Rise (29 page)

There were patches of snow and ice in the shaded parts of the hills where the sun didn’t rise high enough to melt them away. The road led us up onto the level of the surrounding prairie again, and we had our first view of the Drumheller Federal Penitentiary, a medium security prison housing up to 585 inmates (so the signs said). Ahead of us was a crowded parking lot, and to the left of that were the administration buildings and a few houses, presumably for those staff that lived on site. To the right of the parking area the prison itself, a huge complex of low structures surrounded by a ring road, then a high chain fence with barbed wire coils on top. Guard towers could be seen at all four corners, standing high over the buildings and yards.

Traps had been mentioned in the sign down the road, and we saw them easily. They were marked with bright colours and skull-and-crossbones warnings. There was a pit trap set up beneath the main gate into the prison, and several deadfalls made from cars that had been lifted and balanced on wooden posts. Ropes led from the posts to the fence, where they could be pulled to crush undead beneath the cars. The pit trap was a slope down into the gate, about ten feet deep. There were scorch marks in the ground there, so presumably they were using the pit to incinerate zombies that wandered in. Probably using gas for fuel. There were also wooden barricades placed along the inside of the fences, and earth barriers as well as sandbags and stacked barrels. The approaches to the buildings were a maze.

Of more immediate concern to us were the walking dead. They were thick in the parking lot, among the buildings outside the penitentiary, and around the prison fences. I estimated the number of undead at around three hundred that I could see. They were beginning to notice us, and Eric slowed and stopped us about two hundred and fifty meters from the parked cars and buses. The nearest undead were turning our way and starting towards us when there was a commotion inside the fence. A door opened on one of the cell block buildings and several people ran outside, waving and calling to us. They must have seen the moving car and the undead action. One jumped up on a group of barrels and waved, while the others took off running towards a side gate that we saw. The man on the barrels pointed us in that direction, and I waved out the window at him and told Eric to drive us that way.

The nearest fifty undead were closing on us when we got to the side gate. A school bus with sheet metal welded onto the driver’s side was parked across the gate, and they started it up and reversed it out of our way. Once it was a wide enough gap Eric drove in, and they drove the bus back into place, blocking out the undead. We drove into the yard, and ahead of us was a garden. There were a few tanker trucks parked near the south side, and a fire truck as well as a small earthmover. It looked like they had dug up a lot of the concrete in the yard to expose the earth beneath. There was a small greenhouse as well as what looked like a chicken coop. This was confirmed a few moments later when a few chickens came out through the small door to see what was going on.

Eric drove us to a point between the garden and the first building, then stopped. More people were coming out of the buildings, men and women in winter clothing, and a few children. None of them was armed with anything more than knives or clubs, except one man who carried a long pole with a sharp metal point on the end. I told Eric to stay in the car, and the rest of us got out. I checked the gate to see how it looked, and the undead were gathering there, but not able to get through. The smell wasn’t too bad, since the wind was blowing towards them.

The group of fifteen or so people coming towards us stopped when they saw our guns, and the way that Darren and Kim and I spread out around the car. A few of the women grabbed the nearest children and pulled them away, but most of the people held their ground. We waited. Our guns weren’t pointed at anyone, they were just being held. We made no hostile moves, and neither did they. After a minute, I walked forward about ten feet and asked them who was in charge. The spear carrying man stepped forward after looking at his fellows for a moment and said, “I suppose I am, mister.”

I asked his name, and told him mine. He told me his name was Sam Norton and that he used to be a guard at the prison. I introduced the others, and told Eric to shut off the car. I had a good feeling about Sam, and I didn’t think we were in any trouble here. The group came forward a few at a time and Sam introduced them. There were nine men, five women, and four children. Three of the men were former inmates here, though Sam assured me they were not in for anything violent. The others were either townsfolk from Drumheller or other nearby towns, or survivors who had made it here from parts farther afield.

