I woke up suddenly with a feeling a that I was falling. Fortunately, it was only one of the those awkward sensations and I was relieved to see that I was still very safely in the tree. The sun was up, but just barely and the morning air was crisp.
I dug around in my pack and fished out a Snickers bar and a bag of chips. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I had devoured them both. I wanted to ration my supplies, but I couldn't help eating another candy bar and what claimed to be a fruit danish.
I also drank the last of the water I'd been carrying. I'd drunk quite a bit during my hike yesterday. More than I had intended to, actually. But I figured there had to be a creek or a river somewhere nearby. I'd just fill up then.
The climb down from the tree turned out to be more difficult than the climb up. I was sore from the day before and cramped from by unusual sleeping position. By the time I dropped the last few feet to the ground, I was ready for a good stretch, letting out a satisfied grunt as I did.
I was startled to hear my grunt echoed by something a short distance away. I couldn't see anything through the trees, but my first thought was that a bear had probably been attracted by the scent of my food. I was lucky it hadn't found me early and climbed the tree with me.
I'd never been around bears before, but I seemed to remember hearing about bear attacks on TV. You were supposed to make noise, so you don't spook it, right?
"Hey, Hey" I called out, feeling pretty stupid. What the hell do you say to a bear? "Hey Bear, I'm over here, but I'm going to leave now"
I started walking, straining my ears to hear anything. The wind was blowing through the trees, making it hard to tell what, if anything was moving.
"Okay, bear, you're really freaking me out," I called out. I took the shotgun from my back and held it in a firing position, my finger not on, but near the trigger. Would a shotgun even stop a bear? Maybe it would be enough to scare it off. Maybe it would just piss it off. I didn't know, but it felt better having it in my hands.
I was so tensed up expected a snarling bear to attack me at any minute that I was totally unprepared for the human hand the grabbed at me as I passed an evergreen tree. Its grip was tight, but I was able to twist away, stumbling backwards as I did. I managed to keep my feet, but I was off balance when the man came toward me.
He was a horror to look at. Clearly infected with something, his skin was covered with open wounds and eyes had the same blotchy appearance as the woman who had chased my car in Iowa. But as bad as she looked, this guy was worse. It was hard to believe he could be up and moving as bad as he looked. But he was moving and coming right at me.
"Look mister, you need to stay the hell away from me," I said raising the shotgun to my shoulder and taking a few more steps back.
The man didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't react in any way I could tell.
"Stay the fuck back or I will shoot you," I shouted, but the man kept coming.
Trying to back away I was losing my footing. The ground was just too uneven. I almost fell as the man closed the distance between us. I pulled the trigger and the thunderous boom of the gun shattered the mountain calm.
I'd not wanted to kill him so I aimed low. The shot was a solid hit to the leg and I could see the wound from the six feet of distance between us. I shook my head in disbelief as he kept coming at me. He didn't even flinch.
I pumped another shell into the chamber and fired again, this time hitting him in the shoulder. The impact of the slug spun him away from me and he stumbled to the ground.
"Look man, we've got to get you down to the city," I was saying. "I'll help you, but you've got to chill out."
Suddenly the man lurched and started to get back to his feet.
"What the hell?" I exclaimed out loud. This couldn't be happening. I was just about to raise the shotgun for another shot when I heard a cracking noise. The man's head snapped back and his body slumped to the ground.
"Put the gun down before you hurt someone who isn't already dead," a voice called out from the cover of the trees. I spun around but couldn't tell where it was coming from.
"You don't look like DMA so I'm giving you benefit of the doubt," the voice continued. "But if you don't put the gun down now, you are on your own."
Quickly weighing my options I lowered the gun and placed it on the ground near my feet. From off to my left, a man dressed all in camouflage emerged from the trees. He had an assault riffle trained on me from the moment I first caught sight of him.
"Were you bit?" he asked without any other introduction. "Did you get bit?"
"No," I stammered, still in a bit of shock over everything that had just happened. "He grabbed my jacket, but just with his hand."
Lowering his rifle a bit, the man stepped forward and gave me a brief looking over. Seemingly satisfied, he quickly scooped up my gun and started to walk back the way he had come.
"Let's get out of here," he said. "You're shooting is probably going to bring more."
