Of course there was nothing left behind of value. Some of those left behind had obviously not been totally dead when the two sides went their separate ways because a few of them were up and about. Snoe took a little too much pleasure in running them down in the Bradley. Sometimes I think she could just as easily be like some of those ruthless killers that we’ve run across. Then, later, I see her showing Dominique cooking tips all laughs and smiles.
Wednesday, September 3
Last night we encountered one of the factions that did battle on the road miles back. I have no idea how those idiots survived as long as they have. With our night-vision equipment, we saw them a good twenty minutes before they knew we were there. As we closed the distance on their open camp that they had pitched all along a flat stretch of sand and brush covered road, we locked, loaded, and each of the turrets was given a case of grenades.
They never stood a chance. Hell, they didn’t even have guns! Plenty of chains, bats, and swords. I never considered that being out and about would force you to use up your weapon supplies so quickly, but that is the only explanation I can fathom that would account for the poor showing that this gang was able to give. We demolished them in seconds, not minutes. Not once did we even need to slow down. There were survivors; they all ran off in various directions, silhouetted by the flames left in our wake.
Thursday, September 4
Today, I can smell the Columbia River. I look to tomorrow with excitement and just a bit of fear. We have to move through the outer edges of Pasco. We will get a real field test of our capabilities because, let’s face it, Pasco is no Portland. If we bog down in this place, we’ve no business trying for a big city.
Most of today we cleaned the weapons and made sure every spare magazine was loaded. Everybody has plenty of firepower. Also, I’ve rigged this Velcro strip in the machinegun turret I’ll be riding in (the forward post on the RV) so that I can attach a series of Glocks and reloads all around me if the big gun gets hot or jams.
Dominique shows no sign of fear or concern. This actually worries me. I’m sure a shrink would have something to say about this. Penelope says it may be a very powerful defense mechanism. Apparently she saw what she calls “extreme bravado” during her time as an army-medic in the Gulf War. Men simply lost the ability to be afraid. Usually…it ended poorly.
I’ve made it clear that I don’t want Dominique anywhere but by my side or in the RV once we roll out tonight.
Friday, September 5
I barely recognized a town that I’ve basically grown up in and around. There is so much that can’t be put into words. The fires certainly did a lot of damage. But to see the entire city as dead as those abominations that walk, drag, and stumble down the streets is just heartbreaking.
Pasco is not a small town. I mean it’s no metropolis, but there were a lot of people in that place. And while some have wandered away…many remain. Thousands.
We had two choices. We could follow 395 along the Columbia River, or shoot the gap and drive through Pasco and Kennewick. After a vote, we decide to take the more direct route, taking I-82 all the way into Oregon and eventually shifting over to I-84 West.
Staying on the main route had advantages as well as drawbacks. So far I-82 is in good shape except for all the debris. However, those zombies converged on the sound of our engines. We drew them like bees to honey. The bottom few feet of all our vehicles are smeared in filth from the shattered, broken, exploded corpses we plowed through.
The plow blade really got put to use today as we drove through a surging tide of death. The grenades were useful only inasmuch as it would blow a gap in the surge.
Overpasses were the worst. We had to go under several. We eventually worked out a system. I would open up with the .50 cal, and then, before we drove under, everybody would duck inside. It was just too risky to have a body, animated or not, fall on you. Taking risks is one thing, being careless and stupid is totally different.
Once we popped out the other side, Tara and I would go up and clear the roof of the RV. Then, if needed, pop anything clinging to the Bradley, the Hummer, or the fuel rig. The good thing is that there were no surprises. I mean you could hear the bodies land on the roof if it happened.
I tried to convince Snoe that we should see about supplies, but she felt it was a needless risk since we aren’t lacking anything.
“One test at a time, Meredith,” was her only reply.
I guess she had a point. Besides, we don’t have a lot of spare room after what we hauled off that train.
One strange thing of note. While we were followed by literally hundreds of those zombies, they sorta trailed off once we got outside of town. Perhaps the dead have staked their claim. After all, they are the majority now. We are the parasite and they are now the organism.
Saturday, September 6
Thank goodness we cover up our location and seek hiding spots when we stop for the day. A flight of fighter jets screamed overhead today. Not just once, but a handful of times! We counted seven planes. Snoe says they were all F-18s. I wonder just where they came from, and what sort of people have control of them.
Strange, until we actually saw the jets, we had no idea what the noise was. We had forgotten! We’ve been so busy running from everything that we forgot, or more accurately, never considered that any sort of organized resistance to the zombie infestation may even exist. After all, our only real exposure to military has been those wackos doing experiments and the power struggle in Spokane.
Really, none of us have any ideas as to what those jets mean, but they criss-crossed the area a few times and never attacked anything. To me at least, that would offer the possibility that they are perhaps scouring the area for possible survivors. I know that’s a big leap, but where we were hiding under a rocky, scrub—and tree—covered outcrop, we could see them clearly come in low over Pasco and Kennewick.
Well, we’ve no interest in being “saved”. As soon as it is dark, we’ll continue our journey. I just wish I knew why we were so intent on this. I won’t go so far as to say it is some sort of supernatural compulsion, but we are determined to make this journey.
Sunday, September 7
Crossed into Oregon just before sunrise. We are in an extremely overgrown field atop a hill looking out over nothing. We will be on I-84 first thing in the morning.
When the sun rose, we could see what had to be the town of Hermiston just to the east. Something really bad happened because the area is completely leveled. Burned to the ground. Karen and Snoe slipped out for a while and came back to tell us that it is even worse than it looks from this distance. But that it is cold which means it’s been that way for a long time.
Monday, September 8
Leaving the charred remains of Hermiston behind lifted a weight that I didn’t realize was hanging over me. To see someplace so utterly destroyed was more upsetting than I realized.
We ran into our first real problem at about 3 a.m. this morning. As we approached Boardman, our easy drive got nasty. A big section of I-84 is just gone. That meant we had to sort of go off-roading. That slowed us way down as the RV and the tanker struggled in places.
Snoe would drive ahead in the Bradley and scout the best route, then we would follow. It was like leapfrog without leaping. The rest of us would wait for her to radio back. That drew more attention than we’ve had in quite a while, not counting the city drive-thrus. My shoulders ache from wielding the bat.