One Wee Chicken - One Normal

"As a nutritionist, I have always believed that the weakest link in indurance performance is in an athlete's nutrition...Proper fueling will make or break the athlete's ability to perform and to stay injury free."  -- Nina Caron Runner, Andover Mass.

"And this is soy, and this is soy, and this is soy.  ALL of this shit is SOY ISOLATE PROTEIN.  ALL OF IT."  There was a box by my bed where I had dumped my MRE's sent in from Portland.  Divided up per day I had about 12oz of food ready to be mixed with water or 800 calories.  Soy is a big problem for an athlete, it blocks the absorption of many minerals and proteins which rebuild muscle which is why Whey protein shakes are preferred over Soy 10:1 -- the 1 being those who don't know any better.  SOY.  Damn it.

I was talking to myself again the Commander and I missing each other due to scheduling.  Sometimes I went and talked to Runner 8 through the fence sometimes and he grunted softly as if listening.  The rain had really deteriorated his condition and his face was failing as if eaten away by the rain drops.

"GOOD NEWS Runner 5!" Grant marched into my bunk house.  I immediately stopped scratching my butt.  "YOU HAVE CHICKENS!"  He waved his arm in a ta'da motion.

I was at a loss for words.  "Two of them" he continued.  "We know that because you run all day your rations will make you far under on your calories everyday -- well actually Rilea told us because they're supplementing their runners and we thought it made sense so -- wallah! Chickens.  You'll have to take care of them and make their coop and find them food and do everything for them but you have exclusive claim on their eggs."

Winter was coming on, we had always butchered chickens before winter on the farm.  Did chickens even lay eggs in the winter I wondered?  I had no idea. 

Long story short is the chickens were um' well one was a little grey game hen.  She was about the size of a pigeon and scared to death of everything.  Her strong protector was a lanky red hen, a Rhode Island red I think, although she was scrawny for a Rhode Island... 

They were disappointing as chickens but I figured they would be okay enough pets if the Coyotes didn't get them first.

Later in the afternoon the Commander wanted me to go gather samples from zombies and animals with Zombie Mortis to take to the labs at Portland 1.  You  might recall he is having me ship out there on the 2nd for blood work and checkup.  Anyway, it was horrible reader.  I had to tell him flat out no and his face grew this burgundy color and he said "okay" and slammed the door on the way out which made a horrible noise since it's metal.  

I'm sitting here with my packets of MRE's.  It's raining outside still.  I leave out at 4:30am in the  morning to pursue the elk herd, count them, see if any are sick, and watch them.  I have my rain gear in the boiler room drying.  Turns out my waterproof hoodie isn't waterproof.  It is pretty however so maybe I can trade it when I get to Portland 1 for something more durable. 

Tomorrow the rationing starts and peoples tempers will get really short and terrible I would imagine.  I'm not looking forward to my diet of Soy. 

A New Disease Vector, Mortis, the Zombie Virus

(photo is from creepy pasta)

The Typhoon storms have been raging but between cloud bursts most of the South Jetty Inn members joined us here inside the various concrete bunkers of the fort so it was during that fortunate circumstance that Dr. Ian Crow joined us.  Turns out he's some sort of chiropractor and not a "real" doctor - but we don't care here at Fort Stevens - a doctor is a doctor.  He knows about diseases and was one of the first to realize there was a secondary strain of the zombie virus. 

Becca, who is a nurse reported back that Runner 8 appeared to be shambling around the parameter instead of walking properly.  He was walking his dog but dear reader, something was very wrong.  The dog had all his teeth showing, as if part of his lip had fallen away.  His tail was brittle and hard with the rigor of death yet still attempted a wag that threatened to break it away from his body entirely.  Where he walked on his paws was mostly exposed bone now with the skin falling away like tanned hide.

As you recall from an earlier post the dog had been bitten by a zombie, briefly quarantined, then returned to Runner 8.

Runner Eight's sure walk was now the slow dragging footsteps of a zombie yet he showed no aggression.  Quite the opposite in fact.  He had walked the perimeter of the fence of Fort Stevens in life everyday from almost sun-up to sun-down and now he did the same in a ghastly routine.

Runner 8 was not as far gone as his dog, but promised to be soon.  Patches of his snow white hair were falling out.  His skin was an ashen blue color.  It appeared he may be missing two or more fingers.  Other zombies completely ignored him, but he occasionally took a slow mistimed ill aimed swipe at them with his base ball bat which he still faithfully carried.  It was a sick parody of the life of Eight and we had no idea if we should try to stop him, bury him, have a funeral?  Dr. Crow said we had bigger problems to worry about.

A corpse of a elk had been recovered at the snow line on Saddle Mountain.  We got the news late but now had some radio communication with Fort Rilea whose technology was much more advanced.  The elk was watching them, its eye rolling around, its mouth trying to move but it couldn't because it had almost completely rotted.  We got the news quite late in fact because no one would believe the report.  The Zombie virus was a plague to wipe out humans - and in fact being a God fearing region the majority of souls believed it was sent on purpose to either teach us a lesson about being obedient servants of God or to kill us all.  It was the apocalypse in other words. 