"More what?" I asked, still standing where I had been.
"More of those," he said, jerking his thumb at the corpse laying on ground. I quickly fell in behind him.
We walked for a while in silence. The pace was quicker than the one I had set for myself and the weight of pack was becoming an uncomfortable burden. I became particularly annoyed, when I realized we were looping back around.
"You lost?" I asked.
"No."
"So why are we going in circles?"
"Look, let's not forget that I just saved your life back there," he said, stopping and turning around to face me. "That being said, I have to make sure your antics don't have any DMA search teams on our tails. Or worse, a pack of zombies."
"Zombies?" I asked. "These people are on bath salts or something?"
"Bath salts? Bath salts?" he shook his head. "Did he look like a drug addict to you. just what the hell do you think is going on? A nationwide drug overdose? It's the big one, man. The shit has hit the fan and the dead are walking."
My brain reeled at the thought. I'd only seen a few zombie movies, but from what I remembered it generally didn't go well for anyone involved. I was still thinking about the implications of what I'd been told, when my guide stopped near a small stand of evergreens. He spread the trees to reveal was looked to be a manhole in ground.
"I'll let you go down first," he said. "Just watch your head at the bottom, the passage is only five feet high."
I climbed down the rungs set into the smooth walls. I must have been about 20 feet down when I reached the ground. The passage extended away from the ladder and aside from the dim light shining in from above, it was totally dark. I could hear feet on the rungs above me and started down the passage, feeling my way along the walls. They were cold and smooth to the touch, like painted metal.
The passage was straight with no curves or doors that I tell and ran for a few hundred passes until I stopped by a door. I fumbled in the dark for a handle and eventually found what was basically a wheel in the center of the door. I turned it and pushed the door in.
After being in the dark, my eyes dazzled at the light coming from the room within. It reminded me of the crew quarters of ship or some spartan Japanese efficiency apartment. It was packed full of supplies, but we were the only people inside.
"Welcome to my humble abode," my host said, closing the door behind us. "What brings you to Montana?"
With the door closed, the room suddenly seemed very small. It also occurred to me that I was now essentially trapped with a stranger.
"I'm supposed to meet up with a friend," I lied. "He's got a place around here."
"Is that so?" he asked. "What's his name, maybe I know him?"
I didn't know his name. His Facebook profile listed him as Danny Doomsday, but I knew that wasn't really it. Still, it was all I had.
"He goes by Danny Doomsday," I said. My host just nodded his head, but I thought a saw him suppress a smile. What the hell was this guy getting at?
"I wondered if anyone from the web would come this way," he said, opening the door on a refrigerator and taking out a couple beers. He handed one to me. "I'm Danny."
I looked at him squarely. The face before wasn't anything like the ones in the profile pictures I'd seen. He must have seen the doubt in my eyes.
"Look, only about half of what I put on the web was real," he said. "Obviously, I live in Montana and I have a bug out shelter. A lot of stuff I just made up to entertain myself. Jesus, I never thought I'd be living in a rat hole at the end of the world."
"You seem like you've done alright," I said. "Better than others from what I've seen."
I gestured to the room, the supplies and the lights. "I haven't seen electricity in days."
He nodded and took a long drink from his beer. "I've got some solar panels scattered around. It's enough for this place, but not enough to be too noticeable. The goons haven't found me yet, so I'm doing something right."
"Goons?" I asked. "Is that what you call ... them?"
"No, I call them zombies," Danny said. "The goons are the DMA. Those bastards would loot this place and burn me out if they could find me."
"What's the deal with that?" I asked. "They burned my cabin to the ground."
"You're lucky you got out then," he said. "Near as I can figure, things started out slow with a few cases of some kind of superflu. I heard a report of it in Pakistan a few months ago. Then it was in Germany and then the U.S."
I was listening, but I wasn't sure I was believing. How could a flu bug bring people back from the dead? It was beyond everything I knew about death.
"They did a good job of keeping it under wraps, but word startd to get out," Danny was saying. "That's when I put out the A.P.B. and told everyone to get out of Dodge. I see you listened. It wasn't long after that that the Internet grid went down. Then communication satellites started going dead."
How was that even possible? Who had that kind of power?
