A Long Walk

by Traverse Davies

  The path Jasper and Snow followed passed through a green belt that lasted several kilometres and was almost completely out of sight. The path led them past a chain link fence, crowded with a dozen or so zombies, all in military garb. The rifle range, Jasper had been hoping to check it out, see if he could get any weapons - did they even keep weapons in there? That was the one area Jasper had been nervous about, the path almost met up with a larger highway for a few feet before descending into tree cover. He passed between the large road and the chain link fence on high alert. Too many zombies to check the gun range, all of them snarling and growling, trying to push through the fence. At least the highway was empty. He was in an area that was not really part of any area of the city, a transition between one suburb and another, not usually heavily trafficked in the early morning, probably never heavily trafficked again he realized. They moved onto the tree covered part of the path, criss-crossing the river as they went. The hard packed dirt under their feet made it easy to move quietly, and the rushing river drowned other noises in its flowing depths. Jasper felt safer than he had since leaving the yellow house.

  Around midday Jasper stopped for some food. There was a small nook, with a bench and a shady view of the river, an idyllic spot he often stopped at when walking Snow. He unpacked some crusty bread and sharp cheese, chased with bottled water, no longer cold but so refreshing. He poured a second bottle into a small dish for Snow. Despite the proximity of the river he was being very, very careful with water supplies. He knew the Sackville River was heavily polluted, not potable drinking water, or even safe to swim in. The clear waters were an illusion. Maybe in a few decades the water would be clear again, the damage done by his species fading.

  Despite his fear, his need to make it to Taylor, the peace and tranquility of this spot seeped into him, calming him, letting his mind relax. If he was going to make it to Charlottetown he would need to plan, to think things through carefully. So far he'd been going on adrenaline and need, moving forward almost randomly. Every time he thought about Taylor he started to go into panic mode, what if she was alive right now, cornered somewhere, desperate for help? She was so far away, weeks at least if he couldn't get a working car. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him it was useless, but it was a voice he couldn't listen to. Every time it got too loud he thought about that moment in the hospital when he first took her tiny body in his arms, met her still closed eyes with his and introduced himself "Hi, I'm your father. I'm going to be spending a lot of time with you for the next few years." The smell of her, the warm softness, the feeling of life and potential from that new person, only in the world a few moments. She had nustled close to him, wiggling her little body so it made as much contact with him as possible, and fallen asleep. He just stared at her in wonder until the nurse came and took her away.

  Finally it clicked - the grocery store. Everyone in there was wearing a store uniform, and the inner doors were shut. How had they died? It didn’t seem like any zombies had made it in from outside. This seemed like a Romero situation, no way this had spread so fast if it was only transmitted by bite, more likely anybody who died got back up again. The store was different though. Why would somebody have died in there? No answers presented themselves. Jasper put it back on the back burner of his mind, something to worry about when he had the time. Break over, he started moving down the path again.

  The rest of the day was spent traveling, and the one after that. He was still technically in the city, but in much less populated areas. Sleeping in hollows and relying on the weather to stay fair and warm. This area was full of single family homes, widely spaced, lots of green space to hide in. He saw zombies pretty frequently but for the most part he was able to stay clear of them. There was only one that spotted him from close enough to be a problem. He was crossing cul-de-sac when the zombie stumbled on him, stepping out from between two houses. It was the corpse of an older man, balding and wearing his bathrobe over fuzzy slippers. The tie on his bathrobe was loose, and the robe hung open, showing a distended belly, black with rot. The zombie started walking his way, shuffling with arms outstretched. Snow pounced, knocking him off balance. He tried to bite Snow, teeth gnashing. This time Snow wasn't able to knock him down, and Snow wasn't biting, even though his lips were pulled back into a snarl. Jasper pulled his sword, swinging at the old mans’ head. He was getting used to the shock in his arms, like nothing he'd experienced in training. Flesh parted, bone shattered, and the blade cleaved deep, burying itself through the skull, right into the old mans’ neck. He fell, lifeless and limp.

