Stumptown Survival: The Complete Collection

by Noah Porter

  Stumptown Survival

  The Complete Collection

  By Noah Porter

  © 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  And above all – Enjoy!

  Table of Contents

  Volume One: Maryhill

  Volume Two: O.M.S.I.

  Volume Three: Hood River

  Volume Four: Columbus Road

  ~Volume One: Maryhill ~

  "I'm so glad we left our safe haven in the city for a more remote place. You know, where there wouldn’t be a lot of people or danger.” Mason’s sarcasm was not lost on the remainder of the survivors. Andrew put his face in his hands and quietly moaned. He already felt guilty for everything that had gone wrong, now he was ready to fall apart. They should have just stayed in Portland, instead of trekking up the Columbia Gorge to reach a situation that was every bit as dangerous as the city. He should have kept his big mouth shut.

  The group looked down at the area below them to see several hundred zombies roaming free on what would have otherwise been an inviting lawn. Standing on the eastern side of the building, the survivors surveyed their current situation. They stood half way down the sloping road, which carried on for about a quarter mile before reaching flatter terrain and turning west toward the Maryhill Museum. If they went straight down the hill instead of following the road, they would still have quite a run to reach the building. The bottom of the hill was populated by large evergreens followed by a stretch of lawn about half a mile long, overgrown shrubs taller than anyone in the party, part of the parking lot, and what looked like a concrete bridge ending at the entryway to the museum.

  The group could see some artwork and benches on the western side of the lawn that, with their current audience, took on an eerie and macabre existence. Clearly a wedding had been in progress here when humanity had been plunged into mindless flesh eating masses. The zombies were dressed to the nines, looking stunning in their attire, less stunning when you examined their faces or noticed the stains on their clothes.

  Quickly adjusting from criticizing their predicament to social commentary on the interrupted wedding below, Mason shrugged and said, "Well, I'd have to say this is a much better ‘happily ever after’ than the couple was likely to have."

  "Did you know them?" Phillip said from a crouched position.

  A look of incredulity spread across Mason’s face, "I wasn’t invited to the wedding, so what are the odds? Geesh, think before you open your mouth.” Several of the group grimaced or shook their heads, but everyone else held their tongues.

  Phillip turned slightly, taking care not to make any noise, “I don’t know. Maybe they knew you, then, of course, you wouldn’t be invited. If you didn’t know them, why would you be making such a snap decision about their happiness?”

  Mason looked down at the undead, “Just going by the odds and the couple."

  "That's awfully cynical," Lily said from beside Phillip.

  Arching his eyebrows, Mason responded "Really, that's your takeaway? We are living in a world where mothers literally eat their young, and you think that I’m being cynical?” Shaking his head, Mason began to explain his view with the patience and care of a teacher who thought the job beneath him. “Look at the bride and the groom, and tell me that it would have been a happy, storybook ending. You should be able to spot the bride pretty quickly.” In case anyone missed the figure lightly swaying in the still air, he pointed at a zombie in the middle of the outdoor art. It was the open area closest to them, and she was dressed in a long flowing gown. It had obviously been a brilliant white dress at one point, now it was covered in mud, blood, and other bodily fluids. She was a young and beautiful lady, if you ignored the half eaten arm and large chunk of her missing neck. Mason was right; she was the bride.

  “Now, let’s see who can spot the blushing bridegroom,” Mason was watching his companions instead of the wedding party. Only Claire noticed the shine in his eyes and couldn’t help but feel he was enjoying this as much as he did fighting the undead. He was a bit of an oddball, but after everything she had grown to respect him, even when he was condescending and obnoxious. All of them had, she was simply one of the few who would admit it. That didn’t mean she was going to participate in his games, and with all the appearance of disgust she moved away from the majority of the group and crouched near Paige.

  The group looked around at the hundreds of milling zombies, each searching for what they considered to be the ideal husband for this former jewel of a woman. Several minutes passed and still no one in the group had located a zombie who was clearly the other half of the celebration.

  Lily wiped a hand across her face, “I don’t see anyone. Maybe he was eaten.”

  Mason rolled his eyes, "I wouldn’t tell you to look for him if he had been.” With a look of annoyance, Mason bent down and started drawing in the dirt, “Seriously, guys, it shouldn't take this long. Here's a hint; once you spot her husband you will agree she was a trophy wife." It wasn’t long after that before someone else spotted him.

  His description had drawn her eyes to the crowded field below, a sense of morbid curiosity trumping Claire's desire to stay out of it. With a small intake of breath, she realized who Mason meant, “You mean that old guy at the bottom of the hill?” She pointed to one of the closest zombies.

  "Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me," Karen said from beside him. "I had thought that was her grandfather."