According to Dr. Ian Crow a new strain of the zombie virus had presented itself, one that could infect animals.  In fact, he amended, there could be twenty strains of the zombie virus at large at this very second that we didn't know about.  This particular strain he called, zombie strain "Mortis" and it was different.  When death occurred was debatable but it kept its host more or less sustained as the vessel rotted away.  Runner 8 had caught the virus from his dog, but had he been bitten?  It seemed unlikely.  Saliva could have infected him or worse, it could be air born.

Part of the Elk Herd At Fort Stevens

The Commander acted quickly because he's one of those, 'connect-the-dots' kinda men.  Between him and Grant they have a helicopter from Portland 1 delivering MRE's to our camp.  MRE's are 'meals ready to eat' and they're dehydrated and otherwise 'just add water' meals that survivalist and military use when food is scarce.  We have plenty of food though - or we did.  The Commander called us all in to explain along with Dr. Ian Crow.

The Commander started, "With the help of our new base doctor *smattering of applause* we have deduced there is a long incubation period with the zombie virus we are now calling, 'Mortis.'  As you know we quarantined Runner 8's dog and he was on patrols with that dog soon afterward with no signs at all of being ill."

"Yes" Said Dr. Crow, "We think it may take a variable time to display symptoms.  For instance it took a week or so for Runner 8's dog to get sick but only took him a few days.  We also know it's in the elk population and can infect dogs and humans.  This is unprecedented in diseases.  So although Mortis is in many ways a less aggressive virus in many other ways it is far more dangerous.  We could all already have it and not know it."  A muttering went through the crowd. 

"So the food supply is tainted."  Said the Commander.  "Our elk herd has finally arrived in full numbers and there are plenty of deer but the only way to have them to eat is to confine them to very large, tall pens and wait to see if they get sick.  If after a month or so they're okay then we can butcher them."

If you've never seen an elk - the first time you think - tripod monster or something equally scary.  They're BIG.  They are deer on serious steroids.  The idea of putting one in a high enough strong enough fence sounded sketchy to me at best.  Little deer required an 8 foot fence not to jump out, my old neighbor kept a few around as pets.  At least we still had the Columbia river bay, we still had fish.

I went back to my bunker to let what I learned soak in.  The Commander had finished his talk by outlining how most of us were to be on rations for the day except a small supper of fish and vegetables as needed.

I started making myself a cup of pine needle tea.  I saw it once on Bear Grylls, he had said it was good for Vitamin C or something.  Maybe I remembered the episode wrong, but tea is nice and was in short supply.

Dr. Ian Crow came to my bunk house and knocked softly at the open door.  He was drenched, it was raining hard outside again from the Typhoon.  "Care for some tea?"  I asked he readily nodded and smiled.  I probably should have told him it was pine needles, oh' well.

"Runner 5, I felt I needed to warn you that as a runner you are particularly at risk from the dangers of this 'Mortis', and you'll be exposed to it undoubtedly if you continue to run and will need to be quarantined whenever you are on base if you continue to run."

I sighed heavily, "but you still need my help to gather samples and find out what's out there right?"

"No one will force  you to go"  The Commander said from the doorway.  I hadn't seen Grant, who knew what plans those two were hatching.

"I'm a Runner, it's what I do.  I'll just be careful."  I said.  "Maybe you guys can find a cure."  I said hopefully.  Neither men smiled....okay or not.

"When the rain blows over, we have new missions for you, some will be very dangerous."  He said then added..."and do you have those maps done?  We need them before...well before you leave."  He said hesitantly trying not to use the words infected and die I imagined.

That's all for now dear reader, goodnight.   

(Special thanks to Jephael for helping with this episode, finding the photo of the rotting elk and otherwise influencing me with her fandom know-how! Thanks!  Also thank you to Ian Crow who wanted to be in my story :D)

Friday 9-27-13 General Grant Has Arrived

Zombies Damage Fence Near Marina During Storm at Night

I've been working on maps all day for the Commander and his friend Grant - or as I like to call him in my head - The General.  General Grant? Okay not funny, but to me he's the Commander's general. 

Together the men are an unstoppable Juggernaut of knowledge and charisma.  For hours they have coaxed me on and on in this map project despite the fact that in real life I get lost often and have zero cartography experience.  Three years of figure drawing does not make me good at maps.  They went through a lot of trouble to haul in a computer with Photoshop on it for me to use. 

After hour two Grant pulled out a yummy chocolate and nut protein bar.  "Do you want this?" He asked casually, "I don't care for peanuts that much." I had tried to make myself immune to Grant but he was an expert people person.  Between his smile and the Commanders nods I kept working.  We made some progress.

Runner 5

Zombie Storm - The Typhoon Weather 

The tail end of a typhoon has hit making the zombies crazy.  It has been so bad that bicyclist from South Jetty Inn have not arrived per schedule and there have been no search and rescue missions for the lost Tourists.  Some Tourists remained behind of course and they complained loudly but Grant has this mesmerizing way about him, his quick smile, blue eyes, and calm demeanor never reacts to whatever is being thrown his way.  If someone was yelling in his face he calmly agreed with them on several facets of their argument and either found a way to slide along to someone else and a new topic or converted the person to his way of thinking. 

