Deadfall: Survivors (26 page)

Evan then asked the question we wanted an answer
to,

“Have you guys looked at any other roads leading in? Hell, have you guys just looked all the way around the compound?”

“What? Why?”

It seemed clear to us, but Evan continued. Aaron took Lucy and Heather
, followed them out to the truck, carrying our gear out, while I stayed back with Evan to hear the rest of the conversation.

“If
they’re  coming, it’s because of all the noise yesterday. Hate to break it to you, but, there are zombies everywhere. Not just in Asheville.”

I didn’t wait to look at their faces as they looked at each other. I can imagine their thoughts at that moment leaning towards
, “Oh. Shit.”

We threw our stuff into the back of the truck, and this time, I jumped in the
driver’s seat. I knew Black Mountain and the area better than anyone else here. In either case though, I turned the keys on enough to power up the GPS, and had Evan, who was sitting next to me,  bring up the local maps.

Heading back down to
Highway 9 would probably be the worst plan now, and while I knew there were a few ways back south over I-40, something just told me it was better to get away from the main pipes that fed the zombie flow. As soon as the GPS flashed on and the maps popped up, it pointed out a back way, just off of the center, up and into the mountains, and back down on the other side. From there, we could try to find another way around.

And that’s when we heard the crash. The truck was facing east, out away from where they had spotted the main horde. Behind us, a large fence separated the conference center from a residential area. In the limited moonlight, we saw a large section of it come crashing down
, and those dreaded figures in the dark moving over and across the section, and probably across the bodies of those that had brought it down. These zombies weren’t just moving as a horde, they were coming here, specifically.

It was a haunting, if not oddly curious
, coincidence.

And then
we were back in a gunfight. Bright flashes lit up the night, as soldiers who were posted in rooms on higher floors of the center began to fire on the oncoming rush of bodies. Sadly, even though it looked impressive, amongst all that lead raining down on them, all it really did was slow them down a bit. Not that I saw any, but I can’t imagine very many of them actually being hit in the head.

It wouldn’t have
mattered; I doubt they had enough bullets to hit every one of them.

I still hadn’t started the truck
though; in my mind, I was still thinking we needed to be quiet. Evan reminded me, rather, shouted at me, to start the truck and “get the fuck out of here NOW!”

Nothing made me feel better than the sound of our truck roaring to life as I turned the key
. Ahead of us, soldiers were pouring out of the center, firing down past us, stopping to allow more soldiers to reach the helicopters. Already, pilots inside were beginning to start up the machines, the blades starting to rotate, ever so slowly.

As I pulled out, the captain came rushing up to us. I stopped for a moment,
and rolled the window down.

“You know how to get out of here?”

I nodded.

“Good. Thank you again. They’re coming from everywhere.
Someone just spotted another horde coming in from the east, along the interstate as well, and there's reports of them coming down along the mountain, behind the center. Best of luck. If you can, make it to Fort Fisher.”

He waved
, and ran off towards one of the helicopters.

We drove off,
and as I brought on the truck’s lights, we could see figures ahead of us. The road that went up beside the center was right next to the interstate, although above it. Ahead, we could see an overpass over the interstate, and under it, it was as if the road itself was moving. Even along the top of the overpass, we could see a few lone figures moving across it.

Heather would tell me later, Aaron and Lucy as well, that as we drove off and they looked back behind us, that the soldiers kept fighting, shooting at a mass that got darker and darker as we drove away. As we pulled off the access road and onto the small country road that went up into the mountains, I hit a couple of zombies
that were slowly ambling down the road itself. I tried as best as I could to not hit them straight on, and thankfully I was able to avoid it. Mostly, they just bounced off the side of the truck, each with a thud that made us all jump each time.

As we pulled up higher
on the mountain, the horde thinned out quickly. It climbed up the side of a valley there; I think the Swannanoa was down below us. When we reached the top, before it dove down into another valley on the other side, we saw three, possibly four of the helicopters, go zooming by to our right, south of us, heading south themselves. We saw no others, and we definitely didn’t see the big one, the Chinook.

We drove on this country road, pitch black except for our truck lights. As I understood it from the map, it dipped behind a range of mountains that blocked us off from the interstate, which was fine by me. My goal had been to reach the Blue Ridge Parkway, mainly because it would get us into higher elevations
, and away from the mess.

The road dumped us down real close to
I-40, down at the foothills of the Pisgah, somewhere around 6AM that morning. The sun was just barely starting to come out, but as we drove by the small town there, we could make out the interstate, and it seemed devoid of life. Well, let me make that more clear. It was devoid of things moving on it. The little town though, had more than enough of the walkers that we had to weave and dodge our way through main street, until we reached the road that would take us up to the Parkway. I think it was Lucy, though, that pointed out that the walkers were all walking west, all of them.

We drove out
of that town, and up the mountains again along a little road called Curtis Creek Road. It took us up and out of the valley, and up a few thousand feet. By seven thirty or eight that morning, we had reached the Blue Ridge Parkway, and had yet to see a single zombie once we had passed that magic number of thirty five hundred feet. After quick discussions, I convinced them to head up to Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi. It had been a state park, and there were facilities at the top. We could head there, and feel safety at the high altitude, and maybe take in what we had just witnessed. Throughout the whole drive, very few things were said.