  By evening of day four Jasper was exhausted and cold. He needed to find a place with shelter and security. Close to nightfall he spotted a school. It looked clear. The school yard was fenced in, although there were large gaps for entry and exit points. He moved in, cautiously, sword at the ready. He thought heard something from inside, but when he stopped to listen it didn’t come again. Could be a zombie, but could just as easily have been a cat, or his imagination. If it was a zombie he would deal with it, he didn't see any other choice.

  Robert at the Cottage

  Robert was on the road. His goal was his hunting camp, a few hours out of town. Most of the route was on small back roads. He had abandoned his truck early, between the stopped cars and the zombies he had found it impossible. Every few minutes he needed to find a way to move something out of his way. Most of the time that would involve getting out of the truck, and the sound of the truck drew zombies towards him. In the end he'd had to lose half a dozen of the zombies that came up out of nowhere, which meant ditching the truck and moving forward on foot.

  It was nothing new to him, he was used to long marches in full kit. Basic paid off once again. Now the camp was coming into sight. Some of the guys were clustered around, drinking, cooking food, making sure the place was secure. A good team; he'd been collecting them for years. Some people thought he was paranoid, building up this group, but in the end he'd been right, and those people were probably dead. It had taken a very long time, finding guys he could trust, vetting them to make sure they were a fit for the team. Every time he was on a training exercise or on active duty he sought them out, quiet conversations about being prepared, about making sure the government wasn't taking too much from them, about property rights. His team, his guys. Loyal to each other more than country, more than unit.

  A sound behind him made him turn. One of the guys, wearing civvies but carrying his service rifle dropped down on the path behind him. "Sir, glad you made it. We were starting to get worried."

  "Thanks son, it took a bit longer than I would have liked," Robert said, "Had to ditch my truck near home. How many made it so far?"

  "We have twenty members right now, a few family members too. Total head count not including you is twenty-seven. Still hoping for a few more of course."

  "Right. You're on watch?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Good work. I had no idea you were there. As you were."

  The man drifted off into the woods, vanishing from sight almost instantly.

  There was space for fifty at the camp, rough quarters, a small bunk for each man, not many amenities, but it was secure and hidden. Samantha had been upset about him using so much money for the camp, at least until he had a talking with her. The numbers surprised him, he hadn't expected nearly that many of his people to survive. The place was a hive of activity, preparations going on all around him. As the men started to see him many of them straightened up, throwing a quick salute his way, or just welcoming him. Fact was they weren't anything official, despite being almost all from a military background. He wasn't really a commanding officer either, just the guy who'd had the foresight to create this team, this place, to stock it at great personal expense.

  "Gentlemen, glad to see so many of you made it," Robert said, "Looks like you are doing good work, making good progress. I have a few surprises for us, some things squirreled away for a rainy day. I'll address the camp in an hour or so, in the meantime carry
on with what you were doing," He continued into the main bunkhouse.

  Originally this place had been a rehab centre, and when it went on the market he snapped it up. Officially it was a hunting lodge now, used by Robert and his friends, occasionally rented out for large groups. There was a lot more to it than met the eye though. Part of why he had bought it was the cellar, not quite a bunker, but close. A large area under the main building with a heavy steel trap door, hidden under the floorboards. He had no idea why someone had built it, but there it was. He was one of two people who had a key, and it didn't look like Nick had shown up. Nick lived much, much closer, so he probably wasn't going to make it.

  The cellar was packed, full of surplus gear, MRE's, tents, weapons, most of it bought under the table. Wouldn't do for the government to know exactly what he had. The weapons in particular were secret. He had half a dozen RPG's, tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition, a couple hundred rifles, all crated. It was enough to equip a small army, and that was what he had, more or less. Men had brought others with them. It was close to two hundred nation-wide, most in Nova Scotia. A few were on active duty, or stationed somewhere else. Too many were reservists.