The Commander was always good at hearing all sides and not getting angry or reacting but Grant took the skill of people engineering to a whole other level.  He made people love him.  

I almost felt optimistic about our chances.  Grant was wickedly smart too - guess you have to be to actively wrangle humans, the most dangerous creatures on earth.  For some reason not everyone in the camp saw it.  They saw what Grant meant for them to see, a laid back bohemian - maybe a drug user? No threat at all - look the other way. 

He was setting up webs of manipulation.  He was a master at work, but so was the Commander - turns out they were childhood friends who were geniuses in school, graduated early, turned down Harvard.  I kept asking them questions as I worked on the maps.  I was dying to know their stories and who these guys really were.  I don't think they would ever let me know for sure, and I was surprised they divulged anything at all, but then again I feel like the black sheep of the camp.  The person who doesn't huddle for comfort with everyone else.  The person who chooses a danger so horrific that the others don't go near the fences - I go out the fence - I go into the wilderness risking my life and I do it day after day.  Zombies don't frighten me like they should. 

In a weird way working there with them in the bunker I started thinking of us as a ruling trifecta of force.  I was the main runner, and their go-to person, a bunkie even - were we cooperating as equals?  Then I banished the thought - anything I assumed or thought probably was planted there by Grant and the Commander

I have an important mission tomorrow but will write about it then - the typhoon threatens a great many plans.  Hopefully I get to see Hero 13 again and find out about Rilea.  

The Bikes, The Wonderful Bikes

Close the Gates!  Cover Fire!

The convoy of tourists had not yet returned.  Commander sent Runner 8 out with his dog to walk the perimeter line.  The Commander was in a very good mood - light hearted? Dare I say? I asked for a job and he beamed at me, a big smile behind his beard that made me feel like I had just said the very rightest words in the whole world. 

"Five, if you don't mind, run toward Seaside today until you see the revolution - you'll know it when you see it."  He smiled and clapped his hands walking off toward the latrine.  I doubted myself.  Revolution?  Did he say that or something else? 

I ran about four miles toward Seaside when I saw a wondrous site.  It was baffling.  Bikes.  Lots of them coming toward me.  Wheels turned and happy-go-lucky waves greeted me.  One fellow pulled up.  "Hey Brecca - give this runner the extra bike"  Someone pulled up short, they had an extra bike hitched to her own.

"Gladly" she said handing it to me.  I got on awkwardly - I'm scared of bicycles.  All the bikes were awkwardly loaded down mostly fencing and barbed wire.  The people on the bikes looked very fit and of all ages, some were even obviously families.  I got on the bike and I started to pedal.  Soon it was clear to me - we were going to Fort Stevens. 

Okay - I'm dense.  I'll admit that I had to see the gates before I had the OMG feeling in my gut.  Could this be planned?  Well of course it was - but who?  The Commander.  While the Tourists were out as zombie bait.  But how did he get word to them.  I remembered the equipment in our bunk but also the transmission station I had found.

Coast Guard Communication Station

Well, however he had done it - he had done it.  A large group of people were now joining our ranks.  But where would they sleep?  We couldn't house all of them.

The Fort was a pit stop.  One young man, maybe older but he was very fit so looked younger - rail thin got up from his bike.  He clapped the Commander on the back and the two started conversing back and forth ignoring the rest of the gathering.  I didn't know the Commander could have conversations like that! 

I gave directions to many toward the latrines.  The Commander motioned me into the bunker we shared.  Both men were pouring over the technology.  The new fellow had a long shank of blond hair and very blue eyes.  He knew exactly what it all was and suggested some modifications which they talked over at length.  I was exceedingly bored and baffled at the same time.

"Runner 5 here is an artist" the Commander said finally.  "She can redraw the camp lines and make us a map I bet."  The new fellow nodded and added -- "We have a lot of planning to do Runner 5 so you  might end up with a few mockups before we decide where to to put the first fences."

I admit, it was a little bit like - the Tourists had been a crazy baby sitter who you were really worried was going to break your toys and burn you with a cigarette and the new people felt like the grownups had arrived, had their shit together and everything was finally going to be okay.

The talk turned to expanding the camp into residential areas that were originally part of the fort and using natural land features as barriers against the zombies.  They discussed at length which fence sections could be completed before winter set in.

The Commander had not actually ever gave up control of the camp I realized.  He had used the convoy as a decoy so that his revolutionaries could safely arrive and real progress get made.  Had he just been frustrated for too long?  I wondered.  The Commander, I decided, was a dangerous man.

Where they were going to sleep was soon remedied.  They were taking over the now abandoned South Jetty Inn, using the wire and fence the brought with them to barricade around it.  They would be a short ride from the Fort and soon the two sections would be connected. 

Soon instead of just me and Runner 8 pulling missions there would be three people out on bike as well and they could patrol the roads in Hammond district very easily and quickly.  It wouldn't all be on my shoulders anymore.  I was relieved.

