Dr. Jividen Goes Postal

Our truck came to a halt and we were ousted out of our comfortable positions from the back toward a Mercedes Bens truck monstrosity reading, "GERMANY" on the front and back and a hippy bumper sticker that read, "You can only go East - I can go anywhere!"  What does that mean?  I don't know.  A couple of bikes were pegged onto the back.  It looked like a petrol hog, but no worry because it wasn't for us.  The bikes were for Dr.Jividen and I to get back to Fort Stevens with...  So much for first class survivable transportation...and that teasing sticker that said, "anywhere".

As we left the Nazi-mobile behind peddling furiously on bikes more suited to children I was at least thankful that it was a clear blue day and so far no rain clouds on the horizon. 

Dr. Jividen had her knives strapped across her back and looked completely relaxed as usual.  I peddled awkwardly my gear on one side of the bike throwing my balance off, carefully I was guarding the eggs I had brought from New  Portland.  If they broke before I had a chance to eat one...tragedy.

I wasn't one for small talk so we quietly peddled, I tried to keep up.  Dr. Jividen made effortless time.  I wondered if my tires were fully aired up. She was making me work hard to keep up.  I kept my eyes peeled for zombs.  The weather was so nice that we had a good chance of making it without a single shambler depending on the terrain. 

We crossed the Skipanon River via the bridge and there were at least twenty zombies underneath it but it's a steep crawl up the slope and a warm sunny day so we traversed it quickly and without fear of attack.

We were almost through town proper when we were ambushed.

Humans.  Survivors.  They had holed up at the Rescue.  They weren't reputable prior apocalypse and refused to join any encampment for a wide assortment of paranoid reasons.  There were three men, armed with baseball bat, tire iron and an axe.  They had a barricade across the road of old tin and torn up debris.

"This here is a toll road"  one drawled drunkenly.

Jividen looked at me meaningfully.  "You better cover your ears" she said.  Then she pulled out a gun.  It was um....BIG and heavy.

"You're carrying a glock?" I asked.  She snorted in response.  Okay I don't know much about guns.

She then effortlessly took aim and shot the first man who had spoken and was wielding an axe in the leg.  It was loud.  It would draw zombies.  But then she aimed for the second guy with the tire iron.

"YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY"  one of them shouted as they scrambled to get away.  She shot him in the arm.  She smiled at the third guy he started to run but she said very clearly...

"Don't move."  Dr. Jividen cocked the gun.  "I hurt them, I'll kill you.  I'm a good shot. You're going to clear the path through that barricade before every zombie in a three mile radius descends upon us.  Got me?"  He nodded and started clearing the rubble.  "FASTER"  she yelled at him and waved the gun in a dangerous looking manner.  Watching her on her school girl bike with her pretty curls, wave a gun was surreal to say the least.  He made a path for us to ride through single file.  By then the zombs were coming in every direction.  The gun shots had drawn them right to us.  We road fast and hard away but for the people at the Rescue -- I have no idea if they escaped what had to be the mother of all zombie attacks.

We peddled for what felt like an hour, "I hate guns.  Prefer knives."  She commented once again stoic and unemotional.

"You shot those two men back there" I mentioned still in total shock.  I was trembling and trying to hide it.  "I really thought we were done for, you  know, being women and all in this day and age and out in the open.  It was a tough spot."

"I guess" she said.  "Do you have some 9mm rounds back at Fort Stevens? I hate to waste ammunition."

"Yeah I think so,  we don't use too many guns honestly."  I said feeling sheepish and less confident in my survival skills by the moment.

"Good" she said.

"You're going with me to harvest organ tissue and samples from both animals and zombs.  We're going to have to make sure you have a sustainable survival pack that includes a weapon."  She said conversationally.  "Your Commander will teach you a few things I'm sure.  We were going with this fellow .... Hero 13 I think he was called.  That was good.  A tall fellow can really take off the head of a zombie.  But you'll have to do Runner 5."

When I got back I unpacked and gave the Commander his packages, it contained some old game cartridges including, "Earthbound" which made him almost giddy.   The Commander was working on setting up an arcade and game recreational room for the members of the Fort and piecing it together one bit at a time.

I found out that my bunkies now included Dr. Jividen and Dr. Crow.  The doctors didn't get along arguing over medical ideas I had never heard of so I tuned them out.

Morning:

I woke up and smelled something delicious.  Delicious and missing.  Dear readers - they fucking ate my eggs!  Okay, so they left me one tiny hen egg but after protecting them all the way from New Portland, riding a bike 18 miles without one crack - THEY ATE THEM.

I was furious.

I yelled at them until they started laughing at me and the Commander promised me that soon my chickens would start to lay.  "So who took care of Henny Penny while I was gone?"  I demanded.  Everyone looked around the room.  No one had bothered to let my girls out of their coup.  I went and took care of them, thankfully they were okay.  The smallest hen I hadn't named yet had laid an egg about the size of a modest marble. 

