I woke up this morning and heard the moans. Well obviously, they didn't lose interest like I was hoping. The garage was still secure, but I had no idea if any of them got inside the dealership itself. Well, I sure wasn't going to stay in this oily garage, so this time, I was going to come out swinging. Remember how I told you in my first entry to stay fit? This is one of the reasons why.
Right of the bat, a zombie was on the other side of the door and I swore he was more surprised to see me than I was of him, because my lug wrench came down on him before he could blink his half-hanging eyelids. When you fight zombies, of course you know to aim for the head. If you have ammo, great. That will get the job done perfectly, but remember what I told you about gunshots. The reports will most likely bring more of them to you. If you somehow have silencers, even better. Most likely than not, though, if you're fighting them, you're doing what I'm doing: bashing their heads in one by one.
Another zombie was down the hall to the lobby where I came in from the office. I watched him to gauge his movements, and he was shuffling. This pack of zombies appeared to be a couple of weeks old. That's good. Hopefully, all of them move this slow. That makes them manageable. As he crept towards me, I charged him and drove the wrench down like I was hitting the lever to ring a bell at one of those carnival games. It sunk right through.
Interesting fact. The reason why it's so easy to cave in a zombie's skull is after a few days of their expedited metabolism, their bones lose calcium. It could be that the virus itself uses calcium to further metabolize, or it gets eaten away from some kind of toxic byproduct produced in the marrow. Their heads are so mushy, the older ones can kill themselves by falling from a 15 foot drop.
I look through the glass front doors, and there are three zombies standing roughly five feet apart, their backs toward me. I slowly opened the door and snuck up behind them. Now, when you're fighting zombies, don't feel embarrassed to use martial arts if you know some. You might look silly, but if it's effective, use it. I cocked back to swing at the zombie at the right and as I clobbered the back of his skull, I immediately leg swept the woman zombie in the middle, and as I rose to meet the third zombie - who's now turning around - I brought the wrench up in a backwards swing to the side of his head. As the tripped zombie began to sit up, I twisted into a crouch on one knee and gave a backwards swing to her head as well. Honestly, I'm not trying to be some action movie hero. I just believe in moving as efficiently as possible. You know what, though? All this bludgeoning has me in a mood to find a bat.
Why does destroying their brain kill them? They have no actual circulation or respiratory systems. They'll come at you with their guts spilling out. You damage a zombie as much as you want, and they feel no pain, or at least shrug it off, yet hurting their brain, any part of it, stops them dead. Well, undead. Or.. deader? I dunno. The human brain's hard enough to understand when it's alive, but when its dead it takes on entirely new properties. I remember hearing of a child about 10 years ago who had half of his brain removed, and for the most part, was able to live a normal life. Yet, you nick the side of a zombie's brain, and it shuts down. Everyone has their theories, but mine is that it's like a circuit board in a computer. You cross any one circuit on that board, and the entire thing shuts down. This suggests to me that the vivensmortua virus reassembles the neural network of the brain into one simple yet delicately connected system. If any neuron is severed from its neighbor, the entire grid goes offline.
Anyway, I'm not going to bore you talking about all the zombies I brained. Let's just say that it was a lot of them. With them all disposed of, I was going to leave the lot and head on down to the airport when I suddenly remembered to check the manager's office for the key box. I went back in, found the box, but was dismayed to see that it was locked, and the box was pretty solid as well. Of course it wouldn't be THAT easy.
So I continued to walk down HWY 11, also known as Birney Avenue. I saw the occasional straggler. They saw my occasional wrench swung at their heads. I passed another restaurant and then came to an on ramp for I-81 and took it. Shortly after, I came across Spring Brook, headed down to it and took a break. I kicked my shoes off and just listened to the water, while also listening for anything else. I decided to take off my clothes, grabbed a bar of soap from my pack and then waded into the brook and washed myself. The water looked clear and I was thirsty, so I cupped some water with my hands and drank. It tasted clean, so as I got out of the water and dried myself off with the comforter, I took out my water bottle and filled it up. Remember, always take advantage of water sources. Do not feel embarrassed to wash in them. Stay clean. It's an important part of surviving.
Clothes back on, feeling much better now, I returned to the interstate and pressed on. You know, I've seen zombies crowed homes and restaurants, universities and car dealerships, but would you believe me when I said that I didn't see a single one in the St. Peter and St. Paul cemetery that I passed? That made me smirk. Irony finds itself in the most amusing places. The airport was about a half mile away from where I was, and I made it there today, finally.
Roads were clear and no zombies were walking around in the drop-off and pick-up zones, but that was no indication that the airport itself was free of them. I went in the main terminal, and sure enough, there were some inside, but too many to bash in one night. I honestly didn't feel like doing anymore work today. I just wanted to find a place to hole up and rest. There was a souvenir shop across the terminal, but there was at least 15 dead things in the way, and I didn't see it possible to sneak past all of them. I saw a baggage cart next to the check-in booth and fetched it, very slowly rolling it to the edge of the wall I was hiding behind. I backed up a bit, and then ran with the cart and pushed it down the terminal as hard as I could, stopping just short of the end of the wall. I hugged it, and watched.
The cart - thank God the wheels were good - rolled straight as an arrow, but also made a good amount of noise as it did. As I planned, the noise drew the attention of the zombie party, and they chased it. My path now clear, I darted to the shop. The very first thing I did was pull the security door down, careful not to clang it on the floor. It was opaque paneling, not the steel gate variety, so unless I wasn't putting on a shadow puppet show, they wouldn't see me. I did a quick scan of the shop, checking the isles and behind the counter and satisfied it was clear, I unloaded my things and looked for something to eat. I hate Power Bars. I think they're some of the nastiest things on earth, but I will tell you, I would rather have much needed nutrition right now versus a brick of processed sugar.
They had a universal charging station that passengers used to Quick Charge their devices before they got on their flights, and out of vain, I plugged in my tablet. No power. Airports have back up generators, but I'm guessing the juice from those guys was spent long ago. I have no charge left, so the first thing I do when I wake up is get this thing out in the sun so it can charge as much as it can while I explore more of this airport.
Until tomorrow, if there is a tomorrow.
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