Jasper was happy about the time they had spent in the inn despite the delay. The group was stronger, well fed. He was worried about what would happen when the weather got colder, they were in the best time for harvest, food was plentiful, and even so they went hungry sometimes. Once snow fell they would need warmth, supplies, shelter. He kept those thoughts to himself, trying to put on a good show, to look like he was still okay.
He was increasingly worried about Robert as well. There were only so many paths to PEI, and who knew how fast Robert might be moving? There was no question the soldiers had better weaponry. Sure, they had a couple of hunting rifles, but Robert and his group had bows if they wanted to stay silent and assault rifles if they didn’t mind making noise.
One day Naomi heard horses. "Something coming. Get off the road," she said.
They got off the path and hid in the bushes, staying low to the ground. Jasper kept his eyes on the road, ready to stand up and let the riders know he was there, depending on who they were. Once he saw it was Robert he got even lower to the ground.
Robert looked awful. His face had developed scabs and sores. He was twitching and moving constantly. The rest of the soldiers and Mona looked about to collapse from strain, but Robert didn’t even look tired. Jasper huddled closer to the ground, waiting for the horse to pass by. As much as he wanted, ached, yearned, to kill Robert for what he did to Snow he owed it to the people with him and to the possibility that Taylor was still alive to keep going.
They stayed in place for about an hour after Robert passed, then Jasper said, "I don't want to chance running into them again. Their guns would make short work of us in the open, we need to make sure they don't get the chance."
Matt said, "Let's stick off-road. It's slow, but the horses can't do it, and if we stay a ways off the road we will probably spot them long before they spot us."
"I don't like the delay. It's getting colder, the longer we spend on the road the worse the weather will be. If anything is going to kill us, it's going to be the weather in this fucking province."
"Yeah, fair, but the brush is pretty thin right now. Not like this is rainforest or something, and getting shot seems like an even worse plan."
"Okay, I can admit when I'm wrong. Yeah, the woods it is."
If Jasper had been willing to look directly at what he was feeling, he would have realized that he had almost given up hope of reaching Taylor alive. He was going through the motions, but he didn’t have much left inside. He was still moving because he felt a sense of responsibility to the small group who had followed him back at Roberts’ camp. Most of the forward momentum was coming from Naomi at this point. Every time he was slow to get moving in the morning she was pushing him to get moving. Every time he wanted to stop for the night hours before they needed to she pushed them on.
The season wore on, and the weather got worse. Travel was a crawl, a constant drudgery. They were far from populated areas, and food was scarce on the coast. It was rocky, and the forests were sparse, wind-swept trees. They found berries occasionally, not much else. The only positive was that the lack of population meant they didn't run into many zombies.
One day they were pushing through high cliffs. There was a road that ran between the cliffs and the ocean, winding past crashing surf. The sun was high in the sky, sea birds calling out to each other. They were tired, and hadn’t seen anyone for weeks. Food was again low, this time desperately so, and they were incredibly hungry. They had rationed themselves with far, far less food than they needed. That was probably why they took the blind curve without really paying attention. On the other side of the curve was a cluster of more than twenty zombies. They were wandering aimlessly. All of them were dressed in suits or dresses, church clothing. The cluster started moving toward them, shuffling as fast as they were able.
The group backed up, then turned and started running. The zombies kept following though, too close to lose easily.
The road was in very poor repair. It probably hadn’t seen maintenance in a decade or two, and it was pitted all over the place. Jordan hit a pothole badly and went sprawling on the ground. Jasper turned, trying to get back to him, but the zombies were on him before Jasper could reach him. One of the creatures bit deep into Jordan's calf, blood spurting everywhere. Jasper turned back around and started running again.
Jordan’s death gave the group some space, an extra moments lead time, as the zombies stopped to eat him. The group was stuck on a narrow road, with zombies behind them and dozens of kilometres before the cliffs ended.
Matt spotted a break in the cliff face. Not exactly clear, but climbable. He started up, climbing quickly. "This way, hurry!"
The others followed. Jasper was the last one to start up the cliff, only a few feet up when the zombies came around the bend. Jasper sped up, climbing faster and faster. His hand slipped, as a shower of rock fell down on his head. He slipped down the cliff side, sliding towards the road below, and the waiting zombies. He managed to get his left hand around something solid and felt a strong pull in his shoulder as his arm held him in place. He kept a hold somehow, shoulder straining, almost separating, and found himself hanging by one arm, feet inches above the outstretched arms below him. The smell of the zombies wafted up to him, a mix of stale shit, urine, and fresh blood.
Jasper tried to find some purchase for his feet, and for his other hand. He didn’t have enough strength to hold for long. Even if he got both hands on it, it would only be a matter of minutes before his grip failed. He needed a foot hold. His feet were flailing through empty space, panic was setting in. Finally, he got his foot against something solid and he was able to take some of the strain off of his arm. It gave him enough time that he was able to calm down, to find another hand hold, another foothold. He started back up the cliff.
At the top Sasha was crying. "Oh god. Jordan," she said with a sob.
