by Noah Porter
Each boat had private conversations going on, people talking about their pasts and uncertain futures. Conner’s boat was out in front, and they held no formation, nor did they make an attempt to stay close. Some teams were livelier than others. Ben was standing on the back of his with a paddleboard pole, singing some Italian and acting like he was rowing a gondola. Frank and Kimmy were falling further and further behind the group, their heads close together in conversation.
They took their chance on the river; after all it was probably the safest place in the city. Some zombies shambled along the shore, moaning and reaching for those lively beings. As soon as they got far enough into it, they were swept downstream with the current.
“Well, that can’t be terribly healthy for the environment,” Ben said after waving to another one as it reached the current.
Paige looked up at him, “Just like a siren. You lull them into a sense of happiness only to see kill them.”
Ben stroked his chin, “A siren huh. I like that.” And he started making up a song about his feats of daring, luring the dead masses to their final resting place.
When they finally arrived at the shore where they were to dock, they began collecting near the water’s edge. They were much quieter now. Paige took out several zombies unfortunate enough to walk in on their little party, but for the most part it was uneventful.
They were getting ready to land when Frank and Kimmy finally caught up. Kimmy looked at her lap while Frank spoke, “Thank you very much for everything, but we are going to keep to the water.”
Justin looked at them, “Why? You need medical attention and clean water. You can’t drink this stuff. We’ve no idea how contaminated it is.”
Kimmy looked up, “We can’t go to a hospital, and we have no idea if our bites are fatal. We can’t in good conscious stay with you guys and put you in danger. We have friends and family who live along the Columbia. We will make our way there and see what happens. Thanks to you, we have all of the supplies we need.”
Several of the others were about to argue when Dylan held out his hand, “We wish you the best of luck. Be careful out there.”
They nodded and both of them shook his hand. With that done, they continued their way along the water, looking peaceful and content.
“I hope they will be ok.” Karen said concern etched on her face. “It seems so wrong for them to go off alone, but I can understand they would rather be with friends and family now.”
A little more somber, the group made their way to the shore.
Several hours later, they reached the art museum. Their way had been pretty clear compared to what they were expecting, but as Kyle pointed out, it wasn’t exactly difficult to outrun the undead. As long as they weren’t collected, which was easy to do by staying quiet, stealth worked just as well in real life as it did in video games. The trouble came when they reached the museum. It had heavy doors that appeared to be locked and they were now standing on stairs, full exposed to anything within sight.
The creatures began to shamble to this freshly delivered food source. The survivors fanned out around the door and began taking down the creatures as they closed in.
“Did anyone try knocking?” Ben asked, driving his hatchet through the head of a zombie just beginning to climb the stairs.
“Be serious Ben,” Paige said, “What good would knocking do?”
“More pressing problems guys. What are we supposed to do now? This isn’t exactly the best real estate for surviving a zombie horde.” Kyle kicked one of creatures down the stairs, taking a couple down with it.
“Someone just knock on the door. Try all the options before giving up. It will be much easier to go in than to try to find somewhere else.” The tone in his voice told his friends he was serious, but still everyone seemed too preoccupied now to be able to do anything.
Dylan was out in front, hatchet in one hand, leg in the other, taking down two at a time. Why hadn’t he stopped by his car? He had a couple of guns in it. That’s what he should have been doing while Paige was getting her stuff. If only, if only.
Suddenly the museum door swung open behind them. A very tall man stepped forward with a dark haired woman. “All you had to do was knock.” She said, “Get inside.”
“I told you!” Ben shouted, “But would you listen to me. Oh no, I’m just being funny!”
“Great! You were right Ben. Now shut up and get inside,” Paige shouted form the other side.
She felt a hand grab her shoulder and pull her back. The next thing she knew, Paige was standing behind the big man. He held something in front of him. One second it looked like he was about to be swarmed, the next zombies were flying backward. Paige did not stick around to see anymore. She passed the dark-haired woman, who was stepping forward and guiding others into the museum. Paige turned at the door, just behind Ben who had stopped to watch. The dark-haired woman stepped forward, a gun in each hand, and undead began dropping like flies. Dylan was the last of the OMSI survivors to head to the doors. The tall man and dark-haired woman backed toward the door behind him, slamming the door as soon as everyone was inside.
“Ah, now that felt good,” the tall man had a huge grin on his face. “The names Andrew, and welcome to the art museum. Sorry, I don’t actually know it’s official name. It wasn’t a priority when I got here.”
The woman holstered her guns and extended her hand to Dylan, “And I’m Lily. It’s nice to see some more survivors.”
Dylan shook her hand and looked around. “Is it just you two?”
Andrew and Lily looked at each other and laughed. “Hell no,” she said, “Come on in and meet everyone else.”
