Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (26 page)

“Trout Creek’s dead,” a shaky male voice answered.  “Nobody
left, so don’t bother.”

“There was a commune nearby,” I prompted.

“The Jesus-Crispies?”

I heard a smattering of muffled laughter from my group.

“They’re all dead, too,” he called back after I shushed the others.  “In fact it was them that brought this crap down on us.”

I was tired of yelling my conversation. “Why don’t you and I talk normal, instead of yelling back and forth? I’m un-armed.”

“Just you,” the male voice said hesitantly.  “Come up the road to the school.”

After assuring everybody that I knew what I was doing, and checking on Turk—it was a clean shot—bullet went in and out. That’s not to say that his left calf wasn’t messed up, only that we wouldn’t have to dig out the bullet. Hey, take your plu
sses where you can.

I walked down the empty street, through the empty town of Noxon. I spied my young negotiator. Jack Whitefoot is seve
nteen. He is a couple of notches taller than six-feet and thin as a whip. His long, black braid hangs down his back, all the way to his waist. He is exactly what you would picture when imagining a young Indian—or if you insist, Native American—from the Old West.

He had pistols on each hip, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, and an old style M-1 carbine in his hands held cros
sways in front of his chest like he was about to “present arms” at the command of a Marine DI.

We spoke. A lot of what eventually passed between us is his own business. In short, this place fell to the plague much the same as the big cities. By the time folks were figuring it out, it was too late. The zombies we killed when we arrived were the friends and families of Jack and a young lady named Julie Ba
rton.

Jack and Julie are the only survivors. But even more i
nteresting…Jack is immune! He has a well-healed bite to prove it.

They were able to kill off most of the zombies. Only, ne
ither could do away with their closest friends and immediate families. When they realized he was immune to the bite, they decided that, while they would not willingly allow the zombies to get to them, the need to kill those they loved was not a necessity.

To each his own.

Tomorrow, we’ll move on to Trout Creek. The kids will join us. They were given the choice and eagerly accepted. Turk was even a good sport about it and thanked Jack for NOT shooting to kill.

Sunday, July 20

I bet this place was absolutely beautiful before death found it. It sits right on this vast sparkling stretch of what I learned from Jack is The Clark Fork River. Trout Creek itself has a few forks and we want West Fork Trout Creek. Still, no reason to hurry or leave behind a potential danger.

Today, we went systematically through the area and put down every zombie we could find. The only real problem turned out to be a once majestic hotel. We discovered where the res
idents made their final stand. It is also where the plague seems to have finished them off from within their own ranks.

I’m no forensic specialist, but the trail is almost too easy to follow. It looks like the residents of Trout Creek retreated to this point with most of their guns and ammo (that made scaven
ging very convenient). Who knows how many bite victims were in that group. They boarded up all the doors and windows on the ground floor while having presence of mind to leave gaps for shooting through.

Likely, several of their own turned at once and in short order. The unfortunate element seems to be that it was the chi
ldren who turned. I say this because when we were looking in, we saw very little activity. When we pried open the main entrance a dozen children no older than ten or twelve rushed us. They were short enough and the gaps were placed high enough that we couldn’t see them. This was made worse by the fact that many of the adults were torn in half. At least two-thirds were creepers.

When it was all over with, everybody was so completely drained. Even Snoe, who never seems affected by anything, looked drawn and more than a little upset. It will never be easy killing the child-zombies.

We gathered and inventoried enough guns and ammo to supply a small army. One thing about places like this, it is definitely NRA country. Gun-Control fans, Democrats, and vegans need not bother stopping.

In one house, we did find something that I’m sure will be a legacy of our dead generation: A meth lab. The occupants o
bviously decided to make one last batch and die in the clutches of their addiction. Actually, that find was a bit more gruesome than some of the death-by-zombie discoveries we’ve made.

I had a friend who was into the meth scene. She was so pretty. She had that curvy body that made you so totally envious. A full bust, then a narrow and slender waist that truly exempl
ified the hourglass figure with perfect hips. Then…she found meth. Her long, shiny, black hair became matted. Her milky white skin erupted in hideous sores and her figure caved in.

I hope that whatever generation rises out of all this never rediscovers such a terrible thing.

Tomorrow we hike in and do what it takes to secure the compound. It’s been seen from above and afar, let’s hope that we continue to enjoy the success we’ve had so far.

God, I’ve probably cursed us.

Monday, July 21

We could not have counted on there being so much death in this complex. I remember when that cult in San Diego thought the Hale-Bopp comet was going to whisk them away to some paradise or something and put plastic bags over their heads after slipping into sweatsuits and tenny-runners.

We are having to go from building to building on extermination runs. Every single building has a basement, and this seems to be where most of them were kept. Each building is done and marked because after a while…it all starts to blend in.

The operation goes a little something like this: we walk the perimeter and look inside any windows. In the case of two-story buildings, we grapple, scale, and infiltrate from the top down. Once we clear the floor, we fan out and, after a rock-paper-scissors process, the loser opens the door to the basement.

Of course we had no idea how bad the basements were until we opened the door to the first one. That was how we lost young mister Gus Miller. He pulled open the door and a stringy-haired blonde missing all of
her
nose returned the gesture. She latched on to poor Gus before he knew what was happening. All hell broke loose as zombies of all ages came pouring out of that doorway and into a rather narrow hallway that made shooting absolutely impossible. We went hand-to-hand which took almost fifteen minutes. If you’ve never been in a fifteen minute hand-to-hand brawl, put on biker leathers and a helmet, now start swinging a baseball bat hard enough to crush an almost ripe watermelon for fifteen minutes.

