And yes, apparently, people are still called Lucy.
Everyone was in agreement that a single zombie poses almost no threat, unless you were severely hurt. Aaron retold a story about how he used one of those animal control lassos on a stick to move one off a five story building. The problem is that there were rarely just one at a time. They have no regard for their own safety, and apparently feel no pain whatsoever. Aaron again told us how he met his first zombie, and shot him with all six of his shots before realizing the bullets were doing nothing. He managed to kill the zombie by bashing its head with a two by four.
My personal favorite is watching them attempt to get across larger rivers in order to get to me. They are washed away and crushed into each other and river rocks, only to get up and keep trying.
There is no idea if there is a cure. The world fell apart rather quickly, and no one remembers hearing anything about a potential cure on the news before they went quiet.
In the end, the planet appears eminently doomed, but those of us who are still alive will just try to make the best of it till the end finally reaches. The group did mention a little more about the larger group in Charlotte, which involved many government and scientific types, but at that point, people started taking their baths and at this moment in time, with the end of the world in full progress, that seemed like a far more important subject than anything else.
As I finish writing this, it is my turn for a bath. I’ll use one bucket each of cold and hot water, and a bar of soap I found. Sucks I will have to put these same dirty clothes back on, but at this point, it’s only a good two days hike back to the house, probably three with this group. Then I can get a real hot shower and clean clothes. And eat something other than cereal bars.
Evan’s Notes: I cracked up when Brian said there are people still called Lucy. I thought the very same thing when I first met her.
Entry 15 – Not Going Home[15]
Last night went smoothly enough. Tague and I raided a few of the nearby houses and managed to find a few boxes of noodles and some rather ancient tomato paste. Add some water and spices which we also found, and the six of us actually enjoyed Italian dinner; pasta a la apocalypse. During our little food hunting excursion, we ran across a house that has a few zombies locked inside. It must have been death from within, just like we had talked about earlier during the day. But it just added to that sense that no matter how good you felt about the situation, you always, one hundred percent of the time, had to be on full alert. We could have simply walked into that house, and been attacked in the dark without knowing any better. When we returned to our house, and told the group what we had found, the rest of the evening, while filling, was rather somber.
So jump forward to this morning. It appears that the rest of the group had a discussion without me. They had discussed what they, as a group, had as options to continue on. They had failed in their mission to find survivors in Asheville, and had nearly lost their lives because of it, and now they all agreed they just wanted to return to Charlotte and the semblance of civilization that still existed there.
They then asked me to come with them.
When everything went to hell at first, my father and I clearly came to the conclusion that going into any major city, would be complete suicide. The mass of population in the cities was only conducive to creating mega masses of zombies. It was already difficult to sneak around smaller towns, and I had gotten rather lucky in Hendersonville, but going into Charlotte seemed like a very bad idea.
I tried telling them that I really wasn’t interested, and at first the group was confused at this. This is how that conversation went:
Me: “I am more than good at my house.”
Group: “There are soldiers and even some government people at the airport. They have even managed to find some scientists to start studying a cure. That’s where humanity will restart.”
Me: “My house is very safe up in the mountains. I’ve been up there for almost nine months now without seeing a zombie.”
I remember the unbelieving stares.
I explained to them that for some reason, the zombies simply didn’t go up into the mountains. The only one I had encountered above thirty-five hundred feet was probably just another survivor that had died while up at higher elevations already. I wasn’t sure why this was like this, but it is what it was. Then, without really giving out too much information about my house, I told them that it was quite possibly the safest place on the entire planet. When they started asking questions as to why, well, my lack of thorough answers probably scared them off a bit. They seemed to have nothing to hide, and here I was hiding something from them, but, I was rather jealous of my survival location.
Up to this point, while I had planned on taking them back to the house, I wasn’t quite sure that it was the right thing to do. After hearing that they planned on going back to Charlotte, I was a little relieved, even if it meant giving up human companionship again.
The issue was though, that they wanted me to go with them. My conversation with Aaron hinted at this. While it seemed to me that he was the obvious leader of his group, he was assuming that by my survival and ability to rescue them, that the mantle of leadership of this new, slightly larger group had now passed on to me. Little did he know my survival had nothing to do with my skills.
Aaron: “Listen, you got us out of a huge bind, a bind I blindly put us in. You’ve survived out here for nine months, and we barely are. We really need your help”
Me: “To be honest Aaron, I got really lucky with the fire. And I’ve survived so well out here because I’ve been hidden away really good. I'm sure I'm nothing more than you. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”
Aaron: “But you know how to get around. We were constantly running into zombies on the way up here, and you seem to have managed to get us around with barely seeing any. I'm terrified of taking them back. With you, you can get us through without running into any zombies.”
Me: “Hey, I seriously am no pro here. I’ve been lucky and have used common sense. That’s it. If you want, I can show you guys what route I’d take to get back.”