They stepped inside and saw the museum was full of survivors. From wall to wall there were people in different states, some wounded, some disbelieving, others just making do. The OMSI survivors were shocked.
“How come there are so many people here?” Trish asked.
Kyle looked at her with a sly grin, “Well, it is an art museum. It is super secure.”
Trish barely heard his response. The OMSI survivors spread out and began looking around to see if they knew any one there. Conner immediately some people he knew and he took off, wrapping a couple of children in a huge hug. He twirled each of them around. Others were equally pleased at finding people they knew.
Dylan stayed with Andrew and Lily. “So you’re an Army man, huh Andrew.”
Andrew looked down at his uniform, now covered with blood and other bits of humans, “Yeah. I’m supposed to be deploying right now. My connecting flight was cancelled, and the next available flight was today.”
Dylan looked up at him, “That’s one hell of a layover.”
Andrew laughed, “Tell me about it. Strangest night of my life.”
Dylan laughed. “Personally, I would rather be here and now than being deployed for a fight overseas.”
Andrew looked at him, “I don’t know. I’ve been deployed a couple of times and it wasn’t so bad.”
Dylan shook his head, “Yeah me too, but I can’t say the same.”
“Really? What branch?” Andrew was definitely interested in hearing more.
“None of them now. I’m now an unemployed civilian looking for the quiet life. What about you Lily, are you in the military.”
Lily laughed, “Is the Sahara a rain forest?”
Andrew’s face was a huge grin, “No man, she lacks the military mindset. But she is one useful woman and I would want her on my team any day.”
“Really,” Dylan said. If they weren’t going to offer more information, he was not going to pursue it. Instead he shifted topics, “I can’t imagine that we will be able to stay here long. This is a log of people and supplies are not going to hold.”
Lily turned to look at him out of the side of her eyes, “Not true. We can scavenge from the surrounding building for months.”
“But do you really think that this many people will be able to live together peacefully in such a small space?”
; “Well, on that score you are probably right.” Lily was looking around as if judging the individuals and finding them wanting. “Personally, I would rather go.”
“Is everyone down here?” Dylan asked trying to determine just how many people had crowded into the building.
Andrew looked around, “I think it’s most people. The upper floors are a little.... uncomfortable for most people.”
“Why is that?” Dylan noticed the pair share a glance.
“Well, because they have art on them, like old art, like the kind you need to respect,” Andrew looked like he didn’t know how to bring up the real problem.
Lily looked at the ceiling, “I don’t think most of them have gotten over the shock of what has happened. They are still very tied to rules and laws that are a little broken about now.”
“And what are you not telling me,” Dylan preferred a more direct approach.
“Well, there is a guy....” Andrew started then stopped.
“One guy? They stay cramped down here because of one guy?”
Lily put up her hands, “Well, it’s not really him. They really aren’t comfortable around the paintings.”
“Or being able to see what is going on outside. You can see it much better from the other floors,” Andrew added.
“But... what?’ Dylan pressed.
“There’s a guy who seems to be a bit.... insane up there,” Andrew finally finished.
“Insane how?” Dylan started to make his way to the stairs.
Andrew and Lily followed. He might as well see for himself.
They reached the second floor and walked into the first exhibit area. As Dylan passed through the entryway, something flew passed his ear and stuck in the wall behind him. He turned his head to see a small dagger twitching where his head had been 30 second earlier.
“I hear we have new arrivals, and one has been so kind as to come upstairs.” A man was sitting on a bench facing the picture hanging in the dead center of the wall. “I can only assume that you come to see artwork, but before you get too carried away, let’s quickly review the 100 rules.”
With his back to them, the man held up one hand and extended a finger, “You will not harm, handle, or in any other way hinder anyone else’s enjoyment of the art. The remaining 99 rules refer you to rule one.” And he punched his index finger into the air to emphasis the rule.
Dylan looked at Andrew and Lily. That kind of crazy. It was a new personal experience.
“Actually, he’s come to meet you,” Lily said standing with her hands folded across her chest.
“I can’t imagine why,” he responded and seemed to lose interest.
Dylan walked up to the figure and extended a hand. “I’m Dylan.”
The man stood up and walked to the stairs, “And I’m bored.” He headed up the stairs.
Dylan stared after the man.
“He was here when I got here,” Lily said, “And I had to break in to get inside. I have no idea how long he’s been floating around in here.”
“It does explain why people tend to stay downstairs. I wouldn’t want him throwing daggers at my children either,” Dylan said.
“Oh, you have kids?” Andrew asked.
“No, but that’s the kind of guy I would keep them away from if I did. I don’t think it’s safe for any sane person to be near him.”
“He’s not worse than what’s outside,” Lily replied. The guys both shrugged and wondered if that were true.
“Does he have a name?” Dylan asked.
