Rise (14 page)

Today we left early, everyone eager to be away from there. We skirted the city in a small convoy of vehicles, and were very careful to avoid as many of the undead as we could. A few got in the way, here and there, but after running two of them over in the F350, we found it was easier to drive around them and watch them try to figure out which vehicle to chase. They inevitably chose the nearest.

We got onto Highway 16 heading east around 11 this morning, and have stopped three times at abandoned vehicles to siphon gas or check for supplies. We haven’t found a lot. The map shows this road goes on quite a ways before we’ll see another town, so we are stopping every chance we get. We plan to stop at the next house we see and search it for supplies, or at a store if we see one. We’ll be needing groceries pretty soon with this many to feed.

We found a police cruiser, an RCMP Ford Explorer actually, off the road and down a hillside, with the front end wrapped around a tree. The officer in the drivers’ seat was decidedly dead, and there was a handcuffed zombie in the backseat behind a plastic partition. Jay, Sarah and Darren went to look around while Jess and I played sentry up at the roadside. The others sat in the cars or stood outside. I heard a shot, probably Sarah killing the zombie, and a few minutes later they came back with some gear. There was a roadside emergency kit, a shotgun with 24 shells, and another Glock with four clips, all full. Sanji got the handgun, and we shared the clips. There was no food or water, but it was nice to have the guns.

Within a few more kilometers we found an empty house, a large six-bedroom family house with a small pool out the back. The pool was a mess, and we avoided it. The filth in it was black and thick, and we didn’t want to know what was in there. The house was empty. No food, very little in the way of supplies, and even the beds were missing sheets and blankets. We suspected some other group of survivors had been here and cleaned the place out. We decided to stay, since it was secure enough, we had seen no undead for a while, and it was getting on in the day. Better to have a secure place to stay before it gets close to dark. Jess and I even get a room to ourselves, on the second floor. On account of us both being injured we are excused from sentry duty tonight!

Marty seems to be doing a little better. We give him painkillers when he complains too much. Sarah is keeping a close eye on him, and hoping we can keep him from getting an infection. Now I need to go help with dinner. We’re using the propane BBQ we found in the garage to cook stew and chili, make coffee, and are going to try to bake some of those instant cinnamon rolls.

It’s raining this morning. We were awakened yesterday morning by Jay (who was on sentry duty) finding a walking dead standing in the fog outside, right between the vehicles. Jay claims that as the fog lifted he could see this dead fellow just standing there, and he had no idea where the zombie came from. We all kept away from the windows except for furtive peeks out to see if there were more nearby, but the one was all we could see. He was probably a trucker from the look of him, about in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a fleece vest, leather gloves on his hands, and a bright red baseball cap on his head. He was just standing there facing the Caravan, not even looking in the direction of the house. He was utterly still until a bird flew by, then he moved his head to track it, and when it was out of sight he just turned his head back to face forward.

We stayed for an hour to make sure the fog had lifted well enough to see, and also to be sure that no more zombies were waiting in the distance. When the hour was up we could see that he was alone. I took the carbine and went up to the bedroom overlooking the driveway, and slowly opened the window, only a few inches, making almost no sound. I saw my angle would hit the F350 if I shot at him, so we decided one of us had to go outside and deal with this. Sanji and Sarah volunteered, and began making plans to do it quietly. Sanji had his Glock, but we all hoped he wouldn’t need it. Sarah took the fire-axe, my Glock (newly reloaded with a full clip), and they went out the back of the house while Jess and I went upstairs to provide cover if they needed it.

The undead trucker just stood there until Sanji walked out from behind the house and onto the opposite side of the Caravan from where the dead man was standing. The change was immediate. The trucker tried to reach through the glass to get at him and started that damned groaning noise. Finding his way blocked, he started to the right, trying to walk around the vehicle but bumping into it as he went. He was quicker than a lot of them. Sanji kept the gun out and aimed, but didn’t fire. He walked right as well, keeping the van between himself and the former trucker. Once they had traded starting spots Sanji jumped around a bit, keeping the zombie in one spot trying to figure out which was the shortest route to go. He didn’t even notice Sarah behind him.