 Until Monday Readers have a good weekend -------------------------------------------------------------

Below is a video one of my friends made for Zombies Run! Also I have a 5K tomorrow!  I'll try to have a photo of me at the race taken so I can post :-)

Getting ready for Halloween - I'm going as Runner 5

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.  

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. 

Wednesday Forest Runner 5

I was on light duty today after yesterday putting in a pretty fast nearly 8 mile run.  I was running inside the fort I wouldn’t have to worry about Zombies today but I did have to train.  I was at the Mine Loading Building (#32 on the map) at a gentle pace when I noticed a path cut behind it.  I had never ran it before and I wondered if it went to the old Marina and if it did - if it circumvented our fencing somehow.  If the zombies could cut back behind the fence at low tide we could have an unexpected swarm on our hands and the eastern flank isn’t well guarded.  

The path behind the Mine Loading Building lead far back to a white ‘house’ structure, which had electrical from the 40's obvious by an old light socket on the front, so had to be part of the old camp.  In a clearing was some equipment, "Coast Guard Search and Rescue Use Only"  Did the commander know about the equipment?  I wondered.  

The little house looked uncomfortably lived in sans a door and even including a pillow on the floor.   The whole 'house' was about twenty square foot and had - of all things an attic with an exposed square crawl hole.  The roof appeared not to leak despite a foot thick of moss and ferns growing on top of it.    The house is not on the map for tourists.  The floor was a thick heavy concrete with a raised section, obviously military use of some sort but of what I can’t guess. 

So the front entrance lined up with the back out which was a path which I took a few feet down into a ravine.  It struck me as the most obvious location of a toilet and headed back up having made that stinky mistake before and valuing my shoes decided I would just make a note about it.

The front door had a path leading off into the scrub and I hate that because the grass and ferns are knee high and wet but worse: Spiders.   I hate them.
Spiders are useful however in that they let you know if a path gets used much if zombie, human or elk is using a path actively there won't be an established orb weaver residing there.  There were two humungous spiders on the path.  Nothing had traveled down it in awhile.   I was too chicken to fight off spiders so doubled back and ran out to our high fence that protects us from the Marina.  

I saw a few zombies in the park area shuffling around looking lost.  Had they been tourists?  Boaters?  

It was time to run back and give the commander my report.  On the way back  on the parameter was runner 8.  He walks anytime day or night along the main fort areas and sometimes outside its fences.  He’s an older fellow, often has his dog and a baseball bat with him.  He always wears an Oregon Ducks t-shirt.  I never have caught his real name, but I see him more than anyone else on my outings.  

Tomorrow the commander says there will be cross training in the Training Yard.  He wants my arm strength to improve and my sprint speed.  Until tomorrow – Runner 5 Signing Out

1A Quarantine Area Pharma Drop

15 kinds of wild berries grow here.  The deer and coyotes eat them.

1A is the Pacific Ocean and at low tide a chopper can land and we can pick up supplies.  It's difficult to coordinate and setup a drop, this one was all pharmaceuticals.

For the most part we're comprised of over indulged vacationers from places like southern California and Arizona.  The median age of our residents makes me a young runner at 38.  On any given evening you can get ambushed into a conversation about arthritis.  Our population almost are all medicated to some degree.  We've tried to ship as many out as we can to proper refugee facilities but still too many remain.

"He sold his soul to get that drop here today." - Hero 13, heart throb darling of the camp.

"Everyone needs meds" I replied.  He smirked.  I blushed.  Okay maybe the commander likes me - but I'm sure my brain injury and kidney problems weren't the reason for the drop - or were they?   Time to change the subject.

"What song are we doing today?"  I asked.

"What do you want to do? Something thugish of course."  I nodded.

"So you want to be a rock super star and live large"  I sang

"Big house and 5 cars" he replied and we started out our run with very old school Cyprus Hill and not being very serious.

I was serious this run however - I had strapped on my quiver of arrows and bow to my back and ran a little self-conscious. 

Banana Slug - They Get Large Here

You see once you get to the beach there is nothing but sand - no cover at all.  The chopper would be there for only five minutes before taking back off so we had a short window and we HAD to get those supplies.  The commander knew how sick I was but Hero 13 and Runner 8 did not.

I saw a lot of berries unpicked but ripe on the trail that I would report back in.  There are a ton of various berries that grow wild in Oregon.

"No zombs today" I commented.

"It's too bright out, they're in the undergrowth" Hero 13 replied.  I nodded.  "So are you going to tell me what is with the bow and arrows?" He grinned - so he had been laughing at me the entire time.

"Can you keep a secret?"  I asked him.  He shrugged looking bored.  I stopped to walk a bit since we were far ahead of schedule. 

"There have been wild dog packs in the neighborhood.  When people left their pets behind they reverted back to pack behavior and now large packs drift killing whatever poor creatures they can run down even young elk - and people."  I shivered.

"The commander and a couple of deputies have been setting traps and going out at night shooting them..."