It couldn't be all fun and games.  Ethridge wandered back into camp angry as usual and demanded that I, Runner 5 get busy and run supplies to the retirement village -- a really long run and the supply he wanted?  Water.  I can't carry gallons of water.  Camel I am not.  Some of the  new people went out on bikes with water.  Turns out the entire convoy had dysentery and five were already dead, and then they had made too much noise and about fifty zombies had attacked them.  A few were left but weak and dangerously dehydrated.  

 

At that point I kinda thought that the Commander was going to shoot him but instead sent off help in a good natured, "lets all get along" kinda way.   Maybe he knew the five left behind were already dead and Ethridge Carlson was guilty as hell because obviously someone had drank the good safe water and left the others to drink the questionable source.  Carlson was a murderer.  

But was the Commander?  It was situational ethics I guess and I just didn't have time to ponder it.  The new people seemed nice and I was sorry to see them go - but the man with the blond shock of hair stayed behind and moved into our bunk.  Him and the Commander wouldn't stop talking about technology and engineering.  I put my headphones on.  They are driving me crazy.

_________________________________________________________________________

Hey all - this weekend I'm running the South Clatsop Slough Scramble, trying for the 5.5 mile distance.  :-) Wish me well, cheers! 

 

TARDIS

I hate Ethridge Carlson, the man smells bad, has bad teeth, ew.  Anyway at about 4:30am this morning he had me out on a ten mile run scouting the road ahead of their idiot convoy to get supplies.  And get this reader - oh' you will not believe this - but I overheard them talking and one of the main reasons they are going is for cigarettes and booze.  Senior citizens!  I know, I'm naive, I thought they wanted photos of their now zombified loved ones or knitting supplies.  Nope, packs of Camel is the priority.

Our old Commander told them NO to the big thingie vehicle that moves people and is from WWII lovingly restored.  He was adamant they not take it, so of course they did which allowed them to take an extra fifteen or so people. 

He stalked off after losing the argument.  Concerned I followed him into our bunk.  Reader...he was laughing.  Wow.

So I do my run and come back and a couple of  hours had past because I had to dodge some zombs and just was being lazy about the whole progress because I hated being up so early and not being able to see properly.  What if there were spiders? Ew.

I get back and its light and the convoys had already left.  Yeah - send me out on a ten miler and then don't even wait for me to get back!  They must have been in some kind of hurry to find some smokes and spark up.

I go back into my buck and it's completely transformed.  There is a rack and routers and devices attached to it that I have no idea what are.  A new solar panel is on our roof and wires are everywhere.

The Commander is a network engineer and runs our leg of Ruffle net it turns out.  He wanted the network away from Carlson I guess.  He didn't really give an reason for moving a ton of blinking lights into our living space.

Our Living Quarters

"So want to watch some tv?"  He asked.  I looked at him incredulously.  He pointed to my old Macintosh laptop.  "I can hook it up to the server and we can stream some tv" he said.

He had Doctor Who, Sherlock, Community, M*A*S*H, and terabyte upon terabyte of tv shows and movies.  Soon we were watching Community and laughing our butts off.  He brought out the elk jerky, the go to snack in camp.

There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask him like, "did you just knowingly send all those people to die?" or "Why don't you depose Ethridge Carlson?" or "How do you know how to do all this engineering stuff?"  But - I'm shy and even when he's laughing he's intimidating.

The Tourists had now gone.  We were doing absolutely nothing but watching TV and it was luxurious.  It was a good day after all despite the ten mile early morning run.  The Commander relaxed out on his bunk and took a nap.  It was one of those sorts of days.  It struck me that he probably never gets to nap or eat jerky or watch TV that maybe him letting Carlson screw everything up for a week or two was simply to get a vacation.

That's all for today dear reader....cheers! 

Drenched

"If you train your brain to get used to mental fatigue...the task of staying on pace will be easier."

One of our Tourists had gone out to South Jetty, a quarantine zone.  When I arrived it was a blood soaked mess.  Looking up the sand dune I couldn't see the situation until I was on it.  A shambler had the older man and was aggressively biting him.  So right there - he was already infected and as good as dead.  Three large dogs, mixed breed, grabbed him by the arms and torso trying to drag him away as their carcass.  He screamed and shook his arms not knowing how to extricate himself. The dogs and the zombie both wanted him as their own and neither were giving up any ground and luckily they didn't notice me. 

I looked out at the ocean - it wasn't pretty.  A big storm was coming.  I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to outrun it.  The wind was starting to whip up. 

The noise was drawing more zombies.  The South Jetty - 1A Quarantine zone, only had the one easy path of descent / ascent.  I was going to be trapped between the attacking dogs/zomb and the new zombies shambling up the long sandy dune path. 

A1 Quarantine Zone South Jetty Dune

I ran.

Adrenalin pumping I ran and didn't look back.  I didn't want to know if I was being pursued or if they had turned in my direction.  I just kept running. 

I know reader you are dissapointed in the lack of heroics in this post.

