Running To Escape: A Sam & JR Zombie Thriller

by Schobernd, Robert

  While Sam paid for the fuel and food items, the gray-headed, elderly owner said, “This town and the immediate surrounding area had a permanent population of about ninety last week, but most folks left to stay with relatives, or they intended to sneak into Canada. All my help fled the area three days ago, leaving me on my own.” JR had compassion for the old man who slowly hobbled around behind the counter. There was no way he could cross the border alone or escape from zombies. In his physical condition he was doomed. She thought it ironic that if he was turned into a zombie, he would suddenly have strength and endurance he lacked as he stood in front of her. They thanked the old man, wished him good luck, and left.

  The surrounding area was grazing land almost devoid of trees. J.R. said she would be glad when they reached Idaho and forested land. What she saw was too close to desert terrain for her. Traffic was light, but drivers running in both directions were still pushing their vehicles far too fast.

  Twenty-one miles past Sand Spring, they crossed the Musselshell River at Mosby. JR said, “It looks more like an Oklahoma creek than a river.” She rode a while in silence listening to Waylon Jennings version of “I Can’t Help the Way I Don’t Feel About You” on the Hangin’ Tough album. “That album’s a bit sad and down in the mouth, but it fit’s my mood. I hope to get out of this funk before you kick me out and leave me along the road.”

  “That won’t happen. This was one of my dad’s disc. Honky-tonk cryin’ in your beer music. This is one of the times its lines are appropriate. Unless you object, I’ll let the rest of the album play.”

  “It’s fine. Fits the funky mood I’m in.” After a pause she said, “But I might need to guzzle a couple beers or have three fingers of bourbon before it finishes if it gets any sadder.”

  “Okay, if that’s what it takes to cope do it.”

  After a few minutes JR asked, “Do you know what caused the zombies? During the time they attacked the rest of the world did anybody figure out where they came from? Like, what caused them and what their goal is?”

  “There were a lot of opinions . . . mostly heavily biased from people simply wanting to blame someone who was different than them. Many revolved around religious retribution. Since they were first noticed in the Middle-East, some ascribed their rise to anti-Muslim causes and thought it would die out when that race was eradicated. Then the Jews in Israel were decimated, and it kept spreading and overrunning other religious groups. Then there were theories about viruses or bacteria. A few even blamed a curse caused by various religious sects in Africa or Haiti in the Caribbean Islands where voodoo is practiced. In the end, no one knew for sure what caused it or how it came about. It just suddenly occurred in a small area and spread around the globe before nations took it seriously and even thought of confronting it head-on. About like a worldwide viral pandemic that hits and overwhelms the majority. Some even gloated when certain groups were being annihilated. The idiots in government did what they’d always done; they tried to conceal it and hoped it would go away on its own while they argued in never-ending meetings and investigations that produced little to nothing in results. The few politicians who tried to stir up immediate action were ridiculed and shouted down as racist or zealots. As for goals, I guess from what has occurred thus far it’s for them to eliminate all humans from the planet.”

  JR thought long moments. “The actions of politicians is especially pathetic; if they’d been open and truthful and nonpartisan from the start there’s some chance this could have been avoided.”

  Sam frowned and nodded. “Yeah, definitely. That’s a big reason to not join a commune group where the same loudmouths rise to power and want to run things they know nothing about. From what I’ve seen, about half the politicians have never had a real job and had to struggle to advance and support a family; most appear to be loudmouthed and lazy. ”

  They’d driven a few minutes over an hour while relaxed and enjoying the music. Sam saw them first and thought they were zombies. Two people, a man and a young woman stood in the middle of his lane waving for them to stop. As they got closer it was obvious the man’s left arm was broken from the way he favored the drooping forearm. The female appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen. The wreckage of a motorhome lay scattered off to the left on pastureland where it had careened across a shallow ditch and through a barbwire fence.

