Free Zomblog: The Final Entry by Tw Brown Page B

there is an embassy system in place. Eric is very excited by it all. I guess he hasn’t seen many of his “people” since this nightmare began. It never occurred to me what that might feel like. I mean, Eric is slightly darker complexioned. He looks like he is rocking a decent tan…even in the winter. But…how do I say this? He looks …normal. That isn’t the right word. But he isn’t Black or Hispanic. I guess I really never saw him as anything but…Eric.
    Sure, he has a cool last name, but I don’t go around saying, “Hey, Grayfeather! What’s up?” He is simply Eric. Perhaps, in a couple of days, I’ll get a taste of how he’s felt this whole time. I am going into his people’s land. I’ll be the only “white man” around.
     
     
     
    Friday, April 2
     
    I feel like ‘Polly Pioneer’ as I travel with this caravan. The word is, we probably won’t see any zombies for at least the first two days. The eighteen mile journey to Government Base will take four days provided that there are no problems.
     
    Saturday, April 3
     
    White! Everything is white. I don’t care if I never see another snowflake again. I used to love watching snow drift down from the sky. I am SO over that.
     
    Sunday, April 4
     
    Rain. Blessed and glorious rain!
     
    Monday, April 5
     
    A few of the escorts had to take out the odd lone shambler from time to time, but it’s official, we’ve relegated zombies to the Old World equivalent of the rat. We hate them. We kill them. We no longer fear them.
     
    Tuesday, April 6
     
    We are in Government Base. Well…‘in’ is a relative term. We are in the medieval lockdown ward. Each of us has been examined for bites (or signs of healed bites as there is apparently great medical interest in those showing immunity).
    Now we must endure four days of isolation. It sucks, but them’s the rules. Sam was even taken to a secure kennel. I signed a form saying that if he proved clean, I would permit him to be exposed to a female in heat should the situation arise. Hey, just because I’m living the life of a nun when it comes to sex doesn’t mean Sammy has to.
     
    Saturday, April 10
     
    I picked up my journal several times, but never had anything to say. I thought I might wax poetic or go all philosophical…get into the whole retrospective thing.
    Nope.
    I slept. Ate. Slept some more.
    Today I am free to wander the base. Eric is busy making whatever diplomatic arrangements need to be made so that I can travel the Confederation Territory. Can you believe that there is a sign warning: “All non-Native persons trespassing on Confederated Territory will be considered an enemy of the Peoples of the Kah-Nee-Tah tribe and its affiliates and will be shot on sight.”
    Whatever.
    Oh, and it seems that several other Northwestern tribes are in on this. I know zilch about Native American history—half the time I slip up and call them Indians…nobody says anything, but I sense the disdain—much less the politics. I guess several of these tribes have had problems with the local tribe, blah, blah, blah. Tribes are doing this all over the country.
    I heard rumor—actually Eric did and relayed it to me—that the entire state of Oklahoma is being claimed. Tribes from all over are sending delegates to arrange for something like a walled nation. They are talking about fencing off the entire state! I don’t know if it’s true, but he sure seemed to believe it. I did ask him what would/did happen to any survivors of the non-Native variety that might be there. He very calmly said they were probably escorted to the border…or killed if they resisted.
    Like I said, I don’t know much about history, but I know enough to recall our government really screwed them at every turn. I guess they are enjoying some get back now. I don’t think I blame them.
    Wednesday, April 14
     
    Today we arrived in Warm Springs. The local tribe—Eric calls them “Springers”—is very hospitable. Granted, I am under