by T. W. Brown
Caren’s shot was clean. Center of the forehead.
Monday, September 22
We keep getting a static heavy message. All we can tell for sure is that it is a girl’s voice. She is in Hood River, Oregon. The part that doesn’t make sense is that she says she is “on the Broken Bridge”. We have a couple of AAA maps and an atlas. We can’t find any reference to Broken Bridge, or, if we are getting the message wrong, Broken Ridge.
We’ve looked for anything that rhymes and have nothing. She sounds a bit frantic at times. Other times, she sounds almost bored. Her message repeats every hour at the top, give or take a few minutes.
Hood River is about half the size of The Dalles. We will drive through slowly to see if anybody tries to get our attention. Of course we have considered the possibility that it is a trick.
That is why we won’t be taking any of the exits unless somebody actually tries to contact us.
Tuesday, September 23
Her name is Jenifer. She is fifteen. I believe she and Dominique are going to be good friends. In fact, it was Dominique who spotted her.
There is a bridge across the Columbia River to a town called White Salmon. The center span of the bridge rises to allow river traffic. Jenifer was stuck on the raised span. We don’t have all of her story yet. Here is what we do know…
A few months ago, Jenifer gave up hiding in her home. She had raided every neighbor’s house to stay fed. (We asked about her family but she immediately stops talking when we try). Deciding to try and find the person who’s blog she had been reading until power failed (Sam would have been proud) she went first to the Albertson’s that he used in his initial foray. Sure enough, the groceries he left stacked were there.
She stayed a few days and came up with her plan. From the roof, she scanned for a pick-up truck. She saw one parked in a nearby apartment complex. There were plenty of zombies wandering, but, again remembering the blog, she came up with an idea. One street over was an abandoned police car. Hoping for the best, she tried the handle, it was open! She found the switch that activated the lights and siren. Still plenty of battery because the darkness and silence were shattered. Running along a fence, Jenifer stayed out of sight as she made her way to the truck. The parking lot was painted with apartment numbers. Going on blind faith, she went to the corresponding building and found the door with the matching number. With nothing more than a sharpened axe handle, she stormed into the residence which was occupied with an entire zombified family. She lured them out into the stair- well. They fell over each other trying to get at her, and of course a few stragglers came to investigate. Somehow, she got back upstairs and into the now empty apartment.
It took a few hours, but eventually, she found the keys. From one of the bedroom windows, she could see—and hear—the police car. By now, there were hundreds of those things surrounding her decoy. Even the few who had joined the evicted zombie family in pursuit of her seemed to have wandered off. She snuck out, jumped in the truck, adjusted the seat and started it up. The engine was relatively quiet and she slipped out and circled around back to the store. Climbing up and in, she managed to supply up. It took her the whole night and the next. By then, of course, the squad car had died. Deciding she could do with what she’d acquired, she headed out, following signs that led to I-84. Having never driven before, she drove very slow and still wrecked a few times.
Only driving at night, and staying on the main roads, she leapfrogged from place to place. Her main goal was to head east. She won’t say what—or more likely who—she was looking for.
At some point, she joined up with a small band of survivors headed the same way. It was while they were camping near Multnomah Falls—a journey that takes about an hour took six weeks or so—that a band of raiders arrived. Fortunately for Jenifer, she had been down by the water cleaning her clothes. She won’t say what she saw, only that the living people had done worse than what she had seen the zombies do.
From that point on, she’s been alone and on foot. About a week ago, she was out searching for food and saw a Pepsi truck up on the raised span of the Hood River Bridge. The climb up had been easy.
She picked up our radios in The Dalles and heard a lot of what happened. Hearing only female voices, she risked using her radio to call for help.
I have to say that for fifteen—today is actually her birthday—she is very pragmatic. I don’t know what she’s seen, but, like Dominique, for such a young girl to have braved this, seemingly alone for the most part, is amazing.
Of course she and Dominique are now fused, mouth-to-ear. They whisper and giggle. It is a strange sound in these extreme times. Pretty soon we’ll be wearing jammies, doing each other’s nails, and listening to Justin Timberlake...or whoever.
I wonder...
Wednesday, September 24
Today, Jenifer led us to her last hideout. I find it remarkable that somebody so young showed such an aptitude for survivalist skills. Today, we are at the Bonneville Dam. One of this place’s tourist draws are windows that you could look into the river and see the oft times gigantic steelhead swim past. In effect, this is a concrete bunker, easily defendable, with enough room for us all to stretch out.
