Rise (32 page)

So the plan was we’d make as much noise as possible at the far end, draw all the undead out there to that end, and then open the main doors to get outside. We had found car keys in the teachers’ lounge for a Toyota Corolla and a Dodge Grand Caravan. They were still in the parking lot, and I had hopes they would start. The bus was still sitting on a flat, and we had no way to change it with the undead all outside ready to feed. We didn’t even have a spare tire, so it was a lost cause anyways. We’d probably have to abandon the food and supplies in the bus. That meant we had to find transport for all of us. Five sedans or four minivans should do it. We planned to head outside, Sam, Richard (a mechanic who’d lived in Drumheller) and myself going for the cars, and Kim, Darren and Eric covering us and destroying as many undead as they could until we got to the cars. If the Corolla and Caravan started, we had some vehicles right away. We’d move them near the doors and get back inside. Such was the plan.

We had twenty-two here, and the available seating in all the vehicles (assuming the two out in the lot even turn over) was twenty-two. So, no room for error. We would get everyone back inside, gather supplies, make noise, and flee for the cars. If the cars turned over we’d leave them open and running.

We made for the door while a few volunteers made a hell of a racket back in the science room. Everyone else moved back three rooms and set up barricades, except for two people who stayed to man the doors. One of them had my shotgun, the other had Sam’s. I had my Browning, full and clean and an extra clip ready. Sam had Eric’s pistol, and the others had their various rifles and pistols. Richard had a pistol too, but he claimed no real knowledge of firearms. I told him to stick by me, and if we had to shoot anything, to follow my lead. A few minutes crawled by, and finally they called to us. Darren was waiting near a window, and looked outside quickly, then called back that it was clear. I had the keys in one hand, and my gun in the other, and they opened the front doors.

We were out and had a few seconds to look around. The crowd of walking corpses was towards the back of the school battering the windows, trying to shatter the glass to get inside where the noise was. We had reinforced the windows with furniture and sheets of wood, so everyone inside should be safe. There were no undead in front of the school—it looked like all of them had gone to investigate the sounds. So we ran. I went for the Corolla. Richard stayed at my side, and we ran. The car was covered in grime and dust, a little unmelted ice, and some leaves from the fall. We stopped at the car, and Richard kept watch behind us while I tried the key in the lock. It went in, but I couldn’t get it to turn. Must have been frozen, or grit had gotten inside and fouled the mechanism. I pulled it out and ran to the other side of the car, trying the other door. Again it went in, and again it wouldn’t turn. Too long outside, I guessed, unprotected from rain and snow and sun. I could still hear the drumming and French horns over the slight wind that was blowing.

I took the key out and checked on the others. Sam was inside the Caravan, trying the ignition. I heard it cough. Turning back to the Corolla I gave the lock a smack with my hand, twice. That had always worked on my Explorer when it froze up in an ice storm, back before. And sure enough, it worked here too. The key went in and turned. The doors unlocked, and we got in. I ended up on the passenger side, and I handed Richard the keys. He fit the key into the ignition, and I heard two things. First was the sound of the Caravan roaring to life, and the second was the shattering sound of breaking glass. The drums and horns stopped, and I saw Eric run back inside. The zombies were coming back our way. Darren and Kim stepped back out around the corner, and opened fire. There was no way they could get them all, they were too close to the swarm to deal with every one of them before they were swamped. The Caravan was driving back towards the front doors, and Eric reappeared pushing people ahead of him. He must have realised we had to go now, and I agreed. Richard was still trying the ignition and I asked him the situation. He said he had it and it would start in a minute. I asked him if he was sure and he impatiently waved at the front doors and told me to go help the others.

The motor coughed twice then, but still didn’t start. I got out and ran to help. Undead were advancing around the corner, and Darren and Kim were being forced back to keep out of their reach. I ran forward aiming the Browning, and fired at one that had stepped around the corner towards the nearest living people. My shot missed, and I fired again, this one hitting it in the neck. It fell, but started up again. More of them were coming now, and the people were getting into the vehicles as fast as they could.