"I guess the governments realized they were losing control. They started declaring martial law and trying to gather people together, but it was too late. The virus was out and spreading. It only took a few days and it was everywhere," Danny finished his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's when the black trucks and black helicopters started showing up. Their basically U.S. troops mixed in with NATO and UN forces. Some sort of apocalypse protocol from what I've seen. They're trying to control an out of control wildfire, so they kill anyone who's infected and take the rest to the collection centers, which is a joke."
My gut feeling had been to avoid the centers and now I more glad than ever that I had. I looked down at the beer getting warm in my hands and took a long deep drink.
"Why are the centers bad?" I asked. "It looks like they're guarded and safe."
"Guarded maybe, but I've been watching the one down in Missoula," he said shaking his head. "People are still getting sick in there. They don't have a handle on it. I'll show you more later, but we need to let things settle up there first. The goons patrol the mountains and the zombies seem to be attracted to noise."
Danny fished out another beer and offered me one as well. I held up the half full bottle in my hand and shook my head. He looked at me like he was trying to remember something.
"You're from Kansas, right?" he asked. "What did you do...before?"
"Missouri," I corrected. "I drove a forklift at a TV dinner factory."
"That's cool," he said. "I ran a bobcat for a construction company."
May 21
I don't know why I hadn't thought about before, but I should have realized that in a state like Montana any college town was going to have collection center. I mean, there aren't that many towns out here to choose from.
The thought never occurred to me until I was seeking a new radio station. As soon as the radio found a station, it began playing the DMA message announcing Missoula as a collection point. I actually stopped in the middle of the highway and thought about turning around. But where would I go? I'd seen what was behind me and it wasn't pretty.
After a few minutes, I decided to keep going. I made a mental note of the distance to Missoula and how far I could go and still leave myself a comfortable distance from the town. My friend told me once that his bug out shelter was south of town, up in the mountains with a view of the town below. That at least gave me a place to start looking.
I stopped about a few miles outside of town, parking on what looked like some sort of access road. There wasn't any real way to conceal the car, but I did the best I could to make it as unnoticeable as possible from the main road. There were quite a few abandoned cars out on the interstate, so I hoped mine would just blend in.
I put as much of my stuff as would fit into my backpack and headed off. I stayed near the highway for a while and then started moving overland. The terrain was beautiful, but very slow going with my pack and the shotgun. I'd been walking for several hours when I got my first view of the city in the valley below.
I could see that where the highway entered the city was through a narrow pass. Vehicles were bottlenecked there and some sort of wall looked like it had been built across. I could also see a group of people milling about on the outside of the wall. They seemed drunk; stumbling around and running into things.
Inside the city there was only limited activity. I could see some people moving around, but not many. As I continued to make my way through the mountains south of the city, I kept noticing black SUVs making their way through the streets, almost as if they were on patrol. But patrolling for what? I'd seen less than 100 people down below.
As the sun began to set behind the mountains, an eerie darkness crept across the valley. There were only a few lights across the city. Alone in the mountains, I had no desire to sleep on the ground. I looked around for a sturdy tree and climbed up til I was about 20 feet off the ground. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but at least I felt a bit safer.
The thought never occurred to me until I was seeking a new radio station. As soon as the radio found a station, it began playing the DMA message announcing Missoula as a collection point. I actually stopped in the middle of the highway and thought about turning around. But where would I go? I'd seen what was behind me and it wasn't pretty.
After a few minutes, I decided to keep going. I made a mental note of the distance to Missoula and how far I could go and still leave myself a comfortable distance from the town. My friend told me once that his bug out shelter was south of town, up in the mountains with a view of the town below. That at least gave me a place to start looking.
I stopped about a few miles outside of town, parking on what looked like some sort of access road. There wasn't any real way to conceal the car, but I did the best I could to make it as unnoticeable as possible from the main road. There were quite a few abandoned cars out on the interstate, so I hoped mine would just blend in.
I put as much of my stuff as would fit into my backpack and headed off. I stayed near the highway for a while and then started moving overland. The terrain was beautiful, but very slow going with my pack and the shotgun. I'd been walking for several hours when I got my first view of the city in the valley below.
