Once he was up, he would drop the line around his waist for us to grab, tie on a tire, and guide it. Once we had a few spares, he would fire the flare gun and Rodney would come for us.
Then, back to the lumberyard and the relative safety so we could repair the tire. Tim would give the RV a good look-see, and then we roll out of town and find a deserted field or wooded area to catch our breath.
While Samantha and I made our way to the front, Tim set five tires and two new rims by the window and did his thing. I found a nice four-inch wide strip of rubber about five feet long and wrapped my knee as tight as I could. It still hurt like hell, but I could move.
Samantha and I made all kinds of noise to draw attention until we heard Tim call. Then, one tire after another, followed by the rims, and we had what we came for. I gave Samantha a reassuring pat and she was gone.
Getting out to the Dumpster wasn’t too bad. But I couldn’t jump to catch the roof. So, I stood on this Dumpster, swinging my bat. Once it got crowded, I started shooting. Tim had already fired the flare as soon as he saw Samantha and I on the Dumpster. Neither could lean over and reach me. They tried, but I was stuck.
I was never so scared with those things on three sides, reaching, snapping their teeth together. Finally, Rodney pulled up. The look on his face when he pulled around and saw me…absolutely priceless.
I can laugh now, but it was terrifying looking down into those empty, white-filmed, black-bloodshot eyes. Seeing those waxy, rotting, filthy hands reaching for me. Feeling the Dumpster tremble and rock as more bodies surged forward to get at me.
Rodney was able, once Tim and Samantha had transferred the haul and jumped onto the roof of the RV, to pull up and plow the hordes of undead against the front of my rusty metal island out of the way. Tim helped drag me up, and the rest was almost academic.
It is late…I’m very tired, and my knee—Julia says it is a severe sprain—hurts like crazy. I can feel my pulse in the pain. I sure miss ice. At least we have a good supply of ibuprofen on hand.
Julia is pulling into a big open field. The moon is bright enough on this clear night that we’ve got pretty good visibility. We’ve seen no movement in over an hour.
Tuesday, March 25
I awoke to gunfire and the sounds of engines revved high. Antonio was on watch and burst through the side-door which is only able to be opened from inside, but we leave it open if we are on watch and making a check of the area. The rule is that you cannot let the RV out of your sight.
Anyways…everybody is scrambling and Antonio is so worked up he is having trouble keeping his Spanish out as he tries to explain what is going on. I bound out of bed, and hit the floor…totally forgot about the knee until the pain explodes behind my eyes and almost makes me throw-up. Guns are being drawn of every sort.
I crawl to the driver’s seat and start the engine while Tim, Rodney, Samantha, Greg, Julia, and Antonio rush outside. I see this quad-runner bouncing over every bump in the field with a beat-up red jeep in pursuit. The quad is zigging and zagging, but it is only a matter of time before the jeep closes the distance.
The person on the quad obviously sees us and is making right for our group. I can’t see anybody except Greg and Tim who have moved in front and are waving their guns—each is holding a shotgun—in a very distinct manner that could not be mistaken for anything but a warning.
The jeep skids to a halt and somebody on the passenger’s side pokes out through a window and takes a few shots—all misses—then whoever is driving turns tail and hauls ass. The person on the quad is now on foot, arms in the air, showing open and empty hands.
That is how we met Meredith Gainey.
Wednesday, March 26
I am convinced that mankind is truly awful. Life as we know it has been nuked and I find that it is not the cream rising to the top, but rather a moldy crust that needs to be cut away.
How can it be that so few good and decent folk survived? Will the dregs of our former society be all that is left? Or, is it simply that, ungoverned, we are barbaric monsters, no better than those creatures we run from? Are they really a depiction of what lies in our deepest, most true selves?
Certainly I have met some fantastic people: Tom Langston, Monica Campinelli, Al Godwin, and Reggie Vaughn. Yet, more often, it is folks like those gangbangers at the hospital, Dewey Morton, whoever those folks were back in Pasco, and now…it seems that the people chasing Meredith are a gang of marauding, raping, pillaging lunatics. A band of men who see women as a commodity and will take what they want, even if it means killing innocent and terrified men, women, and children to get it.
The real kicker? Their leader was the sheriff of Sparrow Falls! These men have been scouring the region since the second week of this nightmare and actively seeking women they deem attractive. They keep them as sex slaves and those who don’t meet their ‘standards’ become servants…or…bait.
It seems this group uses women it has no physical need for to bait zombies away from an objective. To add to the already despicable acts these men (and I only use the term to define their gender) commit, they take women who may have been married—some with children whom they simply execute by gun or zombie—to free for more leisurely responsibilities.
Meredith is recovering from pretty severe malnutrition (being without food and water was the norm as the most passive form of coercion). She was absolutely filthy when she literally dropped on our “doorstep”. She was so covered with blood we initially thought she had been shot. Samantha and Julia cleaned her up and Julia determined she was clean…none of that blood was hers. Julia gave her a sedative.
I guess she related some fairly horrifying accounts to the two while she was being cleaned up. Whatever it was, they’re not saying much. Julia said it was up to Meredith if she wanted the details of her situation known to all of us. All that was shared was the basic information about more bad people doing bad things.
Meredith has slept, albeit somewhat restlessly, for most of the past thirty hours. We have been parked in an apple orchard, and had to take down a couple of straggling zombies. But other than that, things are quiet.
Thursday, March 27
We’ve heard a lot of shooting today. It was a difficult decision to just sit here when the screaming could be heard not too far away. However, we are only seven people (not counting Joey and Meredith). The reality is, we have to take care of ourselves. We cannot save the world.
Meredith is showing signs of improvement. She is sleeping peacefully right now after being awake for a few hours in the middle of the night. Tim was on watch. He said she ate a little, and thanked us all for saving her. Then, she curled up in a ball and went back to sleep.
Julia said that there was no need for her to keep Meredith sedated any longer. It was important that she get up and start trying to function. I like Julia. She seems like the kind of nurse who would do everything to help make you better, but at the same time, get you to push yourself a bit.
This day really dragged. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
Friday, March 28