They allowed themselves a few minutes to grieve, then took stock of their situation. They were on top of a cliff, with no cover. Jordan had been carrying the travel pack when he went down, so they no longer had their tarps or sleeping bags, and the majority of their rations. The landscape they were on was rock. They could see some scrub brush far in the distance, but there was almost no shelter. It was late in the day, with night coming earlier these days. There was a strong chill in the air.
"Okay, so we're fucked," Jasper said, "We have nothing, and I don't have a clue how to deal with this landscape."
Naomi started picking up what little equipment they had left. "We'll get it. This shit ain't it. We ain't going out like this. Just get your lazy asses up and fucking walk. You think Jordan wants us dyin' here?"
They started walking along the cliff, heading for where the scrub brush started. They probably wouldn’t survive the night if they didn’t get some form of shelter. Food and water would have to wait.
There was a large rock jutting out of the landscape, with a small hollow at its base. The hollow was about six feet across and partially covered. It looked like their best bet. It was dry at the bottom, a small channel to take any rain out so they wouldn't drown in their sleep.
They shoved their bodies in as tightly as they could manage, relying on each other for warmth and shelter.
The night passed and they didn’t die. The temperature stayed above freezing, and they were wearing layers. Without mutual body heat they would not have made it to morning.
The next day they didn’t talk, just walked. Eventually they found a point where the rocks gave way to gentler terrain. There was a stream, just a small one running out of the rocks. They drank from it, not caring if it was safe by that point.
They were drained, the water gave them a tiny bit of life, but not enough. They were starving to death, and with so much of their gear gone, their numbers reduced, they were closer to the edge. Something in Jasper came together at that moment. His resolve, ever weakening since the day Snow was killed, came back. This wasn’t it for him. Whether Taylor was alive or not, he wasn’t going to d
ie.
They were starving. Sleep was a challenge, and water was scarce. Shelter was rare. They traveled all day every day, never pausing. They slept where they could, any tiny nook or cranny. Hollow logs, ditches, anything that provided even a wind break. Shelter was their most immediate priority, water a close second, but in the background was the knowledge that they were taking in less than two hundred calories a day. There was no way they could survive on that. Their gums were starting to bleed, and they all had joint pain. If they didn’t get some food soon they were dead. They were too weak to fight almost any threat, and near the end of their ability to forage. The weather had turned cold, every morning the ground had a layer of white over it, the dirt hard and crisp. It was too wet for easy fire, and Jasper’s hands were so cold they shook whenever he tried to carve out heartwood, he couldn't get anything to take a spark. The early days of the journey where the weather was a friend and days brought warmth were a distant memory. Nobody was even sure what month it was. Probably into November given the weather, but maybe late October. Jasper was sure that Taylor was dead, that his quest had been hopelessly naive. Didn’t matter though, he would grieve later, he owed Naomi, Matt, Candice, and Sasha.
One-day dawned grey, almost like it never dawned at all. The sky was cloudy and angry, rain drizzling down. It was a cold rain, the kind that saps strength and hope, leaving you feeling chilled to the bone. Naomi was shivering so badly she could barely put one foot in front of the other. She was stumbling, dizzy. Jasper noticed after a while, when she sat down on a rock and started to take off her jacket. He stopped her, and pulled her to her feet. He had enough training to know that she was in fairly severe hypothermia. She had always been the smallest of the group, and now she was severely undernourished as well. She didn’t have enough reserves on her small frame. If they didn’t find shelter, warmth, and food soon she wasn’t going to make it.
"Guys, I have to do a scout. Naomi is pretty much done, freezing to death. Huddle close to her, huddle together. I have to find someplace to keep us warm, don't let her freeze to death while I do it, okay? Good."
Over the next few hours he scouted far and wide, looking for something they could use. The woods were thick, but most of the leaves were gone. He spotted a trail eventually, it looked like it had been maintained until the zombies hit. There were still trail markers in the trees, bits of brightly coloured plastic, signs of the old world. Following the trail seemed like the best option, these places usually led somewhere, and that was better than what he had to work with. Near dusk he saw a building through the trees, a log shape, blending into the forest. It was better than he could have expected, a ranger waystation, the doors left unlocked for any traveler who came upon it. The waystation had a few minimal supplies, a veritable feast to the group. It also had a wood stove with dry wood, some blankets, comfy if minimal furniture. The trip back to the group was a nightmare, it was hard to see the marking he had made on the trees as he left, and it started to rain harder, a cold bone chilling rain mixed with sleet. By the time he reached them Naomi was unconscious.
"I found a cabin, it has food. Help me get Naomi up, let's go."
Matt grabbed Naomi's legs, swaying badly himself. He was in almost as bad shape as she was. Jasper lifted her under the shoulders, gasping with effort. How could someone so small feel so heavy?
They trudged through the woods, managing to keep their way. Naomi's breathing was shallow, her dark skin gone pale. Jasper kept hold of her shoulders the whole way. When Matt stumbled and dropped her Sasha took her legs, while Candice held Matt up.
Jasper made a fire as soon as he got in. The place warmed up rapidly, chasing the cold out of their bodies. After a few minutes Naomi started to stir. There was an old tin of carnation hot chocolate on the shelf, about half full. There were a pair of tin mugs and plates in addition to an old pot. They took turns with the mugs, Jasper gave Naomi and Matt the first round.