  Phillip squinted at the zombie, “No way that could be the groom. That guy was on death’s door before all this happened.”

  Without looking up, Mason waved his hand down the hill at the boards posted at the end of the drive. Posters of the “happy couple” were plastered all over the signs directing traffic to different parking areas. Pictures of the bride and groom also designated where their families were to park, and from where they were, large pictures of the groom showed Mason’s accusation to be right.

  A soft murmur of shock rippled through the group. Walking around the area closest to them was the man who was obviously 40 or 50 years older than the bride. Karen made gagging noises while Seth spoke up from a couple of rocks over, “I can’t believe this. I have such a hard time getting a date while that raisin was about to marry that hottie. Seriously, I can’t imagine that death did anything to change his ugly face. It’s just not fair.”

  “Money used to make up for looks,” Ben said to Seth’s left. “Don’t worry, if she were alive today, you would have a much better shot with her now than that old man,” and he gave Seth a friendly punch on the shoulder. Seth reached up to massage his arm. He may have been through a lot over the last few months, but he still wasn’t as strong as the rest of the guys. It would take a while to overcome his former techie lifestyle where the heaviest thing he lifted was usually a laptop.

  Looking up from the dirt where he had written something in Latin, Mason held out his arms, "Like I said, it’s a happier ending to the marriage than they would have gotten if the world had stayed the same. She would have been miserable and cheated on him, maybe even with good ol’ Seth there; he would h
ave discovered it and divorced her. Or his kids from the first marriage would have sued the gold digger once he died. She’d have gotten a minuscule fraction of the old man’s wealth, all of which would have gone to lawyers because she wasn’t smart enough to realize they were sucking that well dry. Being turned into mindless flesh eating creatures, well, at least no one can say either is making out much better than the other.”

  Mason paused for a moment, “Well, this is probably the same ending he’d get no matter what. Either way, he was a walking corpse, and, hey, he’s probably a little livelier now. He’s just a little less picky about what type of fresh meat he’s chasing."

  "That is really in poor taste, Mason," Lily said, but it was clear that the interrupted marriage was a revolting revelation for her, more so than anything Mason was saying. Lily had grown up having very little, despite how hard her parents worked. Although she would not confess it out loud, she derived a sense of justice from the deterioration of “civilization.” At least everyone was equal now. Even with all of their servants and fancy toys, the wealthy had been just as susceptible to the devastation, more so if you believed the news before all broadcasting went black.

  In response to her comment, Mason shrugged, “You don’t have to admit that you agree. That look on your face says it all.”

  "Enough. All of your judgment and social commentaries can wait until we are safe.” Kyle was not a patient person and the group had been too exposed for too long. “We need to focus on getting into the museum. I don't see any clear route to the building, so it looks like we are going to have to do a hack and slash to get past the corpses."

  "Kyle! God, please stop calling them that. Corpses don't walk. You freak me out every time you say that," Karen shivered in her spot, and not from the cold.

  Kyle turned to face her, placing his back against a rock, "The evidence would suggest that corpses do walk, but, fine, don’t believe your eyes. I can call them zombies if you prefer.”

  Several of the group vigorously shook their heads. Seth quickly said, “Zombies are like vampires, they’re not real. These are real.”

  Kyle smirked, “Fine, if you guys are still in denial, we'll have to hack and slash through the wedding party to reach our goal. Happy now?"

  The group turned their attention back to the horde milling around the grounds. The building was in sight and Kyle’s assessment was dead on; zombies roamed as far as the eye could see.

  "We've got fourteen survivors, and I would guess we are outnumbered at least 25 to 1. Probably more.” Strategies were Dylan’s strength, having served in the military for eight years.

  “According to Andrew, the front door has bars, so all we have to do is get past the, uh, wedding guests. We don’t have to eradicate them."

  "I think the lesson from our Hood River…experience, should be to clear them if we can," Mason interjected.

  "Yeah, if we can, we should. In Hood River we had more than twice as many people to take on about the same number of these things. As I said then, eradication should have been the priority. That is not true now. It would be way too easy to get flanked in our current state of exhaustion, and with our numbers dwindling we can’t afford to lose anyone else. Look at the roof,” Dylan nodded in the direction of the building, “Once we clear out the inside of the museum we can go up there and start taking them out from a safer distance. I agree that we need to clear them out, but we need to be smart about how we do it. Rushing into this mess half cocked would be an unnecessary waste of life."

  Most of the survivors nodded their approval. Mason shrugged and sat back to watch the few disjointed movements below them. Most of the zombies were still, which meant that they had not gotten a whiff of the interlopers.

  Paige had largely ignored the conversation in favor of studying the layout and condition of the mindless mass below them. As the conversation turned to more serious business, she spoke up.