Soon water burst from the sky like a visit from Poseidon.  The trails started to have little streams through them dunking my feet through, splash!  Splash.  I lost my favorite cap.  I don't know how - it was secured on, but I ran so hard I didn't notice it was gone until it was too late.  My eyes burned from the rain.

I came back to camp and circumvented people - I needed to think. 

What would the Commander do?  I wondered to myself.

Carlberg and his ilk were heading toward me purposefully and with great suspicion.  

"You came back alone"  Our new leader said in a taught ass-hole way.  I nodded still dripping, longing for a hot shower and to get away from the inquisition.  "Well.."  He crossed his arms.  I shrugged. 

"There was nothing and nobody there.  Not even footprints.  The storm was coming so I didn't get a chance to comb the beach but no one had been on that branch of the trail as far as I could tell."  I bloody lied, but that was the kind of day I was having.  I knew the Tourists with their mind set would never accept the true story. 

"Well, we'll have you run another mission then" Carlsburg said.  "He needs found"

By then because of the storm it was a deep indigo outside.  My feet squished whenever I walked.  I thought about saying, "NO" - but then rethought it.

"I would love to, and I know this needs done.  I wish Hero 13 was still here.  I sprained my ankle a bit, reactivated my plantar fascittitis so I can't run anymore today - I can barely walk."  They looked very suspicious but I was playing a good hand of bullshit with them.  They nodded and walked off finally. 

I know I haven't "won" -- there will be payback from that group for sure but I dodged the bullet for now.  I should have left for Rilea with Hero 13 I thought as I headed to my bunk house. 

As I sloshed into our dwelling the Commander was there, shirt off, doing push ups.  My day had just got better.  He was smiling as he did them and was even humming to himself.  Something definitely was going on, maybe it was worthwhile to hang around.  I had never seen the Commander quite so satisfied. 

A Walk In the Rose Garden With Hero 13

Hero 13 - Illustration by JJD

In this episode, Hero 13 finds a new home leaving a bunk open for an unexpected guest who has plans in the future that may include the demise and zombie filled deaths of the Tourists....

It had stopped raining for a little bit.

"YOU ARE WHAT?"  My irritability had been bubbling forth for a day or two as every older tourists I passed stopped to lecture me.  I would always be hostile in return and they would be, 'shocked' and 'promised to pray' for me since I was such an awful person.  I wanted to wreck some zombies with a cricket bat.  I had had enough.  I didn't use the F word to their face - what more did they want from me?

Hero 13 reached out a foot and booted me in the leg.  "So what do you think?"  He said.  I nodded dumbly.  My emotional energy was sitting on zero. 

"Yeah"  I said, "Get the hell out of here while you can"

Then from around the corner stepped the Commander and I realized he had heard the, "get the hell out of here while you can" comment.  Ops.  He walked on business as usual leaving us alone.

We were walking in the Rose Garden.  For some reason I just never paid it a

attention but Hero 13 had chosen this spot to unveil his plan to go to Ft. Rilea where it turns out a rather attractive marathon runner needed his help with pacing and training.  Uh hu.  Rilea was trading us a head set for our runner, but now we would have no fast or long range runners.  I was training.  I was trying.  I had a long way to go. 

"So when do you leave in a week or two?"  I asked mildly wallowing in misery. 
"NO 5.  Tonight.  There is a transport to Rilea tonight and I'm going to leave."  Hero sighed.  "Here this is for you"  he reached into his pocket and pulled forth a rubber ball.  The ball I stole from him all the time so I could bounce it against the concrete wall of our barracks for hours. 

*** Hero 13 Leaves***

Runner 5

So an epilogue reader to my day.  I tucked in early since I'm not longer welcome in the eating hall.  Mildred has embroidered upon the story of her and the M&M's until it's unrecognizable but the Tourists are already in an, "Us VS THEM" mentality.  They don't like the runners, the commander or the 25 guards standing between them and being zombie meat.  They always think they know better. 

I was in my bunk slamming the pink rubber ball against the concrete again and again ever angrier at the world and wondering if Hero hadn't had the right idea - maybe I should leave.  No one here even liked me and I kinda sucked at running compared to Rilea's people.  A knock came at the door.  No one ever visited me, Hero 13 sure - he was popular.  He had charisma to spare, but not me.  "Come In" I yelled.  The ball froze in my hand as the Commander came in the door.  'Oh' God - that comment I made earlier.. I knew I was in trouble.

"Can I come in?"  He asked.  He had a bottle in his hand that looked suspiciously like tequila. 

"Oh' sure, sure, here please sit down"  clearing off our only chair.  He set down with two old dixie cups and poured us both a drink.  I was in shock - the Commander DRANK? REALLY?

"We need to talk" he said.  "Privately."  Oh' hell another condescending lecture.  No I won't ever deprive fat old bats of M&M's no matter how much in trouble the human race is in, I promise.   "First, I'm sorry to hear about Runner 13" he said formally.  I couldn't move, I was waiting for the boom.  "Hero" I muttered under my breath. 

