Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) by TW Brown Page A

come out and climb ladders that allow them to get on top of the trailer rigs. They will split into two groups and go in opposite directions. Hopefully that will lure enough of the zombies away from an area, even for a moment, so that Tom and I can climb up, jump, and run for one of the cars in the lot.
    We have some decent two-way radios that Greg set up so that we can contact a base radio he’s got rigged here at the complex. We’ve agreed to report in during even numbered hours. It has also been agreed that if something goes wrong, we are on our own. There will not be a rescue party.
    After hammering out some details, we called everybody together to explain our plan. Most of the folks, while not liking the fact that we (mostly in regards to Tom) would be going outside the fence, understood that there were things we had to have.
    Of course this led to a few other ideas that we hadn’t even considered when we came up with the original plan. Greg suggested that we hit a home and garden store. If we can find some seeds, we should attempt a garden since even the processed food we do have will eventually run out.
    This, in turn, brought the suggestion that we take a couple more people. Tom explained that, before anybody stepped up to volunteer, it must be understood that no rescue would come if the mission went poorly.
    Al Godwin was the first to volunteer. Dennis wanted to, but understood the reason we could not let him. Scott Anderson stepped forward after a quiet conference with his sister. The last person was Preston Cox.
    Preston is thirty. He’s about five-foot-eight and a buck fifty. His arms are almost totally covered in tattoos. He says he was in the Navy for four years straight out of high school and has been a postal carrier since he got out. He knows the area around the hospital; which might be pretty handy.
     
Friday, February 8
     
    Today has been a roller coaster.
    Right now, we are trying to figure out how to get home to the complex without losing anybody else. We are on the roof of the Fred Meyer store in North Plains. One thing is for sure, everybody who thought all the zombies were busy surrounding our complex was dead wrong.
    The day started with so much promise. It was sunny, and almost warm…in the upper 50s to low 60s. Everybody climbed up on the trailers just as planned. Tom, Al, Scott, Preston, and I stayed on the ground, even taking care to hide behind a couple of forklifts to make ourselves scarce.
    The folks began making all kinds of noise. As hoped, those things got agitated. The moans and other gawdawful noises they make got really loud. The groups split and it actually caused the mob to tear apart. There were still stragglers, and some from the rear sorta rolled down the makeshift alley, but it thinned considerably as those things focused on following our people.
    Somebody yelled, “Now or never!” and we made our move. Trying to be as efficient as possible, we had five ladders up side-by-side. The jump was the worst part. As soon as we hit the ground, that ten-foot-or-so alley began to close. Fortunately, we only had a few feet to go to be clear of the main mob. That only left the stragglers, and in seconds (each seeming like micro-eternities) we had reached the big, red four-by-four pick-up truck that Tom said we would use.
    Tom, Preston, and I hopped in the cab while Al and Scott climbed in back. The engine turned over and we were gone. A decent cluster of those things came in pursuit, and for all I know could be down in that mob below that are pressing against and clawing at the side of this store. The crowd has tripled in the last hour.  I would guess they are about twenty or thirty deep, heads upturned in a sea of grasping, clutching, claw-like hands, eyes all milky, giving an exaggerated emphasis on the black-blood filled capillaries. And the stench…
    Anyways, we made it to the highway with no problems.  Tom took us to an exit that led to an upscale development. He said that the