Kim asked where the other inmates were. Sam told us that many of them had died in the beginning, and after the prison was secured, many more of them had left to seek help outside or to try their luck elsewhere. None had returned so far. The group of survivors here now had not seen anyone else for three months. The last people to arrive were a woman named Rachel and her son Kyle, who had fled from Saskatoon and arrived here in a badly damaged truck that was still outside the gates. At this point Sam asked us if we could continue this inside, as the walking dead were getting pretty stirred up at the gates. I agreed, and I took Eric aside for a moment to tell him to stay alert. He passed that on to Kim and Darren while I followed Sam and the rest inside. They seemed friendly enough, but we represented a drain of resources to them if we stayed, and we had guns, which I am sure every one of them wanted. So we stayed alert.

We entered, and walked into a cell block. We were in the common room at the end, and I could see defences had been set up in the entrances. These were sheet metal over wooden panels that could be easily fitted into place over the doors. Brackets on the walls allowed 2x4 wooden planks to be slid into place to hold these. There was a stockpile of clubs and spears in one corner of the room, but otherwise it was a warm, comfortable place. A wood burning stove in one corner provided some heat, and there were high windows for light. I saw candles and lanterns as well. In one corner was a chalkboard with some math notes on it, and there were cups scattered around the room on tables. I smelled coffee.

Sam sat at a table, and I joined him. The others sat around us at various tables, and Eric and Darren and Kim sat down near a window, presumably keeping an eye on the gate and our car. A woman dressed in a blue parka and wearing thick glasses offered us cups of coffee, and we accepted. Coffee was served all around. Sam asked who we were and how we came to be here. Over several cups of coffee we explained our story, covering everything from leaving Calgary to returning to it, and how we wound up here. They were quite excited to learn about Cold Lake and Athabasca, and asked us many questions about the town and area surrounding it. We in turn asked them many questions about how they had survived and what they had seen.

They told us the whole story. At the start the undead had risen, and no one had believed it. Drumheller had been overrun by walking corpses within a week, and about the same time I was going through Golden the prison guards had all taken off, except the warden and a few others. Sam had stayed on because he had nowhere else to go. The prisoners had rioted, and some zombies had gotten into the population, and pretty soon there were three hundred casualties. The surviving prisoners and guards had joined up and cleaned out the undead, secured the prison, and shut the gates. By this time they were out of ammunition and nearly out of supplies. Most of the remaining prisoners had fled over the next three weeks, and had taken a few weapons and most of the remaining food when they went. The few remaining had stayed, and survivors from the area had drifted in slowly. Eventually they had to either get more supplies or move on, and so the warden had suggested they raid the town for medical supplies, food, seeds, and water, plus whatever else they could get. Forty people went into Drumheller looking for supplies, and thirty-one had returned. With what they got they managed to seed the earth in the yard enough to get a decent crop, and they raided groceries in canned form from the local supermarket. They also got the two tanker trucks outside, each filled with gasoline. The water supply problem they solved with the fire truck. Periodically they would drive it into town to the water tower and fill it up there, and they had various water gathering projects in the works all over the prison. Snow and rain had provided the majority of the water for a while now.

I looked around and remarked that this little group didn’t look like thirty people. I was told that about three and a half months ago they had suffered a break-in. A group of six undead had managed to find a way into the prison through a break in the fence caused by a fallen telephone pole, and had attacked during the night. In the confusion several people were killed outright before the zombies were put down, and nine were bitten. The sixteen survivors were joined by Rachel and Kyle less than two weeks later. And now us.

Eventually talk got around to what to do now. We suggested they could all try to get back to Calgary with us, or we could make the attempt to get all of them to Cold Lake. The other option was that they could stay here, holding the prison against the undead. Given the number of people here, Eric suggested taking everyone in two or three vehicles, minivans or buses, and driving across to Calgary, where we could be assured of help at the airport. We could even call for help with our radios once we got within range. Sam asked if his people could have some time to think about it. We agreed that was a good idea.