"As of this evening I am no longer Commander of this base.  In fact I am um' confined to these quarters as the rank of Runner."  I dropped my ball into my lap my jaw hinged open eyes in disbelief.
The Commander a runner?  Bunking in our dorm?  What?

"You're bunking with me?"  I asked thinking there was a joke involved getting me back for hating on tourists.

"For a few days at least, yes, which is why I brought the peace offering."  He took a gulp out of the cup.  I had never drank anything harder than a wine cooler so I eyed my cup like snake poison but also considered maybe I needed a drink right now very badly. 

"What happened?" I asked in a small voice wondering if that was polite.  Commander officially or not he was intimidating and now he was my BUNKIE? No more rude conversations before bed with Hero 13 or walking around half naked since neither of us cared - nor cared if we showered.  We were good bunkies.  Had been good bunkies. 

"Council took a vote, Ethridge Carlson is now in charge."  He said modestly like it was a perfectly sound and reasonable event.

"WHAT?  He's a blowhard - that guy is a consummate bullshit artist."  And he was right down to his brown suspenders.  The Commander started laughing, and then laughed harder and finally I smiled a little embarrassed by  my quick yet accurate assessment.  

"Five, listen to me, you are stressed out and on the edge - I can get that.  The Tourists have been giving you grief but please stick it out with me okay?  Everything is about to change in a big way.  This is just temporary."  I poured him another drink.  I wanted to find out his plan and I figured there was no other way of getting at it then to get the man drunk, if that was possible with someone as intimidating as the ex-Commander.

"Tomorrow the Tourists have voted and decided to take the travel vans back to Aldrige Acres to salvage what they can.  I'm sorry but they took all the Petrol we had."

"They are going to pack into them pretty tightly.  We need this.  We need to send them off one by one."

"WOE!" I shouted, "You're hoping they get their asses in trouble and have to come running back to us for help....or....hey, do you want them to die out there?"  He just smiled and took a drink.  I had a sinking sensation.  I took a sip of my drink.  It was like fire and gasoline and everything horrible all at once and I couldn't breathe. 

"Breathe 5, Breathe!"  The Commander sounded slightly amused.  I did not drink anymore after that.

"No, I do not wish them harm but we do need to make room for better assets to our colony.  I have been negotiating the arrival of fifty families to the camp, most of whom are military in one form or another and have survival training.  The old foundations outside will be built upon and the fence reinforced.  This camp is going to grow 5, grow and shape hopes." 

I was gobsmacked and had no words for him.  Fifty families? Holy Goats!! That's a lot of people, we would have to expand our borders, we would have to have more fresh water supply, latrines dug.

"Five - always think big, think a few steps ahead of people and you won't find yourself stepped on."  He said as he prepared to bunk out for the night.

"I'm not that bright Sir, I'm just a simple runner trying to survive.  I've always left the cleverer bits up to other people."  I said sincerely admiring his intellect while at the same time having a bit of horror at his dry assessment of the Tourists - was he weeding them out - killing them off?  I wondered.  Then I wondered if that didn't take a helluva lot of spine to make those kind of decisions.  I couldn't do it, no way.

"You're smart Five, that's why you're my favorite."  And then the lights went out because our new leader Carlson deemed they all go out earlier now.  He groped around in the dark, found Heroes old bunk and laid down.  I was still furiously thinking when he started to snore.  Oh' great.  Heroe never snored, I think he was too stuck up to snore.  But the Commander had a real snozz for snoring.  It was a long night and I vowed to find ear plugs.  Living with the Commander would keep me on my toes for sure, now I was pretty damn certain I would never relax.   The week just has to get better - has to.

Runner 8 - Walking the Perimeter

What is It? Where Did It Come From?

Saturday are not usually my run days - but I've been running everyday without a break for....awhile now.  Today Hero 13 got it started.

"There is a HOUSE.  There is a house down by the Fort Stevens concrete barrier signs.  It wasn't there yesterday or last night and it has been raining.  Where did the house come from?"

I ran that route yesterday before the rain.  I ran past the Fort Stevens signs.  I didn't believe him.  "What do you mean house?  Like someone is living there?"

"No..." said Hero 13, "more like a chicken coup or a bus stop -- hell, I don't know what to call it 5.  A guard house maybe?  Kinda looks like a check point almost..."

"Did you ask the Commander about it then?" I asked sensibly.  He nodded.

"He doesn't know either, you should go take a look."  Well then it rained all day but late in the afternoon we had a break in the rain and the sun poked out a bit so I decided to take the run and bring my camera to show you all what had materialized at our door step.

It had new aluminum flashing on the roof making it water proof and two windows, one on either side, the old sort, probably historical.  The floor was new wood and it was constructed very well.  But why?

No one builds anything with unguarded windows and no doors these days, yet this appeared over night on the old street in front of the fort by the concrete pillars.  Any information as to what this building is we do appreciate.  Please get a hold of us through the ruffle net server system.

Update on Runner 8

Runner 8 was able to take his dog home against most people's better judgement - like mine.  I was against it, but the Commander is respectful of everyone and Runner 8 was broken without his canine companion.  So far the dog has shown no signs of illness. 

