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!