Jasper put together a simple meal, something to get some calories in them. They settled on Kraft Dinner with canned spam. In the old world Jasper wouldn't have touched that with a ten-foot pole, but at this point it might as well have been a seven course meal at a five-star restaurant.
Slowly their strength came back. They were woefully under dressed for the weather, of course. They had been on the road for too long, since summer, on foot almost the whole time. Properly equipped the walk should have taken two months or so, but they weren’t any of those things. It was getting so cold out, beyond what they could manage with what they had. This was a way station, so there wasn't much there beyond the food and furniture. A couple of ratty old blankets that weren't useful for travel, but at least they provided some cover while they were there.
One thing that was there was a paper map. Even better, whoever had left the map had left a mark on the cabin, so they even knew exactly where they were. They were in Amherst Shore Provincial Park, a small park with some camping. The New Brunswick border was only a day or two away, and the bridge just a week or two past that. Hell, the bridge itself was as long as the trip from where they were to the New Brunswick border.
They stayed put until the food was gone. They talked about carrying supplies with them, but in the end they needed the rest enough that it was worth the wait. Fire and hot food for a few days made a massive difference.
They headed out of the shelter. Now that they knew which direction to take they quickly found themselves outside of the forest, looking at some small roads and some houses. Not many, just a few. This wasn't a heavily populated area.
The map showed a few small communities nearby. They explored a bit, to see if they could find any better cold weather clothing, maybe some kind of portable shelter.
Soon they found a couple of farms. It was pretty consistent. Remote farms were the best bet for scavenging. Farmers would have stores of food most of the time, and sometimes they might have things ready for harvest, although that was getting rarer now, as the weather started to turn, most fields were full of vegetables rotting on the ground. The first farmhouse was modest, with multiple greenhouses behind it. There were large fields further back, all the crops rotted on the ground.
The group moved up to the house and tried the door. As was common in these parts the door wasn’t locked. There was nobody on the ground floor, but they heard the familiar sounds of zombies locked in rooms upstairs. They decided to scavenge what they could and ignore the zombies for now. They had been there for months most likely, and would stay put for at least long enough for the group to get what they needed and get out.
As usual they were able to scrounge a decent amount of stored food. In this farm the food tended towards homemade preserves. It was clear from the decor that the inhabitants preferred a hippie aesthetic. The place smelled strongly of patchouli. There was a lot of spoiled food in the fridge of course, and the bread was green with mold.
They searched the place, and found a few backpacks, obviously hippie gear. Also some cold weather clothing in an upstairs closet. It was a weird mishmash, and oddly there were three full sets that fit Naomi and nobody else. Even Candice was a bit too big for those outfits.
For the first time Naomi was wearing clothing that fit her, matched her body type, and looked good. In fact she looked great, like a trust fund kid gone slumming. Matt on the other hand was in a jacket that was two sizes too large at least.
They raided the next three farms. Nothing was as good as the hippie house, and they had to dispatch the owners of the next two places. Feeling more alive and capable than they had in a very long time they headed out.
By sticking to the road they were able to make it across to New Brunswick in a day and a half. There was a sign letting them know they had crossed the provincial border. It felt like a letdown. They had traveled so far, endured so much, and there was just a sign by the side of the road, no stations, no border, nothing. Of course the bridge to PEI was still a ways ahead, a week or two at least, and PEI was the real destination, but this was a milestone. They h
ad left the Nova Scotia peninsula.
Cowboys
Robert was moving fast. The horses made them so much more efficient. It wasn’t purely the speed boost, they also carried the gear, meaning the soldiers were much, much less tired.
They covered miles, occasionally running into a zombie, and once a living human. An old man who lived in a tar shack in the woods. They ignored him and he ignored them. He was so remote that they weren’t even sure he knew the zombie apocalypse had happened.
As the weeks passed the landscape turned. The green started to fade to brown and orange, the grass died, became straw. The weather was still nice, until it wasn’t. They got caught outside in a major storm, they couldn’t get the big tents set up because of the high wind. Every time they tried the tent fabric was pulled out of their hands. In the end they had to huddle together, horses around them, in the minimal cover provided by some trees.
The next morning the men were demoralized. Robert was frozen through, although the day did warm up quickly. Their clothes were soaked, and a couple of the men had developed coughs. A lesson in when they should stop.
Mona was quiet these days. She seemed tired. Robert was okay with that; he wasn’t looking for conversation from her. She didn’t have a whole lot to say at the best of times, and these weren’t the best of times. So long as she was willing to go along with what he was doing he didn’t really give a shit.
One of the soldiers, a guy named Steve, fell into a coughing fit two days after the storm, and ended up collapsing off his horse. Robert stopped the group. As much as he needed to catch up to Jasper and the other traitors he couldn’t have his men dying on horseback. They set up camp and started trying to treat the sick men. In another couple of days it was half of them. The first one died that night. They put a spike through his skull. After that they tied the sick up. Their numbers were too low, and he didn’t have medicine for them. Nothing to do but keep them dry and warm and hope.
A Long Walk Page 12