Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (3 page)

* * * * *

It is dark outside now. Just past nine. For the past hour the EBS has run a loop announcing that martial law has been declared on a national level. Anybody caught outside after su
nset will be shot! I didn’t think the government could do something so harsh. I mean, if they said you would be arrested, then sure. But they’re killing people. I know they are because I’ve heard gunfire almost non-stop since that alert began.

Saturday, January 19

Erin’s awake!

Sunday, January 20

There has to be somebody out there that can help me. I don’t know what to do. Nothing is making sense.

The pounding. The relentless, never-ending pounding.

Maybe if I put this down…relate what happened… then, hopefully,
I’ll
understand. This nightmare will unravel, and the world will make sense.

Okay. So Erin woke up. Beth had screamed and run out into the hall. She kept insisting her mom had died. I was still hugging her when we both heard that thud and the sound of glass breaking. Then this low, sickly moan sorta drifted out of the room, growing louder.

Erin stepped into the doorway and I was so shocked that I just knelt there, staring like an idiot.

Then the smell hit me.

I actually gagged. I covered my mouth as Beth ran to her mom. This is where things just fell apart.

I still see each fraction of a second of what happened with a clarity that makes me shiver. My hands haven’t stopped shaking in the last twenty-four hours. (Of which I’ve slept none of, not even a catnap)

Erin’s face looked blank, like that astronaut that had the lobotomy in
Planet of the Apes
. She jerked like she’d been shocked. I mean her movements were real herky-jerky like. With absolutely no warning, she bit Beth! Just leaned down and tore part of her ear off! Then, as Beth is screaming, blood pouring down the side of her head, down her neck, Erin just gulps it down. The piece of our daughter’s ear!

By now Beth is trying to get away. Erin has her by the arms with both hands, like claws, digging into my little girl’s flesh. I’m still just kneeling on the floor at the top of the stairs like an idiot. Finally, and this is a blurry part, I jump up, shoving Erin back into her room as I rip Beth free.

I pulled the door shut and spun to where my daughter is curled up on the floor, against a wall. She had her hands pressed to that torn ear, wailing like I’d never heard before. Honestly, that sound is trapped in my head and won’t go away. That scream…

* * * * *

Sorry, I had to stop for a few. God! I wish the pounding would stop!

Anyways, to continue where I left off. Beth is crying. I realize by now that I’m crying. Erin starts moaning louder and pounding on the door. (That was almost a full day ago and it hasn’t let up for one second.)

I grabbed my daughter, carried her downstairs, and took her into the bathroom. The best thing about Erin being a nurse is that her medicine cabinet and first aid kit are a-freakin’-mazing! After the initial clean-up and bandaging, Beth wanted to change clothes. She was so unnerved, she actually begged me to stay. Even with my back turned and eyes closed my little girl has not wanted dad anywhere in the vicinity if she was in any state of undress since about the age of seven.

After all that, I rummaged around and found some Val
ium. I gave her a half of one. She fell asleep holding my hand. I sat on the floor by the couch all that night and she never once let go.

I sat there. In the dark. I listened to my daughter’s breat
hing, Erin’s pounding, and the intermittent gunfire, sirens…and screaming.

The screams were the worst. I’ve never heard anything like it. It was like taking the worst pain-scream and the worst fear-scream and combining them. One time, I thought I heard something outside the house. Whatever it was seemed to bounce off the walls a few times, then…nothing.

* * * * *

Some nut-jobs managed to break into one of the local r
adio stations. We’ve had the television and radio on this whole time in case the EBS had anything helpful. So, whoever these guys are, they start carrying on about ‘walking dead’ and ‘zombies’! They were saying that police, and fire, and military are almost gone because they fell in ‘the first wave’! Well, I was almost hooked until I heard commands of, “This is the United States Army. We are ordering you to cease and desist all activities this moment!” Then…

Silence.

So much for the first wave.

I think writing this helped. I’m gonna take a little nap.

Monday, January 21

Early morning

I may lose my mind entirely. The pounding just keeps going on, and on, and on! People say that after a while you can get used to a sound and your mind will block it out. Like, if you live next to railroad tracks or an airport, in time, you just stop hearing it. Well, that is not the case here.

I’ve decided that I have to do something. If you are rea
ding this and in the area, I’ve hung a blue bed sheet out of a second floor window. Please…help my daughter. If I fail, she’ll be all alone. She is so sick, showing the same problems, or symptoms, or whatever, that Erin had. But I must do something. I’m going to try and tie Erin down so she’ll stop the pounding. God forgive me, but I will try to gag her also.

Evening

It worked! I managed to get Erin tied down. But damn, I strongly suggest you take that EBS recommendation about restraining anybody you know that is possibly infected. Erin was more like an animal than a human being. Oddly, her expression barely changed except when she opened her mouth wide and tried to take a bite out of me. That only came in handy when I had to stuff the hand-towel into her mouth, which, by the way, was not very easy to secure; I managed by using a ripped pillowcase. So, the Erin “problem” is at least under control. For now.

The radio and television have had repeat warnings about Martial Law.  It has now been set for 5 p.m. There have also been recommendations that you not leave your home at all. But if you do, several FEMA crisis centers have been set up. Mostly at high schools. There is no way I’m leaving Erin. Beth is too sick to move right now. And, honestly, I don’t really relish the idea of being jammed into a big open room full of strangers.