  “The most direct route is through the art area, but it is also the most infested,” several of the members of the group shuddered. The more practical members of the group could sound so cold because they had quickly shed political correctness in favor of concise conversations and planning. “From here, it looks like we could take the road, bypassing the largest group of zombies…” several members gasped, and Karen interrupted.

  “Come on guys. Stop calling them all these awful names.”

  Dylan’s face clouded over and he quickly took control of the conversation before it got hijacked in the wrong direction. “Shut up, Karen. All of you, just shut up. Maybe you don’t like the term, but that is what they are; zombies, corpses, the undead. It doesn’t matter what we call them because they don’t really care. Get over it and be quiet so we can get to safety.”

  Karen stared daggers at him. Why had she ever agreed to a date with him? Sure, he was good looking, but if she hadn’t been on a date with him, she would have been somewhere else when all of this started. Probably somewhere safer, and she would be much happier now. Everyone else mumbled an apology, but she just huffed and turned her attention back to the lawn, too angry to listen any more.

  Paige resumed planning, “The route down the road appears to have fewer ... obstacles to get around.” Paige may not have been squeamish like other members of the group, but she did not want to give them one more thing to fight about right now. She would play along until they were safer. Then she would ream them out for being petty and stupid when they needed to focus. “Of course, those are the two ways in from this side. I’m going to check the other side to see if there is another way in from up here.”

  Dylan stood up, “I’m going with you.”

  The two returned up the road a ways before veering west to the other side of the building. The remaining members watched them leave, except Karen, who was fuming over what she perceived as Dylan’s romantic attachment to the strongest woman of the group. Obviously Dylan was finally giving in to Paige’s advances; that tramp had been trying ever since they met her at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry, or OMSI as it was widely known. Well, Paige was welcome to the bastard – ‘he’s all yours!’, she thought.

  For the most part, the group wasn’t sure what to do while they waited. Mason pulled out his dagger and started to clean his nails. Without his direction, the others weren’t sure what to say. For all of his condescending speeches and criticisms, Mason was rarely at a loss for words, and he served as a great distraction with his unique take on this horror of a world. The fact that he could so seamlessly mesh the old world and the new world was inexplicably refreshing, much like his commentary on the wedding. None of them had given a damn about what had been going on at Maryhill because they were too upset at finding yet another horde blocking their way. Then Mason had spoken up and given his opinion of the wedding. For a few minutes they had all been given a quick return to the world in which they had lived only a few months ago. It had been a short respite for the weary group.

  Finally Ben decided to fill in and spoke up, “So did anyone catch that game the other day? Crazy.”

  Karen glared at him. “Shut up, Ben, you aren’t funny.”

  “Sorry for trying to lighten the mood. You know you really need to get that chip off your shoulder before you get yourself or the rest of us killed.” Ben had just about had it with Karen’s lashing out whenever he tried to distract them from their predicament. It was as if she wanted everyone to be as miserable as she was; in this day and age that was all too easy. Childish. That was what she was being. He could see her painting herself into a very bloody corner if she kept this up. Ben wanted to be nice because, frankly, you needed the people who were left, but Karen made it so difficult sometimes, and he was too tired to try right now.

  Mason looked up from his nails, “Yeah, I’m a lot more concerned that your stupid emotions are going to compromise the rest of us. You suck. Dylan realized it; probably a lot faster than he would have if the world had kept it’s dead inert. Get over it.”

  Karen was about to respond
when Seth slipped a hand over her mouth. “Come on, Karen, they are just picking on you. Don’t let them get to you.” He looked up at the others, “Guys, not funny. We need to work as a team, this isn’t helping.”

  Well, if Dylan was going to find someone else, two could play that game. Karen put her hand on Seth’s knee, “You’re right, Seth. I’m sorry.”

  Seth gave her a look, but the suspicion left his face as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s ok. Try to shake it off. It isn’t the end of the world.” They both chuckled, “Ok, it is the end of the world, but not because of a guy.”

  “Oh, how touching. Look at our finest examples of Reality Deniers, getting all cozy. Doesn’t it make you nauseous?” The biggest problem with Mason was that he never knew when to let go.

  Vanessa walked over to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. Mason turned beet red. He had nothing to say to that. Vanessa shook out her long red locks and sat down next to Andrew. All she wanted to do was watch Dylan and Paige’s progress, but these blockheads never seemed to do well on their own. Now most of them would be shocked into silence since survival didn’t seem to be a good enough reason to keep quiet. She put her hand on Andrew’s shoulder. He had not taken his hands off his face since they had arrived and had begun to rock in place. Now he peeked at her through his fingers.