From the window, I heard her say ‘good morning, sunshine,’ to it, and then she swung.

Her fire-axe sank point first into the side of his head. It was a horrible sight. He dropped and flopped around on the ground for a full twenty seconds, probably the random firings of nerves, then was still. She retrieved the axe and went to clean it off, and Sanji came and stood over the corpse. His eyes followed Sarah as she walked away, or possibly he was watching the gore encrusted axe, and thinking how easily my sister had just destroyed a walking corpse with it.

After that we all got ready to leave. Jess is walking fine now, and my own ankle swelling is much smaller. Sanji and Darren dragged the body away so the kids wouldn’t have to see it when we got into the vehicles. We loaded the vehicles and all climbed in, and made our way east. The Yellowhead Highway, number 16, the Northern Trans-Canada, is truly a beautiful place to travel through. We saw many deer, a few bears, and a large number of birds. The large animals still shied away and left the road when they saw or heard us coming, but they appeared to be thriving. The only thing that took away from the beauty was the large number of abandoned vehicles, some with corpses. We managed to fill all the gas tanks by noon, and if we found a gas can we put it in the back of the F350. After fifty kilometers the abandoned cars dwindled out, and finally stopped entirely. I don’t know why that would be, but the highway here is largely empty, and very quiet. We drove along slowly, watching out for areas where the road had washed out or rubble from the slopes had fallen. We were getting back into serious mountains, and the ice and snow on the peaks was getting more pronounced.

We stopped for the evening at Slim Creek Provincial Park, a smallish park with no camping facilities except a roadside turnout and a pit toilet. It was very quiet as we got out to stretch, and we hadn’t seen a car or walking dead thing in a long time. We had no tents, so it looked like we’d be sleeping in the vehicle seats. At least we could make hot food. Jess and I set up the camp stove and started on dinner while Jay and Sarah and Darren watched the kids play. Marty helped with dinner, and Sanji and Amanda and Adam went for a short walk (not out of sight). Christie watched Megan for a bit, then came over and talked to us while helping make dinner. All in all, we had a pleasant evening. The insects were minimal, the scenery was fantastic, the air was clean and fresh, and the lack of undead was a relief.

We got to talking about why we hadn’t seen other survivors. Surely there must be more people than just us alive in the area. Come to think of it, we hadn’t seen that high a number of undead either. Not equal to the population, anyways. Sure, a lot of people had died or been devoured right after the dead walked, but what about after? Why hadn’t we seen other groups wandering like we were doing? I told them all about the caravan of motorcycles and cars we had seen in Rogers Pass, but we hadn’t seen anything like it since. We were in a large unpopulated area, I admit, but we were on a highway, a well maintained road (before, anyways) between provinces. None of us knew the answer.

This morning, after a bad night’s sleep in the Caravan, it’s raining and overcast. We made hot tea to warm ourselves, and are about to get on the road again. All the towns along Highway 16 are off the road a ways until McBride, where the railway and highway cross. We hope to make it there by sundown. We’ll be going slowly to watch for rocks and washouts

We arrived at McBride just before 4 p.m. yesterday. A sign outside town said it had a population of 725, but nobody was home when we got there. We’ve seen this before, towns entirely depopulated and empty of both the living and undead. It’s always creepy, and this was no exception. The highway ran alongside the train tracks on our right, then veered off to pass north of the main streets of the town itself, and as we went by, we could see the empty houses. The doors were all open, and the black windows stared like dark eyes as we drove along. Nothing moved. There were a few abandoned cars and trucks, and some trash littering the streets, but it was entirely quiet. We came to a bridge over the Fraser River (the same one that ran through Prince George and all the way to Vancouver? I wasn’t sure), and passed out of that dead town without stopping. A few kilometers further on we stopped to fill the gas tanks. We were in a valley between high mountains here, following the road southeast.

