Survivors 2

Today is part two of the story Survivor from our guest poster Amy of Subject to Change.

_____January 15th

The stench is awful. Jonah tells me the chemical tang hanging in the air and burning my nasal passages is the napalm, but that's not the worst of it. It's the burnt smell. Intellectually you'd think it was no different than leaving a steak on the grill for too long, but it's not. Somehow knowing that the still-smoking piles of bones crunching under the tires used to be people makes the smell so much worse.

At least we're not hungry anymore. We came up yesterday and stocked up on food, water, and gas. We switched the car for a truck because I figured having something with four wheel drive would probably be a good idea sooner or later. We looted a weapons shop, too. I remember making jokes about all this stuff when it was a just videogame scenario. It's not nearly as fun when it's real.

* * *

We're almost on the edge of the city now, I can see the barricades a few miles away. It took us two days to get out this far because we stopped along the way to see if we could find any other survivors.

No. Why am I lying? It wasn't anything nearly so altruistic. We did pick up a few people but I wasn't looking for them. I went home looking for Eric. I don't know why because he was all the way across town at work when the shit hit the fan. And even if he could have made it home he wouldn't have stayed there. He knew about Grandpa's stupid panic room, they all did. They would've tried to make their way there if they could have. Still, I had to check. After I went home I stopped at everyone's houses and jobs but I didn't find them. No one survived, at least not that I found. I didn't really expect them to be alive anyway

But when we were looking for the rest of our family we found the others. Jack, Isabel, Stephanie and Charles. Jack is six or seven. We found him wandering alone. I don't know how he managed to survive everything because he won't talk. We only know his name because his mom embroidered it into the collar of his jacket. I cried when I saw that. Isabel and Stephanie were in town with some friends to celebrate the New Year and Charles is an ex-marine, so that'll be useful, even if he is fifty-something. When we picked him up he set the break in Jonah's leg and found some pain meds for him.

We're on the 15 heading towards LA. That's where Isabel and Stephanie are from and they want to go home. Seems like as good a destination as any and the rest of us don't have a home anymore, so why not? Jonah, Jack, and I are sleeping in the back of the truck. Well, Jonah and Jack are asleep. Jonah's been passed out ever since Charles found those meds for him this afternoon. Jack's curled up in a little tiny ball against my side. I can feel him shaking and he whimpers in his sleep. I can't sleep. I keep thinking about everyone I left behind. What if I gave up too quickly? What if they're still alive out there somewhere?

* * *

The freeway is blocked off at the mountain pass. We weren't the only survivors from Vegas and apparently they all decided to go to LA as well, only the California Highway Patrol won't let anyone thru. People are saying they're shooting anyone trying to sneak by on foot, no questions asked. Looks like we're stuck here for a while. We could turn around and try to go somewhere else, but why bother? I'm sure every route out of Vegas has undergone the same treatment by now. None of the nearby cities are gonna risk infection just to give sanctuary to a few unlucky bastards that weren't smart enough to die right away.


_____January 17th

There's a sort of refugee camp here now. People huddled together for protection. There's already been eight infections discovered, but they were killed before they could turn anyone else. Charles was one of them, turns out he got bit on the leg a few hours before we found him. He'd been hopped up on coke the whole time he was with us. Apparently that slows the process.

* * *

There's about sixty of us altogether. People kept trickling in for a little while, a few of them every hour or so, sometimes alone, sometimes in a small group like ours, but that's stopped. There hasn't been anyone new approaching in more than half a day. The pass is still blocked. We'll probably die here.



_____January 22nd

There's barely two dozen of us left. So many people have died, or been killed, because of this stupid virus. The other refugees brought it in with them, just like we did, because they couldn't admit to themselves that their loved ones were infected. Isabel heard from someone that they're gonna take out the camp because the California government doesn't want to risk us infecting their perfect golden citizens.



_____January 23rd

I can hear the helicopters coming with the napalm now. I should get up and try to run, like Isabel and Stephanie did, but I've got nowhere to go. Besides Jonah can't run anywhere and Jack's gotten sick from being out in the cold for so long. I can't leave them. I sang to Jack til he fell asleep, the poor kid. He must be more messed up than I thought if he can find my singing soothing. Anyway, he's peaceful now as the choppers bear down on us. That's the best I can do for him, make sure he's not afraid anymore. I've put these papers in a toolbox that I found in the back of the truck we stole and had Isabel take it out far enough from the camp that hopefully it won't be in range of the fire. I don't know why I want them to survive. Maybe they'll answer some questions for someone. Jack's mom, if she's still alive, or maybe Eric if he managed to escape, which I can't seem to stop hoping for.