Darren was still firing, but Kim clicked empty. She threw me her rifle and drew her sword, cutting rotten limbs off, severing undead heads and yelling banshee-like the whole time. Darren stopped firing and ran towards me. I was busy shooting at an advancing teenaged girl who was missing both hands at the wrists. I dropped her, and three more took her place, and I was running low on ammo. Eric suddenly showed up at the front doors, and yelled at me that everyone was out and we had to go.

We ran. The Caravan was pulling out already, and the Civic too. Kim ran to the Pathfinder, and Sam was waiting there in the driver’s seat. I looked for the Corolla, and saw Richard and two others, a farmer named Greg and Gladys, a nurse from the prison, fighting hand-to-hand with five or so undead. All three had been bitten.
Fuck!

The horde was advancing on us. Eric dove into the back of the Pathfinder, Kim followed, and Darren ran up and turned at the door. He shot once at the leader of the advancing swarm, and climbed in. They had cut us off. There was no way to get to Richard and the others. Already they were screaming, and more and more of the twenty or so zombies left were turning to them. The leader of the pack was about ten feet from me when I shot him between the eyes, and I climbed into the passenger seat. All four of them in the Pathfinder had been yelling at me to hurry, and we drove away with the final screams of the three echoing in our ears.

The only good news from this is that we got away and kept away. We always knew we could lose people. We knew the risk, everyone did. It is my regret that I didn’t make sure they were dead and not returning. I have failed them. At this very moment they could be up again, walking about, seeking warm flesh to feast on. God help me, I hope not.

We ran east until we hit the highway north, the #41 North at the town of Consort, leading us straight to Wainright. CFB Wainright, about 100 km away from Consort, should have been a safe haven. Last we had heard there was a detachment of 350 Army troops there, holding the roads open and rescuing periodic survivors. As of December 13th, that was what we believed to be true. The reality was something else.

Right now we have fled the ruins of the base. It wasn’t destroyed by the undead, that much we could tell. It looks like it was looted and ransacked by the troops who were based here before they took off. We found the corpses of several officers and about two dozen soldiers in one of the barracks, and it looked like a firefight had erupted in the yard outside. The vehicles were all gone, fuel tanks were empty, and the gates were open. We looked around, stayed the night, and left this morning. We found no undead inside the base, and we closed the gates when we left. We searched around for a radio more powerful than what we had, but didn’t find one. Eric though that the mutineers (he was sure that the battle here had been a mutiny) had taken or destroyed all the radios. Where they have gone is anyone’s guess.

Still heading north. We reached Vermilion, a small college town, and passed around it without incident. We saw many undead on the streets there, and a few on the roads around the town. They tried to follow us, but it did them no good. Cold Lake is about 175 km from Vermilion, with only a few towns and a lot of trees between. We should be there tomorrow, if all goes well.

Three days. That’s how long it took us to get back here to Cold Lake from Vermilion. We arrived on the morning of the 18th, our battered and cold survivors extremely relieved to be surrounded by other living humans, offered food and medical attention, and warm places to rest. The ordeal was over, but I have to record it here.

We drove through areas familiar to my team, finally arriving at the farm of Colin and Betty Dawson. This was the 16th, and we’d seen numerous undead in the fields, on roads, and around farms, their numbers increasing slightly as we moved on. When we were a few kilometers from the Dawson farm we noticed the barricades across the road ahead. They were placed at a ‘Texas gate’, where two series of fences came right up to the road. This was all new, with fresh lumber and recently dug earth. We saw the pile of soil nearby, and the horizontal metal pipes looked reasonably new. There was a burned pile of corpses about 50 meters from the gate, on our side, but there was nobody living around. A few undead were standing at the gate, and one was actually trapped in the gate itself, its legs wedged between the pipes where it had tried to walk over them. It was a simple matter to deal with the three mobile undead here, and then to destroy and remove the trapped one. I had a look around the gate while the others removed the bodies, and in a wooden box I found a notebook and a pencil. The book appeared to be a log of activity near the gate, and on the last page I found a note:

