The folks back at Irony didn’t set some sort of time table. Tonight Roy and Jimmy are going to try and find a truck and get it running. We found a nice gas-powered generator and when we get outta here we’ll be able to charge up these 22-channel Cobra two-way radios with headsets. They boast a ten-mile range which will come in handy once we get moving again.
Friday, June 27
Yuck! Well, we HAD to finally leave our little oasis. Roy got this big, black, growling 4X4 pick-up going. It took some effort, but we managed to load a bunch of supplies in the back before we had to take off. Jimmy and Caren acted as decoys which helped, but that truck was like a huge neon ‘EAT HERE’ sign for those zombies.
We followed some sketchy gravel road that went in a mostly southern direction until we were way out in the woods. Of course after that zombie conga-line we witnessed, we’re of the mind that no place is truly safe. Still, we are deep in the Heart of Nowhere.
Camp is set up. The generator is running. We dug a deep trench to try and minimize sound. Even covered it with branches. Still seems loud. But, we are eating canned ravioli, drinking red wine from a box and each has his or her own radio. Kyle lost the drawing of straws and has to stay sober.
Too bad.
A summer thunderstorm is moving in. Thunder and lightning never scared me. Not even as a child. I think I’ll eschew sleeping in the tent and sleep in the cab of the truck so I can enjoy Mother Nature’s light show.
Saturday, June 28
Still raining. We are atop a ridge that looks down on what had to be I-90. Still too far to be certain. The undead are everywhere down there. The interstate is packed like it would be in a traffic jam. Only…it’s zombies. Going both directions. Bumping and jostling one another.
I watched this really fat guy-zombie in one of those gawdawful Hawaiian shirts through a set of high-power binoculars. He must’ve changed direction ten times in thirty minutes. I’d always heard phrases like “lumbering along” and never quite knew just what that meant. Now I do. This guy, Hawaiian Shirt- Zombie would drag one huge leg, lift it just ever so slightly, then slap it down on the ground, then, he’d do the same thing with the other.
The problem we face is that I-90 is thick with those things as far as we can see in either direction. Roy says we need to follow this interstate west. That is fine, only we can’t get too close. Otherwise we’ll have thousands…hundreds of thousands of them on our trail. The rest of the problem is that there doesn’t seem to be a road that we can use. We have to back track and hope we missed one.
This is some crazy weather we’re having. With all this warm-water rain, the mountains are dumping so much water from snowmelt in these rivers and streams. And with no Department of Transportation, roads and bridges are just getting swept away.
Caren and I were talking this morning, and she says that Irony may be in trouble. When I asked why, she went on about how that make-shift garden wasn’t very high above the water. She said that if that river flows over its banks, it wouldn’t take much more for it to reach the garden and wash everything away. Turns out Caren grew up in some town called Sherwood near Portland, Oregon on a big farm.
I asked her why she didn’t step in and supervise or at least advise Grace’s son Derrick. She said she tried, but he was dis-missive and said that his location was safest for the community. I guess we’ll see when we get back.
Sunday, June 29
Gads! You can smell those things from way up here. We backtracked and found a road that is little more than a trail. We were able to follow it most of the day. We stopped to make camp and Jimmy came with me to climb this ridge and take a look.
We made it just as the sun was setting. We kept in contact with the others on the radio so nobody would worry. It is a big mess down below. There are even packs that just seem to be standing still. Like they have just decided to stop moving.
There are a handful of small towns that we can make out. The strange thing is that they’ve been dead so long, no pun intended, that the landscape is starting to absorb them. An old geology professor of mine in college used to say, “Mother Nature hates heights.” He explained how wind and erosion break down hills and flattens the ground. Well it looks as if that holds true for signs and such.
I have driven this stretch and can recall tall signs on poles advertising such oases like Denny’s, Burger King, BP, 76, and all manner of similar things. It seems that without maintenance and upkeep, they’ve all been knocked or blown away. The buildings are dingy, and without electric light, hard to make out in the shadows of the mountains.
The night is warm and clear. I can see a million stars peeking from the sky. With the exception of the smell from thousands of rotting corpses that spent the day drying in the sun, it is almost perfect.
* * * * *
Chapter 7
Tuesday, July 1
The last twenty-four hours have been a nightmare. Our quiet, peaceful camp fell into the hands of another roving band of maniacs. Everybody scattered…but they got Kyle.
We’re hunkered down. Hiding like those meerkats from Meerkat Manor whenever they spotted a predator. I’m trying not to shake, but damn I’m scared.
We heard what they did to Kyle. They made sure to press the send button on his two-way while they killed him just in case he was too far away and we might miss his screams. His begging. His death. And finally, his moans as he joined the ranks of the walking dead.
I’m certain I didn’t recognize any of the voices, so it wasn’t the gang we’ve already dealt with. These are a new batch of bad people and they know we are close. I don’t blame Kyle for telling them we were near. It sounded so horrible…what they were doing to him. At one point, his scream was so shrill you couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. Then, I’m certain I heard a voice say something like, “They sure (sounded like shore) don’t suck dick very well. Too much teeth.” And then roars of laughter. There are a lot of them. That I am sure of.
I never wished for death for somebody I knew or had any relationship with. After an hour, I was praying for Kyle to die. At one point I found myself saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over. I don’t completely know why. Maybe because we wouldn’t come out like they beckoned. Maybe because he and I had words when he was just trying to be human. All I know is I can still barely see through the tears and he is out there. Kyle is out there.
A zombie.
For that Kyle, I’m sorry. I am so sorry.
Wednesday, July 2
For some stupid reason, all of us have moved enough individually that I’ve no clue where anybody else is. I turned my radio off a long time ago to prevent those bastards from finding me because my radio spat out static just as one of them passed by. I’ve watched enough movies and stuff on television to know that is exactly how it works. I’m pretty sure Caren is to my left somewhere and Jimmy is behind me. I’ve no clue where Roy is. He was beside me for most of the night, but when he heard the truck being looted, he crept away. I have no idea what he hoped to accomplish.
Late this afternoon I found this nasty blackberry patch. I got cut up pretty decent, but I am thicker in this thorny den than B’rer Rabbit. I’ve been able to snack on berries. Also, it is cool which is a plus because, as bad as the weather was a couple of days ago, the sun is really making up for lost time.
I’ll say this about whoever is out there…they are very tenacious.