I could see that where the highway entered the city was through a narrow pass. Vehicles were bottlenecked there and some sort of wall looked like it had been built across. I could also see a group of people milling about on the outside of the wall. They seemed drunk; stumbling around and running into things.
Inside the city there was only limited activity. I could see some people moving around, but not many. As I continued to make my way through the mountains south of the city, I kept noticing black SUVs making their way through the streets, almost as if they were on patrol. But patrolling for what? I'd seen less than 100 people down below.
As the sun began to set behind the mountains, an eerie darkness crept across the valley. There were only a few lights across the city. Alone in the mountains, I had no desire to sleep on the ground. I looked around for a sturdy tree and climbed up til I was about 20 feet off the ground. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but at least I felt a bit safer.
May 20, 2013
If I ever find people again, I hope one of them is a dentist. My raid on the vending machines was a success. Who knew how tough it is to open those things? I scored some sodas and bottled water along with dozens of candy bars and some chips and other candies.
I scoured the visitor center, but I didn't really see anything useful. They did have some reproductions of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. I took them and put them in the glove box. I'm not sure why, but I guess if everything is gone I just want something to remember what we had.
The driving has been pretty easy as I crossed Whyoming. The main problem has been fuel. Vehicles here are few and far between. I was afraid I was going to have to give up the car and walk when I found an abandoned truck. Luckily for me, it had a big tank and was mostly full. I was able to totally fill my car and my gas cans and even left some fuel for the next guy to come along. If there is a next guy.
The radio signal was coming out of Casper, but I kept well north of there. I did cross over I-25 and saw a sign for it though. The road looked clear and it would have been a straight shot to what the announcements are now calling "DMA Survivor Collection Centers." It was tempting, but I had to go with gut.
It was nearing sunset when I reach Cody. During my drive, I hadn't really thought about where I was going to sleep. But even before the sun had gone down, the temperature had already started to drop. I wasn't sure I wanted to spend a night without a fire in the woods, but sleeping in town didn't appeal to me either. I had just about decided to forgo sleep and drive through the night when the answer presented itself to me. I was passing through the Yellowstone National Forrest when I saw a watchtower silhouetted against the sky. It must have been for spotting fires or something, but it was like a little cabin on giant stilts.
I threw some food into my backpack, slung the shotgun on shoulder and made the climb. Much to my delight, the tower cabin had a propane heater and cook stove, allowing me to relax in relative comfort after eating a warmed up can of soup. There was also a map, giving me my first good idea of where I was and where I was going.
With luck, I'll reach Missoula tomorrow. What I'm going to do when I get there is still the big question. I don't have anyway to reach my friend and I'm not even sure that's the town he lives in. At least I'm safe for now.
I scoured the visitor center, but I didn't really see anything useful. They did have some reproductions of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. I took them and put them in the glove box. I'm not sure why, but I guess if everything is gone I just want something to remember what we had.
The driving has been pretty easy as I crossed Whyoming. The main problem has been fuel. Vehicles here are few and far between. I was afraid I was going to have to give up the car and walk when I found an abandoned truck. Luckily for me, it had a big tank and was mostly full. I was able to totally fill my car and my gas cans and even left some fuel for the next guy to come along. If there is a next guy.
The radio signal was coming out of Casper, but I kept well north of there. I did cross over I-25 and saw a sign for it though. The road looked clear and it would have been a straight shot to what the announcements are now calling "DMA Survivor Collection Centers." It was tempting, but I had to go with gut.
It was nearing sunset when I reach Cody. During my drive, I hadn't really thought about where I was going to sleep. But even before the sun had gone down, the temperature had already started to drop. I wasn't sure I wanted to spend a night without a fire in the woods, but sleeping in town didn't appeal to me either. I had just about decided to forgo sleep and drive through the night when the answer presented itself to me. I was passing through the Yellowstone National Forrest when I saw a watchtower silhouetted against the sky. It must have been for spotting fires or something, but it was like a little cabin on giant stilts.
I threw some food into my backpack, slung the shotgun on shoulder and made the climb. Much to my delight, the tower cabin had a propane heater and cook stove, allowing me to relax in relative comfort after eating a warmed up can of soup. There was also a map, giving me my first good idea of where I was and where I was going.
