“Look,” I said. “It's been a long time since I uh...I kind of have to...” I gestured towards the far edge of the roof.
“Oh,” she said, and shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, okay. Just...do what you gotta do.”
I moved to the edge of the roof near the telephone pole and looked down. I could see no dead milling immediately below, and I calculated my chances of being able to navigate the pole with a full bladder. I came to the conclusion that I would not and could not pee in front of a woman who looked no older than 14 so I jumped up on the parapet and ran down the pole in several quick steps. My shin hurt where Lori had nailed me with the ball bearing, but I made it.
I moved to the far corner of the rocky lot, and as I relieved myself I could still hear Lori snoring.
Holy cow
, I thought. After zipping up, I tentatively explored the area around the store. A few of the dead wandered along Washington, more so down on Boone. None seemed to notice me, so I ran up the pole again and then stepped slowly and carefully down onto the roof.
“I could hear her all the way down there,” I whispered as I sat down again.
“We had those nasal-strip thingys and they helped a lot, but she used the last one several days ago. I'd tell her to roll over, but she would just wake up and then
get
up,” Ashley said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “I'll tell her to wake me at midnight so she can go to sleep, and it'll be much later than that – always. She'll wake up early and tell me to grab some more sleep. A good night she gets
maybe
five hours of sleep.”
“Well, let her have at it then,” I said, and gestured towards the roof edge. “The dead don't seem curious about it - if they hear it.”
Ashley bobbed her head, and we sat quietly as her sister serenaded us. Shadows stretched across the roof and shortened as the sun rose to warm my head and back. Ashley put on her shades, and I offered her a granola bar which she accepted with a smile and thanks. I got the impression that she was not one to talk much – at least in the morning, and seemed content to stare quietly into space. I was happy to sit and contemplate the coming day as well. Raising our voices to talk over her sister's snoring would have been too much work, and attracted the dead anyways. It was nice not having to feel the need to fuel an awkward conversation.
Lori woke with a start in a couple hours, looking around in confusion momentarily. She frowned at me, and I waggled my fingers at her in a hello. Her sister chuckled.
“What time is it?” Lori asked groggily. I checked my watch.
“Six twenty-seven,” I said precisely. Her frown deepened into a scowl as she turned her head to her sister. Ashley just smiled primly.
“You,” she barked at me as she climbed to her feet. “Go over there and count zombies for a while.” She pointed south towards the edge of the roof.
I nodded, stood, and heard her boots march away behind me. I walked over and knelt against the parapet, resting my arms on it. I dropped my chin onto my folded hands, and gazed at the scene below.
The dead across the street - those that could walk - milled between their dead toys, and the rest crawled and scrabbled over the ground and each other. The dead never seemed to lash out in anger if they bumped into each other. Two wild animals might tangle and fight for whatever reason, but the dead just endured each other. The closest thing I ever saw resembling a fight for dominance had basically been a pushing contest over a body, and I sensed that the dead involved only saw each other as obstacles and not rivals. The great leveler, indeed.
A great many of the dead would wander into and away from the group in the parking lot, but there seemed to be a core that stayed amongst the ruined vehicles (I looked in vain for a truck with a makeshift battering-ram in its bed). I had no doubt that if I skipped down the street whistling they would pursue me in earnest, but if I eluded them would they forget and turn back to their familiar territory? Were these like the dead that couldn't resist a closed door? Did they find comfort in the machines that were now useless? None of the vehicles looked unscathed – some had more of an appearance of a carcass than the dead that crawled around them. As far as I could see down Washington, it looked like a massive pile-up converged nearer the bridge.
I heard footfalls behind me.
“So,” Lori asked, “how many we got?”
“It is my exact estimation that there are bunches and bunches of 'em,” I replied.
I stood up, and we looked out over the mass of shuffling bodies below. There was not a lot to say when confronted with the number of dead we were seeing. Fortunately, the sisters wanted to head in the opposite direction. I cleared my throat.