  "Hey, could some of you give me a hand?" Robert said. Two of the guys rushed over.

  Robert handed them boxes. "I need to get all this stuff up to the main building, start doing an inventory."

  They hauled boxes and crates for an hour. There was still a lot of it down there, but it was time for Robert to address the group, "Hey folks, so it looks like the world ended. Glad so many of you made it, and I'm still hoping for more. Anyone who started further out than me is probably still on route. Traffic's a bitch right now." This got a small laugh. "We have a lot to deal with right now. I prepared for almost any situation. I know we joked about zombies, but it was pretty much the only one I didn't take seriously. Well, shows how much I really knew. Anyway, it is what it is. I know all of us have lost people, but we're soldiers, we keep going. With that in mind, this is a good start point. I'd like to stay here as long as we can manage, but it's close to the city, it's not going to be viable forever. Eventually the zombies will find us, and we will have to move. Could be a day, could be a year... we have to be ready for the idea that it's more like a day. Once we get the cellar unpacked we need to make sure we are ready to move at a moment’s notice. For those who brought family: they are our number one priority. We protect the civilians, especially the children." Robert was getting the crowd going, getting them warmed up. They were eating out of his hand. "We will survive this, we, the prepared, the hard working, the self-reliant. The weak, the welfare leaches, the useless masses, they are part of the horde now, still trying to take a bite out of us. I say no more, this time we have the guns. We have the strength. This new world is ours for the taking!"

  They cheered for him. Keeping it quiet, they weren't stupid, but as loud as they dared.

  After the speech Robert commandeered more of the men to help move stuff from the cellar. Inventory was going to take longer than he wanted to spend, they had to be ready to abandon this place at a moment’s notice. It was decently secured against most potential threats, but a horde of zombies was the one he hadn't taken seriously, so it wasn't set up for it. A scattered few buildings, too much space between them. No walls, no fences, they could be built, but would need a large area. No cropland either. It wasn't farm country, too rocky, the soil was too acidic. An island would be better, someplace they could clear of zombies and then use. He called over Tom, currently acting as second in command. "Hey, I'm trying to figure out the best option for moving on from here. I've pretty much got it down to PEI or Cape Breton."

  "Good points to both. Cape Breton's a bit closer. Too hilly though. We need space to grow stuff."

  "That was my thinking too. A place we can build on. Plus, no rocks right? Okay, that's the plan. Charlottetown area or Summerside?"

  "Summerside. It's smaller, less zombies to deal with."

  "Thanks Tom, nice to have someone confirm my thinking."

  The next few days were lost in prep. More people arrived, in the end they had almost fifty including wives and children, although not many of those. On the morning of the day before they were ready to head out one of the scouts sounded an alarm. Robert jumped out of bed, dressing as he hit the ground. He ran out the door to find the source of the alert. One of the older men ran up, panting, "A horde sir, big."

  "How big?"

  "Too many to count sir. Coming right this way. Should hit us within the hour, even as slow as they are moving."

  "Time to go. Pull the men back from watch, get armed."

  Robert started waking the camp, moving fast, "Folks, get moving. We have less than an hour to be gone. Big horde coming. Wake up. Wake up!"

  People started jumping out of their beds, wherever they happened to be. It took about fifteen minutes for the camp to be up and moving. Robert started triaging, getting the most important gear loaded into backpacks and kits. Damn he wished he could use a truck. It was close to the wire, and there was still gear that needed to be loaded up, important stuff, but no time, the first zombies started to appear through the trees, and on the narrow dirt road. Just a trickle, the first drops in the flood. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and took out the lead zombies. Some of his men did the same. It might slow the horde by a moment. "Let's go!" Robert said, "Get moving now. Leave whatever isn't already loaded!"

  The camp as a whole started into the woods, following Robert. He looked back at the shelter he had spent so much time on as it was overrun, and then turned, moving forward.

