Running To Escape: A Sam & JR Zombie Thriller

by Schobernd, Robert

  JR put her face in the crook of her right elbow against the glass and sulked as tears leaked down her cheeks.

  They drove through Ovando on Route 200 and were twenty miles northeast of Missoula, as a crow flies, when a trucker on Interstate Highway 90 made a CB broadcast. “Anybody out there with their ears on listen up.” JR reached for the volume knob and turned it up. “I just went through Missoula, Montana, heading east. Zombies are everywhere, didn’t see a living soul. From what I saw, they've taken over the entire town and surrounding area. To get through town, I had to run over at least forty or fifty of the creatures. Whatever direction you’re heading, give Missoula a wide berth unless you’re driving a zombie crusher like mine. I’m heading east to Iowa to get home to my family. Good luck to anybody listening. Jocko Mason over and out.”

  “Jocko this is JR Johns. If you ran over that many zombies, you surely have their guts and gunk splattered on your truck. Don’t get that crap on your skin because it can cause humans to turn. We had to put a young girl down because she was covered in it. A few days later she started turning. God speed, good luck, and be careful. JR Johns out.”

  “Thanks for the warning JR. I’ll be praying for a heavy rainstorm. Jocko out.”

  As Jr turned the CB volume down, Sam turned right onto Highway 83 toward Seeley Lake, Montana.

  They entered Seeley Lake fifteen minutes later and saw a local Sheriff's deputy backing away from seven zombies closing on him. Sam said, “Grab the M21 rifles and shoot from here. The deputy is firing at the zombie's chests.” In minutes, the zombies were all down and the deputy turned and thanked them.” The young man was confused and upset. “Man, I can’t believe this shit. The majority of those things were people I knew from town. I grew up with a lot of them. My parents and sisters live in Missoula and I’m afraid of what’s happening to them.”

  “It’s not good,” JR put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “We just had a CB call from a trucker leaving Missoula. He said zombies took over the whole town. You’d best not go there, or you’ll be lost too. And if you head for the border be careful there too. The Canadians aren’t letting anyone cross and they’re shooting people trying to hike across to get around the official crossings. Sorry, but we have to go, good luck” She turned back to him. “Remember, head shots, only head shots to the brain, or you’ll just waste your ammo and be overrun.”

  As the truck pulled away, JR mused, “I wonder what will become of that deputy. He doesn’t appear to have anywhere or anyone to escape to. I’m afraid when he run’s out of ammo his life will end at the hands of zombies.”

  Sam nodded but stayed silent.

  “Power is off throughout the town,” JR noted as they drove through. “I hope Idaho isn’t like this.”

  “Be prepared for anything. The zombies might be there too. Without national newscast or websites to let us know what’s happening, we’re going in blind. Think positive and hope for the best. But be prepared mentally to fight man or beast when we get there.”

  JR exhaled, shook her head, and sat with a glum expression as she stroked Smokey.

  Sam continued, “One other option depends on what happens in Canada. The last report we heard about the zombie migration inward from both coasts was the undead were advancing steadily there too. Maybe in six months or a year it will be safe to cross the border and go further north. Then we’ll only have the zombies to contend with instead of them and humans.”

  “That is an option. I guess if the Canadians guarding the border are all dead, we could drive through the crossings and keep our equipment and what supplies we’ll have left. People crossing illegally are having to steal everything they need when they get there and could be shot for that.”

  “I don’t mean to discourage that line of thought,” Sam said, “but it could be the vehicles backed up miles from the crossing could still be blocking the road after the people are zombified or starve to death and we couldn’t even get near the crossing. Seems like there’s a negative for every solution we come up with.”

  JR grunted and nodded glumly.

  An hour and a half later, they entered Kalispell. No lights or other signs of electric power were visible since leaving Seeley Lake. Most businesses were closed or appeared abandoned. The town listed as having a population of 22,052 looked practically deserted.