To any survivors reading this, I’m sorry there’s nobody here to greet you. We were forced to abandon this area due to increased activity by the zombies. It’s December 1st, and we are making the trip to Cold Lake, which is populated and safe. We hope to be back in the spring, with soldiers and supplies. In the meantime, there’s a farmhouse ahead that is secure, surrounded by fences, and there’s a radio and supplies there. Call us on Channel 5, and we’ll come get you. Good luck, C. Dawson

I showed Eric and Kim the note, and then put the book back in the box. It was relieving to know that the Dawson’s were probably alright; they were decent people, and I liked them a lot. We all got back in the vehicles and drove over the gate, and a few kilometers later we arrived at the farm. There were new chain link fences surrounding the main yard, reinforcing what had been there before. The gate was closed, but with a manual lock that was easy to move if you were alive and had a functioning brain. I got out and opened the gate, and the cars all drove in. I noticed the Pathfinder was making a ticking noise as it passed. We’ll have to check that out. I closed the gate behind the last car, and secured it again. Then we went to check out the house.

As promised in the note, there was a supply of wood for the stove, canned and preserved food, several cases of bottled water, blankets, and cots for ten people. There was also, in the upstairs room (the one with the balcony) a small generator, instructions for fuelling it and starting it, and a radio capable of reaching several hundred kilometers. We also found four boxes of 9mm ammo for our Brownings, and two boxes of 12-guage shotgun shells. These were very welcome.

I detailed Kim and Sam to get the survivors settled here, and Eric and Darren and I went outside to do a check of the area. As the sun was setting we entered the barns and made sure they were clear. The outbuildings were beyond the fences, but looked closed up and secure. There were no undead within sight, and our search revealed no walkers anywhere. Feeling safer, we returned to the house to find dinner being made, the stove heating the house, and many very relieved people. Eric and I went upstairs to the generator and radio, and worked on getting it going. As the smell of hot food began wafting through the house, making us salivate and become aware of our hunger, we started the generator. I plugged in the radio set and started a check on it. It appeared to be fine, so I dialed Channel 5 and said hello with our call sign: CLST 107. The surprised reply came a moment later. We were acknowledged and asked our situation.

I told them that we had arrived at the Dawson farm, there were a total of nineteen people, the farm was still secure, and that we were safe. The woman on the other end said that they would dispatch vehicles in the morning to retrieve us, and that it was good to hear from us.

I asked her then if she could get word to Jess that I was alive, and told her my name, and all our names. She told me she would see it was done, and that we should wait at the radio in case anyone wanted to talk to us. I said we’d be sure to listen for it.

Kim brought us both some hot food, and she sat down with us by the radio. She told us Darren was outside checking the perimeter with one of the prison survivors. I told her the good news from Cold Lake, and she went back downstairs to spread the news. We heard an excited cheer from below, and a few minutes later Sam came up looking pleased and relieved. We bedded down for the night, set sentries, and left the generator on so we could have the radio running. About two hours later, with many of the people asleep on cots, hot coffee on the stove, and three sentries outside walking the fence, Sam and I were sitting in the radio room when it squawked. Cold Lake was calling. The operator told me some people wanted to talk to me, and a moment later I heard Jessica’s voice!

I talked to her for a few minutes, and then Sarah was on too. I didn’t notice until later, but Sam had left the room, leaving me to talk to Jess and my sister in privacy. It felt so good to hear them. A weight seemed to vanish from me, and I realised I had been worrying about both of them for so long I no longer noticed it until it was gone. We talked for about ten minutes. I told them roughly what had happened, who we had lost. I asked about Michael and Megan, and was told they were fine. Sarah also told me she’d tell Mandy that Darren was okay. Mandy was apparently Darren’s girlfriend who he never talked about, but she’d been hanging around with Jess since our plane went down, hoping for news. We had to sign off then. There was too much to talk about, and not nearly enough time on the radio to do it. I signed off, and sat down in the quiet, empty room and cried with relief for a few minutes. Finally, I found a cot, and went to sleep. It was one of the best sleeps I had in months.