With luck, I'll reach Missoula tomorrow. What I'm going to do when I get there is still the big question. I don't have anyway to reach my friend and I'm not even sure that's the town he lives in. At least I'm safe for now.
May 19, 2013
I killed a man last night. Or finished killing him at least. I was washing my dishes in the river and checking my lines one last time when he must have sneaked into my camp. I'm not sure which direction he came in from, but he didn't make a noise.
I didn't even notice he was there until I was coming back up to my campsite and he stepped into the light of fire. I could tell right away that he was hurt, there was a nasty wound at the base of his neck and his shirt was soaked in blood.
"Jesus, buddy, what the hell happened to you?" I called out, moving closer toward him. "I don't have much in the way of medical supplies, but I'll help you as best I can."
I probably should have realized that something wasn't right when he didn't say anything. It was almost as if he didn't see me until I spoke out and then he just turned and stared at me.
When I got closer, I could see that his eyes were like the woman I has seen in Iowa, but worse. They were all brown and yellow and misshapen, almost like they were collapsing in on themselves.
His ghastly face made me draw back a step and he came lurching at me, moving with a stiff-legged gait. I fell backwards, tripping over some of my gear and landed with a thud on my butt. As the man continued toward me, he walked right through the fire. Fortunately for me the uneven footing slowed him down and gave me time to scramble over to where the shotgun was resting.
I picked it up but didn't have time to do anything more than shoot from the hip. The shot was almost point blank and caught him square in the chest. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling onto his back.
I stood there trying to catch my breath and collect my thoughts when the man sat upright at the waist, like Frankenstein's monster rising up from the slab. Even in the light of my trampled fire I could see his chest cavity was blown open. How the hell did he not die? I'll never know, but my second shot removed most of his face and the back of his head. He fell down again and didn't move after that.
Exhausted but too scared to sleep, I gathered up my things, packed them in the car and headed out, driving in the dark for the first time in days. I'm not sure how long I drove, but I eventually found an abandoned house with a detached garage. I parked inside and made sure the doors to the outside were locked. I slept in my car the rest of the night and into this morning holding my shotgun in my hands.
Along the way, I lost the signal for the Lincoln radio station, but picked up another from Rapid City. Not that it made much difference, it's playing exactly the same thing: Country music and CDC messages.
I made it to Mount Rushmore before sunset and took some time to take in the sights. I'm spending the night in the visitor center. It doesn't look like anyone has been here in a while. It's the first building I've been in that hasn't been looted since this whole mess started.
There's no food to speak of here, but I did see some vending machines I plan to break open before I leave in the morning. I wonder if that's a felony since this is Federal property.
I didn't even notice he was there until I was coming back up to my campsite and he stepped into the light of fire. I could tell right away that he was hurt, there was a nasty wound at the base of his neck and his shirt was soaked in blood.
"Jesus, buddy, what the hell happened to you?" I called out, moving closer toward him. "I don't have much in the way of medical supplies, but I'll help you as best I can."
I probably should have realized that something wasn't right when he didn't say anything. It was almost as if he didn't see me until I spoke out and then he just turned and stared at me.
When I got closer, I could see that his eyes were like the woman I has seen in Iowa, but worse. They were all brown and yellow and misshapen, almost like they were collapsing in on themselves.
His ghastly face made me draw back a step and he came lurching at me, moving with a stiff-legged gait. I fell backwards, tripping over some of my gear and landed with a thud on my butt. As the man continued toward me, he walked right through the fire. Fortunately for me the uneven footing slowed him down and gave me time to scramble over to where the shotgun was resting.
I picked it up but didn't have time to do anything more than shoot from the hip. The shot was almost point blank and caught him square in the chest. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling onto his back.
I stood there trying to catch my breath and collect my thoughts when the man sat upright at the waist, like Frankenstein's monster rising up from the slab. Even in the light of my trampled fire I could see his chest cavity was blown open. How the hell did he not die? I'll never know, but my second shot removed most of his face and the back of his head. He fell down again and didn't move after that.
Exhausted but too scared to sleep, I gathered up my things, packed them in the car and headed out, driving in the dark for the first time in days. I'm not sure how long I drove, but I eventually found an abandoned house with a detached garage. I parked inside and made sure the doors to the outside were locked. I slept in my car the rest of the night and into this morning holding my shotgun in my hands.
