Again, the words “Las Vegas” were very distinctly heard. Jenifer says that before her group completely abandoned the Portland area, they heard similar broadcasts. Nobody wanted to undertake such a journey. Even using back roads, which pose the problem of road conditions, it seemed like a pointless journey. After all, what could there be in Las Vegas worth a trip so dangerous?
This afternoon, we are atop the cliffs of Larch Mountain, camped beside where the river falls 620 feet to the plunge pool below. Even now, the beauty is breathtaking. The burned out husk of the Multnomah Falls Visitor Center is the only remaining scar of humanity. There used to be a bridge that folks could cross in front of the falls and take pictures. I have no idea where it is, but it is very much gone. The most likely thing seems to be that somebody, or a group, blew this place up. Perhaps they climbed to the top and destroyed everything behind them. There is a lot of forest to vanish into. That is a tempting option for some. Maybe the day will come when I’ll wish I’d done the same...or...never left Irony.
Today is not that day.
Friday, September 26
It may take days or even weeks to get into Portland proper. Here, on the outskirts, in Gresham, it is a nightmare of chaos. There are definitely survivors, and it is clearly every man or woman for themselves. We are no longer able to use I-84 as it is a jumble of wrecked, burned-out, and abandoned vehicles.
We are in a rundown area and have managed to secure what used to be a huge warehouse. There are dilapidated houses around, most are missing doors and/or windows. We hear gunfire from every direction, and in the distance almost constantly. There are also the periodic screams. Jenifer usually stops whatever she’s doing at the time and seemingly ritualistically states “they got another one.” She then returns to her interrupted task like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
Today has been hectic, that much is true.
When we neared the outskirts of Gresham, we knew it was going to be more than a little crazy. At some point just before sunrise Snoe radioed back that we needed to halt. She informed us that the interstate was no longer viable. We were near an exit and gave her the number. Veering off, we immediately began encountering the undead.
They came from everywhere, drawn by the sound of our rumbling engines. Within minutes they were thicker than I’d ever seen. Crawling out from every shadow, they just kept coming. Snoe came up from behind in the Bradley, and that is when we drew fire from various directions. Cera probably never felt a thing. That is what I tell myself when I remember the tanker rolling to a stop. A few seconds later, it erupted in a fireball. She’d be pleased to know how many zombies she took with her.
We pushed on; bullets began ripping through the RV and that is when I yelled for everybody to get down. Up top I heard Tara and Brittany open up with the machineguns. That silenced whoever was shooting at us long enough for me to find the large warehouse building and blow through the ten-foot high fence. Snoe was last through and we circled around to check out how secure the building was.
Most of the windows were mounted up above head-level. There was a regular door at each end and roll-ups in the middle. The perimeter fence looked to be intact with the exception of where we burst through. That could be remedied by parking the RV sideways. Of course it wouldn’t be perfect, but zombies aren’t particularly bright or graceful. Logic says that enough of those things would mass up preventing anybody living from getting at it easily. We would keep a watch as a precaution.
So far it is working. The only thing we didn’t count on was how damned many of those things would mass up along the outside fence that surrounds this place. I honestly have my doubts as to whether it will hold more than a day or so. The one good bit of news is that shortly after we cleared the area and ducked inside, they—the zombies—seemed to settle down. However, the moment one of us steps outside, it sets off a chain reaction. They start to moan and hiss and mewl. They begin clawing at the cyclone fence, causing it to undulate. It takes about twenty minutes for them to settle. Then we hear the baby-cry sound. Right now, it is like being just outside the door of a hospital nursery.
Creepy.
Saturday, September 27
We’ll wait a bit longer before leaving. A series of fairly large explosions shook the place today. They were easily within a mile of where we are. Two big, black clouds are rolling sky-wards just to the west of us.
We have been watching for an hour now as hundreds of the zombies on the outer edge that surrounds us are peeling off, wandering in the general direction of the explosions.
Now that we are actually here, we have to decide what we want. We can see a hospital. It looks pretty tore up, but it’s close and we have a seemingly clear path to retreat back.
The plan is for us to try just as first light hits in the morning. Snoe, Caren, Tara, and I will make the run in the Bradley. We will have Brittany, Jenifer, and Dominique load into the RV, move it back so we can drive out, then seal the entry again. They have been told that under no circumstances are they to climb out and engage however many zombies may gain access while letting us out.
Right now, Snoe is swapping out all the batteries in each radio. We have a diesel generator that we are using for power. It is a bit noisy, but doesn’t seem to be drawing any more attention than we already have. I’m actually a bit excited and anxious for tomorrow.
Sunday, September 28
I guess we shouldn’t be surprised how insane the world is. I am on the roof of a four-story office building with Jenifer and Dominique. About a block away I can see the rear of the Bradley jutting out of what is left of a small, one-story cottage-style residence.
I’ve heard bursts of gunfire from that direction off and on for about three hours. About ten minutes ago, I heard a muffled single shot. The smoldering remains of the RV is half in and half out of that warehouse lot. I’m positive that I saw what was left of Brittany crawl out from under a rusted Pontiac Firebird. I swear if I had a gun, or my crossbow, I would have put her down.
A light rain is falling, and tonight promises to be cold. Somehow we have to find a way off this roof, but first…here’s what happened.
As planned, Snoe, Caren, Tara, and I loaded up on gear and after reminding Brittany, Jenifer, and Dominique to stay put in the RV unless a major emergency demanded: such as living raider-types, or we called for help on the radio and gave the codeword “Irony” (which would mean we weren’t taken prisoner and being forced to lure them out into a trap), we loaded into the Bradley and went after our first target: The Hospital.
We were turning onto the street that would take us to Gresham Trinity Hospital when a young boy no older than Jenifer darted out into the street right in front of us. The boy was screaming and waving his arms when bullet holes just seemed to appear all over his body.
Snoe swerved to avoid hitting him and careened off an unidentifiable convertible that had burned and sat on the rims. The Bradley blew through a wooden fence and into the front picture window dominated wall of a small house. Somehow we ended up cocked at a bad angle and couldn’t back up and out. With hundreds of those things closing in, and the ‘plink-plink’ of bullets glancing off the Bradley, we had no choice but to bail.
I’m positive somebody has been watching us since we arrived. Perhaps they wanted the Bradley. Or, maybe they wanted us. But when we climbed out, we had to scatter. This was far worse than The Dalles. There were hundreds of zombies, but it was the barrage of gunfire that was a bigger concern.