by TW Brown
The rest of the day was a glorified hide-and-seek game. In the movies, chases are so dramatic and rarely last beyond a few minutes. By nightfall, I’d been in at least a dozen different places, and hidden in every one of the buildings in this little cluster at least once at some point. At first, I considered trying to rig a trap. Those take much longer than a person realizes. I was really missing my crossbow. By late afternoon, I came up with an idea. He had set fire to the first building. All day I’d had to listen to this man’s dialogue. He took great pleasure telling me about all the things he was going to do when he caught me.
When he ducked into a second building to light it on fire—by the way, I did kick myself for not realizing that he was preparing for this activity all day while we were playing our life or death version of hide-and-seek—I bolted for the structure that housed the bombs. I knew that, as far away as it was across open ground, he would see me. I had one canister of gas or kerosene; whatever it was that he had found as an igniting source for his fires, which were now burning in three buildings. There were a lot of wooden crates in addition to the metal ones in that storage facility. I didn’t have any idea what was in those wooden crates.
I had enough of a lead that I could douse a few crates close to the rows of bombs. It really was a wing and a prayer. It didn’t have the initial effect that I had hoped for. I tossed a rag that I lit after soaking it in the gas or whatever and then ran. There was a very small reaction as something cooked off and blew up…sorta. (Curse you Hollywood for filling our heads with so many ideas involving giant explosions.) It did do enough to have the man turn around and run the other direction…for a minute or two.
I managed to duck into another bunch of buildings and escape. For a couple of days, I hid in an air duct while my pursuer searched in vain. Then, the zombies started showing up. Some even wandered right into the building that I was hiding in.
Eventually, things settled down. I didn’t hear anything living or undead. When I climbed down, I was surprised that things didn’t look worse. The biggest bummer of a discovery was that the guy had torched the building with the water and MREs. I only had about a half of a canteen of water left.
I was walking northish, heading back to the highway. That was the only way I figured to get past the mountains to the east. That was when I stumbled, almost literally, on the cemetery. When I saw the pair of legs sticking out from behind a cracked and worn monument, I brought my spear up. His eyes opened just as I raised my arms to plunge the spiked-tipped spear into him. His head moved just enough to cause me to miss.
He swept my feet out from under me and I barely had enough of a chance to get my knife clear. His fist smashed into the side of my head, and just like that, the fight was over.
When I came to, I knew he had done a number of unpleasant things to me when I was unconscious. All of my stuff was thrown everywhere, including my satchel. My hands were bound and secured above my head to a headstone. My feet were likewise tied with the legs spread uncomfortably wide and attached to stakes driven into the ground. The other handicap was being on my stomach. I couldn’t see a thing. Worse, I couldn’t hear a thing but the occasional sound of the wind which carried the smell of the still-burning buildings a couple of miles away at the military base.
I lay still for what seemed like forever. I kept waiting for the degradation or death. When darkness fell, and still nothing, I figured he must have gone to the base to scavenge. Naturally, I began going to work on the bindings. I was sore, very thirsty, hungry, and scared. Combine that with the poor job of tying me up and eventually I got loose.
It was fully dark by now and I was crawling around trying to find my stuff when I found the body. I probably screamed. I definitely moved away and felt for anything that I could use as a weapon. Nothing happened. Even with the distant glow from the fires, I could not see. I didn’t move for a while, waiting for an attack. I must have dozed off after the adrenaline backed down a notch. And here I am. I’ve dressed and grabbed what few things I still have.
My best guess is that I managed to stick the bastard just as—or just before—he punched me in the temple. The idiot was so obsessed with raping me that he bled out. Seriously, men can be such dumbasses.
There is too much activity to the west for me to risk the base. Besides, I already know that the best stuff is already gone. Seriouly, I hope to God that I can find a water source by this evening. I won’t move until it gets cooler. My body is already hot, but I am not sweating. If I am…it’s evaporating before it can be noticed.
Thursday, August 26
I didn’t realize how bad off I was. Apparently I passed out in the cemetery. I am inside what I am pretty sure was a bar. Two ladies, a pretty teen girl, and an old man saved my butt. They brought me to this place—wherever the heck it is—and have been pumping me full of water, rabbit stew, and some mashed vegetables that I can’t identify.
The thing is…they’re all deaf and dumb. I don’t speak sign language and only one of them knows how to read and write…the young girl. She’s kinda skittish. I imagine that the still angry-looking scars that make up most of the left side of her face—including the dark hole where her eyeball used to be—is a big part of that reason.
I tried to helpful after I recovered. I even went out yesterday and set some snares for rabbits, just like Eric showed me. I brought five in and after the one I ate, I wrote a thank you note that I will leave where the girl is sure to find it. Best I can tell, all I have to do is to head south following the road out of town. I’m pretty sure that I will eventually find a sign that will tell me where I am and eventually, how far it is to Vegas.
