Zombies Read online

  * * *

  We’ll leave for the boat tonight just after midnight. Ryan says he thinks that the zombies’ eyesight is hampered by darkness. I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. He hasn’t heard from his girlfriend since the cell reception went out almost a week ago. We have no idea if she’s alive. He’s distraught. There’s no reason to stay here. He found me, but neither of us thinks anyone else is going to show up and bring us any better options.

  January 20, 2012

  Made it to the houseboat. It’s a bad scene here. Blood in the cabin and on the deck, dried. Not clear whose blood. There’s no sign of Ryan’s girlfriend. The useless cell phone is here. That’s bloody, too. Ryan’s a wreck, hysterical.

  The marina is quiet, but the creaking of the boats, the ropes, the docks, the sound of the tide makes it hard to dial down my nerves—expecting the sounds to mask an approach by the dead. We don’t think they followed us here, but unsure if there are any around. Hard to tell if they see worse in the dark than we do. In any event, that would cut both ways. We’ve been using a flashlight, trying to mask it from view as much as we can.

  We made it downstairs from the lab and out the side door of the building and onto the street, and they were on us quickly. We’d armed ourselves with homemade clubs, furniture legs, and fought with everything we had. Clubbing them in the head seems to work best, it seems to stun them, body blows are less effective. Horrible. Their jaws are just gnashing, always, even if you’re taking its jaws apart with a club.

  There’s food here, and bottled water. No weapons to speak of—Ryan’s old baseball bat. His neighbor has a handgun that he knows of. That’s where we’re headed next. Need to sleep. It doesn’t feel safe but it can’t be helped.

  January 21, 2012

  The neighbor had two handguns, some ammo, a couple boxes. Between his place and Ryan’s we have: flashlights, batteries, food and water, extra clothes, some camping gear—a handheld GPS! From before everyone had them on their phones—a first-aid kit and a couple backpacks, and the baseball bat. We got all this into a motorboat and pushed off and away.

  They came as soon as we fired up the engine, which means they can “hear”, at least the roar of an outboard. Ryan has some experience with guns. I concentrated on steering. Bullets don’t really seem to stop them. Body shots do nothing, their physiology doesn’t make any sense. The force of the shot slows them but that’s about it. He nailed a couple in the head, but they kept coming. When I killed killed? Paul or whatever it was the acid had removed either a crucial part of the brain or enough of the brain to stop it.

  Ryan’s ranting—we need higher caliber weapons.

  We have a 9mm and a .22.

  Zombies and water.

  In their attempts to attack and eat us a whole bunch of them fell into the lake, or walked into the lake. They can’t move fast enough to tread water and, due to a lack of air in their lungs?, they sink. For the same reason, I don’t believe they actually drown. Somewhere at the bottom, hungry zombies lurk. Even from a “safe” vantage here in the boat, the thought gives me the chills. I keep thinking this is going to make sense. Anaerobic effects should be, they shouldn’t even be moving around on land. How long can they live underwater?

  We could see them come out onto the banks as we steered out into open water of Elliott Bay. You can tell they’re dead rather than survivors because of the way they move.

  January 22, 2012

  We’ve met survivors. A woman named Jeri and her dog, JoJo. We'd run out of gas. Stupid! There was gas at the pier, we just didn’t think! 10 or 12 miles out the engine sputtered and Ryan and I picked up the oars and were scanning the shoreline when we spotted another small boat in the distance. We were thinking gas at the very least, maybe people. When we got close we could see movement, and hear a dog barking.

  No gas. Jeri said she’d been floating for two days. We tied her boat to ours, waiting until dusk, and then rowed to what looked like the most zombie-free spot? on shore. What’s zombie-free? It looked woodsy. Jeri has a map. We think we’re somewhere in Snohomish County.

