Days With The Undead (Book 1) (11 page)

The driver of the bus, a middle aged woman in a frilly pink apron, had been trying to get our attention for quite some time and since we needed to stop for gas we decided that we would scope out the next station as a possibility. Through our binoculars, the place was deserted. It was almost too perfect a place to stop. You could see for miles and there was only a small convenience store attached to the pumps. We decided to drive in and wait for a bit to see if any of the Undead put in a surprise appearance.

This had become our pattern when we had to stop for gas. The first thing that we had to do was observe the station from a safe distance. Choosing a set of pumps in a somewhat remote location seemed to work the best so far; a lower population usually equated to a less of a chance for the Undead and the greater the chance that there would be fuel left in the pumps. Observing the station helped us to determine how active the station was.

Once we determined if the area looked safe, we would pull our truck into the outermost pump and wait with it running. Again, it’s better to be safe than sorry. We’d wait for a fairly decent amount of time, maybe ten minutes just to see if the station was occupied in any way. There were a few times previously where the Undead had made an appearance, usually exiting the station’s accompanying building, either a convenience store or small diner. If we saw any Undead, we just drove away.

In the event that the place was totally deserted, we’d get out of the car with our weapons at the ready. Two of us would stay with the car, one in the driver’s seat, the other watching the area around the truck. The other two would head into the station in order to activate the pumps.

Most people believe that in the event of an apocalypse of any kind that the power will eventually go out. We thought the same thing, which is why we’ve been collecting gas in jerry cans whenever we can. The funny thing is that we have not run into any situation where there is no power. We do realize that this good luck might not last. We also realize that we may be entering areas that have not been hit as hard or as soon as others. In any event, I’m beginning to surmise that any power outages will roll outward from the epicenter. That puts us in a lucky spot for the time being, every mile we go putting us further and farther away.

With a simple flip of the switch we were usually in business. Back outside we would go to watch the surrounding area while the fuel was pumped into the truck. Once we were full, we always turned the pumps off (if we could, that is; sometimes the Undead found us before we could do so).

Turning the pumps off was just a safety thing for us. If we turned them off, the chances of other survivors driving into them and blowing themselves up was less likely. It also meant that we could mark the station’s location on a map and return in the event that we had to retrace our path. Anything was possible. Any direction could end up being less than hospitable once we got there.

We pulled our truck into one of the outer pumps and the bus pulled into the spot designated for diesel. Immediately the doors to the bus opened and the living started to unload, stretching their muscles and heading the short distance to the convenience store.

Max rolled down his window and shouted for them all to get back onto the bus, that it wasn’t safe yet. It was too late.

One young man, probably about seventeen years old with long shaggy hair and a Metallica t-shirt, had already made it to the store, more than likely intent on foraging for food. His only mistake was not realizing that inside the store could be something else also looking for a meal.

As soon as his hand touched the handle of the door, a grayish waxen face pressed itself up against the glass leaving a greasy face print in its place; the pressure of the body pushed open the door, the little bell signaling its exit.

Thank you, come again
.

The teenager recoiled, trying to stay out of the grasp of those searching hands. He teetered on the edge of the curb for the breadth of a moment, his body rocking back and forth. The Undead launched itself at him, propelling him completely off balance. Once on the ground, the young man couldn’t fight it off and only got a huge bite taken out of his forearm for his trouble.

Two more Undead followed close behind.

Thank you, come again
.

A few of the group rushed to his aid, only to be attacked themselves while the rest of the group ran back to the safety of the bus. Most of them were still in the flight mode. Even they realized a losing battle when they saw one.

Our position at the pump and the proximity to the convenience store did not really allow for us to defend the inhabitants of the bus. Getting out of the car would be certain suicide at this point. There was nothing we could do to help them, especially those that were under attack and already potentially infected. Knowing we could do nothing to help at this point, we put the truck back into gear and started to pull back out onto the road fully expecting the bus to follow us.

Ben had been watching the bus and realized that it was having a harder time getting itself back onto the road. The multiplied numbers of the Undead were now attacking the bus, only slowing it down that much more. One of the Undead had managed to pry its way into the exit doors located on the side of the bus. Through the binoculars you could see the living fighting hand to hand to mouth with the Undead and witness each of them lose their last battle. With the driver in certain peril as well, we realized it was only a matter of time before that bus became a possible liability.

Max accelerated smoothly and we shot away from that gas station as quickly as we could, snaking our way down the road. The bus continued to move forward, heading in the direction of the unleaded pumps. It did not appear that anyone was steering the vehicle mainly because it was on a direct collision course with the outside pump; the exact spot where our truck had just been.

The bus picked up speed on the slight down grade, its driver’s seat now empty. It only took a moment for the bus to crash into the pump; unfortunately the pump was still on. The resulting explosion was massive. The sound of the blast was deafening and we could feel the heat of the fireball even at our distance. The concussion from the blast rocked our truck and managed to twist us sideways on the road.

The good news is we didn’t hit anything and there are about thirty-five less Undead in the world tonight. Thank God for small miracles….

Day 17:

After our ordeal yesterday we’ve realized that we need to avoid the larger cities and metropolitan areas as much as possible. We can’t have another repeat of that again. We decided to start our journey north through California on the United States Highway 395 but then head west again when we could without hitting any major urban areas. While we realized we can’t avoid all signs of civilization, we can limit it as much as possible.

Our new plan was to cut west just south of Carson City, Nevada and then pick up the California State Route 89 north. We figured that if we kept heading northwest as best as we could that we would eventually meet up with the coast somewhere south of Eureka. Mainly we were just thankful for Ben and his immaculate maps. If one road looked particularly unpromising, we could always find another route.

