Tensions are high. The detour has made things worse. Like a festering wound. Ron and I are focused on getting home but Dave takes it to another level. He is always pushing us to go further, just a few more hours, just a few more kilometers. There is more to things than just driving, we have to watch fuel, food and water, and plan a safe place to spend the night, we even have to worry about the truck not pushing it too hard or letting it over heat, a flat tire in the wrong place could be our end. All these things Dave overlooks the longer we are away from home. Still, if I had a wife and small child all alone thousands of kilometres away in the midst of this madness, I’d take risks to get home too.
In the court yard of our prison we had a fire; it’s safe from anyone seeing it behind the high adobe walls. It’s good to have some hot food even if it’s canned beans and corn. Locked up in the abandoned prison we still decide to take turns on watch, walking the high walls and checking the gate at least once a shift. I don’t see any lights out in the city; the only sound is a lone coyote. Dave sits with me by the fire before relieving me for watch duty.
He says to, “Quit writing down the shit I say and you’d better be quoting me correctly.”
And then he asks, “Who the hell is going to read this? What’s the point? “
I look up at him, the fire hiding his eyes. I wonder the same thing myself.
January 15
Yuma, Arizona
With no supplies of food or water in the prison, as secure as it is, is useless to us. We pack up and leave, no one talks. Everyone is getting on each other’s nerves. Driving the streets of Yuma, the only sites are a few shambling undead, rubble and litter on the roads, some broken windows of stores along the way. Any survivors have either fled or are barricaded in their homes hoping to wait this out.
Out of the blue Dave said, “Stop here.”
“Here?” I slow down. I didn’t see anything worth stopping for.
“Yeah stop.”
Confused, I stop, there are no zombies, no people, just an intersection, a few abandoned cars but that’s it.
Ron and I look at each other like Dave’s lost his mind. Dave opens the doors.
“I’ll be back,” He calls out as he walks across the street.
“Where’s he going?” Ron asked.
“Maybe he needs alone time.” We should probably pull him back in but he’s out there walking with a purposeful stride.
We watch as Dave goes into a phone booth.
“Is he calling home? He knows the phones don’t work right?”
“I didn’t even know there were phones booths anymore.”
“Must be a hick town,” Ron leaned out the window, calling out. “Ordering a pizza? Ham and pineapple, Dave!”
In the distance, a rotten corpse sees us and starts coming our way. They seem to be aimlessly moving or on pause until some external stimuli such as noise or movement prompt them into action. Once they see you, they lock on staring at you with blood-filled eyes, focused, an evil grin on their decaying faces. Dave got back in with the yellow pages clutched in his arms.
Dave is oblivious to us silently staring at him as he intently flips through the yellow pages. He paused looking up, “Well, drive.”
“And where shall I drive, sir?” I asked as I put the truck in gear.
Ripping a page out he holds it up.
“You’re kidding me.”
The look he shoots show he isn’t joking.
“We need a map and this place will have one. In fact it will have all the maps we need to make it home.”
“Ever hear of a gas station? They have maps oh and gas.” Just as Ron finished speaking we drive by a burnt out shell of a gas station. A charred corpse still gripping the steering wheel of the burnt out car put’s Ron on the defensive, “Whatever.”
We arrive at our destination.
The parking lot was deserted, the glass of the Barnes & Noble intact. The store is dark. Yes, a book store. The good news is I doubt anyone looted this place, well maybe just nerds.
We backed up six feet from the front door, the truck pointed away for a quick escape. The store is between a Toy R Us and a Pier One Imports. If we need action figures or candles we are in luck.
A grinning Dave grabbed his machete as he excited the truck. This is his mission, he’s calling the shots.
Hands on either side of my face, I press against the glass looking for any signs of movement in the dark. Dave brings a flashlight and shines it around. The circle of light illuminated the shelves of books but nothing moved. The place was deserted. The doors locked. Maybe the infection hit the town during closing hours. With practiced skill Ron jimmied the front doors with a crowbar. Dave and I quickly enter; weapons ready, my machete vibrating nervously in my hands as I peered between the rows of books for any sign of the undead. Ron followed suit wrapping a chain around the two doors, so nothing can follow us in. A quick tug and we can pull the chain off to escape, I don’t think the undead are dexterous enough to figure out the trick. The store is quiet, just the soft sounds of our feet as we scout around making sure there was really nothing in here with us. When we were sure it’s safe we split up. It feels good to get away from these two but at the same time reassuring knowing someone is just a few aisles away. In the back of my mind I remember whenever someone splits up in a horror movie it’s never a good thing.
The lights suddenly buzz and flickered to life, a few seconds later Ron gets on the intercom, “Power works boys, oh I wonder if they have Playboy.” With the lights on I find the travel section. I grab copies of The Road Atlas of North America for each of us. Just in case.
Back before all this happened Dave used to spend hours in book stores, sitting in the science fiction section reading a few chapters before deciding on his purchase, he’d make lists of what to read later and books to find at the library. He brought a paperback with him on vacation until Ron accidently kicked it into the hotel pool. Back home he has had has a pretty decent sci-fi library, taking up three Ikea bookshelves. Moving him into his new house he got with his wife, Ron and I dropped and broke one of his bookshelves. He was pissed but you have to expect some breakage with free help.