  We’re in a craftsman-style house that we found up and in from the shoreline. No one inside or around. No car, maybe they got out. We checked the house carefully, room to room. Drawers and closets ransacked—left in a hurry. When it was cleared for zombies, we shut all curtains, locked and barricaded the doors, and lit a few candles that we found in the pantry alongside what was left of their canned and dry goods. No baked beans, but they left chickpeas, coconut milk, that can of water chestnuts everyone has but never uses, some other stuff. Food rotten in the dead fridge. Should probably board up the windows but worried about the noise, just moved some mattresses and tables to block the candlelight somewhat. Crashing together on the couches and floor downstairs. Ryan is wired, he gets the first watch.

  January 23, 2012

  JoJo is clearly an asset. He growled a few times last night—whether due to a passing zombie or what, a raccoon? we don’t know. No one is going to investigate. Worried though if he barks. A few panicky moments. Breakfast was corn flakes, coconut milk and water. Bowls and spoons, weirdly civilized. Jeri told us her story, which I’m recording here.

  * * *

  “I live in Poulsbo. My parents and I were staying at a cabin we have. They turned into those . . . When they died, they just woke up and attacked us. JoJo and I just ran.

  My dad had been having chest pains, my mom too. I put them to bed and was trying to take care of them the best I could. They couldn’t breathe and I called an ambulance that never came and then they died. Then they, got up. JoJo and I ran to the neighbor’s house, but they were already . . . the neighbors and my parents chased us and we ran to the boat and just left them, they kept coming into the water after us. What’s happening? I don’t understand why nobody’s helping, what’s happening?”

  * * *

  The house is freezing and we’ve been burning wood in the fireplace to keep warm. No firewood left at the house and the furniture is barricade material, though also perhaps not good to burn treated wood in a closed space—maybe that’s the least of our worries.

  Half reconnaissance and half gathering wood I left the house today. At a good distance I saw a zombie down by the water in fishing gear, just standing there, swaying, and staring? out over the water. Do they think? Then it ripped off part of its own arm and gnawed on it like it was beef jerky.

  We haven’t seen any zombies preying on each other, let alone eating themselves. Was this zombie “starving?” If isolated from live humans, which they’re definitely interested in eating, do they eat each other? Was this zombie recently dead enough to consider itself still “fresh”? Was glad to get back to the house.

  January 24, 2012

  Found a pair of binoculars in the house today—very useful for observing things from a safe distance. This afternoon, from a top-floor window, I was able to witness something that I believe is relevant to understanding the zombies’ physical decomposition.

  At different times I saw two of them shuffling down the road. The first one moved slower, looking more ashy, more “off”, with veins and deep tissue layers emergent. The second one, a postal worker, looked “fresher”—visible decay but less of it, and moving at a quicker pace. My guess is that he had died within the last day or two? What stood out the most to me was the expression on the mailman's face. Like he was frozen in mid-scream even though he didn't make a sound.

  I’ve sketched a progressive chart that features the breakdown of living tissue into undead flesh based on the two I observed:

  This might be both good and bad news. The good being that natural decomposition is occurring in the walking corpses, which would mean that within a few weeks, they should rot enough to not be much of a further threat. The bad, however, as we know from Jeri’s story, is that not everyone is affected at the same time. Need to make further observations on this.

  A little freaked out that the zombies passed within sight of the house.

 
January 25, 2012

  Took a bicycle from the shed today and rode out, I’d estimate 3 or 4 miles, and found a small commercial area in a valley past the edge of the woods. The dead of what must have been the town are still congregated here. Why? Cautiously, I’ve been observing and sketching it from a hidden vantage point. They’re not eating each other, the fisherman must have been some sort of aberration. They’re not exactly interacting with each other, either, just sort of they’re just wandering aimlessly. A legless zombie just crawled over to butt its head against a glass door, now just sort of looking inside. There's one with a . . . purse? And their jaws are all moving, chewing? Through the binoculars, the raw areas around the mouths, lack of cheeks, tongues, suggests a gnawing of their own soft tissue, but not extensive cannibalism. I’m wondering if this activity parallels the living’s preoccupation with the mouth—eating, smoking, biting nails, sipping coffee, whistling, speaking, chewing gum, grinding teeth, etc. Their systems can’t need or process food. Is living human flesh some sort of connection with life, some sort of “comfort food” to the undead?