They have invited us to stay. We have taken a room for ourselves at the end of the block. The cell doors are open all the time now, but they have set up manual systems to close security doors should the undead break in. They have a few people on sentry duty, but due to the lack of firearms they have very little they can do. Darren and Eric will help out tonight, and Kim and I will aid them tomorrow. Despite the friendliness and lack of any hostility we are not ready to trust them yet. We are keeping a close watch, going everywhere in pairs, and keeping our gear and weapons secure. I don’t expect any trouble, but it pays to be prepared.

After eight days here, we finally are prepared to move. The undead activity outside dropped off significantly after we stayed inside for three days. They can’t see us well through the glass in the windows, so they seem to forget we are here unless someone goes outside. We try to do that only at night, or in groups of two.

I have gotten to know enough of the people here that I no longer feel terribly nervous about them. One of the former inmates, Bob Sneap, is worth keeping an eye on though. He’s a bastard, and apparently only stayed around because he had no place else to go, and was too afraid of striking out on his own to risk it. Also, the way he looks at Kim sends alarms to her, and once she pointed it out to me I saw it too. He hasn’t tried anything, and doesn’t even talk to us very much, but I keep an eye on him. Sam has proven to be a good man. He looks out for everyone here, makes sure everyone has enough blankets at night, that the laundry gets done, and that everyone is drinking enough and getting enough exercise.

We spent three days inside, like I said, and in that time we got to know the routine here. Everyone shares in the chores, everyone helps plant and grow the food. They have about twenty chickens they took from a nearby farm, and so we have had eggs a lot since we got here. I’ve missed fresh eggs and it’s so nice to have them again. And the vegetables too. Sure, they are preserved now, but potatoes keep well, and the pickled cabbage and frozen peas are wonderful variety after so much canned and packaged food. Darren came to me one day and said he thought they had it fairly good here. Sure, the undead were just outside, but they were fairly secure, and had fresh food. The only real worry was a steady supply of firewood and water.

After five days they decided they wanted to go to Cold Lake. We’ve explained the risks involved in crossing that much open land, but they seem less than crossing to Calgary and potentially running into several thousand zombies at once. So we’ve been outfitting one of both the school bus and one of the tanker trucks to make the trip. Sheet metal on the bus sides, storage for food and water, extra fuel on the roof. Also I gave Sam 20 shotgun shells. They have guns here, but ran out of ammo for them months ago. With that, one of the group here is armed, so they feel like they are more on equal footing with us. They’ve taken to referring to us as the ‘Army people’, I guess because of the uniforms and such.

Tomorrow, or possibly the next day, we are planning to go into Drumheller to raid for supplies. There is a hardware store I want to go to and see about some propane tanks and a portable barbeque, as well as bottled water and canned goods. The police station there is likely to have ammunition, so we’ll stop there too. Well, we’ll try. I am reminded of an old adage; no plan survives contact with the enemy.

Just before dawn this morning we started dealing with the situation here. At Eric’s suggestion, Sam and a few others got ready for a mass extermination. The swarm outside numbers about three hundred and fifty, and there used to be more of them. The people here managed to lure about a hundred so far into the burning pit, and destroy them that way. They didn’t do it more often because they had no way to replace the fuel. We’re going to take care of that tomorrow, so today we’re going to have a Zom-bie-que.

Sam, myself, and three others are the bait. It’s low risk, but still could be a danger if enough of them get in. Too many and they could climb over each other and get to us. Not enough and it’s a waste of fuel. So we walked out just as the sun was rising, and stood at the end of the burning pit behind the second gate. I had my Browning 9mm, but we all had long wooden poles with spiked ends. Eric, Kim, Darren and a man named Shaun were behind us with the guns, just in case. Four others were sent to covered sections of the fence behind the first gate. They pulled back the gates slowly, until they were open about five feet. We then started hollering for the undead, and it was very, very odd trying to actually attract them rather than sneaking quietly by.