Saturday, August 28
Not a lot to see out here. There are mountains to either side of me so I seem to be walking in a perpetual shadow except for midday. The going is slower than normal because of all the rock slides and such that make it so that I am always climbing over things.
I’ve not seen a drop of rain in I don’t remember how long, however, I do hear thunder in the late afternoon and early evening. I’ve found one tiny creek since I left those people, and it didn’t smell right. I’m rationing myself with much too infrequent sips from my canteen. I’m down to one full and one empty.
Tuesday, August 31
Followed a sign that led me off the main highway. My best guess is that this was some sort of tourist stop or something. I’m inside of a wasted building. It does not have any windows remaining intact. Everything has the words “Quartz Mountain” stamped on it. I found a few of those big plastic containers that you swap out of an office water cooler. The seals were still intact, so I’ve been quite the little water piggy.
Also, now that my biggest problem of finding water is solved, it rained today. An awesome thunderstorm rolled through. I sat in the middle of the room and managed to remain dry. I am willing to bet that this place was some science geek’s dream vacation once upon a time.
Wednesday, September 1
Gabbs Airport. That’s where I am now. I’ve met five people who are headed the same way. The thing is, I’m not sure if I want to travel with them or not. There are three guys and two girls. I haven’t really tried to learn their names yet. They do have some interesting stories about Vegas. Since I haven’t had a radio in quite a while, I can’t confirm them.
According to these people, Vegas is online and accepting newcomers. Supposedly they broadcasted for two weeks straight after the “Battle for Vegas” was over. Now they start every hour with the message that peace has been restored to Vegas and every living soul willing to work. Anyone willing to put in for a full time job is welcome to apply for citizenship. Additionally, visitors are welcome. It seems that a day’s work is the new cur-rency. They have a variety of jobs that offer an exchange of credit for each day worked.
It’s not quite the vacation Mecca that it use to be. Still, according to these people, pretty much everything under the sun is available there: food, weapons, vehicles, you name it. One of the men said that there are
even organized caravans leaving for various destinations all over the states; from the central plains to Alaska. The East Coast is gaining a reputation as some sort of Chernobyl-type wasteland. If even half of what these people say is true, then I picked the right destination. From Vegas, I can choose a caravan to anyplace. I bet they hire on scouts for advance teams.
It’s hard not to be giddy. I’m sitting here waiting for the night’s broadcast like a kid waits for Christmas. This would at least confirm some of their story. They say that the broadcast starts shortly after dark.
I don’t think I realized just how excited I could be to reach my destination. I tried to take each day as it came, putting one foot in front of the other and hoping for a little progress. Maybe, somewhere in the back of my head, I didn’t really think I would make it. Then, there’s the whole thing about how there is a real doubt when it comes to my sanity. Would a sane person do what I have done? If I examine my actions too much, or really took a moment to think about what I am doing…
Thursday, September 2
WOW! Heard a lot of interesting things on the radio last night. Vegas sounds like it has a lot going on.
Right now, I have to get over what I saw in Gabbs. I guess it was some sort of mining town way back in the Old World. Now, it is the closest thing that I have seen to match up with how I always imagine the Old West to have been.
The town is actually two parts, connected by Brucite Road. They’ve done some serious fortifications to this place, and the two parts are individual entities with very different ideologies. They co-exist like siblings.
The northern part has a real cult feeling to it. They have giant crosses everywhere with zombies nailed and bound to them. The people all wear robes. The colors vary according to where the individual brother or sister is deemed to be in his or her “walk towards Godliness.” That was according to Brother Frank. There was a real Genesis Brotherhood feel to these people, but there didn’t seem to be any of that nasty subjugation of the women-folk.
When I asked about the crosses, I was told that they were once citizens, and now they are beacons. I was almost afraid to ask what that meant. Apparently, when Jesus makes his return, he will take up the dead first…or something like that. When the zombies stop squirming on the cross, I guess that will be the sign that Jesus has returned.
As for the southern part, it’s like a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie come to life. There are saloons and brothels and people with bad teeth. There is even a sheriff with a badge.
The group I was with wanted to stay for a few days. As for me, hearing that broadcast got me fired up all over again. I know I still have a long way to go, but I wanted to keep moving. It’s almost like I can see the finish line. I did accept an invitation to dinner from the mayor; I figured one day was okay.
Of course, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I keep expecting the family from Texas Chainsaw Massacre to pop out at any moment. I enjoyed my meal right up to the point when everybody was summoned to the fire house to “bear witness” to the hanging of a citizen accused of colony endangerment. It seems this guy led a small horde back to Gabbs when he was returning from a scavenger run. It seemed a bit harsh, but I’m just an outsider.
In the morning, I will head south once more. The owner of the Gabbs Saloon was kind enough to give me a gas station roadmap. There is a lot of empty territory between here and Vegas. I didn’t see much in the way of streams and such; that means another long, rough stretch.
