Chill Factor: Ice Station Zombie 2

by JE Gurley

  The whole conversation with my parents was ridiculously frustrating. I kept hearing, "you know we love you but..." before every single sentence. Speaking to them was like speaking to a brick wall. They kept accusing me of planning to steal their grandchildren from them. I would never do that in a million years. I am trying to protect their grandchildren. I want them to come with us more than anything. I love my parents, but I inherited my stubbornness from somewhere, and it is completely their fault that I am the way I am.

  When I came home, I called my sister. She refuses to join us as well. I fear for her and her two small daughters, but there is nothing I can do about it.

  I can hear David on the phone with his family. It sounds like they’re being just as stubborn as mine. I don’t think they’ll come either. This is going to be very difficult for us all.

  October 18, 2012

  An was over today to help finish packing boxes. We have tons of books on hydroponics, cooking, survival, first aid, and hunting. I also picked up three sheds from the local hardware store. They’re flat packed in their boxes. We’re going to lash them to our cars’ roofs to bring them with us and assemble them there. I also have packed as many photo albums and mementos as possible. There are some things that are irreplaceable. My memories are some of those things. An laughed at me for adding my jewelry boxes to the piles of “necessities.” I told her that I wanted to feel as human as possible when we were up north. Also, from a practical standpoint, when all this is over, some of the pieces could be used for bartering.

  We loaded the cars up in the driveway with all our supplies, the extra canisters of gas, our clothes, the first aid kits, and our weapons in easily accessible places. I would be driving with the children, with An and David in the SUV with the dog. I don’t know how or where we’re going to stop along the way. The trip in normal conditions would take days. As it is, the reports of attacks are occurring with increasing frequency and ferocity. I worry a lot about what we might be facing on the road. I know I will certainly breathe easier when we get where we’re going.

  I called my best friend, Marilyn, to tell her what’s happening. David and I agreed that we could not leave our friends and family to fend for themselves. If we can take people with us, we will. Our homes can sleep up to eight people. Including the babies, there are six of us at the moment. Marilyn declined the invitation. She felt she would never be able to survive in the frozen tundra. She’s going to take her chances at home. I wish her luck. We have a satellite phone with us. I don’t know how it will work, but I gave the number to her. My brother has it as well. We will be in touch for as long as possible.

  Our next-door neighbour was watching us pack up the car. She seemed to be looking at us in approval. I saw that her car was also piled high with boxes. I wonder where she’s headed. It would be mildly amusing if we ended up neighbours in the tundra.

  October 20, 2012

  I got a phone call today from my friend Olivia. We have been doing community theatre productions together for years. Turns out, she has been hoarding supplies in her car and is looking for a place to go. She has a PhD in psychology, and is certified in CPR and first aid. I feel she will be a useful person to have around. She tried to sell herself as a valuable member of our little group, by also saying she’ll bring a karaoke machine and board games. I think An may have a nervous breakdown over that little development. I invited her along. She also has an illegal handgun and ammunition to add to our stock. This is good. She’s coming by tomorrow. I think that tomorrow is also the day we depart. The thought gives me a twinge of sadness. This is my home. I know that leaving is for the best, but it will still be hard.

  In other news, the gorals arrived today. There was an uneasy alliance formed in the backyard between them and Sebastian. We have a small animal trailer that we hooked up to the SUV. Inside is enough food for them to last our trip, (hopefully). At the moment, they seem content to chew their way through our lawn in the backyard. Samantha seems delighted in her new pets. She has named the male goral, Boba, and the female, Doogoo. This strikes me as amusing, considering that’s also her word for yoghurt. Tomorrow, we put them in their trailer, and it’s away we go!

  An

  Got my shit together. I’m going for one printer box, one suitcase, a backpack and a couple of tote bags. Books are already at Ali’s. I put my work purse away today. I’m not going to need it. It’s shiny, candy apple red, and screams I’M A FUCKING PROFESSIONAL but that’s not what’s going to help me survive and kill zombies. So I put it in its bag (why the fuck does the bag come with its own bag?) and stashed it in the closet. I pulled what’s left of all my books off the shelves and stacked them in the middle of the living room on a tarp, and then covered the pile with a sheet and weighed that down at the ends with some bowls. If I’m coming back, I want my books to have survived. Priorities? Sometimes the little shit gets you through.