If you're reading this it means that no miracle saved us at the last minute. After I handed these papers off to Isabel I went back to our makeshift tent and fed Jack the rest of the pain meds so I could be sure he'd sleep through whatever was coming. And who knows? Maybe I slept, too.

Good work, Amy, and thanks again for your story. A big thanks to everyone else who has sent us pics and links as well, we appreciate it.

Survivors

We're trying something new on the ZNN today, Amy from Subject to Change is stepping in to become our first ever guest poster which is all sorts of awesome since I'm too busy watching the Olympics to come up with anything on my own and Middle Aged Woman has been busy working on getting her first Tony. The story is not that long, but we're going to split it in two anyway since it takes up less of your blogging day. And don't worry, I'll be doing the same with my future stories as well. So here we go, part one of Survivors.


_____Survivors



It's no surprise, really. Even with the downturn in tourism lately we still get a fuck of a lot of visitors, and by now we all know that all it takes is one.

I think it may have spread a little faster here, gone unnoticed for just a few hours longer because of the state people are typically in after a night or two in Vegas. In the beginning it's hard to tell the difference between the ones that are just strung out on all kinds of drugs, out of it because they haven't slept in more than 24 hours, and the ones that are infected. Slurred speech, impaired movements, glazed-over eyes. It all looks pretty much the same whether it's coming from a soon-to-be zombie or a junkie on his last leg. It's not until the end when you notice the difference. The junkies just die. They fall down and stay where they fell, nice and reliable. I'm sure when that first guy got back up everyone at the blackjack tables was shocked as hell. Probably stood there gawking as the thing bit the security guard who went to check on him. I heard that a few of the braver patrons and employees formed up a gang and tore the zombie apart while everyone else tried to run. Fat lot of good it'd do us in the end. It bit enough people before it stopped moving to get the ball rolling.

Maybe it really is a government conspiracy, like my husband Eric always said. Seems to me like Vegas would be a good place to drop the bomb, so to speak, what with the crowds and how fucking difficult it is to get around at the best of times. And on New Year's Eve, when the entire Strip is packed tighter than can of fucking sardines, it's the goddamn zombie version of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Add a stampeding mob to the mix and it's a wonder that even one person got far enough away from the Strip to warn anyone.



_____January 3rd

That was three days ago. My cousin Jonah and I have been holed up in the panic room that Gramps built when this whole zombie mess was just a crazed gleam in the conspiracy theorists' eyes. Most of the food he had stored down here has long since rotted away. Even canned goods don't last forever, and we spent too much time making jokes about crazy old Grandpa Jakes to pay him any mind, let alone re-stock the place. Not until it was way too late, anyway. The little bit of food that we managed to scrape together on the way here is almost gone. At least we still have plenty of water, thank God Gramps installed plumbing when he built this place.

Anyway, I figure we can hold out here for a week or two, maybe a month at the outside. You can go a month without food, I saw that on the Discovery Channel or something. By then the military should have taken care of the zombies. Nukes or napalm or whatever it is they're gonna use once they stop pretending they're looking for ways to save those of us that are left. The blockades were up not even twelve hours after that first guy got up and started munching on that security guard. They had no intention of rescue, only containment, but I understand. I'd like to say it isn't true, but I'd probably end up making the same decision if it were me out there.



____January 4h

My phone died today. I've been calling Eric over and over for the past four days, but he never answered. Neither did anyone else. It's probably too much to hope for that anyone I know is still alive.


_____January 9th

I don't think we're gonna last another three weeks. We've got a day's worth of food left, maybe two if we really stretch it. Jonah's already wanting me to go outside and check on things. He says that after nine days they've long since cleaned up and gone on to deal with the next outbreak. That's how it was in New York, at least. Three days and then the whole place was up in flames, survivors be damned.

He's right, but with that broken leg he got on his way here he won't be the one putting his ass on the line. Even with the car my odds of coming back are slim, since I'd still have to get out of it to grab the food. No. Both of us can easily last another week or so and I don't want to risk it. Not just yet. I'd rather be hungry and human than risk becoming zombie bait for a few twinkies or whatever I could scrounge from the neighboring houses.



_____January 13th

I'm so hungry. I didn't count on this. Kinda makes me wish I'd lived a little rougher as a kid, then maybe I wouldn't feel so weak from just a couple of days without eating. I'll have to go out soon because if I wait much longer I won't have enough energy left to do anything but lie here and wait for us to die.


Part two will be posted on Friday.

Zombie Pikachu

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