Free Zomblog II by T. W. Brown Page B

the stairs. It was past time to go.
    I had my spear in one hand, my crossbow in the other. There was no way I could carry Lynn, I couldn’t leave her to those things. A blue-grey face came into view, turning its white-filmed, black-bloodshot eyes my way. The mouth was stained dark with old blood and open in a raspy moan. In life, this young black woman had been fond of long, blonde, braided hair-extensions. She was naked except for a leopard-print thong that was barely visible from under the flap of hanging flesh where her abdomen had been torn open. That, and it was probably two sizes too small to begin with.
    I took a deep breath and looked back. Lynn hadn’t budged, or gotten any quieter. Setting my spear against the wall, I brought up the crossbow and took careful aim. I didn’t want this to be any worse than it had to be. The bolt went through her right temple. And that was that. Grabbing my spear I brought it up just as Hair-Extension-zombie reached the top stair. It crashed back through the railing that ran from the wall where it ended in an ornately carved post.
    I half-shouldered my backpack, cursing myself for not going through Lynn’s the past couple of days. And there was no way I could tote both. Reaching the top of the stairs, I looked down. I could hear Coach going ballistic, he sounded like he had gone deeper into the house. Meanwhile, the front door was busted in and a teenage boy wearing what appeared to be a grocery-store smock was stumbling in. It looked as if he’d had several piercings in his face. It also looked like each one had been ripped out rather messily. That, along with a good piece of his throat.
    I started down the stairs when I heard the sound of automatic weapons from right outside. Pierced-zombie did a little dance before a bullet burst through his face.
    “ Meredith!” It was Jenifer! “Lynn!”
    “ Coming out!” I screamed.
    I hurried—as much as I could anyways—down the stairs. I reached the bottom just as Coach bolted past, leaping the pair of downed corpses and slipping past me out the door. I was right on his heels.
    Across the street, in the yard of the house I had hung a blanket with our “symbol” bleached on it, stood Jonathan, Jenifer, Victor, and seven people I’d never seen before. Each of them had pistols and various sized blades ranging from long knives to swords. Six rickshaw bikes were scattered about, all loaded with gear, except one. It held a middle-aged woman who was holding Adam.
    Somebody asked about Lynn. I shook my head. A terrible feeling grew in my stomach. Just a couple more minutes , the voice in my head accused. There wasn’t time for a tearful reunion. We made for I-405 and are in a mostly burned out building next to a football field. The location has an intact fence. It’ll do for tonight.
     
    Sunday, December 28
     
    I’ve got to keep my eyes on Victor. This morning, I told him everything. I explained that it is all written down in the journal, he could read it if he wanted. All he said was, “You did what you had to do and now I don’t have to go lookin’ around for her to put her to rest. She’s at peace with God.”
    I don’t buy it for a minute. I mean, I killed the mother of his child! I’ve told Jonathan and Jenifer as well. They both said that he never seemed too anxious or upset about his—
    Wife?
    Whatever. He still seems to be taking this way too good. I won’t be relaxing around him anytime soon, that’s for sure.
    As for all the new gear, guns, and travelling companions, I’ve met everybody and can’t remember a single name except for Eric Grayfeather. He’s about forty with a long braid that is equal parts black and silvery-white. He doesn’t talk much, but has taken to shadowing me. When I spun around and asked him what the problem was he said, “No problem. Just feels good to be close to new life.”
    That was it. I waited, but he just stared at me like he’d given some perfectly clear and sane answer. And