“So I was thinking...” I said, and gestured towards Washington Street. Lori turned to face it, and I walked over to the roof edge that ran parallel to it as she followed me. We craned our necks over the parapet and looked north.
“Not a
lot
of them up that way,” I continued. “Not so much as yesterday, anyways. They may have tailed me and then joined the party.” I jerked my thumb back towards the mob. She nodded.
“I'm thinking it would be easy enough to fight your way up it if you wanted to, but I would avoid it,” I said, and walked north to the back of the building. I could see Ashley out of the corner of my eye, following my every move. It made me feel better. Trust no one, kid.
We stopped at the north parapet, and I pointed out across the back parking lot and the rocky area behind.
“I would head across the field, hit Stevens, and just zigzag it up. Avoid the major streets – avoid the high school, okay?
Really
. Other than that, you should be fine.”
“That easy?” she asked.
“Oh, you know better than that. Garland had a bunch. Monroe seemed to have a bunch. Sometimes you just have to flat out run through them. Knock them down if you have to, but decide when it's worth wasting the time to take them out, and when to leave them be. Just don't stop.”
“We made it out of the Tri-Cities, we can do this,” she stated.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
We packed up our gear methodically. I noticed Lori had changed her t-shirt. It was now an amber color, with Jake the Dog's face on the front. The idea of it being clean and fresh was unlikely of course, and the point mystified me. Maybe it was a routine that helped her cope, something a guy wouldn't think to do. At least
I
hadn't. I hadn't thought to bring any deodorant, and I hadn't used any in some time, afraid it was a cue the dead could use. Jesus, I must have reeked.
Ashley's pack seemed almost as big as she was, but maneuvered it onto her back with practiced ease, and had no trouble with the telephone pole ramp. I went down first, of course, spear in hand. We trekked across the lot, through weeds and rocks as it sloped gently down to Stevens Street. We stopped just short of it, using a building to block the view from Boone and the infestation in the parking lot there. Lori jerked her head towards a tavern across the street.
“That was a fun joint sometimes,” she said. I looked at her skeptically.
“You were old enough to get in there?” I asked.
“There's a will there's a way,” she said, and smiled.
We stood silently for a while, shifting and adjusting our packs.
“Well...” Lori began, but I interrupted her.
“Look, I have some stashes up there you can use,” I said, and proceeded to give them the locations of my mom's house, the garage off of Post, my hole in the ceiling in the bank building and even the stash on the roof.
“You take what you need,” I ordered.
They both fidgeted uncomfortably.
“Seriously,” I said. “And pay attention to the crows – I mean it. They can help.”
“You are still insisting on heading that way?” Lori asked, and tipped her head to the south.
“Yes.”
“Dude. Why?”
I couldn't think of anything witty to say, so I just shrugged. I knew I had to distance myself from them. If they hadn't jumped onto that rooftop, I very well may have turned tail for home that night. I couldn't now. They seemed capable and smart, but I felt in my gut associating with them any longer would only lead to more grief. It was cowardly, but I didn't care. I would rather get ripped to pieces than face another loss. If there was any architect to the universe, I hoped he, she or it could transform any bad luck of their's into mine. I guess I decided the sisters weren't hallucinations after all.
“Okay then,” Lori said.
“You guys go on ahead, I'll hang back here a bit and make sure you aren't tracked.”
“Artie,” Lori started, but I waved her off. We studied each other, then she jerked her head in a quick nod. There would be no hugs or handshakes. It wasn't that type of world anymore.
“You take it easy then,” Lori said.
“Bye,” said Ashley.
They turned and trotted down the slope and then up Stevens. I followed in a few seconds, and looked south. None of the dead were paying attention. Before they turned west on Sharp, Ashley turned and flashed me the peace sign. I waved, and watched them retreat until they disappeared behind a building.
