11PM TV

Plantar fasciitis - makes your feet feel like they want to break off.  Each step is agonizing and even though I rest when I walk or run again it's just as bad as ever.  *sigh* I hobble along when no one is watching.

Dr. Jividen and the Commander have a loop for me to run but I can't read the map correctly and they keep saying my samples are from the wrong locations so I have to go re-run my mission.

I run the paths everyday and if they tell me, "North of Swash Lake" -- I know that and can follow it.  Or if I could draw my own map of how I see the trails in my head and how the directions 'feel' to me...I could follow that map just fine.  But their map makes no sense at all to me and today I failed to ever locate the drop from Fort Rilea.

The Commander is going with me in three days time to run the course and get it worked out in my head but I'm worried he's lost faith in me. Worse, he's fast as a runner.  He's over six foot tall so I'll have to put on some speed and speed work is what absolutely KILLS MY FEET.  OUCH!! 

My results came back from New Portland and my kidney Creatinine level was a 1.1 which was a drop from the 1.2 and 1.3 it generally stays at.  So although I'll still have to urinate every five minutes and dehydration is still an issue as well as fluid retention, I'm okay.

I have colitis again.  A genetic foible like my kidneys.  I can't digest fructose and we have a lot of dried meal packets.  Some must have dried fruit or tomatos or citric acid.  I don't know where the offending food is coming from yet.  It's hard to run when your abdomen is in a lot of pain.  Ironically it also makes me hungry.  I guess it's from not digesting food too well.  I've been having a marathon

of hot chamomile tea.  I also secured me some aloe and L-Glutamine so as long as I can figure out which food is causing the inflammation, I can cure it. 

When the Commander comes in around eleven pm he ceases being the Commander.  He peels off his shirt and dons a housecoat and we watch funny cartoons on the laptop.  This week he has us watching, "China IL" a Brad Neely cartoon.

During the day he's like a different person.  Him and Grant have a committee put together.  They say if we're going to get attacked it will be before winter sets in.  No one wants to have to deal with the rain.  It has been unseasonably clear lately.

Dr. Jividen says that regular zombies can be reinfected with Mortis slowing them down and eliminating their blood lust.  She says we could use Mortis infected ...individuals....as bait for our local zombie population.  The Commander thought the idea was morbid even if possibly effective.

Grant's forces have taken on downtown Hammond and the South Jetty Inn quickly building fence that gives them a kind of 'chute' to Ft. Stevens, a quick retreat path.

Meanwhile I pointed out to the Commander that there is a lot of underground structures at Fort Stevens that we haven't explored.  Tunnels?  He didn't really reply to me, only vaguely acknowledged my observation.  That happens a lot.  I don't take offense to it anymore. 

I usually sleep until he comes in at 11 then I get up for an hour and watch tv with him.  I make hot tea from a little coffee pot he brought in.  He doesn't drink coffee or tea so I guess it was just for me.  He never said, he just set it up one morning.  So far he hasn't invited any of the new runners or people to bunk in our house.  I prefer it that way, people are so annoying.

I hope for a better run tomorrow.  I need to stretch.  I need to make some arch supports I guess.  I need to figure out my colitis.  Feeling overwhelmed today. 

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

Outpost - Portland 1 - Providence Hospital Day 1

I'm in the hospital and finally made it through the lab line to sit in their waiting room. 

I had to pee badly.

Across from me is the bathroom - just RIGHT THERE.  SO CLOSE.

But the doctor says they need a urine sample so I wait.  I cross my legs.  I uncross my legs.  I play with my iphone. 

And I wait some more. 

Dear Reader, it's a good time to let you know I have kidney problems, as such I had finished drinking four cups of water in one go just about forty-five minutes prior to me sitting uncomfortably in the waiting room. 

The have to draw blood and take urine at the same time then presto it tells them something important about my kidney function. 

A lady comes to the door -- I am SO HOPEFUL -- but no, she calls this other fellow into the lab room.  It's really pretty crowded.  Can I make it?  I wonder?  I eye the sign on the bathroom door and think about going for it, then a small blue haired lady goes inside of it and locks it behind her.  She doesn't come right back out.  I wonder if she's died in there, maybe gone zomb. 

There is a restroom on first floor...if I ran...maybe...

They call my name for the blood work.  "YATA"!! I want to scream happy. 

From the morning I set out it was cold, about 52 degrees out and raining.  With my time in Outpost Portland I plan to hunt down some REAL rain gear, not the improvised stuff I've made myself.  It will still be far from perfect most likely but I ring out my sleeves of water when I run these days.

What began as a mild headache kept increasing.  "No worries" I thought - with the new diet I didn't have caffeine and I figured it was just that. 

I finished with the doctor at noon and was quite nauseated which meant one thing: migraine.  I guess everyone gets their own type of migraines, they seem one of those unique mysteries of humanity.  With my kidneys and delicate stomach all I could take was crummy old Tylenol and I had to be very careful not to take too much.  I would LOVE some Oxycontin pain killer, which I used to have a prescription of for my headaches once upon a time back when it was available.

There was plenty of food stores in Portland 1, or as they were calling themselves, "New Portland" and they still had a banner up that said, "Keep Portland Weird".  I wasn't hungry though but as I wound my way through the industriously built community I did find coffee vendors.  Leave it to Portland to sell coffee beverages until the end of the world.  Despite my upset stomach, the latte was pretty good and the warmth was welcome.  We definitely needed a coffee hut in Fort Stevens I decided.  Being in New Portland was relaxing and freeing.  No responsibilities and a bit of culture. 

"There you are!  I've been trying to catch up.  I missed you at the hospital!"  I turned around to see a handsome young kid with lanky blond chops and blue eyes.  It was Daniel, one of my old students from the days before everything went to crap.

I gave him a big hug so happy to see him alive and well.  I found out that he was raising chickens and he intended to give me a dozen eggs no matter what I said about it.  I spent the afternoon with him and then his friends and laughed until my sides ached.  It was a good day despite my horrible pain and stomach that kept turning over.  I left early because I needed to lay down before I threw up and returned to the hospital where I had a room reserved.  A note was under the door.

"Please see Doctor Jividen at your earliest convenience.  You are to escort her back to our camp and answer any questions she might have about zombies and our setup.  She is to receive your utmost respect Runner 5." -- The Commander 

Doctor Jividen it turns out would be one of the most interesting people I ever meet, but that's tomorrow...or whenever this migraine wears off. 
----------------------
Authors notes:  Heavy rain drenches the forest and the temperatures are in the low 50's.  The doctor said I needed compression socks for running, that my diet stinks, and I'm waiting on the lab work for my kidneys. I also have to go in for unhappy tests due to a little case of cancer I had three years ago.  I'm supposed to get that done yearly but it's not a fun test and the cancer was benign - maybe. This migraine really is killing me so I don't know if I'll write tomorrow or not, sorry!  I took some photos of the hospital but they vanished from my phone, so I apologize for just one pic today.  Cheers!

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.  

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! 

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.