  I folded to the correct crease and size, my bedding and clothes (retail fashion will never leave me!) and packed them in the printer box. My big fur blanket, the little fur blanket, the duvet, some sheets, that kind of stuff I’m going to need up north. Oh fuck, I’m so happy Ali and David can drive because I would be so screwed in the city. Anyways, I took all my undies, socks and pyjamas, with most of the casual-y sort of clothes I had (like jeans and exercise type stuff) but I left my professional clothes here. I won’t need them. Who needs little black dresses and suits up north? Okay, okay, I admit I brought ONE dress with me, my favourite. Maybe I can cannibalize it for fabric or something later, but just ONE. That goes for that corset too. Damn, I JUST bought it and haven’t even had a chance to wear it yet! Focus, focus, zombies are rising...

  Ahh, my books. I had to cull the best from the pile to come with me. Just a few... The ones I can’t bear to leave behind. I’m also getting a bunch of smutty celebrity magazines and Archie comics to bring with us. The levity will be needed, I think. I also downloaded like a million movies and TV shows onto this ultra huge hard drive. Well, three hard drives. We can imagine ourselves to be Buffy to our heart’s content. Is it wrong I’m sad I won’t get to see Iron Man 3? Because I am. Yeah, yeah, priorities...

  Crypto’s stuff is harder. I mean, I don’t know how much food I should bring with me for her. Toys are easy, though she is a brand whore. So I think if I fill my booze tub with food, that should last her a while... I think I estimated one bag lasts her about two months, and the booze tub should fit six bags. So, that’s like almost a year with a full bowl of food. If I only give her a half bowl, then it stretches it out. I would say I think too much on this, but hey, zombies weren’t munching on people’s faces a couple of months ago. And of course many treat bags should stretch her food. And some cans of wet food. But I’m supplementing her food with mine, probably anyways. Crazy cat lady forever!

  I don’t know when we’re coming back. Or if ever. But if we do, I want my stuff to be as I left it, albeit maybe dustier. I covered all the furniture with cheap sheets weighed down with bowls and plates like my books. And when I leave, I’m going to rig it so I know if someone’s been here. I tied a string to a drawer and put it at my front door. When I leave, I’m going to pull the string so that the drawer hits the door. So if someone comes in, they’ll have to push the drawer out of the way. Pathetic security measure? Yes, but what else do I have?

  October 21, 2012

  Olivia arrived in the morning with her car full of supplies. We ended up adding some of our own possessions to it. I realized at the last minute that we would need plates, mugs, and cutlery so that we would not have to eat out of a pot with our hands. I honestly don’t know how I left that out. We hurried to grab it all and piled it into her back seat. An also showed up with a last minute surprise. Turns out, she “forgot” to tell us she was bringing along her cat, Cryptosporidium. There was a moment of unease as Sebastian and Crypto got acquainted, but all was well as the dog decided the cat was an okay addition to our group. If anything, the cat will keep rodents away from our campsite
. We got everything together, and David and I did a last walk through together. We slowly walked from room to room and surveyed our home. I had swept every room clean the night before, not wanting to leave a dirty house. I know that seems silly in retrospect, but if anyone should bunk down in our house, I don’t want them to think I was a slob. As we walked through the house, my fingers itched to grab everything: our souvenirs from our honeymoon, my collection of Swarovski figurines, and our children’s art from the walls of their nursery. So many years of memories were in every room. David held me a moment and told me that we would be back. I don’t think I believe him. I grabbed our mezuzah that we bought on our honeymoon. We never put it up, thinking it was too delicate to put up. I think we need something like that up north.