Along the way, I lost the signal for the Lincoln radio station, but picked up another from Rapid City. Not that it made much difference, it's playing exactly the same thing: Country music and CDC messages.
I made it to Mount Rushmore before sunset and took some time to take in the sights. I'm spending the night in the visitor center. It doesn't look like anyone has been here in a while. It's the first building I've been in that hasn't been looted since this whole mess started.
There's no food to speak of here, but I did see some vending machines I plan to break open before I leave in the morning. I wonder if that's a felony since this is Federal property.
May 18, 2013
I was glad that I had the all-wheel drive today. I'm making my way through Nebraska and I came up on some kind of traffic checkpoint. All the cars were empty and the blocked the road for miles. I had to make my way along the shoulder and ditches.
What I saw was surreal. It looked like people had packed their lives into their cars and then just walked away. I thought about going through some of the cars, but it just didn't seem right and I wouldn't have known where to start. I settled for filling up my tank and reserve cans with some siphoned gas.
At the end of the traffic jam was the checkpoint which was built with sandbags and orange plastic barrels. I stopped to look around, but there was nobody there. I did find a shotgun and some shells in a black army-style humvee. There was also a radio, but it looked like it had been dropped and smashed. I took it, but I don't know if I can fix it.
It's strange, taking that stuff made me nervous; like I might get caught at any minute. But, in a way, I was hoping I would get caught, if only to see another human being. I think the loneliness is starting to get to me. I've caught myself several times reaching for my phone to make a call, even though I haven't had a signal in days.
My only connection to the outside world has been the radio, which is playing country music on a station out of Lincoln. There is no DJ, no station tags, and no commercials. It just plays country music and announcements from the CDC. They seem like pretty general disaster announcements, but there are also directions not to take in strangers. Considering the chick I saw yesterday, I'd say that's a pretty good idea.
The CDC messages also tell people in need of assistance to make their way to Disaster Management Authority shelters. I'm not sure what that is, but it's not any agency I've heard of before. I wonder if they are the ones that burned down my cabin.
Tonight I'm sleeping on the banks of the Niobrara River. It's peaceful here and I've got a few lines in the water. Some fresh fish would be great to along with my canned food. If the fishing's good, I must just stay here for a couple days.
What I saw was surreal. It looked like people had packed their lives into their cars and then just walked away. I thought about going through some of the cars, but it just didn't seem right and I wouldn't have known where to start. I settled for filling up my tank and reserve cans with some siphoned gas.
At the end of the traffic jam was the checkpoint which was built with sandbags and orange plastic barrels. I stopped to look around, but there was nobody there. I did find a shotgun and some shells in a black army-style humvee. There was also a radio, but it looked like it had been dropped and smashed. I took it, but I don't know if I can fix it.
It's strange, taking that stuff made me nervous; like I might get caught at any minute. But, in a way, I was hoping I would get caught, if only to see another human being. I think the loneliness is starting to get to me. I've caught myself several times reaching for my phone to make a call, even though I haven't had a signal in days.
My only connection to the outside world has been the radio, which is playing country music on a station out of Lincoln. There is no DJ, no station tags, and no commercials. It just plays country music and announcements from the CDC. They seem like pretty general disaster announcements, but there are also directions not to take in strangers. Considering the chick I saw yesterday, I'd say that's a pretty good idea.
The CDC messages also tell people in need of assistance to make their way to Disaster Management Authority shelters. I'm not sure what that is, but it's not any agency I've heard of before. I wonder if they are the ones that burned down my cabin.
Tonight I'm sleeping on the banks of the Niobrara River. It's peaceful here and I've got a few lines in the water. Some fresh fish would be great to along with my canned food. If the fishing's good, I must just stay here for a couple days.
May 17, 2014
Things are much worse than I could have ever believed. I saw things today that I am sure will haunt my dreams for years to come. I don't know what to think or do anymore.
Everything started out peaceful enough this morning. Clear blue skies and sunshine almost made me forget what I had been through the last few days. I found a couple of gas cans in the service bay and used a hose to siphon off the tanks of the cars on the lot. None of them had very much, but I was able to fill the tank on the Subaru and have another four gallons in reserve.