  The short man was in his early forties, overweight, pale, and obviously in pain. The girl was slender, dark haired, and had clearly been crying. She stood apart from the man. When she moved, she limped on her right leg. She looked confused and yet harsh . . . angry even.

  Sam pulled his pistol and held it in his lap before lowering the glass halfway.

  The strangers approached Sam’s window. “Could you please help us, my wife and son are dead, and we’re injured. Can you give us a lift to the nearest town?” Sam looked at JR.

  She was cautious but curious; She nodded. “We can squeeze them in up here until we reach the next town. I don’t believe it’s very far to Lewistown.”

  Sam exited with the gun in his hand and asked the man, “Are you armed.”

  “Armed? For God’s sake no. Why do you ask?”

  “We’ve had people try to steal from us, so I’m careful. Turn around, I’m going to frisk you before you get in the truck.”

  “What . . . what.” When he finally noticed the gun in Sam’s hand, he complied grudgingly. But his muttered objections were clearly heard.

  JR slid to the center of the seat and pushed Smokey to sit on the floor with his front paws between her legs. Sam helped Mike Borelli into the truck, then assisted Marlene to sit on Mike’s lap. She hesitated and stared harshly as if considering not going before moving into the cab. The tension between the two was palpable.

  Only one fully loaded SUV flew by them headed east toward Mosby before they were underway again. They passed the place where the motorhome’s path into and out of the roadside ditch and through the fence wire was apparent. The destructive path as it tumbled and disintegrated was clear. Upon close observation cuts and bruises were plainly evident on both strangers. Sam thought it a miracle neither was in worse condition.

  “So,” Sam asked in a flat, measured tone, “how fast were you driving before the wreck?”

  Mike stammered, then said, “Just the speed limit, why?”

  Marlene’s anger exploded. “Dad! Don’t lie! You were going way too fast. Mom begged you to slow down. But no, you had to go eighty-five and ninety and we were swaying from side to side and couldn’t even stand up. Now she and Troy are dead because you wouldn’t listen to her. It’s your fault and I hate you. If you had driven like this man Mom and Troy would still be alive”

  Mike was red-faced and Marlene cried uncontrollably. She squirmed to the edge of Mike’s knees as close to the dash and as far from him as the confined space allowed. He said, “I was trying to get to Minnesota to my brother’s place. Then we were all going to Canada. That’s why I was hurrying. I didn’t want to delay them.” Tears streamed down his face.

  JR turned to Mike with a stern look. In a low contemptuous voice, she addressed him, “The border crossings are all closed and guarded. You’ll be shot if you attempt to sneak across. You endangered your family for nothing.”

  No one spoke until they were approaching Lewistown thirty minutes later. Sam stopped beside a police car and asked directions to the police station. When apprised of the situation, the officer volunteered to transport their passengers to the local clinic first. Both needed medical attention and that would provide the fastest means. JR took Marlene aside while Mike spoke to the police officer. “I know you’re hurting, but your dad had the best intensions for his family. It’s hard to just poke along when everyone else is whizzing by to get ahead of you. The two of you are going to need each other to survive. Goodbye, and good luck.” She hugged the girl and kissed her forehead, then turned and walked away.

  They took the bypass around Lewistown which had a population of almost six thousand just
two months ago. There was little traffic to be seen. They stayed on it until it connected back to Highway 200. A mile later they crested a rise before a slight valley where a massive wreck had occurred with at least six tractor trailers and dozens of cars and trucks with and without trailers blocking both lanes. Campers and motorhomes mingled with crushed eighteen wheel tractors and trailers in a huge pile of scrap. A State Highway Patrol Trooper blocked the road several hundred feet from the wrecks. He said the fog was thick until almost noon. People were driving too fast for conditions and over several hours continually plowed into the original two vehicle wreck. He added traffic would be tied up for at least twelve hours while they finished moving the dead and injured and cleared the wreckage. Traffic was being rerouted to the east bound lane back to Lewistown. As they turned around JR observed, “Once again people have snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Who but frightened fools would drive full bore into a fog bank?”