  We left and I locked the front door behind us. I even turned on the alarm. Force of habit, I suppose. I don’t know why I bothered. I looked in the back seat of the van to see Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha, all sitting quietly in their car seats, clutching their blankets, and their small terrycloth rabbits. They seem so unaware of how majorly their lives are changing at this point. An and Olivia helped me lure Boba and Doogoo into their trailer. It was easier than I expected it would be. David finished securing our luggage and supplies. We were off. We drove for hours today. At this point, I’m not even sure where we are. We took a couple of breaks along the route to eat, stretch our legs, and go to the bathroom. We saw a couple of zombies, shambling along the road, but since they did not bother us, we saw no need to engage them or waste ammo. Today was the first time I actually saw one up close. Those vacant eyes, the smell of death hovering around them. I think I even pitied the creature. I wonder who they were when they were alive. I wonder how afraid they were when they realized what their fate would be. I think, no, I know I would prefer to be put down permanently, rather than spend time shambling around in that state.

  An

  Shit, well, I thought it was obvious Crypto was coming with me. I mean, everyone knows I’m a crazy cat lady and Crypto has very special needs. I thought it was common sense! I’m not going to just fucking leave her here. She wouldn’t last 5 seconds outside by herself on a normal day, not even thinking about a zombie filled day! She and the dog will just have to... Umm... I don’t know, try to ignore each other, because Crypto will refuse to get along with a dog and her memory span is about 10 seconds long, so each time they meet, to her, it’s like the first time she’s ever met a dog.

  And jewelry? Geez, Ali. Yeah, yeah, MAYBE it can be traded later, but people are going to want more practical things. Like cigarettes. Which is why, despite being an avid non-smoker, I brought a carton of smokes. I figure that’s going to be like GOLD was in prezombie society. Smokers are going to be going nuts for their fix and each cigarette is going to be going like the last steak from the last cow on earth at an auction.

  October 22, 2012

  I don’t know where to begin. We drove for hours covering so much ground, but even from yesterday, it’s getting more difficult. We’re seeing cars abandoned by the side of the road. Many of them still have their passengers or parts of them anyway, still inside. I desperately want to stop my children from looking out the windows and seeing all of this, but I fear it will get worse before it gets better.

  We’ve passed several farm houses, with the windows smashed in, some of them look partly burned down. I’ve tried listening to the radio, and it sounds as if the police and other emergency services are focused on protecting the cities. These poor people on the outskirts have been left to their own devices. Looks like those devices were largely inefficient.

  We stopped by what looked like an old abandoned farmhouse for a quick bite, and to walk around a bit. We all stayed close to the cars. I tied Sebastian’s leash to the leg of a picnic table we were using for lunch, and put a bit of food and water into his bowl. Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha were eating jam sandwiches. Everyone was talking together, coming up with plans for where we would stop for the night. We were all getting tired of sleeping in our cars. An has no license, so she’s been keeping watch during the night, and sleeping during the day, while David drives.

  As all this was happening, I heard a noise coming from a small grove of trees a few feet off. I remember my hand going for my machete, and I pulled away from the table to place myself between the children, and whatever was approaching. A zombie came into view and lurched towards us. Without even thinking, I ran forward and plunged my blade through its eye socket. It fell to the ground as I pulled the machete free. I stood in shock as I looked at what I had done. This was my first kill. I heard everyone behind me rush to get everything and everyone back into the cars. Where there was one, there may be more. I just stood and stared, looking at the ruined hole in the zombie’s face where its eye had been. I remember crouching over and vomiting, feeling sickened by what had happened. The children had seen that! This is what I was trying to prevent from happening to them. I didn’t hear them cry out. I hadn’t heard them scream. I wiped my mouth and grabbed some paper towels from our picnic site to wipe off my blade. I’m not a warrior, nor am I a hunter, yet I just killed a zombie without even thinking twice about it. I did what I had to do.

  Now, as we’re parked for the night, I’m still shaking. I don’t ever want to do that again, yet I know it’s inevitable. As we go on, things may very well get worse before they get better. The children are asleep, peacefully in the back. I hugged them and kissed them goodnight, read them Goodnight Moon, and sang them a lullaby as if nothing had happened. David thanked me for my quick thinking and hugged me tightly. I’m just glad there weren’t more of them.

