Saw something strange today. A few deer wandered down the middle of Highway 26. They would graze in the median until some of the zombies would get close, then bound away. It’s like they know those things can’t catch them, so they aren’t threatened.
I sat up on the roof of The Apartment and watched people in the complex go about their business. I watched those deer. And I am watching a pretty large…herd?... pack?...whatever…a bunch of those damn zombies coming this way from the east. Must be escaping the fires. That would indicate that they have at least some rudimentary form of self-preservation.
* * * * *
A convoy passed on the highway just after sunset! It looked like some 18-wheelers, some motorcycles, and some SUVs.
We debated on signaling them. Maybe there is something better…safer than what we have now.
Too many folks were spooked. Afraid they might be like those guys we encountered at the hospital. In the end, we just watched them roll past, headed toward the coast it would seem.
They did do a lot of shooting. So we at least knew they were armed pretty heavily. Way better than us by the sounds of it. There was some intense automatic weaponry being used.
One of the women, Reggie Vaughn, said it sounded like .50 caliber machineguns. It seems that Reggie was the daughter of an army officer. She married an enlisted guy (much to daddy’s disapproval) and had come to Oregon when her husband’s enlistment expired. He was a cop, and I guess he was one of those poor unfortunate bastards that fielded one of the earlier calls.
I’ve seen this Reggie around. She sticks to herself mostly. I’ve seen her doing what I can only guess to be yoga in the mornings. She wears a baggy sweat suit and keeps her long brown hair in a ponytail. No make-up. But you can tell that she would be a knockout if she ever dressed up. Like everybody else, her eyes—big and golden brown—are mirrors of intense sadness.
Tuesday, February 19
Spent the day with Reggie. She’s a really sweet gal. We both just walked the fence and talked about losing our spouses (or ex in my case) to something so utterly unthinkable.
We ran into Greg who is busy setting up a garden. He had the kids helping while he taught them about soil and whatnot. I don’t think those kids even realize they were learning.
Dennis has posted a schedule. He wants to give everybody a physical. He says he is a little concerned about how our diet may be affecting us.
There is talk about another group going on a food scavenger run. My hands still have tremors.
Walking with Reggie, I am noticing that more and more people are getting despondent. It looks like they’ve given up…not everybody, just a handful or two…and it is a weight that everybody can feel.
There was one positive sign today. Little Joey was outside. He didn’t go over and help with setting up for the garden, but he inched his way out enough to be able to watch.
Baby steps.
Thursday, February 21
We took in a small group of survivors yesterday! It was quite a day. It began early Wednesday morning when one of our sentries, or watches, or patrols…whatever… spotted a flare to the southeast.
A bunch of us met on the roof of The Apartment and tried to locate the source. About fifteen minutes later, another flare was fired from what Rodney Bloss—the guy who was on watch and spotted the first one—said was closer. There was quite a debate. We had all been unanimous in our decision not to try and gain the attention of that big caravan the other night. But this was feeling different for a lot of us. Whoever it was, they were risking bringing a lot of attention their way.
The third flare cinched it.
After that aircraft flyover, we had made sure there were flare guns accessible all over. Never know where you might be when/if such a chance happens again. We fired one in response. About five minutes later we see two sets of headlights cutting through the darkness.
Once the vehicles came into view, cutting across Highway 26, we shot off one more flare to help them locate us easier. Using the same method we had when leaving the complex, we tried to split the horde. So many more had gathered that it was like digging a hole in the sand below the surf line. Clearly, these folks would need to figure out a way in.
We needn’t have worried.
Two huge RVs came rolling up the entry drive and into the outer parking lot. Both had been customized. Reinforced siding on the outside along with what looked like a big, steel, vee-shaped ram in the front allowed these things to literally plow through the zombies.
They actually took the time to parallel park beside the trailer rigs we used to protect our fences. A trap-door flipped up, and out popped an older man in his fifties. “Howdy…name’s Pete,” he waved as he climbed out.
Peter Crenshaw is fifty-seven with short, gray hair. He was a principal for a metro-area high school and looked every bit the role.
The other vehicle’s hatch flipped open and a man about the same age as Pete introduced himself as Tim. Tim Delegan is fifty-two and, unlike Pete, his black hair is only sprinkled with gray. Tim was the math and shop teacher at the same school.
It was at that school, in the first days, that Pete and Tim constructed these seemingly zombie-proof RVs. They did so with the help of another twenty-five people that also emerged. It was nothing for them to jump up onto the trailers and enter our complex.
Dennis had them all in our version of a quarantine while he checked everybody out. Early this afternoon they were all cleared. We are finding out through some of their stories that it is worse out there than we thought.
Zombies are only a small part of the problem.
Friday, February 22
Today I spoke with one of the new arrivals named Kimberly Vanderwell. She gave me some really horrific pictures of what is happening outside the relative safety of our complex’s fences.
That fire, which is finally dying down, was the industrial district on the waterfront along downtown Portland. Kim wasn’t sure how it started, but said that the blaze was hot enough to melt windows on buildings that faced the fire at least a quarter mile away.
There are bands of other survivors out and among the chaos. Some are just trying to stay alive. Others are taking full advantage of the total collapse of social structure. She said that the worst stories were coming from the big county jail located downtown. It seems that the criminals took over the facility. There are rumors that all the staff were being used to bait the zombies or simply tossed out of windows to the hordes that surrounded the building. Fortunately, that building was dev-astated during the fires. She doesn’t know how many escaped…if any.
(Once again this has me thinking about Paul.)
I must say that of all our new arrivals, Kim is one of the most welcome sights. She is a nurse. Dennis almost cried when she told us that she had spent the last two years at Rose City Memorial as a trauma nurse. She doesn’t like to talk about her last days at work. That made me wonder what Erin must’ve seen those final days. Maybe once she’s been here a while, I’ll talk to Kim. If I explain about Erin, then perhaps she’ll open up.
Saturday, February 23
It has been raining hard all day. People are getting on each other’s nerves. Reggie took me aside and said that a few people were overheard talking about leaving. She said that while we are surviving…this is not living. She feels like, if we can get away from the cities, we might be able to find a better life. She all but asked me to come if/when this exodus takes place.