Andrew and Lily held up their hands and shrugged.
Dylan looked at the stairs, “Even if we didn’t have him, I’m don’t know how long I will be able to stay in a place like this. It’s a lot of people and it’s going to get really uncomfortable, really fast. I’m going to start researching places we can go while we still have working technology.”
“Actually,” Andrew said, “I know a place.” His gaze shifted to the distance, a plan forming in his mind. Yes, this was the answer. It had to be the answer…
~ Volume Three – Hood River ~
"And we," Lily turned her right hand, "are" there was a click, "in. Welcome to Thanksgiving at the brewery," she whispered with relish. She opened the door to a craft brewery that was well known in the area and, indeed, throughout the nation.
"Hold on Lily. We have to make sure it is clear." Dylan pressed passed her, tense and ready to attack. His posture was in direct opposition to Lily's inviting proclamation. Several of the others began to protest the extra caution but they quickly swallowed their words as Mason stepped through them, following Dylan's lead, his dark bag slung across his body. The others were a little less eager to go in after him with such bravado. Lily looked at them and chuckled as she proceeded inside. Those closest to the door heard her mutter, “Cowards” under her breath as she disappeared into the darkened building.
Gordon muttered, “Can someone explain to me why that guy is with us?”
There was a general nodding of heads and whispered responses of agreement. His silent, long-ranged weapon had proven to be very useful, but it was generally believed that Mason’s personality made him more of a liability than an asset. During their travels up I-84 to reach Mary Hill Museum, Ruth had even whispered that they should kill Mason and keep his cross bow.
After all, his presence was demoralizing. The guy was constantly spouting insults and making harsh critical remarks to everyone in the group, and most of them still did not understand why he had even left the art museum with them, since he had clearly loved it there. They had been on the road for over a week before he had even given them a name to call him by, and the more astute ones weren’t even sure it was his real name. One or two commented on the throwing knives he had as well. Mason was clearly a dead shot with either, but the consensus, by the end of the whispers, was that anyone could use them. Shortly after they left the museum, however, Ruth was attacked in the woods. For some reason she had wondered off alone that morning. Mason sat by the river, cleaning what looked like blood from his leg, then quietly sat down on a rock and began cleaning his crossbow. As the echoes of Ruth’s screams died, several members of the survivors noticed him turn his head to the side, smirking at the few who watched him. His black bag cast an odd shadow on the ground, like a grim reaper’s scythe. Not a word had been said about his removal since.
Standing on the streets of Hood River, a small town east of Portland, the group was hesitant to follow Mason anywhere. There were only a few members who seemed able to stomach his presence, and almost half of them had just gone through into the building. They stood on the streets waiting to hear word from inside that it was clear to enter. A few began to talk in normal voices - the first mistake of the evening. The town seemed so cozy and inviting, they had begun to get very comfortable with their surroundings. A low moan coming from down the street turned several heads, reminding them why caution and vigilance were still essential. Stan drew his pistol and shot at an advancing zombie. Within seconds Kyle had Stan’s arm twisted behind his back and Paige had his gun.
"Are you stoned?" Kyle's voice was near Stan's ear, "Because your desire to survive seems really impaired."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stan was upset and his voice spread over the parking lot, "Paige, give me my gun!" He was trying to get out of Kyle’s grasp, which resulted in sharp pain as Kyle pushed up on his arm.
Stan yelped, "You son of a bitch! You used to be all right, a bit of a pain, but manageable. But every day you are a little bit more like that asshole," Stan nodded toward the building to indicate Mason.
"And every day I understand his abject loathing of you a little bit more." Kyle added a little more pressure on Stan's arm. "This isn't the wild west, boy. We don't shoot first."
Several of Stan's friends stepped forward ready to take on the pair, but before they could do anything, Ben had come between them and Stan.
“Now, now, Stan has to fight his own fights. This is no time for us to get involved.” Nick
was about to lash out at Ben, when Seth placed his had on Nick’s shoulder. Nick looked up and his arms dropped to his sides. Seth was a very gregarious guy with sandy brown hair and the physique of someone who worked out long before it was a necessity. Only Andrew was taller than him. If Seth was involved in any scraps, you certainly wanted to be on his side. As Seth stopped one side of the fight, Andrew strode over to Kyle, Paige, and Stan.
“Guys, we have a more serious problem,” he gestured to the streets around them. The little town of Hood River was quaint, which meant the streets were narrow and the buildings close together. They were standing at the bottom of one of the foothills of Mount Hood. A parking lot was just on the other side of the street, giving them a clear view of the rest of the downtown area. Zombies were coming out of nearly every alley as far as they could see, just one or two for each alley, but enough to make the crowd realize the foolishness of firing a gun, and the severity of what was happening. “What do you say we take this inside?”