  A gas station with diesel was open and pumping fuel. They waited in line behind seven other vehicles. An emergency generator roared in the distance as it provided power to the pumps and minimal lighting. Sam first inquired about water in the fuel tanks and was assured it was checked several times a day and pumped off even when only a trace of water was found. Before he turned on the pump, the owner adamantly refused any amount of US dollars. Sam finally struck a deal to trade the man one of the handguns and a box of ammunition he took from the six thieves near Herreid, South Dakota, for enough fuel to fill the tank they’d been running on.

  Before leaving the area, they checked the map again. They questioned how difficult the rest of their trek to Northern Idaho might be and what surprises they could find when they arrived there. Sam longed for the internet to be able to gather information on any subject in minutes.

  They continued through Kalispell on Route 2. A highway information sign indicated twenty miles to Marion, Montana. The area was hilly and heavily forested. Passing through Marion they noted the lack of electrical power and no services were available. Five miles after leaving Marion, a sign indicated Charlie's Place was a half mile ahead. They pulled in to use the restrooms because a lighted OPEN sign was on. The front door was open, and lights were on at the two gasoline pumps. A sign out front said it was a general store/gas station with lumber and building supplies. Sam remarked to JR about a long shed roof to the left and behind the store where lumber and other building supplies were stored out of inclement weather.

  Before going into the store, they checked the maps and noticed the area they were in seemed less densely populated with small towns than the thin neck of Northern Idaho where small communities abounded. JR said, “It does look like a sparsely populated remote area. Let’s talk to whoever’s inside about what’s around here.”

  As they walked Sam said, "Eventually the zombies will infiltrate every human community, even those with less than ten people. I firmly believe we need to be isolated by ourselves in a remote area. I don't know if they hear us, see us, smell us, or sense we're around, but I'm guessing the fewer humans who are in a group the harder we'll be to find."

  J.R. added, "It must be some sort of sensing. At Seely Lake, I shot one whose face was shot away; it had no eyes, but it hobbled straight at me with both arms extended as if it knew exactly where I was. When I side stepped three feet it turned and followed me."

  Only a few dim lights showed inside the store. The fuel pumps only dispensed two grades of gasoline. No diesel. He heard a small engine steadily humming in the distance behind the store and guessed it was a generator. Power was off at all the other close by businesses they’d passed. The buildings in those towns probably depended on the West Coast power grid. According to an over the road trucker they spoke to several hours earlier, the entire West Coast electrical grid was down. He opined maintenance craftsmen and operations personnel were leaving those areas or turning into zombies when attacked.

  They entered to shop and use the toilet. The owner introduced himself as Charlie Dugal. Mid-sixties, five feet, eight inches tall, trim, athletic, full head of brown hair speckled with gray, and a trimmed bicolored beard. Charlie stepped outside to start a bigger generator and then turned on more lighting for his customers while he talked nonstop. “I’m leaving for Canada in the morning. Going about eight miles north of Fortine on a dirt road where I'll have about a five mile hike to cross the border on foot. I’ve done it several times previously when I was younger. Before the phones went down, I spoke to a good friend who lives in Calgary, Alberta. She’ll meet me across the border in three days. Then we’ll go north to her remote cabin
above Edmonton, British Columbia. She said it’s well stocked with all the supplies we’ll need for at least a year.” As he talked, Charlie gathered the minimal supplies to take along in a backpack. “I’ll set out before dawn tomorrow morning in my Jeep Cherokee. I can only take what I can carry because I'll leave the Jeep behind and hike to the border on foot.”

  JR warned him, “Several days ago, we were told the border was shut down and Canadian Army soldiers were stationed at all border crossings. Your bigger threat is civilians guarding stretches between the designated crossing points. The civilians were said to be shooting migrants on sight.” She excused herself to use the restroom.

  “I’m not surprised,” Charlie said as JR stepped away, “the Canadians are as frightened of these damned zombies as we are. I’ll be wearing camo and go slow. In fact, now that I know about the shooters, I’ll wait till after midnight to go the last mile and be extremely wary of guards.”