  No safety in the skies

  Naomi spent the night in a dry culvert. It was uncomfortable and smelled of rot, but it was sheltered and hidden. When the sun came up she started moving again. Her feet were covered in blisters, her legs were sore in a way she had never known. She was thin, but she was still young enough that it was natural, not the result of exercise. Her body wasn't used to sustained effort. Every inch of her hurt, every inch of her was exhausted. She was parched, she wished she had a bottle of water, and maybe some food. She was convinced she would kill someone for a bottle of water. There was water everywhere, on day one she'd taken a drink from a stream. The diarrhea was unrelenting for the next two days. It had made her so much thirstier. Since then she's barely had anything. Out of desperation she'd snuck into a convenience store, only to find it looted. She'd managed to find a bottle of some sort of sports drink, something that tasted like chemicals, warm. That was it in four days, and no calories. She was light headed and weak.

  She had been moving from first light to nightfall for days. She was exhausted. The airport appeared through the trees, squat buildings deceptively tall, height masked by their breadth, dominating the landscape. She had pinned so much of her hope on reaching this place, and it wasn't going to work the way she wanted. The area in front of the main terminal building was a broiling mass of the undead, thousands of them. Apparently on day one a lot of people had tried for this place.

  Were there any other options open to her? She was closer to the runway than she was to the main building, and it was heavily fenced. Normally the fence would be a barrier she couldn't overcome, too many eyes, cameras everywhere, but now those cameras were blind, nothing but dead eyes to watch them even if the power needed to run them still existed. She moved to the fence stealthily. One stumble, but none of the zombies out front seemed to notice. The runway area looked like it was clear, nothing obvious moving inside. She skirted the fence, moving away from the terminal. Finally, she found a spot. A tree was growing close to the fence, not right to it, but close enough. She climbed it, slowly, taking breaks. Then it was just a matter of shimmying out onto the closest branch, getting herself close enough, and hopefully not cutting herself on the concertina wire across the top of the fence.

  First she threw her bag across the fence, into the runway area, then she slowly started to move out onto the narrow branch. It was a fair way above the fence, but it started to
bend under her weight, bringing it close. Each inch pulled the branch down further, and made it harder to hold onto, until finally it touched the top of the fence and got lodged there. At last, a piece of luck going her way. She made it all the way across, never quite losing grip. Her head was spinning from the exertion. Naomi pulled the coiled wire on top of the fence out of her way, so, so carefully. She had it pulled out enough that she was able to get a leg up and over, then she slowly pulled the rest of her body across. The flash of pain was so intense she almost fell off, fifteen feet down to the hard packed ground, but she held it together. One of the wire coils had gotten away from her, and dug into her back, right along her shoulder blade. She took a deep breath, and then slowed down even more. Finally agonizing minutes later, her other leg was over and she was climbing down. She had four or five new cuts, including the one in her shoulder. She dropped the last few feet down to the tarmac, almost falling when she hit the ground.

  There were a couple of small buildings under construction inside the runway area, on the far side. There were also a few planes, but Naomi didn't know how to get to the doors, and a couple of trucks. She started moving towards the buildings, eager to get out of the open, when she noticed movement. They were still a ways off, but there were a few zombies in full ground crew gear. Thick helmets with earphones, orange vests, lurching slowly towards her. Nothing immediate, but far better to get out of the open, get into one of the buildings, preferably one of the ones with a door.

  Naomi moved as fast as she could across the tarmac. She was tired and bloody, it slowed her down, but she was still faster than the zombies. She reached the buildings well before they did. One of them was just a shell, no features installed yet, window and door holes open, dark pits into the interior. The next was more of less complete, doors hung, windows in place. She tried the knob, it wasn't locked. The interior of the building was unfinished, drywall in place but not painted. The building was a single room, storage of some sort maybe, nothing but bags of cement and some old lengths of rebar inside. She shut the door behind her, turning the lock. The windows were small and high, streaming light in. There was a back door as well, she was grateful for that.