You see more and more of the Undead on the road. They’re just wandering, stumbling aimlessly forward until they hear the rumbling engine of our truck. At that point, all heads turn toward us and the grotesque tableau of the chase is on.

We’re in a moving vehicle, so we have the advantage for the most part. We just drive away. There has been the odd scary moment; wait, who I am kidding? There have been a tremendous amount of scary moments where the Undead have outnumbered us five to one and have seemed to have been able to mob the truck just at the exact moment we were passing.

It’s at its worst in the middle of the night. You have no idea they are out there, being drawn in by the headlights of the truck, until a hand or two slams against the window beside your head as you’re trying to sleep.

Max and Bob talk a lot about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They talk about how this feels so much like what they experienced in Afghanistan as well as after coming home, only on a much larger scale this time around. I think we’re dealing with something a little different though. Something a little more insidious.

Technically we’re still in the war…

I’ve been calling it simply Traumatic Distress Disorder. I’m the first person that will tell you I’m not a psychiatrist nor am I a psychologist, but it’s plainly written in the faces of the few survivors we’ve had contact with. The constant struggle of surviving the Undead is taking its toll and I’m afraid that soon many of the people just barely making it are going to lie down and give up. Give up the lives they’ve been fighting so hard to keep. That’s the things with stress; eventually it will break you if you can’t see the light of any hope at the end of the darkness.

And right now we’re facing our own period of darkness…

We were making excellent time travelling north up the 395 and we had just crossed the state line into Nevada. We knew we had a few larger towns to get through but we hoped that we could navigate our way easily through them without any issues. We passed through Gardnerville without any trouble besides a few frisky Undead trying to slow us down.

Minden however was another story.

Minden is a small town with a population that used to be around three thousand living persons where the Nevada State Route 88 meets the 395. It’s also where a speeding Chevrolet Malibu crashed into our front driver’s side wheel spinning us around like a top.

I don’t even know where the car came from. One minute the road was clear, the next we were spinning dangerously close to the embankment. Once we finally stopped spinning, we all took a moment to regain our balance and perspective. Slowly getting out of the car, still on unsteady legs like we’d been playing ‘Dizzy Bat’, we realized the truck was completely unsalvageable.

The left side had been completely smashed in around the wheel well shredding the tire and thick, acrid black smoke was billowing from the engine compartment. A quick check showed that we were still all fine physically, aside from tender areas sure to bruise later. If we waited too much longer, though, the Undead would be upon us.

We gathered up all the supplies that we deemed absolutely necessary; the guns and ammunition, the maps, my laptop and accessories, and some lightweight hand to hand combat weapons before we headed out in search of another suitable vehicle or a place to barricade for the moment while we devised a plan.

Before leaving the scene, I checked the driver of the now smashed and upside down Malibu. Dead. Still dead. Lucky.

Unfortunately, we had to backtrack our way into Minden. It was extremely risky but the next closest options for cars or suitable buildings were too far in front of us. We were out of our element in this region and we really had no idea of what types of terrain or weather conditions to expect.

We had to be careful. We had already alerted many of the Undead that we had passed earlier to our presence and out of habit, and they would be following in our general direction. We had an advantage though; we were travelling with two of the most highly trained soldiers anyone could ask for.

It was simple really. You can evade a great many things, including the Undead, just by staying still and not panicking the closer they got. Many people out there seem to think that the Undead can smell the living but one thing is for sure; they cannot. We learned that little tidbit a few days ago while observing a group of survivors on foot.

They had stopped along the side of a supermarket to take a break or something and a few of the Undead came around the corner as they were standing there. We thought it was odd that none of them rushed to get away but as we watched, the Undead shuffled right past them. It wasn’t until a guy on horseback went thundering by and the Undead changed direction to follow it that we put two and two together. They could see with some semblance of sight and perhaps they could hear, but if you stayed completely still and didn’t make a noise, they would have no idea that you were there.

I’m not going to lie; we never wanted to put our new observation to the test. But in the midst of our current bipedal situation, we were going to use whatever knowledge we had to survive. We had a fairly large group pass within fifteen feet of our hiding spot today and they didn’t even have an inkling that we were there.

Thanks to Ben’s maps, we had an idea of where we were headed. We knew where the business area of Minden was located so as we skulked down the 395, we turned left down 6th Street. It was extremely slow going and there were many times that we were in the ditches clinging to the grass, praying that a glint of sunshine off of a gun barrel wouldn’t be enough to get their attention.

Traumatic Distress Disorder, that’s all I’m saying…

We turned left onto Esmeralda Avenue and found the main bulk of businesses. All of our eyes began to scan the buildings for possibilities as well evidence of the Undead. Coming up on 5th Street, Bob spotted the Farmer’s Bank of Carson Valley. It looked perfect. We could see that all of the windows were still intact as we made a reconnaissance trip around the entire perimeter. All of the shades were drawn on the windows and there were no bloody hand prints or anything remotely suspicious marring the building on either the outside or on the inside of the glass.

Another very handy feature was that it looked like it had a lookout station on top of the building. That would definitely come in handy for scouting out the area around us. On the off-chance, I tried the front door.

It was unlocked. Not the best of signs.

Ben, Max, Bob and I got ready to enter the building, hoping beyond hope that nothing was inside. We made one final check of the street, not wanting to alert any of the Undead as to where we might have disappeared to. Seeing the coast was clear, we all popped through the door, closed it quickly and locked it behind us. You will never guess what we encountered in that bank…