And that’s where I find him, a stack of books on a chair beside him in the science fiction fantasy section.
“I got the maps.”
“I was going to make my way there,” He doesn’t bother looking up eyes locked on his book.
“Sure you were. Find anything good?”
“Yeah some good stuff. I figure some distraction is good. Even though the dollar is on par these books are much cheaper here.”
“Guess we don’t have to worry about that bullshit anymore.”
Some distraction or outlet is needed with what’s going on, I think that’s why I continue to write in this journal. I flip through a couple books as Ron comes around the corner, a bottle of water in his hand.
“You’re not taking all that crap.”
“Yeah he is. There’s room for a few luxury items.”
“Fine, fine.”
“Where did you get that?” Dave asked as Ron nonchalantly took a last sip of water.
“The coffee shop. “ He tossed the bottle over his shoulder pointing vaguely in the coffee shop’s direction. The smell of brewing coffee hits us. Dave and I rush to find its source, a café in the middle of the store.
Dave grabs a pop from the cooler.
Ron sat at a table with a stack of magazines. “Garcon, I’d like a double double please. Shit the milk is definitely sour by now, just two sugars.”
There is a laptop on the next table which he grabbed.
He opened it. That familiar windows start up tone played as it starts.
“Ho-ly shit. The battery isn’t dead.”
“The net? The wireless still working?”
“Hold on a sec. Start up start up. Come one. Yes!”
Nearly tripping over tables and chairs Dave rushed over.
“I need to check on my wife.”
&nb
sp; “Back up. I need to check my stocks.”
Dave crowded in on Ron, who tried to elbow Dave away.
“I need to hear from my wife.”
“Back off. Think about the bigger picture. I’m going to check on what the hell is going on. Besides I found it, it’s mine.”
“Five minutes, just five damn minutes.” Dave’s hands were in fists, his face is red. Ron stares at him, studying Dave’s face.
“Fine, make it quick but get me a coffee first.”
This seemed to ease the situation. With hands still shaking Dave reluctantly went to the counter and pours a coffee.
“Don’t expect a tip for this surly service,” Ron called over his shoulder as he walked away.
We gave Dave time alone as he typed frantically.
Waiting until we were out of Dave’s ear shot I said, “That was decent of you.”
“Let’s just hope he hears something and that the battery holds up. I didn’t see a power cord.”
I thought it was going to come to blows. Dave wanted, needed some contact from home. We’ve made a lot of mistakes in getting home. We haven’t made enough distance.
To distract ourselves and give Dave some privacy, Ron and I began to load the contents of the cooler towards the door. Pop and water are supplies were really needed and this haul should last awhile. We can (and have) went without food for days but water and caffeine keep us going. After we pile it up by the door Ron brings the pile of books Dave had gathered. Looking out the front doors to the empty parking lot as the sun sets there is no sign of anything outside. Tonight we will sleep in the safety of the book store.
I can see the relief on Dave’s face, his shoulders and whole being looks more relaxed, like a great weight has been lifted off. His wife sent him an email dated just five days ago that all was well (at least when she sent her message) she wrote that there was a few isolated out breaks in the city but were being contained. I didn’t get a message from my family and neither did Ron but if the whole city is fine our families should be safe. I’m guessing power is spotty even if everything hasn’t gone completely to hell.
With no power cord we were pressed for time so I couldn’t sulk in the disappointment of not hearing from my family, I fired off a quick message letting them know we are out of Mexico and heading north. After we all hard a turn, we searched for news about what happened and what is currently going on.
The major news sources had little to offer after the first few days and haven’t been updated. One would made claims about how things started and the next page would have a conflicting story. We quickly turned to blogs and independent sources to find out anything useful.
The gestation period varied according to contamination, there was a series of plane crashes which for a short time was believed to be the work of terrorists. In hindsight lots of passengers with no symptoms got on a plane turned mid-flight, causing chaos onboard. Many people did land safely, disembarking just in time for the effects to take over spreading the infection worldwide.
The rest of the night we studied the map, plotting the most direct safest route that avoided major cities, I wrote in my journal and the guys read magazines. It was the first relaxed (for lack of a better word) time we’ve had in this journey. No matter how relaxed you are always on guard. You always think you heard a sound. Then you have to check it out when every fiber wants to hide. I’ve checked the parking lot a dozen times in the last hour. Nothing out there. It’s too good to be true.
January 16
We spent the day mostly alone, solitarily exploring the store and reading books.
Dave handed me a book he finished on the history of weapons. He went on to lecture that primitive weapons, swords and clubs, would be more efficient in dealing with the undead. Being that we lack guns it’s easy to agree. Getting head shots while they are running towards you would be a challenge for those skilled with guns let alone us. I’m agree, blunt, bludgeoning weapons might be better, if a blade doesn’t cut clear through then it can get stuck. When you are outnumbered you won’t have time to pull your machete free. I wouldn’t give it up but we may have to consider using other types of weapons.