By the time I had done that it was almost noon and my stomach was rumbling. I drove around town for a bit, but there were no signs of life anywhere. I finally found a grocery store and decided to try my luck.
Almost every shelf was bare, but there was still enough canned goods to fill a shopping cart. After I had dumped them in the back of the car, I decided to go back and see what kind of first aid kit I could put together. A box of Band-Aids and some Tylenol would be better than what I had. If I had known what I was about to see, I would have been behind the wheel and leaving.
When I got to the health and beauty aisle, I saw two girls, about 17 or 18 years old. It looked like one was trying to do CPR on the other, but the dim light provided from the sunlight coming in through the front windows it was hard to see.
"Hey, what happened?" I asked.
And that's when I saw one of them for the first time. The girl who I thought had been doing CPR spun around to look at me, giving me a better view of the girl on the floor. She was dead; her torso a bloody open wound. Before I had a chance to try to make sense of the situation, the other girl screamed a cry like I had never heard come from a human being. It was a shriek of anger and pain that took me totally by surprise.
When she leaped to her feet and began to chase me I was already running for the door. On my way out I paused long enough to knock over some shopping carts in an effort to slow down the deranged girl closing in behind me. I was in a flat-out sprint when she finally made it through the door.
I fumbled a bit with the ignition, but I was in drive and rolling before she reached me. With her face right beside my window, I got a horrifying view of her in broad daylight.
Her skin was ashy and pale and her lips and gums were purplish black. But the most disturbing thing was her eyes. They looked bloodshot, but worse. The veins in eyes were lumpy and there streaks of rusty brown running through them.
She ran beside be for at least 30 yards, until I was able to get out onto the street and up to speed. She had to be running at least 20 miles per hour. She was still chasing after me when I lost of sight of her in my rear view mirror.
I left Atlantic without stopping and headed generally west by northwest. I haven't got a map of anything other than Missouri, so I'm not even sure exactly where I'm going. Guess I should have paid more attention in geography class.
After what I saw this morning, I have decided to avoid towns if at all possible. I've got enough food to last at least a few days. All I have to do is find some cars to siphon fuel from and I'll be good.
Everything started out peaceful enough this morning. Clear blue skies and sunshine almost made me forget what I had been through the last few days. I found a couple of gas cans in the service bay and used a hose to siphon off the tanks of the cars on the lot. None of them had very much, but I was able to fill the tank on the Subaru and have another four gallons in reserve.
By the time I had done that it was almost noon and my stomach was rumbling. I drove around town for a bit, but there were no signs of life anywhere. I finally found a grocery store and decided to try my luck.
Almost every shelf was bare, but there was still enough canned goods to fill a shopping cart. After I had dumped them in the back of the car, I decided to go back and see what kind of first aid kit I could put together. A box of Band-Aids and some Tylenol would be better than what I had. If I had known what I was about to see, I would have been behind the wheel and leaving.
When I got to the health and beauty aisle, I saw two girls, about 17 or 18 years old. It looked like one was trying to do CPR on the other, but the dim light provided from the sunlight coming in through the front windows it was hard to see.
"Hey, what happened?" I asked.
And that's when I saw one of them for the first time. The girl who I thought had been doing CPR spun around to look at me, giving me a better view of the girl on the floor. She was dead; her torso a bloody open wound. Before I had a chance to try to make sense of the situation, the other girl screamed a cry like I had never heard come from a human being. It was a shriek of anger and pain that took me totally by surprise.
When she leaped to her feet and began to chase me I was already running for the door. On my way out I paused long enough to knock over some shopping carts in an effort to slow down the deranged girl closing in behind me. I was in a flat-out sprint when she finally made it through the door.
I fumbled a bit with the ignition, but I was in drive and rolling before she reached me. With her face right beside my window, I got a horrifying view of her in broad daylight.
Her skin was ashy and pale and her lips and gums were purplish black. But the most disturbing thing was her eyes. They looked bloodshot, but worse. The veins in eyes were lumpy and there streaks of rusty brown running through them.
She ran beside be for at least 30 yards, until I was able to get out onto the street and up to speed. She had to be running at least 20 miles per hour. She was still chasing after me when I lost of sight of her in my rear view mirror.