It easily would have stayed at that. It was a reasonable reply. I honestly had no more idea about what I was doing at times than they, but I could map out how I would go and they could take those routes.
BUT...
I'm a sucker for women. And Lucy is beautiful, gorgeous really. And I haven’t been around a woman in....well, nine months. So when she jumped into the conversation, and was begging for my help in that damsel in distress way that always seems to get me suckered in, I practically gave in.
To add insult to my own stupidity, it’s not like Lucy and I could have anything. Clearly, she and Aaron are together. But, ok, I’ve agreed to help them.
I continue to make rather bad decisions in the hope that my luck continues to keep me alive.
I need to pull out the maps and keep myself and these people from being mobbed by zombies.
Wonderful.
The group’s trip from Hendersonville to the Charlotte Airport. Top from west to bottom east.
Entry 16 – Evening[16]
We plan on leaving the next morning. We’ll trek back into Hendersonville, but taking a very different route, in order to avoid any of the zombies that might have followed our trail when we left in a hurry. I think I have a route that will primarily take us into South Carolina through some mountain roads, and then south up into Charlotte. I really don’t like that last part, and have suggested we walk it instead of drive it. I still have a bad feeling we won’t even make it to Charlotte, and that some mass of zombies will get us turned around.
None the less, I do understand a little bit more about their desire to return there. I'm sure that I am, by far one of the luckiest human beings on this planet to have found myself in my father’s hideout home on the mountains, when zombies started their buffet line on humanity. Even the few months before my father vanished were great, but I’ve really been lucky not
to have to make decisions that influence the lives of anyone else other than myself.
But for most people, there is greater safety and comfort in numbers. When no single human being in the world can be trusted past death, there’s a greater comfort in being surrounded by other human beings who have a common goal, which in this case would simply be survival. Charlotte is possibly one of the worst locations in the southeastern corner of the United States to attempt to live out the end of the world. I can’t even imagine the flow of zombies coming and going along interstates from the bigger cities in the south. Atlanta is just a few hours south, and most likely home to an impressively large amount of zombies.
But if Aaron, Evan and the others managed to survive with other people, and actually find a glimmer of hope among those who promised to make things better, and even possibly find a cure, then I can certainly understand them wanting to go back to that level of comfort. They certainly don’t understand the level of “comfort” that I’ve been able to attain due to my fortunate location, and so even if they are surrounded by thousands, if not millions of zombies, their comfort is better than barely hanging on in this world.
While I had plenty of food, and not just scraps, but real food, every single day, and while I had hot water, electricity, soap and toothpaste and even movies, books and music, Aaron and his group and the rest of the survivors at the airport had to make whatever little food they could scavenge, generally canned and preserved food, not quite the paragon of health. Whatever fresh meat had existed previous to the rise of the dead had long vanished along with electricity that ran the freezers and refrigerators that kept that meat fresh. The only fresh meat these days was the one you caught or hunted, and that was a limited hobby these days as well.
Part of what bothers me about this whole trip to Charlotte is my own house. My mountain fort really is the ideal place to survive the end of the world, and there’s more than enough food and gear to allow a small group to survive almost indefinitely. When I first came across this group here, I thought maybe it would work out perfectly. But I’m afraid that once I meet the rest of the people living in Charlotte, I may be forced to share my resources with them as well, and that might not work out so well. Yes, it’s a very selfish notion. I should share to ensure the survival of the human race.
Unfortunately, the human race is already doomed.
Ideally, if you kept a strict watch over everyone to ensure that when someone dies, their new zombie counterpart is quickly dispatched. Then again, ideally, one could restart human colonies on our own planet. But there’s simply very little room for error and generally speaking, humans are known for their errors. Of course, time would allow the possibility of a cure, or a vaccine for a new generation, anything at all really.
So why would I not want everyone in the airport to have access to my house?
My father used to say that while most people are good people, in the absence of normality, especially when survival is the only thing left, these “good” people will do the most horrible things in order to ensure their own survival, even if it means the diminished survival of others, or even his or her own long term survival. For most people, just living to see another day is the only thing.
So why am I doing this?
Did I mention Lucy is hot?
I'm really stupid.
We’re going to pair up tonight, and scavenge the houses in the area at dusk. The idea is to either find a large van or truck we can fit in and, of course, any other item of interest. I’ve mentioned rechargeable batteries. When I mentioned this, I remember the odd looks. Of course, how can we recharge if there is no electricity around? So I showed them my mobile power pack (it’s actually my own name for something really simple). It’s a small USB and five volt charger that can either use solar power or car battery power to charge up devices. But it also holds a small container for rechargeable batteries. So any source of either good sun or car batteries I find, I charge up all my batteries for future use.