  Two chainsaws on a shelf captured Sam’s attention. He asked the price to buy them and the remaining canned goods of food. Charlie said, "Take anything you want. Currency is or soon will be useless, so you can have what’s left for free. I'll leave the doors unlocked when I leave. Otherwise violent people will kick the doors in to take what they want. I’ve had to stop two different aggressive thieves from doing that this week." Sam grabbed extra chains for each saw and noticed a Paslode framing nail gun nearby. He took it and six packages of fuel cells, extra batteries, and a case each of 10 penny and 16 penny nails for the gun.

  J.R. was busy gathering candles, brooms, mops, buckets and other cleaning supplies.

  Sam asked where he might be able to buy diesel fuel locally. Charlie grinned. “There’s an elevated 500 gallon diesel tank out back; it has a little more than three hundred gallons in it. I keep it for the generators, the tractor used to mow the grounds, and a few select friends. Take as much as you need. Be sure to use the petcock on the bottom to check for condensed water. There’s a quart glass measuring cup hanging close by to catch the sample. At my age, I don't plan to ever come back here. I’ll miss the place dearly. I’ve been here for the past thirty-two years and had a good life with good friends nearby.”

  They discussed remote locations close by and Charlie stated the area north and to the east or west of his store was about as remote as anywhere in Idaho. He directed them to a place he was familiar with. "If you’re serious about staying in this area, go back to Marion, then north to Little Bitterroot Lake on Kelsey Road, then take Pleasant Valley Road to near the end.” Sam hurriedly scribbled the directions on a paper towel as Charlie spoke. “You'll see a dirt road to the right that runs about four miles to a dead end. It's rough, but that truck you’re driving will make it if you drive slowly and carefully. About half a mile from the end, there's a trail off to the west that goes back nearly three miles to a log cabin that's been abandoned for several years. There’s good water nearby too. That is about as remote as you can get near here, and you may be far enough off the beaten path to avoid those damned zombies.

  “I visited it two years ago when I hiked back there. Thaddeus Pohlman, the old bachelor who owned it, used to come here twice every year on a four wheeler for supplies and to visit. The old codger had a source for small amounts of gold. He’d come in with three or four ounces and I’d give him the market price for our standard ounces. I made a little profit on the difference between troy and our standard avoirdupois system weights. I digress. Hadn’t seen him in a while, so I contacted his brother who lived in Marion. Johann was a very successful businessman in the area. He emphasized he had no use for his lazy, loser brother, knew nothing about him, and didn’t care if he was alive or dead.

  “The following weekend, I went looking for Thaddeus; he’d missed his spring visit by several months. Found his meager remains outside the cabin near a bench. Been there a while, so I buried what the animals left of him. Guess he had a heart attack. You’ll see a cross made of branches to the south of the cabin where I buried old Thad’s remains. His spade I used is likely still leaning against the cabin wall.

  “Your truck and trailer won't make it over the trail, too narrow and grown up in saplings and scrub by now. But a motorcycle or four-wheeler will get you there. If I wasn’t going to Northern Canada with my lady friend, I'd definitely go there myself."

  Sam went to the truck to get a Beretta 9mm pistol and two, fifty round boxes of shells. To those he added four gold coins taken from Breyna’s family’s caravan.

  As Charlie ended a conversation with JR, Sam extended the gifts to Charlie. “I want you to have this semiautomatic pistol. Remember, only a head shot that destroys the brain will stop a zombie. And the gold will soon be the choice method of bartering. Good luck on your trip.”

  Charlie was clearly surprised and thanked Sam profusely, “I’ll add this to the gold I exchanged for Thaddeus and kept. And the extra handgun is welcome too. I have a .44 magnum revolver I wear for protection from large predators when hiking.” Then he added, “It’s too late for you to head out for the woods. You’re welcome to spend the night parked out back here and then take off in the morning after I do.”

  JR hugged him and volunteered to cook supper and, of course, the men accepted. “We’ll eat the last of the beef steaks Sam brought from home. But we still have meat a trucker in North Dakota gave us.”