My Rant

When I came back from my run today Mildred, one of our tourists from California encamped with us for the duration was eating M&M's privately and greedily in the laundry facility.  Mildred is at least 120lbs overweight and diabetic.  I lost it dear reader.  I yelled at her.

"MILDRED What the hell?  I've had nothing but a protein bar and ran eight miles today and had to drink dirty water once I reached Warrenton and you're here eating CANDY?!  YOU ARE DIABETIC WHY......."  The Commander grabbed me by the scruff and pulled me out of the laundry facility and marched me rather forcibly over to another mine storage area.  I had made Mildred cry.  The Commander is funny about things, he sees the humanity in everyone, sympathizes with everyone, and crap if it doesn't drive me nuts.  I'm sick of these people and having to live so close to them all the time.

"YOU"  He said rather forcibly, "ANSWER TO ME.  YOU ARE A RUNNER.  IF YOU  HAVE A PROBLEM WITH SOMEONE YOU BRING THAT ISSUE TO ME.  CHAIN OF COMMAND.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND RUNNER 5?"  I was starting to tear up, the Commander had never been mean to me before.  I nodded.  "It's just" ... I muttered....

"WHAT?"  He demanded.

"2/3 of the food me and Hero bring back is junk food.  It's crap but we put it away in storage because it's all we've got.  And the Tourists they just gripe all the time.  They are either gluten sensitive or soy sensitive or fructose intolerant or lactose intolerant and then there are those damn diets they are still on.  The say, 'oh' I can't eat that I'm Paleo', and 'I can't eat that I'm against dairy' they either Atkins or Vegan and everything inbetween  -- SIR It's maddening!  One thing NONE OF THEM are sensitive to is SUGAR and FAT.  I swear Sir, we bring back sweets and it's like a pack of kindergarteners and suddenly the 50 or so diabetic people who live here with us just 'forget' that fact, dig in,  and then they need extra insulin, supplies I RUN FOR.  They all eat the sugar and shit food but then feign food priorities when we have cabbage night so they can worm their way into our extra supplies for a KitKat.  I'm sick of it.  Sir."

"ARE YOU DONE?" He asked looking very unsympathetic and possibly like he hadn't heard me.

I nodded.

"Those Tourists are not your concern.  What they eat is not your business.  Where they crap isn't YOUR ISSUE.  GOT ME?"  I nodded.  "Keep your opinions to yourself and if I ever see you take it out on someone again I'm going to trade you to a different camp."  I nodded stunned.

"Another thing - October 2nd there is a vehicle setting out from Rilea.  You are to run and intersect it and go to Portland.  You are to go to Providence and get your blood work drawn.  You are sick Runner 5 and that is my business too - I need my runners on point and you keep slowing down and losing time.  The meds didn't help you did they?"  I shook my head slowly no not believing what I was hearing.

"We'll let you run as long as you are able to, as long as your kidney function is okay and your issues don't get out of hand.  YOU WILL LET ME KNOW when you cannot run anymore - got me Runner 5?"  I could no longer look at him in the eyes my head was down and I felt burnt out beyond repair.  I nodded.  Sure.  Whatever.  Then he reached out and stroked my hair a little bit gently.  "We can't have you sick 5,  we need you.  I need you."  He said softly.

Then he got up and resolutely strode away.  The sun setting I was cold.  The sweat dries and it makes it very chilly indeed.  I needed a shower - well, skip that I didn't want to see anyone.  Clean clothes would have to do.

Ecology of the Fort

The sky was indigo and threatened to burst at any moment into the fall storms Tess predicted but I had a run to do for the commander.  The zip line run to the USPS drop box.  The commander slid his letter rolled up into a metal tube and handed it to me.  I would take it to the drop, about a mile and a half away.  Another runner from either Rilea or Astoria would pick it up on the way to the next relay station until it reached Portland 1 - our headquarters of sorts although I have never been there.

Vending machine found! Scored a Coke on my run - amazing! :D

I always assumed the commander came from Portland 1 but he's the kind of person you just feel uncomfortable asking silly questions to.  His stern eyes and no-nonsense approach didn't invite small talk.  He's trying to get us runners head sets so we can actually communicate back to base.  The commander is good with all types of technology and can hook us up a system out of about anything I would guess - but we have nothing to start with.

Dark low clouds threaten to rain for months.

Runner 8 was attacked yesterday evening.  Like I wrote yesterday the zombs were unusually aggressive.  He beat them off with his baseball bat but his dog was badly injured.  It's in quarantine now because no one knows what will happen to it - will it turn?  Will it just die?  I feel bad for Runner 8 he's deeply upset and not eating.  No one has tried to mention walking the parameter to him.  A couple of Coast Guardies are doing it this morning but we hate to take them away from the fence.  That terribly fragile fence. 

Word has it that Rilea has a concrete fence around it now with barbed wire at the top and some say we should all go there and merge our forces.  The commander just wants to get our numbers to a "sustainable level" before winter but I'm afraid with the storms it's too late.  Being boxed in with the retirement community this winter will drive me crazy.