The Pacific Ocean from 1A

"Wait" Hero 13 said, "the fresh meat for the last week has that been...."

I sheepishly grinned, "I don't know - could be dog though."

"If we get down on the sand we're perfect targets.  To get to high ground we have to climb the dunes - we're too slow."  He nodded somberly.

"We should have brought a couple of deputies with us with weapons."  Hero 13 said.  I nodded.

"Commander said it wasn't necessary particularly during the day."  I said uneasily.

Soon we were at the dune leading up to the ocean and all was quiet, not even a bird in the sky.

"I don't like it" I muttered.

Small Jellyfish

"Could be zombs"  Hero said, "Stay sharp."

We were quiet as we descended to the beach it was twenty minutes before the chopper was due - and then we heard the blades.  There it was.  Early.

"Crap it's early!"  I shouted.

"Not only that but it's landing at 2A not 1A" Hero said starting to run.  Hero can manage a mile in five minutes, probably 7 on the sand so I let him fly along and soon I was far behind him looking over my shoulder for zombs or dogs.  True to the Commanders word though, no dogs approached. 

Large Jellyfish, South Jetty Fort Stevens

The chopper landed about a mile and a quarter from our position, saw us, dropped the cargo and left.  We saddled up pharmaceuticals and prepared to leave.

Zombies between us and home.  No more easy three mile jaunt, we would have to go around.  So around we went, the fall afternoon sunshine drenching us in sweat as we carried the pharma back.

"Wasn't the commander going to put a park bench out here?"

"A water fountain?  God I would kill for some water right now."

Through spider webs and past copses of ferns we made it back to camp.  First requests: the morphine of course.  Sciatica complaints and more moans about aches and pains then an entire pack of zombies.

The Commander took me aside and told me good job - about the most he'll ever say and handed me my meds first.  It was a good day, and check out the enormous jellyfish we ran past.  

The Hobo

So early this a.m. I went to the supply depot which is mostly underground in the old Communications Bunker of Ft. Stevens.  The ceiling has mini calcified stalactite from water sifting through the concrete for decades.  Yellow glowing lights behind black bars glow ominously.  Everything echoes, so I heard the Hobo before I saw him and groaned inwardly.

Wait - why do we have electricity you say?  Well we're a fortress of war and have always had an independent system setup, plus we salvaged some solar as well, so yes we do have power.  Fort Rilea is the same way and I have heard rumor that the Coast Guard housing in Astoria Oregon has fortified itself  against the zombies and even boasts a helicopter.  They keep to themselves.

A little known fact about this wild country by the ocean is that is is chocker block full of homeless people.  Bums.  Homeless.  Hobos.  Tourists try to help, churches help, organizations help - everyone helps but as one man told me once, "we're here because it's just so easy.  You don't even have to go to a church to get some aid - it's like on every corner there is someone willing to give you something."  Yes I'm jaded.  I know that too many of them have lived lives of crime and thanks to knowing a few folks in the Sheriffs office prior to the zombs - I know some chilling stories.  Hobos are to be avoided - and there was one this morning between me and my CLIFF bars accosting Jenny whose 19.

"GOD" he guffawed "YOU'RE HAVING A BAD HAIR DAY."  He was missing teeth, smelled strongly of garlic and was dirty - possibly drunk.  Jenny had lovely long blond hair going down her back, she was slightly heavy set but still attractive.  He glowered at her in a perverse way that was making me itch toward my knife, he was in his forties.  "HAIRSPRAY.  DO YOU HAVE HAIRSPRAY BACK IN THE BACK"  Jenny tried to force a little laugh and nod and dismiss him.  She was captive behind the counter.

He came closer, I looked around then relaxed two armed guards were coming.  I knew the blokes a little, in old coast guard uniforms people look a lot a like.  Dark navy blues.  The first guy simply punched the hobo in face.  It felled him to the ground completely and he loudly started screaming incoherently but both men had an arm and was dragging him out of the depot - without any supplies I might add - and they bodily tossed him over the fence I heard later from a friend.  Just chucked him over it, "good luck with the zombs."  -- YOU CAN'T DO THIS.  I HAVE RIGHTS!

In posterity some might find this cruel or undemocratic that he didn't get fed and housed and indulged but with the zombie apocalypse the tenor of the human heart had changed in order to survive.  

Part II  The Run Today

So today I did a recon run out over Swash Lake to see if the elk are back in the park yet and I'm happy to say that YES they are in the park.  I spotted a mother with her baby far inside our borders which means the rest of the heard is in the trees for sure.  Swash is a good vantage point for viewing them and the tend to graze the lowlands.

I've begun running armed - trusty knife with me.  It's good for all kinds of things but probably not zombie killing.  I'm far faster on my feet then strong of arm.

The entire run today was 3 miles.  Fastest mile was 12 minutes.  I've lost 1.7lbs.
Thank You Reader for Reading :-)

 Weird pig I found while running today.  It was left in the road.