Here is something strange. I keep seeing people wandering around. They look like Erin. Sick. Discolored. They are alone mostly. Sometimes a group will pass by. What is most distressing is that some of them look pretty bloodied up.

I’m starting to wonder about those guys who took over that radio station for a brief moment.

But really. Zombies?

Tuesday, January 22

I’ve wrestled with this decision for a day and a half. I have no choice. I carried Beth up to her room and she is now securely tied down in her bed. I hadn’t been upstairs, other than tying down Erin, and this morning I took the time to look around once I had secured my daughter and changed her bandages (that stench is so overpowering).

From the second floor I get a much clearer view of the surrounding neighborhood. It is obvious there have been a few fires. A few blocks over, I can see one house still burning. No sign of any sort of emergency crews. Just how bad is it out there?

The other thing I am seeing is more disturbing. Today I saw something that my mind does not want to accept. It is too preposterous to even consider. Yet…

Okay. Getting a grip.

There was this man. Rather what was left of him. From the waist down he was a mass of torn flesh. His entire lower half was just gone! He was on his stomach…dragging himself down the street by his hands! What had to be the spinal column was twitching back and forth like an alligator’s tail. Strands of who knows what dragged behind. I got a really good look at him. It took over an hour for him to drag himself to the end of the block where he vanished behind a parked car. I watched other people just stumble past as if nothing was wrong! What the hell is going on!?!

Every time I would check, there he would be, just dra
gging himself along. Those guys on the radio don’t seem so insane now.

Beth is getting sicker. Her wound is smelling worse by the hour. Her skin is taking on that same gray, slick, waxy pallor that her mother’s did.

Somebody is screaming.

* * * * *

Even seeing it firsthand. Even hearing what those guys said on the radio…I still struggle to accept this. If this is real, then that means Erin is a…

So, here is what I saw. That screaming was so close, I had to at least see if there was anything I could do. I had to go in Erin’s room (this time the smell made me vomit) and look out her bedroom window. Her room is in the back of the house and looks out over the backyard.

The backyard is fenced with tall wooden slats about six feet high. But, from the second floor, I could see into the neighboring backyards on all three sides. In the backyard directly behind us was a woman. She looked to be about twentyish. She had tried to climb the fence leading into the yard behind and to the left of ours. Her shirt was snagged and two little boys no older than ten had her by a leg. Each one was trying to bite her! She was so busy kicking and struggling to free herself that she didn’t see this other man…

This is where it gets crazy again.

This man had most of the right side of his face torn off. It made his mouth seem huge. Once I stopped focusing on his terrible injury, I noticed something that was, for me, more terrifying.  His skin. It looked just like Erin’s!  That of course made me glance back at her. She was still straining against her bindings. Straining to get at me. Then I looked into her eyes. They were dull and milky white with a bloodshot look that was especially creepy since, instead of reddish, it was almost black. At first I thought it was a trick of the shadows on her face. Then I leaned closer for a better look with the daylight hitting her directly.

No trick.

I took a look out back again as that lady was grabbed by the man she hadn’t seen coming. I know what you’re thinking. I should’ve helped. Yelled. Something.

Okay. Then what? Really. What in the hell could I do a
fter that? And what if they come after me? My daughter?

Anyway, what I saw next has me believing in the unb
elievable. That man grabbed the woman by the head and bit into her at the top of one arm, just below the joint. He tore away a chunk of flesh. And then I heard that terrible scream. Next, one of those boys got through the jeans and took a bite out of her calf. That’s when I stopped watching.

The screams lasted another couple of minutes, but it seemed like forever. That was an hour ago. The man and those two boys are gone.

She’s not.

Still stuck on the fence though.

Only now, she’s missing one arm and part of a leg from about the knee. And she’s moving. Just like Erin was. Like that man and those boys were…slowly, with occasional jerks and fits.

Wednesday, January 23

Early yesterday evening, Beth came to. She can’t remember anything. That may be best. I would hate for her to have the last memories of her mom being so terrible.

When I heard her call me, I can’t tell you how completely surprised I was. I rushed in to find her crying and trying to get free of the restraints I had fashioned. Once I got her untied, I scooped her up and just held her. She was too weak to do an
ything so I carried her downstairs. (Her room reeks and the smell was upsetting her).

We were just sitting quietly.  Well, I was sitting with her nestled up under my arm when the EBS broke its silence:

“The CDC has issued a statement confirming that the recently deceased are seeming to re-animate. They then become hostile and attack the living. Certain mythologies suggest head trauma may be the only way to deactivate the mobile corpses.”

That loop ran for about two hours before it went silent in mid-sentence. Ten minutes later, the EBS signal on the telev
ision went dead. There is nothing but a blank screen. Once, it flickered, and a man sitting behind a desk came on, but it was gone in a blink. Beth didn’t seem to notice any of it.

She has come in and out of consciousness the past seve
ral hours. The sun has been up for a while now. The last time I glanced at the clock it was almost 9 a.m. I’m torn between just sitting here, holding my daughter…or tying her back up. I don’t know if she’ll get better or not. If she doesn’t, I don’t want her dying, tied up like an animal. I did manage to get a good look at her eyes when I was carrying her downstairs. They aren’t milky, but the blood vessels are almost black. I must’ve been staring hard because she did ask me what was wrong.

“Nothing,” I lied.

* * * * *