 

Caption: This was a zombie disposal station shortly after the local apocalypse. Sadly the zombies overwhelmed us and the sign now sits derelict. Some idiots thought it was for fish since it was in the Marina. *Sigh* Same idjits that bring bottles to the recycling center thinking that's what it's for!!

All photos and text are written the day of my run.

Sailing to Astoria - Zombie Hoards

I sailed to Astoria today and evading a fast moving swarm and met up with an old friend.

The day was sunny and warm – around 72 degrees.  I had no fear of a sunburn. I’ve found that I’m a nutty brown these days as the season winds down into fall, at least my face.  

 The mission today was to run into Warrenton.  It’s a five mile one way trek – five miles back with a pack.  I carried no water as I hoped to find some in Warrenton, I didn’t want anything to slow me down.  A stupid risk in retrospect and one I will not make again if I can help it.

I had not made it a mile from Fort Stevens before the zombie swarm came out of the trees and clogged the road way.  I typically see a shambler or two as I run but these were well organized and faster than most.  I cursed every step I ran as they cut off the main path and herded me toward the Marina area.  

As you know reader I hate getting stranded against the waterfront.  It’s dangerous to say the least.  I also have said that zombies usually don’t come out in force or in direct sunlight but today I was dead wrong. 

I kept following the curve of the Columbia heading toward the Skipanon River and the Warrenton Marina.  Ruins of lumber mills stood in my way and I kept having to back track and otherwise be creative to avoid the zombs.  

 Man, there were a lot of them out.  I tried not to count, just to keep moving. 

 I thought I was lost when I hit Tansy point, but I slowly navigated to the old Warrenton Trail and where I then ran like a banshee.  I high tailed it down the trail because I knew it so well and it dumped me out at the Marina.  

I took the chance that maybe Tess was on her boat – that was a dumb move – I mean, seriously she probably wouldn’t be.  As it was however she was there and had just arrived.  Turned out not to be coincidence.

Tess later told me that she had evacuated out to one of the islands in the Columbia.  They were so far from shore as to not be visible and most people, even locals, didn’t know they existed.  She had come into town however.  Tess had known everyone in town before the Zombie plague.  I was in luck I thought at the time.

Tess’ boat the Avenger had a small motor but more importantly it had sails and in time of crisis when one couldn’t get petrol it was very advantageous.  Many people had died in their yachts when they ran out of gas and they were far from shore.  And Tess had a radio and basic communications.  

“I thought you could use a lift”  Tess said as I hurried aboard the boat uninvited wobbling onto the craft better than I had expected to since it wasn’t berthed yet.  

My chase had made the radio waves and chatter of the local populace holed up in Warrenton Mansion and from the Fort.  We reversed course and headed out of the water way toward Astoria.

Tess is the kind of woman who should have been a college professor.  She explained how the boat ran and her time on the Island.  One question I wanted to desperately know however: “Why are the zombies active today?”  She smiled. 

“Well it’s why I’m coming to shore for a few supplies.”  Her dog barked at a passing sea lion and we paused to watch it.  Some animals were doing fine without excessive humans.  “This is the last beautiful day we are bound to have for a while.  There are big storms moving in.  The Zombies are sensitive to the weather, it makes them excitable from what I can tell.”  

Possibly I should explain here that Fort Stevens is in a rain forest and each fall we get hellified storms that come in and dump a ton of rain on us, then there is a gentler rain that falls for the next six  months.  Rain, rain and more rain and it all starts at some unknown date in the fall, that time had arrived.

Tess’ island had gear on it from the Coast Guard and she had radar.  

We sailed up the channel toward Astoria.  I would never try to sail myself.  It’s a wicked dangerous water landscape comprised of ocean tides versus ever changing winds with depths of water from 11 – 120 ft.  You never knew what the Columbia would throw at you so novice boatman often wound up in trouble.  

There were harp seals and brown pelicans.  The mouth of the Columbia that goes into the ocean is eight miles across and everything looked so normal from out there.

In Astoria we were able to get to the Safeway gas station and I was able to score six cans of petrol for Fort Stevens.  We were chased by three zombies, but our dock had sea lions sunning on it and they hated the zombs worse than us dodging around them.   We were safe enough. 

Tess let me off at the harbor at Hammond which is less than a quarter mile from the Fort.  I was able to use her radio to let the Fort know I would need help hauling supplies back and they promised me Hero 13 and Runner 8, but even the Commander showed up.  The Commander gave Tess a shank of Elk as a token of appreciation, as we have little else to give that’s worth much.   

We hauled the petrol back in high spirits.  Armed guards made sure no Zombies gave us issues.  

Come to think of it I think Tess might be a vegetarian…maybe that doesn’t matter anymore. 

Tonight the Coyotes aren’t howling but the undead are.  They are hitting the fence with their arms and bodies making an ungodly noise.  The wind is picking up.  There is a spittle of rain.  A tension is in the air and nobody is going to bed early.  I keep thinking about Tess’ dog ‘M’ – I wish I had a dog.

Goodnight Reader – until tomorrow my final run of the week.