Of course, in keeping with the military’s policy of not storing things together that need to be together to work, there were no blasting caps or detonators.
It took me twenty minutes to rig four improvised blasting caps from some 45-70 casings and the remaining explosive compounds and cannon fuse I had. I had never worked with plastic explosives before, so I had no idea how much to use for the job.
I figured all of it would do, and if it wasn’t enough, we’d figure out something else. We molded the explosive into two ammo cans and rigged the blasting caps in two places on each (just to be sure).
We used a pickaxe to dig out an area at the base of the wall and then packed the explosive charge down with sand bags we found buried (we thought they were dead bodies until we dug them out of the snow), pulled our vehicles down the road a half-mile and then set the fuses (ten minute’s worth).
We just made it back when the ground rumbled and shook. A loud crack echoed across the mountainside. A forceful wind rushed down the hill at us and blew snow out of the trees. Debris rained down, landing only fifty yards away from us. After a minute, it all subsided.
We drove back up the road cautiously. As we got closer, we could see a haze of smoke drifting in the air. We stopped twenty yards from where the wall was. Just for the record, fifteen pounds of C-4 is way more than enough to blow down a concrete barricade.
We got out of there as fast as possible as we were sure that we had been loud enough to announce our presence to the whole state of Oregon. We found the place we’re at now, just north of Ashland. It used to be a gift shop. It sits at the top of a hill just off the highway. It has a clear view of the surrounding area and is pretty remote.
Albert and I found the proprietors of the shop (an older couple) long dead and in their bed in the back bedroom. Over the past few months, I have experienced this situation more times than I care to. I guess they must have taken something because they looked like they just went to sleep and never woke up. They had been dead for months. Fortunately, the cold had kept the smell down.
We wrapped up their remains and carried them out back, tossing them in the snow. I know we should have given them a proper burial, but I was too exhausted to dig around in the frozen earth. Besides, we were all cold and miserable and just wanted somewhere to stay for the night.
Apparently, the couple must have had grandchildren, because there was a bedroom with nothing but children’s toys and games. Grace is still feeling pretty crappy, but not bad enough to leave the toys alone. She and Cody are having a field day. Cody discovered a stack of comic books and spent over an hour explaining all of the superhero intricacies of the Marvel Universe to Grace.
Alison and I finally got some time alone tonight and just laid down together talking.
“If we were an older couple together, do you think we would have taken our lives rather than face this world?” she asked.
I didn’t have an answer for her, but thought of how fortunate we were to have our health and youth. When I was talking with Marion once, she estimated that while hundreds of millions were probably infected during the initial outbreak, and millions more suffered attacks and other atrocities, still millions more probably died because they were old, or crippled, or just couldn’t care for themselves.
That would be my case one day. This world had become really efficient at thinning the human herd and it was only a matter of time before a moment of weakness would mean the end of my life.
I don’t know how long I’ll be around, but I do know that as shitty as this world is, I am going to fight to keep living in it.
DAY 96
Grace is still feeling under the weather today so we decided to stay here until she gets better.
This place seems relatively safe and we have not seen any undead. I know I should be content, but I am anxious to get up north. We are so close to our destination it is hard not to just go.
I thought of driving up there alone and coming back for everybody once I find my parents, but if something happened to my companions while I was gone, I would never forgive myself.
We found some canned peaches in the cupboard this morning and split them up. There is not much in the way of supplies here, which is concerning. Jim and I talked about scouting the nearby houses but decided against it. Nobody knows we’re here and we shouldn’t push our luck. While this place is remote and commands a good view of the area, it is not very defensible.
It is strange not to have anything to do but relax. I miss NFL football.
A little while ago, we heard vehicles down on the highway.
It sounded like Semi trucks and motorcycles. They were headed south. We listened for an hour after they passed, but didn’t hear anything else. Albert monitored the CB frequencies but there was no radio traffic.
While part of me wants to make contact with them, the other part (the very miniscule intelligent part of me) remembers Wayne the biker and Karl Jackson. Who those travelers are is a mystery I don’t care to solve.
If Grace is feeling better tomorrow, we will try to make it to Eugene. I am not allowing myself to think too much about my father. He’s more competent than I am, so I know he is fine. It’s going to be amazing to be home again after all that’s happened.
I remember when the plague first broke out, my father told me to come up and stay with him. I think about how different my life would be if I had listened to him.
Tonight I am taking the first guard shift for once. I want to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.
DAY 97
I killed an uninfected man with my bare hands today.
I then proceeded to shoot and kill four more uninfected. I have washed my hands raw, but I can still feel that asshole’s blood on them. I don’t know how to organize my thoughts. I’m not feeling very articulate. I am torn between anger and anguish and I don’t know how to deal with it right now.
I want the people who created this plague to burn in hell. Then again, the human race deserves what happened… This isn’t helping…
DAY 98
After rereading my last entry, I am tempted to tear it out.
It reads like a madman’s ranting. In my defense though, after what I had to deal with, I’m surprised I’m still relatively sane.
We left the gift shop yesterday morning at around 6 a.m. The drive up to Eugene was fairly uneventful. We had the usual blocked highway / abandoned car issues to deal with, and a few undead tackling our vehicle, but made it into the outskirts of town a little after 1 p.m. I think I had been secretly hoping that Eugene had somehow survived the plague.
I felt depression set in as we drove into the city itself. Autzen football Stadium was burned to the ground; its concrete structure, jagged and crumbling, the only evidence of its existence. From what we saw, Eugene has been overrun with undead. I started to panic when I saw that the banks of the Willamette River (that runs through the middle of the town) were flooded.
My dad’s house was near the river. I drove pretty recklessly until I reached my parent’s street. Most of the houses on their block were either burned down or in shambles. The river had flooded the street at some point and receded.