  More evidence of zombies retaining living behaviors in death. I’m by a little country church and a wedding party.

  Did they succumb together and are now, sticking together? Out of familiarity? Are there zombie families “living” inside of houses in the area?

  January 26, 2012

  Noticing for the first time the contents of the newspapers we’re using for the fires. Ads. The sports section. Vestiges of society we’re not sure is ever coming back.

  And this:

  Are GMOs Responsible For Sickness?

  * * *

  By JEFF KRIEGE

  SEATTLE, Wash. — Leading food additive manufacturer Primodine Laboratories was placed under quarantine Saturday, according to officials at the Centers for Disease Control. Compounds sourced from the Primodine facility are suspected to be responsible for the violent illness and deaths of an estimated 16 million people in developed countries worldwide.

  According to the CDC spokesperson Kevin Byron, “While testing has proven inconclusive, indications point to the cumulative effect of an additive produced and distributed from the Primodine site. We do not expect this quarantine to have an immediate effect on the pandemic, but believe it to be a crucial measure.”

  Primodine, located north of Seattle in Bellingham, Wash. has been owned by the InfraNeuronics Corporation since 1998. INC chairman and CEO Michael Healy released a statement on

  Continued on page 7

  Primodine has a serious R&D facility up in Bellingham that hires all the Chem grads from UW and Western. They should just give them lab coats instead of caps and gowns. Regularly protested by the Poli Sci students for its military contracts—the company's behind everything from cleaning solvents to automobile tires to wonderfood additives, like C88. “C88—Tastes Great! An All-Natural Flavor Enhancer That Brings Your Favorite Foods to Life!” After seeing the gnawing activities yesterday Here are ads for it in chips, chocolate, instant soup, chicken nuggets . . .

  January 27, 2012

  Approximately two miles northwest from the house today I observed a zombie biker group. NOT riding their bikes—luckily no evidence that the dead have any vestigial recollection of technology, what it means, what to do with it. But they do seem to have some recognition of social order or hierarchy, at least this group did. Maybe I’m projecting my beliefs about bikers, but they seemed to be milling around a central figure. Not that he, or they, were actually doing much of anything. Not actively hunting for food. They all appeared to be at the same stage of decay, which I would theorize means they were afflicted at the same time. Likely endemic among tight-knit groups.

  January 28, 2012

  Out of the house again in the early morning hours. Went out alone, again. (I should say, Jeri and Ryan think I’m nuts.)

  In a clearing, I came upon a small campsite with tents and a fire pit, still kind of steaming in the mist, probably burning the night before. I almost called out, but thought better. Working my way around to the other side of the tents I heard there was a wet gnawing sound, some snapping. A little further I used the binoculars to see a hunting party, three or four, rending another one of the group apart. Watched for as long as I could stomach, a few minutes? Couldn’t let myself vomit. Two of the zombies seemed to be just kids, 13 or 14. A family? That they’d turned on each other suggests a different rate of infection among them. This is not far from the house. We’d passed a few days without direct incident and I’m understanding now that the sense of security we’ve been enjoying is false.

  January 29, 2012

  A bad day. I headed off in a different direction and came across an overturned bus. As I approached, they came out of the woods. Were they hiding? Can they plan? Faster than I’d expected, maybe because of their youth, a class, maybe a dozen 8-10 year olds. Not children.

  I ran and they followed. I made it to the house, Jeri, Ryan, and JoJo were outside poking around in the shed.

  JoJo charged, barking, and leapt on the “boy” closest to me, knocking it over and coming away with part of its arm in his mouth.