We stopped at a roadside turnout and parked for the night. There was a motorcycle in the long grass beside the pit toilet, a Kawasaki. It was lying on its side and looked like it had been there a while. Grass was growing straight up through the engine block and wheels. Looking around cautiously we found a small, three man dome tent staked down, about fifty feet back from the bike, and out of sight of the road. There was what looked like a big bloodstain inside the tent, and the back panel was ripped away. A filthy sleeping bag was all that was left, and mice had been nesting in it. Whatever happened here had happened a long time ago. We all slept lightly that night anyways. There was a definite chill in the air this high when we got up this morning.

I was on last watch, so I got to see the sun rise, and I made tea for everyone to help chase off the chill. It was a good reminder of the looming winter. I know it’s still August, but this is Canada, and it can snow here at any time.

Today we ran into problems. We made it a few dozen kilometers when we found part of the road had been washed out. It was by Rearguard Falls Provincial Park. The rains and lack of road maintenance had combined to undermine the surface, and a big chunk of highway had slid about six feet. There was a gap of a few feet between the road and the migrant piece, so we decided we’d have to go around it. I took the F350 first, and it handled the wet grass on the side of the road fairly well. Sanji came next, driving the Caravan, and slid a bit, kicking up some mud, but managed to get onto the pavement again. Sarah drove the Odyssey, and it almost got stuck in the mud where the Caravan had slid, and did get stuck a few feet later on. Most of us, except for Darren and Jess (lookouts) and Marty (busted ribs), piled out to help push it out and onto the road again, getting wet and muddy as a result. These minivans are great vehicles on the roads, but take them off-road and you see what they aren’t so good at.

We found the turnoff for the Continental Divide, where the 16 climbs up and up. This was our route, up into the clouds and away from the lower mountains behind us. Ahead of us, across the Alberta border, was Jasper. We’d be coming at it from another direction this time, and could avoid the town completely if we so chose, but I have to admit I am curious to see what it’s like now. Last time I was there was just after this all started.

We’ve stopped at a campground called Mount Robson. There’s a sign that points to the actual mountain, with a peak of 3954 meters. We found a few tons of firewood, another abandoned tent, this one empty, so we are taking it. Jay saw a wolf earlier, looking at us from across the road. It stared for a few moments then went on its way. Again we are sleeping in the vehicles. It’s quite chilly outside, and I am just finishing this before curling up next to Jess, Michael and Sparkle between us. We are all glad we brought those spare blankets along with us. Darren is on guard right now. He’s turning 16 in three days, he told us. Jess and I are planning something for him. He’s really like no 16 year old I ever knew. In the months we’ve known him he’s become a lot more mature and serious. I guess we all have.

Just over the Alberta border is the town of Jasper. I owned a cabin near here once. That seems so long ago now. Before the dead walked I would go there with whatever girlfriend I had at the time, spend a weekend with wine and skiing, and go back to Calgary and get back to life as usual. Nothing is “as usual” now, of course. Most of those girlfriends are probably dead now, and I don’t even want to imagine them as undead.

We cruised down the highway from the pass slowly, and as we came into sight of the first service station the adrenalin kicked in. There was a fuel tanker parked there! I had Jess pull over, as we were in the lead vehicle, and the others pulled over behind us. I took her rifle and leaned out the window with it, peering through the scope. The tanker was pulled up beside the building, not in the usual ‘blocking all lanes’ mode for refueling the underground tanks. Three cars and a motorcycle were parked in the lot, and the motorcycle was tipped over. One of the cars was destroyed, looking a lot like a group of zombies had shattered all the windows and torn the doors open. I checked around the car and sure enough there were bones and a human skull scattered about. The other two cars were intact. From here I didn’t see any undead, but that meant nothing. Without going down there we wouldn’t be able to tell.