I turned, and jogged towards Boone. I stopped across the street from the mob of dead, and struck the end of my spear against a stop sign. I didn't want to make too much noise, afraid the sisters would hear and wonder what the hell I was up to. I hit the sign again, and shoulders and heads turned in my direction. I struck down a teenage boy coming in to my right, and grinned.
“Come on you fuckers,” I said, grinning wildly. “Let's have us a merry chase.”
And I began to run west, with the dead following me.
The Monroe Street bridge was gone. So was the Maple Street bridge. Jagged chunks of concrete and twisted rebar jutted out over the river channel. New rapids frothed and foamed over the remains that had fallen into the water below, redirecting the river into wide pools flooding Peaceful Valley.
Wow
, I thought.
They were serious
.
The river looked like it was running higher than normal for this time of year. I didn't think we had all that much snow pack for runoff this season, and I wondered about the lake level in Idaho. How all that was controlled upstream –
used
to be controlled - I didn't know, and I could have been been fooled by the pieces of the bridges redirecting the river. But it looked to me as if the river was flowing unchecked. Perhaps it had been a strategy of the south side – get that river flowin' as high and as wild as we can, boys!
I didn't dawdle to observe
too
closely – the dead kept me fairly busy. I followed the river from above, and would send any of the dead in my way over the bank towards the water. I drew a substantial crowd from up by the arena, but they were generally broken and tired. If I had known how bad of shape they were in, I might not have been so fearful of them – and of course that would have been a very dangerous mindset to have. I encountered a few that would have given the sprinter a run for his money, but they tumbled down the bank too.
I hoped I was drawing them away from Lori and Ashley. I spent most of my morning taunting the dead, slashing away with my spear. I rarely wasted any time on a kill. Take out the lead dead guy, and ones behind him would usually trip right over each other. The ones bright enough to go wide I could lure to the edge of the embankment and down they went. What I sent over the bank was a fraction of what was already down there, twisting in the brush and clawing at the soil. I wondered if they had been swept away upstream and deposited there. Were there dead buried in the muck, digging their way free? Various vehicles dotted the hillsides and poked from snags at the river's edge. Much of the winter and spring runoff had surely taken the spoils of war downstream, but there was plenty evidence left of what had happened along the river to make you feel ashamed of your hometown.
When I thought I had wasted enough time - hopefully creating a trail of dead playing follow-the-leader - I picked up my pace along the river bank. Traveling farther west, the neighborhoods retreated behind fenced-in brownfields (piles of rubble and weeds left from the bustling railroad days, more than likely) and less dead came to join the fun. Condos had been in the process of being constructed in the empty fields, looking like a new type of invasive species, monotonous in their takeover. Now they were abandoned, never to have tenants.
I found myself where the river bends north, and it dawned on me down below was where the sisters had crossed over the river. Sure enough, the old obelisk of concrete they described loomed above me to my right, rising from its foundation of rocks as if it had been carved there like Mount Rushmore. What it once was I wasn't sure. I had a hunch it was part of an old railway trestle, perhaps leftover from the great clean up for the World's Fair in the seventies. I guess I should know more about the history of our fair city, but like a lot of my generation I guess if it didn't relate to me...then fuck it, who cares?
I backtracked to the head of the paved trail that snaked its way down to the bridge at People's Park, made sure some dead saw me head down it, then at the first bend I took a well-trod path along the steep hillside into a stand of trees, made my way through them until the hillside became too steep to navigate safely and so I started climbing. I made it to the top in time to take down a dead woman investigating the racket I was making and crossed the road, stepping through a breach in the chain-link fence that surrounded the fields. I approached the ruin of concrete from behind, slipping up the slope to its apex unnoticed - I hoped, anyways. I was in need of a breather.
As I sat in the dirt, leaning against a wall of the foundation, I wondered if the pandemic had happened a year or two earlier how I might have fared? I imagined myself as fat, wheezing, and out of energy as the dead closed in on me. Certainly the gym membership had helped me with all of the running around I was doing these days. Score one for my mother. Listen to your moms, kids: do something to keep her off your back, it just might save your life one day!