  The two story Super 8 was the only motel willing to take US dollars. Sam didn’t complain about the inflated price of two hundred dollars even though it was more than double the pre-zombie rate. Since it was available, Sam paid three hundred fifty for the motel’s only suite. After sleeping, then rising early, J.R. washed their dirty clothing and bedding from the camper while Sam fueled the truck and changed the engine oil and filter. They ate a late breakfast, exercised with Smokey, then returned to the motel room. No restaurants were open, but the desk attendant said they could use a bar-b-que grill out back. They cooked, played with Smokey, ate, bathed, and then slept again. The two queen sized beds had firm mattresses and were far more comfortable than the camper. JR again used the close quarters to innocently parade in front of Sam in her bra and panties.

  Eighteen hours after they checked in, the desk clerk knocked on the door and woke them; The Highway Patrolman notified him the road was cleared, and they could proceed west. They were ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Several other vehicles were preparing to leave as they pulled out.

  Passing the wreck site, JR said, “We’ve lost another day because of the pileup. Other than the dirt plowed at both sides of the road there’re no signs remaining of a major wreck. When I checked out, the clerk said several people were seriously injured in that pileup and were transported to Great Falls.” She added, “Shortly after we left the motel, a pickup pulling a trailer passed us going like hell. Those people were getting ready to leave when we did.”

  “Time doesn’t mean much now,” Sam threw out. “Since crossing the border is no longer an option. we have as much time as it takes to get to Idaho. I’m somewhat surprised there isn’t more traffic on this road. Guess most people are sticking south of us on Interstate 90 where they can drive on four lanes at excessive speeds instead of two lanes.”

  JR snorted. “After that wreck we avoided back in North Dakota and that mess at Lewistown, I’m content to poke along and let the crazies fly low around us. Mike and Marlene are prime examples of what that crazy driving can cause. Add them to the dozens of serious wrecks we’ve witnessed along the highway and it gives new insight to the words foolish and crazy.”

  “But don’t forget scared too.”

  Sam drove another forty miles before JR commented, “Have you noticed the last four small towns we passed all appear to be without power. No lights in houses or businesses and even the neon advertising signs are off. And no people are out and about. The populations in each can’t be over a few hundred people, but now the towns look like ghost towns.”

  Sam nodded grimly. “I’m not surprised. Power plants are running out of fuel and employees are leaving the area. The plants are probably either shutting down or cutting back on distribution to sparsely populated areas. And with the power shut off, all other provided services went with it. There’s nothing left for most people except to leave. And like me and the survivalist I followed, they mostly plan to go north through Canada and then further north to the Yukon or Alaska.”

  As they entered Great Falls, power was out to the entire city.

  Sam said, “That means no fuel can be pumped, no food is available, and all motels are closed unless they have emergency generators. Most motels look abandoned and doors on several of the offices stood open as if they’d been forced open and broken into. The entire town looks deserted. Few people were visible on the streets and the few I saw were in vehicles”.

  JR looked at the map. "We're only about one hundred miles from the Canadian border. Most people are probably backed up at the crossing or trying to hike across.” She studied the route. “The map shows our Route 200 as a scenic route, so it’s likely to be hilly and have some tight turns before long. We’ll have to not use the cruise control if the hills and valleys are steep. That will slow our progress considerably and burn more fuel."

  They stopped at a fuel station in Lincoln because electric lights were turned on. As Sam pumped fuel, a city police officer stopped to chat. “There have been intermittent power disruptions on the West Coast Power Grid. Most of the West Coast generating stations were shut down because of zombie attacks on personnel. As employee numbers dwindled the stations became unreliable with crews working double shifts and longer, so generators were taken off-line. Plus, there’re few craftsmen to repair maintenance failures at the plants or on the distribution networks. The situation is dire; we expect to lose power permanently at any time. My wife is packed, and we’ll head north like everyone else when that happens.”