Looking at the fish was therapeutic. That is until a few of those damned corpses wandered up. Well, wandered isn’t accurate. Drifted would be better. One of them actually wedged into a space between some big rocks and is now pawing at the thick glass panel.
Is it possible to look more dead?
Tomorrow we hope to make Multnomah Falls. That should be the last break we get before hitting the Portland Metro area. From there, I guess we’ll see if this was such a good idea.
Thursday, September 25
Another garbled radio message today. This time it was Snoe and Tara that heard it. Snoe was a few miles ahead scouting a good place to hole up for the day when she heard it. Tara was up top in the front gun-turret of the RV.
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 inte
rstate 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.
Snoe yelled for everybody to run for the hospital. That seemed the safest direction lacking both heavy zombie density and no gunfire coming from that way. I dodged between some hedges and burst out into an empty yard. I caught a flash above and to my right and felt a sting of pain on my neck from where the bullet struck a tree beside me, spraying bark and wood splinters. With no time to think, I grabbed one of the five grenades from my belt pouch, pulled the pin, tossed it and took off. I flipped up and over a fence and dove between two cars as the explosion sounded. Not waiting to look if I’d even hit my target, I scrambled up and ran.
To the left I saw Caren in a hand-to-hand fight with a mob of undead. Brittany had already tossed the rules out and her voice was frantic on the radio, asking us what was going on. About that time, Caren vanished under the mob and I heard “the scream”, Snoe is on the radio yelling at Brittany to shut-up and I’m dodging bullets and zombies.
Halfway across the parking lot, several windows in the upper levels of the hospital erupt with more gunfire. Obviously our target is occupied.
Veering away, I start warning everybody. I had two choices: a non-descript, four-story, brick office building, or try to fight my way back to the warehouse. The office building was closer.
Next thing I know, Snoe was telling Brittany to come get us. I tried to warn her off. All the gunfire would chew up the RV. Unfortunately I couldn’t get a word in.
Of course the RV got shot up trying to pull out. With no tires, it wasn’t moving. Before I could say or do anything, I heard Brittany yelling on the radio that she’s running for us. By the time I could finally talk, there was nothing. Nobody was responding.
I reached the building, but of course it was locked. With a couple hundred of those damn things right on my heels, I did the only thing I could. I shot out the nearest window and dove through. The only good fortune I had was that the building was empty. A few minutes later, I climbed up a hatch, and hauled myself onto the roof.
From my vantage point I spotted Jenifer and Dominique running through a series of backyards, climbing or jumping fences as they came to them.
That was when the big explosion came. My best guess is that something caught fire in the RV. That’s where all the grenades were.
It took some doing since neither of them had a radio, but I got the girls’ attention. They had to come from the back side of the building, but managed to break in. I climbed down and met them on the second floor. With my last rounds, I shot our way back up the stairs in a building now swarming with zombies and got us back onto the roof where we currently sit.
; I have four grenades and a bottle of water. We are huddled together as night grows colder and darker. I have no idea where we’ll go from here, or how we’ll get down.
Monday, September 29
The crowd below is thinning. I’ve seen some movement in the area, mostly around the hospital. Whoever was shooting at us is currently making runs to the warehouse we initially stayed at. Not that they’ll find much. Most of our useable, scavenge- able stuff was in the RV which is now nothing more than scattered chunks of charred debris.
I’m pretty sure I saw flashlights over by where the Bradley crashed last night. Again, they won’t find much of use there.
I did give some thought to these survivors’ mindset last night while I was shivering and failing at all attempts to sleep. We rolled into town in a reinforced RV with machinegun turrets, a gas tanker, and a Bradley. They probably saw us as invaders. When we bee-lined for what looks to be their hospital sanctuary, perhaps they acted solely on perceived self-defense.
Anyways, we are staying out of sight as best we can. Periodically I check the crowd below. They are steadily being drawn away by the survivors in the area who are picking over our stuff.
Hopefully tomorrow we can think about getting away. I’m starving, and I know the girls are. Their stomachs are making plenty of audible protests.
* * * * *
Chapter 10
Wednesday, October 1
Jenifer, Dominique, and I are in a relatively nice two-story house at the end of a dead-end (no pun intended) street. The dead wander around in packs outside, the lone straggler is practically non-existent. We had to use two of my four grenades to get here, but at least we created enough of a diversion so that we got away from that building and to this house (which is only two-blocks away).