I can’t stop now. I’ve come so far that I have to see this through. And the possibility that there are caravans radiating out from Vegas is exactly what I want. Who knows? Maybe I’ll make a name for myself as some sort of fearless caravan scout. I’ll have a special suite or home in Vegas, and people will line up on waiting lists to ride out on a caravan being escorted by Meredith Gainey.
Friday, September 3
It’s like being on the moon or something. I haven’t seen a sign of anything—living, dead, or undead—all day. And the terrain is so alien to anything I have ever experienced. That is a testimony as to how little I’ve travelled.
I had no idea that mining was such a big deal in Nevada. I’m always passing signs or remnants of signs for some mine or another. Tonight, I’m making one my camp. It sits just off of the highway; and I’ve found a ratty little trailer to rest my head. I’ve really noticed the temperature drop overnight these last few days.
I looked around and didn’t find anything useful at all. Sure, there are tools and such, but most of it is far too awkward to yield and too heavy to carry. I am running with the bare necessities and have come to the realization that anytime I’ve tried to get fancy—bikes, carts, and such—I just end up losing it and then spend the next two or three days missing it.
A fairly ominous storm is rolling in. I’m glad I found this trailer. Anybody sleeping out in the elements tonight is in for a miserable one. Already, the thunder and lightning are here and some pea-sized hail fell just about an hour or so ago.
Sunday, September 5
It’s strange how something so innocuous can completely change your luck and your day. According to the signs, I’m in Luning, Nevada. This place looks to have been empty since shortly after the onset of the zombie uprising. There are maybe a dozen bodies I have found so far going door-to-door.
My lucky day came in the form of a train at the south end of town. All of those pretty cars that never got to their destination are now just worthless lumps of dingy metal. It was in the caboose—I didn’t even know that they still existed—that I discovered plenty of water. That’s a good thing, because the town of Luning has been stripped of anything useful.
My guess is that the train arrived late in the collapse. The only challenge was the four zombies I had to deal with when I opened the door to the cab of the caboose. One particularly obese man was standing there with his face leaving greasy smears on the window to the left of the door. He might have been enough to scare most folks away. Also, the window appears to be bullet-proof. I guess that the folks who came through and stripped this town over the years decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle when their bullets didn’t damage the door. They probable figured that it wasn’t worth the risk when the town itself was so empty and easy to pillage.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that this town is empty. It even looks like people have picked through the cars on the train. Not just the automobiles being hauled—which couldn’t have yielded much of value I don’t think—but every single cargo bay is open on every car on the train. In the main locomotive, there is a long-since-dead body shot in the face with obvious zombie markings.
Anyways, I have water and I don’t care how heavy it is. I filled my canteens and found a suitcase with wheels that I rigged with a harness. I’ll play sled dog if means that I’ve got water.
My map tells me that the town of Mina is about eight miles away. I may be able to ditch my harness as early as tomorrow but quite frankly, I am sick of being thirsty. I won’t risk it.
Water is the new gold.
Monday, September 6
I’m in Mina, Nevada. There are some ruins and a cemetery before you enter town. The citizens obviously reacted in the same way as other communities when the dead started walking: they went crazy on their local cemetery. It is little more than a charred mess. They took it to an extreme. There are backhoes and all sorts of digging equipment around the fence. It looks like most of the graves were dug up and whatever was found was put to the torch.
I wonder how the zombie problem got all the way out here. I mean, did a trucker die while passing through? Or maybe a family on vacation? Or did they watch it on television until everybody stopped broadcasting, then just sat in scared uncertainty until a horde showed up weeks or months later? I’m curious as to whether some folks waited as long as they could, then broke under the strain and ran…only to fall into the hands of zombies miles away.
When I see some places as remote as this and the last town affected the way they ar
e, I try to picture someplace that might have remained unaffected, and I can’t. Over the past few years of the Old World we made everything so small. I remember all the flu bugs and viruses that would pop up. It seemed that if a duck sneezed in some remote village in China, folks in Mexico would start falling victim to a new illness ten days later.
Even in this nowhere town, the sign—what’s left of it—for the RV park, boasts of wireless internet. Seriously? And that might be why we fell so fast. We had our noses buried so deep in all our devices that we left out collective asses up in the air for the zombies to take a big bite out of.
I remember a camping trip I went on with some friends the summer before all of this happened. We chose the sight because it promised a tower that meant our iPhones and Blackberries would all still work. How did folks camp before that?
Thursday, September 9
Still in Mina.
I’ve gone through every single shop, building and residence in town. I hauled everything of value to the elementary school. I had to take out a few creepers, and in some of the residences I had to deal with a few of the formal locals that had been left behind or refused to leave.
I wasn’t going to stay, but then I saw the humongous herd of horses galloping across the grounds to the west of town. I’ve never seen so many horses in one place in my life. And all of that was interesting, but when I woke up after the first night and several deer were clomping down the main street, my mouth started to water. I’m not exactly proud, but I snuck around some buildings to put myself in position, and when the deer came past, I managed to nail a little one with my spear.