  Ryan had luck with the gun on that one (a center shot in the forehead) but head shots only slowed the next one. Kerosene and the lighter worked, but not immediately—they would stagger and struggle before being consumed in fire and falling to the ground, flesh bubbling.

  Jeri had the bat and I had an axe. I took the head off one. Whatever passes for a nervous system kept it in motion for a moment before it fell. Bashing the cranial area, repeatedly, puts them down. If we couldn’t get heads, we went for limbs to drop them and set the writhing little bodies and their hungry, decaying faces ablaze.

  Inside now. It’s not safe. We made a lot of noise.

  January 30, 2012

  Everyone’s dead.

  Jeri was bitten in the attack. For a short time she was able to hide it from me and Ryan. We took her symptoms, pale, sweating, rapid breathing, for the aftermath of the attack, and didn’t resist when she wanted to sleep upstairs while we kept watch downstairs. JoJo stayed downstairs with us. Later that night she turned on us.

  She bit Ryan on the neck and tried to tear him apart. I took a shovel and got her in the head and she fell off Ryan. JoJo tore at her. With another swing I knocked her in front of the fireplace. I was able to get a clean slice at her gnashing mouth, cleaving her jaw, before the rest of her caught fire. Then the house caught fire.

  Our packs had been ready in case we had to flee an attack from the outside and I managed to grab mine and Ryan’s. We stood panting out on the lawn. We knew what the bite meant. Ryan turned and ran away from me, into the woods. The fire was already drawing zombies. JoJo growled at them, barking and snarling, but he would also not leave the vicinity of the house. I couldn’t convince him to come with me, and I ran.

  January 31, 2012

  DEFENSE AGAINST THE LIVING DEAD

  Guns: Mostly useless. “small caliber” (9mm and .22) are only effective with a perfect shot or at close range. Aim for the frontal lobe. Bigger guns might do more damage, I don’t know. Ryan would know. The impact of the bullet anywhere can slow or knock them down. That’s something.

  Hydrofluoric acid: Any acid corrosive to human tissue could be effective, but it would HAVE TO BE APPLIED TO THE HEAD. They seem to have at least primal cognitive ability? And the center of that drive seems to be whatever animating force is still functioning in the brain tissue.

  Axe: Dismemberment is THE WAY TO GO in slowing them down. Off with the head.

  Bludgeon: Blunt force is more effective than firearms are in terms of keeping them back at close range. You can bash whatever brains they have in but I can’t I mean, you get tired. They don’t get tired.

  Extreme cold: Cold seems to adversely affect their physiology. I haven’t actually touched the flesh of one of them, but without function of human systems, they must it stands to reason already be at no warmer than ambient atmospheric conditions? Reduction of that
temperature seems to hamper a zombie’s capability for motion, tightening tendons, muscles, and ligaments? A living person might take advantage of this in relocating or already living in extreme northern or southern regions.

  Fire: Effective in that it destroys tissue, but the infected retain mobility for an unpredictable length of time until fire has done a fundamental level of immobilizing damage. They keep coming.

  OTHER FACTORS

  Birds: Species that feed on carrion as a natural part of their diet—crows, hawks—seem to have a taste for undead flesh. Species that would normally feed only on a carcass seem to have some sort of innate understanding that zombies are “already dead” and don’t seem to be put off by motion. Still, they prefer zombies in what seem to be later stages of decay, when mobility is decreased. With great satisfaction, I’ve firsthand seen a crow pluck rotten tissue from reanimated dead.

  Dogs: Highly socialized to human contact and interaction, dogs are particularly freaked out by the presence of the undead. They will bristle and bark in their presence and even willfully attack a nonhuman. It is unknown if animals are infected—as are humans— by contact with zombies. None of the wildlife (squirrels, birds, a raccoon) or dogs that I have seen have shown any outward signs of infection or derangement, but I am not sure what those signs might be. In any event, contact with the dead by animal species might render that animal a carrier of the unknown element that has infected humans.