Zomblog II by T. W. Brown Page B

for it. Two more explosions rocked the ground a bit. I could hear some of the burned and less stable remnants of houses crumble, along with a chorus of moans from every direction. Whoever this mad-bomber was, he or she was stirring up an undead hornet’s nest.
    I went first, with Jenifer on my heels after Jonathan had handed Coach over to her. He took a couple of the more persistent monsters out before vaulting the fence to follow us…show-off. Let him try it being close to six months pregnant. We cut across and, in the same order, climbed the other fence. I felt a little comfort in that the explosions—three more—were now moving away from us.
    It was Jonathan who noticed that there was a definite swathe of grass that looked to have been recently trampled. We were all still pretty much on “alert” status. With me taking point, and Coach at my side, I moved towards the house. There was a large deck that held a hot tub and a rusting metal frame that probably used to be a porch swing. The sliding glass door was broken, shards of glass visible mostly just inside what looked like a dining room, which means something probably broke in and got whomever had been hiding out inside.
    I had no plans of going inside the house. My objective was the debris-filled cement stairs that led down to the basement. Once I was close I could see a couple of small windows just above ground level...way too small for anything to climb through. It was getting dark, a mad-bomber was blowing up the neighborhood, and zombies were coming out from everywhere. We needed a place to spend the night. That basement seemed the logical choice.
    I had to poke around at the bottom of the stairwell because the dead leaves and garbage was deep enough to conceal a head. It was clear, so I stepped down and tried the door—a sturdy, solid wood-type without any windows—which was locked. By now, Jonathan and Jenifer had caught up and Jonathan was pointing out that the trampled grass came from out front and to the stairs that led up to the deck from the yard. I didn’t really care. Loafers, zombies, survivors like us, whack jobs like The Genesis Brotherhood, nothing was moving inside the house that we could see or hear, and this house was one of the few that didn’t look like it would cave in if a swift breeze blew.
    After a little “conversation” I was able to convince the other two that this would be our best option for the night. Jonathan had me step aside. He can pick locks. Who knew? Just as he opened the door a crack…a sound drifted from the other side that made my hair stand on end along my arms and the back of my neck.
    A baby’s cry.
    Each of us made eye contact and readied ourselves. Jonathan threw open the door and stepped aside. We all expected Coach to bolt in growling and snarling. Instead, the stupid dog’s tail starts wagging and he bounds in with what I can best describe as a playful woof.
    The three of them were huddled in a corner of the mostly wide open basement. A few chairs and a sofa were the only furniture. There were more of those small windows on the other walls, a few on the side farthest from us had the “curtains” open; by curtains, I mean towels hung from hooks. There was enough light to see them. A man, woman, and…a baby.
    The man was holding a three-foot long pipe wrench. The woman was holding the baby. That is how we’ve come to meet Victor Pierce, Lynn Huffman, and Adam.
     
    Friday, December 12
     
    “ The Genesis Brotherhood sucks!” Details at 11. I am taking a personal dislike to that bunch. The more I learn, the more I am prepared to make it my new life’s mission to eliminate each and every single one of them.
    Victor is a former member.
    After spending a day with Victor, Lynn, and Adam, I have a better picture of what the local scene is like. I also know where The Genesis Brotherhood is entrenched. Now we just have to process everything, sort it out, and plan.
    In a nutshell, we are smack dab in the middle