Thinking about weapons I also started to think about defense. Just one bite and you are done for. Knights had armour and only got rid of it once guns became powerful enough to make it useless. Zombies don’t have guns. An idea popped into my mind, to use the plastic garbage can lids from around the store as shields.
Dave caught on right away but Ron wasn’t impressed with using a plastic garbage can lid until Dave helped explained the undead don’t have any weapons other than their nails and teeth. Ron was more intent of reading Playboy. All you need is something to push them aside, to keep some distance between you and them. The plastic shield is light enough to carry yet strong enough to push the undead aside. The book explained that the Vikings used to use a shield wall. A lot of armies in history did, riot police today use used the idea. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the shields overlapping would make it pretty hard for the undead to get you. The store had enough garbage cans. We used duct tape to make the handle so it can go over our forearms, leaving our weapon hand free to swing over or around the shield. Dave went on to say that if you have enough people you could form a shield wall plow your way out of trouble. With only the three of us our shield wall would be pretty small.
The best rule is to avoid them at all costs. To keep moving, never stop. Yeah, we’ve stopped now and moving on is pretty hard.
This project kept us busy, when I’m busy it doesn’t give me time to think about how messed up I am the whole world is.
Ron’s project was studying a Playboy, wondering aloud if Miss December made it through all this. I hope so - she was fine.
January 17
In exploring the store, I found access to the roof, from up top have a good view of Yuma. We can sit out in the sun, relax and not have to worry about getting eaten. The three stores are connected and if there was anything of value from Toys r Us or Pier One we could easily get it. I can’t think of anything they have that would help us and the staff rooms wouldn’t have enough supplies to make venturing into an unknown area worthwhile. I wonder if Toys R Us has baseball bats? Maybe a scented candle from Pier One, we smell pretty bad.
While reading in the sun enjoying the rooftop I heard the faint sound of a motorcycle in the distance. Dropping my book I ran to the edge looking out onto the city. Just when I thought I imagined the sound Ron swore he saw a motorcycle to the south before it disappeared between streets.
We watched for a while but did not see it again. I went down into the store to get the binoculars. For the next few hours we took turns looking for the motorcycle.
Nothing.
Just the undead in the distance, travelling in large and small groups. A cloud of crows circling high overhead following them as they followed something. To the west, a black smear of burnt out buildings scarring blocks and blocks of the city. A fire must have started in the panic and confusion of the first hours of the plague. No signs of human life. A pack of dogs scurrying in the street and slipping into a building. A few of them attacked a lone zombie. It was hobbling on broken ankles; the dogs would dart in and nip, tearing at its legs. The thing just kept going, paying no attention to the dogs picking it apart, as it tried to catch up to the others. As the sun set we retreated back into the store. I doubt I can sleep tonight, I’m on a caffeine high from all the coffee and knowing someone alive is out there.
January 18
Even a book store couldn’t distract Dave from his drive to get home. We planned to head out today. While Ron and Dave were loading the truck, I went to check the oil. Under the windshield wiper was a flyer. For a second I thought it was a mirage but there it was fluttering in the warm breeze. I looked around as if whoever left it would still be around. There was not a soul around.
Just a few weeks ago you’d think nothing of the annoyance of finding a flyer on your car but now it means there’s survivors
. There is someone alive out there. So far we have only seen death.
Gathering at Albuquerque.
A safe zone to come together.
All welcome.
Updates at 102.9FM
Grabbing the flyer I rushed to show the boys. They thought there was an attack and scrambled to get their weapons. Dave wasn’t impressed, the only survivors he was interested in were those back home. He was already upset with the unexpected detour to Yuma and didn’t like the idea of criss-crossing the state yet again. The books had distracted him for only so long.
Albuquerque isn’t too far. Not when home is so far away. I think it’s worth the trip, to get some news and some safety.
Who left this flyer? Why didn’t he just come talk to us? But then I remember the Costco in Tuscon. Things like that must be happening everywhere. Groups coming together but at the same time keeping others away. If you weren’t part of a group early on then they aren’t going to let you in. This flyer is something different. Hope? This changes our plans to move on. Against Dave’s protests, we decide to stay another day to see if the person who left the note returns.
January 19
I came down an aisle only to find Ron in the gardening section; he had books standing up on the floor, lining them up one after another. “I’m bored of reading, it’s domino time.”
Lending a hand I grabbed a stack of books and began to help. We had the line of books winding down three aisles when Dave found us. It took him a second to figure out what we were doing. He smiled and helped out too. In no time we had books twisting and turning through the aisles of the whole store. A Confederacy of Dunces took the honours, starting off the avalanche off books. We enjoyed three minutes and seventeen seconds of books falling, hitting the standing book in front knocking it into the book next and on and on weaving their way along the rows in the store. When it was over, I clasped Ron on the shoulder and said, “Have fun cleaning that up.” He laughed as he pushed over a row of paperbacks. Dave shook his fist as Ron walked away.
Tomahawks & Zombies Page 7