wall, watching the door and our guns in our laps.
"Uh, Aaron," Josh says, and he points towards the entrance. Several zombies walk through and make their way towards us. I cock my rifle and pull it up, aiming at them. Quickly I knock again.
"Chad!" I yell, "If you're in there, now would be a good time to let us in." I fire a few rounds and hit a few in the chest and neck. One in the head. I keep firing. Josh hits a few as well. I can tell he's gotten better at his aim. I concentrate and fire off a few more rounds. They connect.
"Come on Chad, it's your brothers. We got the note in your house." I fire again. There are more coming with every bullet fired. Josh is opening my pack, and grabbing another magazine for each of us while I keep firing the rest of my rounds. I drop the clip and reload. Cock the gun and fire twice more when the door swings open.
Chad is standing at the door with a shotgun in hand. He unloads a few shells and the sound is deafening. Much louder than our rifles. "Hey, guys," he says, firing once more. He motions his head, indicating for us to go in, and finally pumps the action, fires once more and we're all in. He locks the door. He then goes to work placing boards in makeshift slots all the way up the door to help protect against the zombies getting in.
He turns around and smiles. "You got my note." I hug him along with Josh.
"I didn't know anyone one was coming. We've been held up in this back room for two days now." There is provisions such as food, water and some blankets to sleep on, and you can tell by the smell that they'd been here for a while. Chad's wife, Crystal, and their two year old son, Clive, are sitting away from the door, she is holding him close. There are others here, as well. Two men and five women. No other children. Chad is the only one, (other than us, now) with a gun.
We say hi to Crystal and give her a hug. Clive is nervous around us and I am sure that our extremely dirty state is not helping. We tell them our story of getting here in brief detail, explaining that we are trying to get to my wife Dawn and my two boys and that we went this way in order to check on them.
We ask if they want to come with us but there is no response. I leave it alone for now.
There is banging on the door and it creaks and moans with the pressure from the zombies trying to get in.
"I guess you're stuck here with us, then," Chad says, smiling, but obviously fed up with being in the room with no windows and poor circulation. We all sat down, leaning against the wall, watching the door and our guns in our laps.
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