Mount Mitchell had been one of my favorite sites to visit in the past, one of the few “touristy” areas I didn’t mind. It was high enough that the vegetation actually changed up there, and you felt like you were in another part of the world.
Getting there though, we had to bust down a gate leading into the park, which surprised me. The last rangers leaving had actually brought it upon themselves to lock up, as if they’d be back sometime soon.

Amazing.

The facilities at the top were in amazing shape, too. Granted, there probably had been next to no visitors here since Deadfall, although Evan would point out to me while he was walking around up there, that he had seen some old campfires, burnt out wood, that kind of thing, around the concrete storage tower at the very top. Someone must have thought it safe to be here for some time, at least.

We got there by late morning and after checking the place out, and finding that we could pump some water into the bathrooms, we decided to just spend the night here, rest and plan how to make it back to the house. I had pushed for this
, as I had really wanted to get a good look at the maps to see how we would get back. The easiest way would be to just take the BRP right back, but it lowered itself down into Asheville, and I had a bad feeling about that. We also had to look around for some possible fuel stations, as we were at about
a third of a tank left, some hundred and fifty or more miles. In the mountains, that could vanish faster than one realized.

We got about setting up our gear inside what had been the old concession stand. I took Heather by her hand
, and led her up to the observation tower at the very top of the peak, a nice paved trail up. From there, I pointed out all the peaks I had hiked in an amazing three hundred and sixty degree view. Things had gotten so brutally chaotic those past few days that we just stood there in each other’s arms, breathing in relief, at least for the moment. We talked about being happy to still be in one piece. End of the world lover’s talk.

I
was also  able to bring up her presence among all those soldiers, and how she had handled it. She pointed out that none of those men had been the ones that had attacked her and her friend, and she knew it, but that it was one of those things she would always have a hard time getting over. I can only imagine.

I think Aaron and Lucy went to go spend some time together
, as well. They disappeared for a few hours, and I can only imagine (I actually did imagine quite a bit), what they were up to. End of the world and death have a habit of doing that to people. I know for sure that’s exactly what I was thinking, and Heather had already made it clear to me that she was more than fine with that set of actions. So, why was I hesitant?

Wait, did this suddenly become a girl’s diary?

Ok, I go on.

Evan spent that afternoon scavenging around the park grounds
, to find a way to mount his machine gun to the bed of the truck. We found out that he had made off with a few more cases of ammunition in the night, while most of the soldiers had been eating in the cafeteria. Again, just a tad obsessed with the whole gun thing, but I guess while some people are having sex, others are stealing laptops, while yet others are stealing cases of fifty caliber bullets.

By the end of the day, he had managed to scrounge up whatever materials he thought he needed
, and had built himself a little platform in which he could set the gun on. He had pulled out some beams from one of the smaller huts, and had wrapped them up with some wiring. It looked reasonably firm, but the small metal shaft he had managed to graft somehow onto this platform contraption, the shaft that would hold the gun in place to swivel, looked like it would snap the first time that the gun fired. I really didn’t understand anything about recoil, but it just didn’t seem right to me. Not that I knew any better.

After their little trek (and more) through the woods, Aaron and Lucy took it upon themselves to collect as much downed wood as they could. They had informed us that they wanted to have a nice warm fire that night, that not only would it provide warmth for us that night (we were above
sixty five hundred feet easily, and it would easily get really cold that night), but they thought it would be good for the morale of the group. It was a fantastic idea, and Heather and I joined in to help out.

Around that same fire that night
, we ate some of our food and, even though it was the same noodles and cream that we had been eating steadily for a few days now, the relative safety offered by our peak, along with the sound of wood cracking in the fire, and heat that poured from the flames, made that food taste better somehow. It was then that Tague showed us what he had been up to that afternoon.

Tague had found a few solar panels that had once been used to power the bathroom lights. Since the lights had not been used in months, the batteries that stored the converted sunlight were completely charged. He was able (again, beyond my understanding, but something I am determined to learn from him) to take that stored electricity to charge up the laptop he had stolen from the stash at the conference center. He had then spent most of the afternoon going through any relevant files on the laptop.

“There’s  still plenty to go through, but here are a few of the things I managed to figure out. First, these guys are so confident, that they didn’t even put a password on here. Digging through their logs and journals was easy enough, although it seems that this laptop here belonged to one Jerome Karst. From quick glances at what his logs were about, it seems he was one of the guys that was in charge of searching for power sources.”

“
There’s  a section here where he talks about how he has men going out and taking readings all throughout the city of Asheville. It really seems like they’re  focused on the city though, and not beyond it. That may be good news.”

“Something else stood out
, too. There’s  one email of sorts that was sent to their headquarters, or base, whatever it may be. They called it The Vault. With capital letters, as well. There’s  no indication as to where it is, but this man at least seems to talk about this location with a certain degree of reverence. It was quite unusual.”

“
There’s  also reference here to that word we heard, Inanna, here spelled I N A N N A. They call themselves the Followers of Inanna, again, capital letters. Is this like a cult?”

“
Here’s  the key thing I found though, Brian. Digging back through to the first logs he created when they first arrived at Black Mountain. Here, (he pointed the laptop at me, so that I could verify what he was about to say) he talks clearly about a Richard Arche. Brian, is that not your father?”

There it was. Clearly on the computer screen
was my father’s name, his well known name that is. It wasn’t the name he was born with. He had changed it when he began writing and making movies. But there it was. I tried scanning what was being said about him, and Tague was explaining what he had read.