I left Atlantic without stopping and headed generally west by northwest. I haven't got a map of anything other than Missouri, so I'm not even sure exactly where I'm going. Guess I should have paid more attention in geography class.
After what I saw this morning, I have decided to avoid towns if at all possible. I've got enough food to last at least a few days. All I have to do is find some cars to siphon fuel from and I'll be good.
May 16, 2013
I stole a car today. Or at least I'm going to if no one shows up by morning. After the incident at my cabin yesterday, I was thankful to find that my truck hadn't been discovered. I got the old map out of my glovebox and plotted out a course that would keep me away from any of the CDC's decontamination camps for the time being. If they are part of the group that burned out my cabin, my gut tells me I'm better off on my own for the time being.
I set out at first light this morning, keeping to the back roads. It's surreal that there is no one out moving around. I know I'm in the boondocks out here, but there hasn't been a single person anywhere.
I stopped for gas a few times, but the electrical grid must be down all over. With no power, there was nothing I could do. I managed to find a bit of food and some drinks here and there, but almost every place looked like it had been ransacked well before I got there.
I made it as far north as Atlantic, Iowa and then I decided to call it a day. I'd been driving for almost eight hours and my gas tank was nearly empty. When I couldn't find a working gas station in Atlantic it occurred to me that my truck wasn't going to cut it. Having the 4X4 is nice, but 10 miles per gallon just isn't going to get me anywhere.
I'm holed up for the night in a place called Wyman's, an auto dealership. I've picked out a used Subaru that I'll be taking as a trade for my truck. It's smaller so it should get better gas mileage, but it's still got at least all wheel drive.
I don't know what the roads are going to be like when I get to Montana, so I figure I better be prepared. That's funny. That's what my Facebook "friend" used to say to me. He'd post all these sketchy doomsday scenarios and conspiracy theories and tell me that one day the shit was going to hit the fan.
"You better be prepared, man, cause one day it's going to get real ugly real fast and only the ones that are prepared are going to make it out alive," he wrote to me a few weeks ago.
I can't remember now where he had mentioned he was from other than that it was somewhere in Montana near a college. Where the hell had I even "met" him? I'd never actually seen him in person, we'd been members of one of the same Facebook groups. Must have been for a TV show or something.
Eating the last of my beef jerky today, I didn't feel very prepared. I'm almost out of food and I'm not sure how many days it will take me to get to Montana. Maybe I'm not ready for this. Maybe I should just try to find a CDC camp.
I set out at first light this morning, keeping to the back roads. It's surreal that there is no one out moving around. I know I'm in the boondocks out here, but there hasn't been a single person anywhere.
I stopped for gas a few times, but the electrical grid must be down all over. With no power, there was nothing I could do. I managed to find a bit of food and some drinks here and there, but almost every place looked like it had been ransacked well before I got there.
I made it as far north as Atlantic, Iowa and then I decided to call it a day. I'd been driving for almost eight hours and my gas tank was nearly empty. When I couldn't find a working gas station in Atlantic it occurred to me that my truck wasn't going to cut it. Having the 4X4 is nice, but 10 miles per gallon just isn't going to get me anywhere.
I'm holed up for the night in a place called Wyman's, an auto dealership. I've picked out a used Subaru that I'll be taking as a trade for my truck. It's smaller so it should get better gas mileage, but it's still got at least all wheel drive.
I don't know what the roads are going to be like when I get to Montana, so I figure I better be prepared. That's funny. That's what my Facebook "friend" used to say to me. He'd post all these sketchy doomsday scenarios and conspiracy theories and tell me that one day the shit was going to hit the fan.
"You better be prepared, man, cause one day it's going to get real ugly real fast and only the ones that are prepared are going to make it out alive," he wrote to me a few weeks ago.
I can't remember now where he had mentioned he was from other than that it was somewhere in Montana near a college. Where the hell had I even "met" him? I'd never actually seen him in person, we'd been members of one of the same Facebook groups. Must have been for a TV show or something.
Eating the last of my beef jerky today, I didn't feel very prepared. I'm almost out of food and I'm not sure how many days it will take me to get to Montana. Maybe I'm not ready for this. Maybe I should just try to find a CDC camp.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)