I then further impressed them with having a fully functioning GPS device.
I really think most people just forgot that many man made things, like satellites, will go on working for quite some time after the end of the world. I wonder just how desperate everyone is out there, and, more importantly...
Just how out of touch am I?
Entry 17 – Spring Drive[17]
We’re on the first leg of our trek down into South Carolina, and on our way to Charlotte. This is the furthest I’ve been from my mountain abode. I’m not very comfortable with this but, it’s what we’re doing. Now, we managed to find ourselves a very nice pickup truck, a Ford one. This was an F-350 with a super big cab so all of us could fit in comfortably, plus the bed had more than enough room to store all our gear plus extras, so we salvaged tons of other things as well, especially food. Apparently, the people outside of Hendersonville and the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains weren’t in as desperate a rush as in the cities. Pantries were generally somewhat stocked, and in the case of the truck, it had a full tank of diesel. This was good of course, as it would allow me to get as far as I wanted today without having to attempt to refuel.
Diesel prices these days were rough on the wallet.
Anyways, we found many bags of flour among the dozen or so houses we raided. The group was a little miffed as to my excitement. I tried to explain to them the wonders of fresh baked bread, until I realized that none of them either knew how to bake bread, or didn’t think it was possible. I tried explaining to them that making bread was actually quite simple, and that sourdough bread was actually quite delicious, but I think I lost them.
They were busy surviving on canned food, and I was talking to them about baking sourdough bread. We had a slight difference of survival ideals.
So we were on the road for a few hours today. I planned to get us to a point south of Charlotte, where there were some South Carolina state parks. We could probably hide ourselves within the park and their higher elevations there, and hopefully the remote nature of the parks would allow us to have as few of the dead visitors as possible.
The drive at first was easier than I expected. The roads were remarkably clean of either zombies or wreckage. I remember seeing the interstate and other main highways, and they were just littered with wrecks and abandoned cars. Even if there were no zombies, we would have a hard time just navigating past those obstacles, and surely would have to stop many times to move cars aside. On these old country roads I was taking, even if we did find some wrecks in the way, we could simply off-road it for a brief moment and continue on.
For the first few hours, we didn’t see any zombies, and only had to stop once to move some wreckage out of the way. With the help of the truck, it was as easy as moving up to one side of the car, and powering our way through it. But as we began to reach I-26, I had a feeling we’d have our first problem here. We weren’t planning on going onto the interstate, just under, or over it, to the other side, but I wondered just how bad it might be. Thankfully, it didn’t turn out to be as bad as I had dreaded. There were clearly some zombies around, but nothing we couldn’t avoid.
Our first problems came at a small town called Chesnee, north of Spartanburg, South Carolina. As we approached, it appeared the residents had attempted to turn their town into a fort of some sorts, using wrecked and overturned semi trailers. We thought that this might be a good thing, but like so many of these refuges, they had been destroyed from the inside. There were few zombies outside of the wreckage castle, but when we started to make our way inside, we almost got mobbed. We managed to pull our way out of there without any issue (it helps having a nice big truck), but now we had to find some way to navigate all the way around the town.
Crossing over I-85 was no picnic either. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw the river of zombies walking along the interstate. When we first started getting near, the overpass actually seemed quite empty of them, even if you could see crowds of them in either direction. But as we started to approach
the interstate, the ones that we hadn’t seen on the overpass started jumping down on us. Yes, I said jumping, or more aptly, dropping. As the truck neared and then went under the bridge, those dead up above decided to get to us in the most direct and logical way, straight down. We managed to get through unscathed, maybe a few dents on the truck, but that waterfall of zombies was one of the most nerve wracking things I’ve seen in quite some time. As I drove away, I remember taking a look in the rear view mirror, and seeing more and more of them simply walking off the side of the bridge.
I was glad to be gone from there.
I think it'll be quite some time before I forget that sight in my mind. It has always been clear to me that the zombies weren’t the brightest of creatures, but there just was no rhyme or reason as to when they acted in whichever fashion they acted. I have seen groups of zombies chase me with very little gusto, and give up rather easily and in other times, just like that overpass, I've seen them act completely irrationally, falling over a high overpass mainly because they just heard a sound, granted, a rather loud sound. I've seen them fall off buildings and cliffs, and as I've talked about before, try over and over to cross rivers and streams.
I’ve often wondered if the zombies are driven by a certain hunger. My father and I thought that one reason the zombies didn’t come up into the mountains was because it expended too much energy. For that very reason, we also assumed that there was no set altitude line above which the zombies didn’t go . It was just a distance the zombies were willing to go and after which not to, especially the steeper it got. Of course, I haven’t been to either Wyoming or Colorado, or any other state with the Rocky Mountains since the zombies came, so it’s impossible to be one hundred percent sure of my theory.
Deadfall: Survivors Page 6
