Free Zomblog: The Final Entry by Tw Brown

as four men on horses were coming in. I had to beeline for the woods. It wasn’t that I wanted to leave Eric; it’s just that when things get chaotic, you have to clear yourself before you can do anything for anybody else. It does nobody any good if we both get nabbed.
    I’m waiting for that sheriff’s group to make an appearance. The only thing that I know for sure is they took Eric to one of the buildings. All I can guess is that it is their version of jail. That means living out in the woods, staying hidden from the comers and goers. I have been able to keep supplied with water from a nearby stream…but I’ve relied solely on our supplies for food.
    Sam is helpful inasmuch that I don’t worry about zombies creeping up on me. However, I do have to stay vigilant for the living. This was just not supposed to happen. We only wanted to have a drink and then resume our trip.
     
    Saturday, March 27
     
    The law patrol arrived yesterday afternoon. Wow…this place is freaky. The only thing missing was a pair of mirrored sunglasses and the potbellied cop saying, “Y’all’s in a mess a trouble.”   They weren’t at all interested in anything resembling the truth.
    I shudder to think of how this could’ve played out if I hadn’t thought things through with my normal suspicious mind. I opted to stash my cart and even left all my weapons except for a machete and a spiked-tipped pole.
    Our so-called fine for disturbing the peace was Eric’s cart with everything on it and permanent barring of entry into Camp Archie. They didn’t take any of Eric’s weapons, but still, it was a total shakedown. If I ever come back this way, I just might burn this dump to the ground. Oh…and the yokels that jumped us?   The equivalent of community service. The goons were sentenced to “two weeks on the gate.” Awesome, we get out stuff taken, and they have to open and close the entry gates to the camp.
    So, I am waiting for Eric. He’s been allowed to use the public shower. Staying in the holding cell is truly quite nasty. I could actually smell him when they brought him into the makeshift courtroom.
     
    ***
     
    I take it back. We got a hefty fine, but they didn’t let the Joe-Bobs off the hook after all. Two weeks “on the gate” is a literal punishment. I thought those guys were just hamming it up for our benefit when the verdict was read and the sentence pronounced.
    We left—a little less burdened—as soon as Eric was clean and dressed. He still reeked. His clothes are filthy. On the way out, we saw the three troublemakers locked in the stockade atop the fence. A sign is above them: Assault and Public Nuisance. Wow…maybe they’ll bring back witch trials, too.
    As I sit beside the fire watching Eric scrub his clothes in the creek, I’m even more aware than before how crazy we are as a species. Our sentence seemed harsh. But those guys basically got a death sentence. I mean, I wanted them punished, but if the exposure doesn’t kill them, any sort of zombie attack could be very bad. I didn’t see any means of protection in place for them. If anything, they’re   bait . Yeah, they were jerks, but being a jerk wasn’t reason for the death penalty last I checked. Could you imagine if that’d been the case back in the olden days?
     
    Sunday March 28
     
    Finally…something I can understand. Sam’s growls woke me just before sunrise. A creeper was dragging itself from the thick undergrowth. This one had been dead for a while. I couldn’t determine if it’d been male or female. Clumps of hair remain in a few patches on the skull, but most was gone. The nose had been torn off, one eye was missing, and it was practically flayed from dragging itself along the ground. It really looked like little more than a creeping slab of rotten meat.
    I didn’t think anything about it as I woke up, grabbed my poker and ended it. The thing was not even remotely threatening. Then it hit me like a fist in the gut.
    Eric!
    He was