We put down the last one and I turned just in time to watch Gus shove his pistol in his mouth and spray brains all over the wall he was propped against.

Three buildings done. Twenty-seven to go.

This could take a while.

Thursday, July 24

Halfway done. The good news is that we are close to halfway…bad news…we are only almost close to halfway. At least we haven’t lost anybody else.

Jack and Julie are just like part of the team. It is nice that this place was preparing for some version of Armageddon. They have a lot of non-perishable food, as well as cases and cases of bottled water.

There are a couple of really large buildings that we are concerned about clearing. The continuous pounding and moans of the undead are beyond description. I’m willing to bet that if there are generators…that is where they will be.

Saturday, July 26

Rolled the dice today. We’ve put off until today clearing the larger building for fear of what we felt we were sure to e
ncounter. It was voted on and unanimous that we go into this three-story affair. It is, In fact, the largest building in the com-pound. It sits on what I would guess to be an area that would be two blocks long and one block wide.

There are large double doors on all four sides of the ground floor. The second floor only offered tall, thin windows that nobody could crawl through if we wanted to access the building from that level. The third-floor is like the top of a we
dding cake inasmuch as it is recessed in from the outer edges of the first and second floor. There is a balcony railing all the way around as well.

We grappled and climbed to discover that sliding glass doors provide entrance on all four sides and thick blinds are still intact on most of the windows.

This is where they seemed to have brought a good many of the children. Most of them were five and under. To say the very least, this morning was unpleasant. We also encountered two elderly ladies that I imagine brought death with them since neither had bites from small mouths. There were also a few teens.

We noticed something odd with the youngsters. At first, nobody could place it. The top priority was to put them all down, so nobody was taking a lot of time to examine bodies. However, once we finished, the realization was immediate and practically everybody picked up on it. Almost all the baby-teeth have fallen out of the mouths of the zombie-children! And since they are in all respects dead, no adult teeth grew back in. That does not lessen their danger level much, but it helped.

There were a couple of large rooms, what looked like a big, open, gathering place, and one large bedroom. I’m guessing this floor was ceremonial in capacity. The ceiling is glass which meant this floor was lit naturally for the most part. I’ve found no artificial light source, so I’m pretty confident in my guess here.

We were going to simply toss the corpses, but there is just something about all these things having been children. So, we lowered them down by ropes and, in a big gravel lot that is full of cars that will probably never leave their spots, we have a pile of bodies growing that we plan to torch.

Tomorrow we’ll go down to the second floor.

Sunday, July 27

Slept in shifts because of the constant racket from the zombies downstairs.  Many of which came up the stairwells and spent the night on the other side of the thick oak doors at the ends of the north-south running main hallway.

We tossed a coin and decided to open the south set this morning.  Everything was going fine, but at some point Julie saw somebody she recognized and just freaked out.  Do you reme
mber when Bill Paxton’s character in
Aliens
does the total ‘crazy marine’ bit after he goes through the floor and starts yelling stuff like “Oh you want some?” “Here, eat some of this!”  “You too!” All of that right before he dies.  Well, Julie’s episode was pretty similar.  She started screaming things like “You can’t fight this!”  “They’ll get everybody!” and “I told you not to go outside! You should’ve listened!” As she waded into the midst of a pack of those things that were struggling to climb the stairs, she went down and everybody lost sight of her.

Jack was screaming her name and Sugar did her best to keep him from following.  Meanwhile, we were using some a
ncient war tactic of fighting side-by-side, three wide.  Every couple of minutes, the group in front disengaged, stepped back, and were then replaced by the trio behind them.  I don’t complain, it works and so I’m happy to try ideas that come from other members of the team.  Anyways, the zombies, as of late, haven’t left enough of their victims to return in most cases because there are so many who dive in and feast.   The stairwell seemed to have hampered them from finishing off all of Julie because about five or ten minutes later she shambled towards the front three of me, Troy Marsh, and Delmar Jones.  She was tore up really bad, but mobile.  The worst part, besides most of her abdominal cavity having been ripped out, was the way her head just lolled to one side because most of her neck had been eaten.

It took us a good part of the morning to just sit and wait and to use our bash-and-slash tactic to eliminate what must be most of the zombies.  We killed forty-six when it was all said and done.

Nobody felt like going downstairs and sweeping the floor for stragglers.  At least we have something to do tomorrow.

Monday, July 28

Finished the second floor.  This was some sort of meditation area.  There are several small rooms with speakers set in the walls.  The floors are hardwood, but many had mats or remnants of mats.  I also noticed a couple of rooms that were not contaminated at all and there were bottles of scented oils.  I only recognized eucalyptus.

The bottom floor was actually a bit easier to clear.  It was sectioned into four parts.  Each large room was mirrored on two sides.  In the center was some sort of reception area on a raised dais.  This was also where we found a narrow hallway that led to a single metal door.

Sure enough we found two huge diesel generators.  We also lucked out by finding ten fifty-gallon drums, a dolly, and a hand pump.

We all agreed not to turn these babies on until Roy gives them a good going over and we’ve cleaned the place out, gone through and shut everything off.  It would be bad if we powered up and a fire set off or something equally bad.