My dad’s house, the house I grew up in, lay in ruins, abandoned. I barely remember what I did when I saw it. At one point, I remember standing on the collapsed debris that used to be a roof and Alison shaking me, telling me there was nothing here and that we needed to go.
I think I told her and the rest of the group to just leave. I obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. I am thankful that nobody listened to me. They just waited patiently for me while I freaked out. I watched numbly as Chloe scrambled over the wreckage, sniffing around and digging at the rubble. Albert tried to convince me to get back in the SUV, then Jim, and even Marion. I wouldn’t listen to any of them.
When I pictured my parents somewhere under all the wreckage I lost it, and started sobbing uncontrollably. I threw something at Chloe to get her to stop rooting around, suddenly afraid of what she might dig up.
I was sitting on the remains of the chimney and had been staring at something for a while when I slowly realized what it was. Nailed to an upright beam was a piece of paper with a cartoon on it. Somebody had sealed it in a zip-lock bag to protect it and nailed it in plain sight.
I recognized it. It is a drawing of a man standing in profile with a giant screw stuck through his chest and out his back. The caption reads: “Be kind and good natured, you’ll always get your reward.”
The cartoon used to be stuck on the water heater in the basement. I idly wondered what it was doing here, when the water heater was probably under the rubble somewhere. Something clicked in my head and I began searching for a way into the basement below me. I was suddenly sure my parents weren’t dead. I’m sure Alison and everybody else thought that I had finally lost it.
On the back side of the house I found a large board leaning against the foundation. I pulled it up and found an entrance under the house. I clicked on my Surefire light and carefully lowered myself down into the darkness below. There was two feet of standing water covering the floor. A musty odor permeated the entire area. The once-familiar basement felt unwelcoming and cold.
Oddly, except for the water, the entire area was well preserved. The floor above had held. I found my dad’s reloading room. His safe was up on the workbench, out of the water. My palms started to sweat despite the cold. I knew my dad wasn’t down there but I was still apprehensive.
I stood in front of the safe for a good minute before turning the dial. My dad and I had both keyed the same combinations to our safes. I spun the dial through the numbers and then exhaled. I turned the handle and it swung open on its hinges. Inside was a cache of ammunition (with plenty of .22 caliber, of course) several handguns and a folding carbine, two cases of freeze dried food, a first aid kit, and a note.
I opened the paper and shined my light on it but still couldn’t read it through my stupid tears. I wiped them away and sniffed loudly, trying to compose myself.
The letter read:
“Son, if you are reading this, know that I am alive. I regret to inform you that your stepmother did not survive. She became infected early on and I had to put her to rest. She is in a better place now. She had once told me that she did not want to survive in this world, and that no sane person would want to. She asked me to end her suffering several times but I could not bring myself to do it. The last thing she told me was that she would see us both again.
I am sorry I cannot tell you this in person. I waited for you here for several weeks, but the river flooded me out. When I was able, I returned here every day. I come back each Monday now to wait until noon. If you are reading this and I am not here, I am staying at Loy’s old farm house out in Creswell. Here are some supplies. Take them with you. Come find me. Dad”
I reread the letter several times, barely believing it was real. I was saddened by the news of my stepmother, but grateful and elated that my father was alive. I folded the letter carefully and put it in my front pocket. I grabbed one of the ammo cans and sloshed my way back to the entrance. I clicked off my flashlight and stuck it in my belt so I could use both hands to toss up the ammunition.
Just then, a shadow fell across the entrance above me and someone dropped down into the basement with me, landing with a splash. My weapon was slung around behind me and both my pistols were secure in their holsters. Whoever it was jabbed me in the right shoulder with something sharp.
I pushed the body away from me and instinctively drove a kick into my attacker’s mid-section. I heard a grunt and the person bounced off the wall and stumbled back toward me. My right arm was numb. I ignored it and reached for the .44 on my hip (for once, there was an advantage to being left handed).
I wasn’t fast enough because whoever it was slammed into me and we both went down into the murky liquid. The freezing water was a shock to my system and I nearly inhaled it into my lungs. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder and for the first time realized that there was something stuck in it.
We thrashed and clawed at each other until I finally managed to disengage. I stumbled to my feet, soaking wet and shivering. Someone surfaced in the darkness in front of me and lunged again. All I could think about was to keep its mouth away from me. I was trying to grab its throat by brail, but my thumbs found eye sockets. I dug them in and shoved the body backwards, slipping and splashing in the darkness.
It (he) kneed me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I dug my thumbs deeper and returned the favor, pistoning my knee up into his ribs. I heard him exhale and smelled foul breath. His hands grabbed at mine, trying to get me to let go. I slammed my assailant into the wall and kneed him again for good measure.
My right arm was numb. I felt it spasm and twitch, threatening to give. I pulled my right thumb out of my new pal’s eye socket and grabbed a handful of his greasy long hair. I yanked my attacker’s head back, banging it into the concrete wall and exposing his neck. With my left hand I grabbed at the handle of the knife sticking in my right shoulder.
Bursts of light exploded behind my eyes accompanied an electrical jolt as the blade slid out of me. I drove the weapon into my assailant’s throat, jamming it in up to the hilt. When I yanked it out, a spray of warm arterial blood splashed my face and upper body.
I stuck the knife in the person’s neck again, over and over. I heard him gurgle and moan. His knees gave out and he slowly slid down the wall and into the water. His body flopped sideways into the inky blackness.
I flung the knife away. I was shaking with rage. I was pissed that nobody warned me about this asshole and then realized that my friends might be in trouble. I drew my Colt and clicked off the safety. I aimed up into the entrance but couldn’t see anyone. I engaged the safety and took a step back. I crouched and then jumped up to the edge of the foundation. I caught the top of the wall and pulled myself up, my shoulder screaming at me.