  Sam said, “I guess you know the Canadian border is closed. No one is allowed to cross. At Minot, North Dakota, traffic trying to cross the border was backed up twenty miles when we were there, and it’s likely stalled all the way back to Minot by now.

  “And be careful if you intend to walk across the border. A trucker told us civilians are manning the border between legal crossing sites and shooting anyone they see.” The officer exhaled and shook his head. “I won’t tell my wife that; she’s terrified already. Looks like the Canadians are as scared as we are and just want to protect themselves.”

  “I understand their fear, but where is their compassion for humans who want to live as much as they do?” Sam finished fueling, then wished the officer well.

  They ate, not because they were hungry, but because prepared food was available. It could be their last restaurant meal. Unfortunately, the quality was barely passable, far from memorable. Despite the miserable quality of the food and service, Sam left a generous tip simply because he had thousands of excess dollars. Afterward they jogged on a deserted street to a small park area to exercise Smokey. JR noticed several weathered bronze plaques set in granite. “Look at these, Sam.”

  She read the first one aloud. “April 3, 1996, Federal officers arrested Theodore John Kaczynski at his remote cabin five miles from Lincoln under suspicion of being the "Unabomber", a political terrorist and survivalist who placed pressure-sensitive bombs inside mailed packages. The bombing campaign resulted in three deaths and twenty-three people wounded. Kaczynski is currently serving eight life sentences without the possibility of parole.”

  Sam added, “Yeah I remember reading about him. He’s at the US Supermax Security Facility called ADX in Florence, Colorado, serving a whole bunch of life sentences.” They moved to the next plaque.

  “This next plaque is about a place named Roger's Pass. It’s fifteen miles east of Lincoln. It’s known for being the location of the coldest recorded temperature in the contiguous United States. On January 20, 1954, a temperature of −70 degrees Fahrenheit was recorded.”

  “And that,” Sam intoned, “is your history lesson for today. I noticed several motels are closed. Some have plywood that looks new covering the windows. Apparently those people think the zombies will blow over and they’ll be able to return soon. I wish they were right, but I doubt they are.”

  JR asked, “Are we ready to move on? Smokey had enough exercise for now.”

  “Yeah, we may as well, we’ve only driven about one hundred seventy-five miles since leaving Lewistown this morni
ng. The attendant at the gas station said the tanks are running low and no deliveries are scheduled. Getting water in our fuel tank again is going to be an ongoing problem as supplies run out, but this guy said he’d just checked the tank an hour before I bought and we were the first diesel customers since he checked. I’ll have to ask about the tank levels at every stop before I pump fuel from now on. All fuel tanks will be getting near empty and unscrupulous people will be out to get money regardless of the consequences to their customers. We’ll also continue to fuel often so we only fill one tank at a time.”

  “Okay. Earlier you said Kalispell is about a hundred and fifty miles. Let’s go. What will we do,” JR asked, “if we get to Idaho and the zombies have already taken over? I mean if humans are extinct in the area and zombies are running rampant can we kill all of them?”

  Sam became exasperated with JR’s continual insistence that he have an answer to the unknowns ahead of them. “You’re asking things I don’t have an answer for. I’m taking this one step at a time because I don’t know what the hell’s ahead anymore than you do. Don’t expect me to have an answer for every possible scenario. I’m just as lost in this as you are.”

  “Damnit Sam, you’re the guy who followed these zombies as they took over the rest of the world. If you don’t know what the hell’s going on, we’re lost.”

  “So shoot me. I don’t know what to expect next either. Idaho might be a piss poor choice when we get there. Every day I make decisions based on what happens that day. If you don’t like it find someone else who knows more tha—”

  “God damnit Sam, I’m scared out of my fucking mind. All around us is death and destruction. I want it to end.”

  Smokey raised his head at the loud words; his head swiveled from one raised voice to the other.

  Sam tightened his jaw and focused straight ahead at the road.