  Charlie grinned. “Fresh meat won’t be a problem in this area. The wild beasts are healthy and abundant. Be careful to not run into one on the highway and wreck your truck. Since traffic has fallen off drastically in the past weeks, the critters are a visible nuisance worse than ever.”

  An ice maker in the back of the store provided ice to refill their three coolers. Charlie volunteered to give his remaining private stash of beer and Irish whiskey to his guest, and Sam carried three cases and two fifths to the trailer.

  After a dinner of steaks, baked potatoes, and beer Charlie came to the campfire where JR and Sam sat with Smokey. He handed JR three thick, heavy hardcover books. “One is on edible foods native to the northwest region we’re in. Another is how to clean, cook, and preserve a variety of wild game. The third, this one, is on the identification of plants with useful medicinal properties.” He paused. “Please feel free to return later and salvage anything you can use. As I said, I don’t plan to return. Most of the local people I was friends with left in the last two weeks, so it’s past time for me to move on.”

  The next morning Charlie rousted them from their slumber. The first glow of sunlight was peeking above the trees on the eastern horizon. He carried three cups of hot coffee on a small tray. “Something I thought of after we parted last evening. You won’t be entirely alone back at that remote cabin; a man named Brodie roams the woods and lives out there somewhere. No one knows where for sure. He’s like a ghost, a local legend. He and Thaddeus visited occasionally, but nothing is known about the man except Eli Brodie graduated high school in Kalispell before joining the Army; he apparently re-upped for several enlistments, don’t know how many. At some point he came home, but his parents had died, and he just disappeared. Must be pushing mid to late thirties by now. After that no one knows anything about him except for occasional sighting by hunters and hikers in the area. I would have liked to have met the man but never did to my knowledge. Rumor spread that he was in one of the special forces branches and never chose to fit back into so called polite society.”

  Charlie extended a package. “This shopping bag has the last of the frozen food from my freezer. Please take it. Shut the ice maker, well water pump and generators off after you top off your coolers this morning. Here are the keys to start the generators. I’m off. Best of luck to both of you.” The couple shook Charlie’s hand, wished him well, then watched the red Jeep pull onto the highway and head east.

  Sam and JR backtracked to Marion. The small town had fewer than eight hundred residents before most fled. As they entered the town, a pack of five dogs was attacking two zombies. Smokey snarled at the sight of the undead as JR r
estrained him. He stood on the seat and lunged against her arm and barked. As Sam stopped the truck, the largest creature grabbed a large cur dog and threw it at least ten feet where it bounced off the rear end of a parked car. The dog whined pitifully as it limped away. Sam quickly put both zombies down. As they passed through town, they saw only a few people. Most of those hurried to load cars and trucks as if they were leaving the area. Most were armed. Sam stopped to tell the people about head shots.

  JR said, “They've waited far too long. I wonder where they plan to go. They're already in a remote area. Where could they go to be safer? Everyone thinks Canada, the Yukon or Alaska, but this area is about as remote and a whole lot warmer.”

  “It’s like that old saying; the grass across the fence always looks greener. The way they’re packing I bet they plan to cross into Canada. A better plan would be to follow Charlie’s lead and try to sneak into Canada and then continue further north to the Yukon.”

  “But that would be tough going because they’d not have transportation, food, or any other supplies needed to live in a harsh environment that far north.”

  Sam added, “Yeah, many will likely die this coming winter. Poor planning on their part driven by reacting to their fear. If we later decide to go on to Canada, we’ll need to cross in early spring, so we have time to gather supplies for the next winter.”

  “Even that will be difficult,” JR said, “most canned goods are packed in water and will freeze and burst even in a mild Canadian winter. I think we may decide we’re better off here if this works out.”

  They followed Charlie's directions out of town and were soon turning right off Pleasant Valley Road onto a dirt road that was little more than a wide, rough trail. Sam ran slowly in four wheel drive and bounced over the heavily rutted roadway. Twice he stopped and shoveled dirt and gravel into deep and wide washouts across the road so the equipment wouldn’t bottom out and get hung up.