  An

  I remember when I killed my first zombie. It was my neighbour. She was a very sweet and ancient, French lady. It was the morning we left. I opened my door and I saw her. She was standing in front of her door, kinda banging her head against it and making a weird gurgling noise. She caught wind/sight/noise (I wasn’t being that quiet) of me and turned around with this moan. The first one I ever heard. It’s all old hat now, but not then.

  I saw her eyes, they were gray and hazy and a bandage was falling off of her face, showing this gross ripped part of her cheek. She reached for me and I grabbed a crowbar I had by my door and beaned her in the head. There wasn’t much blood. Well. I don’t think it was blood. It was this black/brown chunky gunk. I dragged her back into her apartment and locked her door behind me when I left. There were some renovations happening on the floor, and the guys had left some buckets of paint in the hall. I grabbed one, splashed it on the floor stain from her brains and just walked away. Was I freaked out? Somewhat. But that shit just happens so quickly, you just react. You don’t even think. And I was more worried someone would find her body and get the cops to arrest me before I left. Spending the zombie apocalypse stuck in a city remand centre... Yeah, that’s such a recipe for survival.

  Driving up, Olivia and I joked that we should get some spray paint and put ‘YELLOW POWER’ on her car. I think it would be great.

  October 25, 2012

  I just haven’t had the energy to write the past few days. When I thought about being on the run, I never thought about how far or how fast we’d ever have to run. We need to cross into Manitoba before we make it to Nunavut, and we aren’t quite there yet. Then, we abandon roads all together to find our way to an abandoned piece of land in the literal middle of nowhere. I now find myself facing this possibly irrational fear that someone may have found our place and commandeered it as his or her own. At this point, I will gladly fight and maybe even kill them off before I let anyone else take over what I made for my family.

  It seems we cannot stop to rest anymore. Every town we pass through is overrun. I look back at my past entry and almost laugh at how naive I sound. So what? I killed one zombie in front of my children. By now, they have seen zombies eating the remains of people. I have maimed, killed, and decapitated many more. I watched David grab a piece of rebar after dropping his machete and put it through a zombie's gaping maw. Olivi
a is glorying in slicing limbs off everywhere she goes. They just fall and lie on the ground like discarded pieces of litter.

  We have not stopped to rest since that ill-fated picnic. The days are definitely getting colder the farther we go. The roads are getting jammed with overturned vehicles, and stalled cars. We have passed many more burned out shells of houses and stores. I look at this and wonder what will be left to rebuild when this is over? What if it is never over?

  The other day, we passed through a small town. The entire main street was packed with the undead. We sat in our vehicles and stared for the longest time, listening to their incessant gasping and moaning. It was as if our minds could not comprehend what we were looking at. Finally, David started his engine again and An rolled down her windows. He floored it while she ruthlessly started picking off enough zombies to form a drivable path. I sat and watched a moment just seeing skulls exploding as she hit them with her bullets. It didn’t even bother me, the sight of all that gore.

  Today was a different story. I saw a zombie that filled me with such pain. She could not have been more than four years old when she was turned. She had on a dress much like one Samantha owned. Her hair was in pigtails, she had little Mary Janes on her feet. I looked at An and she nodded, putting a bullet between her eyes. I know it was a waste of ammo, I just felt she needed a better end. We have stopped moving for now, and I should rest, I just felt the need to put words to paper. Maybe this is my therapy. I do feel better writing about what I’ve seen. Benjamin now has nightmares and wakes the others. I hope his screams don’t attract any of them to our position. I worry about the effect all of this is having on them. As the weather is getting colder, I have taken to wearing several layers of clothes, and the kids are sleeping in their snowsuits. It’s not the most comfortable situation, but we can’t waste gas by having the cars idle all night, nor can we take the risk of trying to sleep in the abandoned motels and homes we have passed. Nothing looks in the least bit defensible. At least we can put the cars in gear and just take off if danger comes calling. I can’t wait until we get to our destination, and I can attempt to build some semblance of a home. I am so weary of living like this.